An Unexpected Bride

by Shadonna Richards

  But this was a huge deal and Fletcher Advertising couldn’t afford to blow it. Evan admired Emma. She was the best. He knew this would be ideal for her career, too.

  Still, he admired more than just her brains. He often imagined her and him together in... It was just a fantasy, he dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. Men were allowed to fantasize once in a while. But he wouldn’t dare let on to his employee he had those thoughts about her. She was young, but at the age where she deserved a man who believed in commitment. Evan could never, even if he wanted to, commit to any woman.

  He’d learned his lesson the hard way. It almost destroyed him on many levels. His career. His business. His health.

  Fletcher men and marriage didn't mix.

  Or else, the consequences could be…

  Evan didn’t want to entertain that thought now. He had to keep his reserve of positive energy flowing. He didn’t know why he was drawn to Emma, but he was more drawn to keeping his sanity in tact and his business away from another potential scandal.

  She was an employee.

  Nothing more.

  An hour later after the conference call ended, Evan pressed the release button on the phone.

  “Nice work, team.” He was buoyed and cheered his group on. The initial pitch went well. They would present to Weddings R Us in person tomorrow when the execs from New York reached town.

  Evan drove his team hard but commended them for their efforts. He was a fair boss and a team player, but everyone knew how to hold their own. He wasn’t someone who tolerated poor excuses or failure. But he was there if you were willing to put out the effort.

  As everyone left the meeting, Evan, who had been eyeing, Emma told her to stay back.

  “Is everything okay, Emma? How’s your grandfather doing?” Evan admired how Emma worked conscientiously at the firm and gave it her all. He also loved her tenacity and commitment to taking care of her grandfather. He knew she spent a great deal of time at the hospital visiting him. In fact, when her car conked out he’d given her a ride to the long-term care facility a few times.

  “Oh, he—"

  “Sorry, Emma, you have an urgent call from the hospital.” Lucinda bolted through the door of the boardroom and told her the call was on line one.

  Emma looked as if her heart stopped.

  “Emma, do you need me to stay?” Evan offered, a look of concern befalling his face.

  Relief swept over her tensed shoulders. “Actually, sure…if you don’t mind.” She seemed breathless.

  Oh, no. Is he dead? And I wasn’t even there by his side. Emma had planned to leave work earlier today—which meant on time-to go back to the hospital to visit her grandfather.

  “Hi, Emma. This is Petra, your grandfather’s nurse.”

  “Yes?” She sounded too sharp, anxious at first. She must have come across way too strong. She could picture the look on the face of the redhead nurse with the bright pink uniform.

  “Nothing to worry about. It’s just that your grandfather’s condition has…well, changed slightly.”

  “What do you mean? Is he okay?” Panic rose in Emma's chest. She was conscious of Evan’s concern and his warm energy flowing her direction. She was thankful for his support.

  “Well, yes. You see, when you left, he perked up. He started eating again. He had more energy. The doctor was saying that he probably had more than days. More like weeks. It’s not unusual for some patients to get a sudden burst of energy. We call it the Hope Factor. Sometimes a wave of hope keeps their spirit going a little longer. A lost relative on their way to see them after all these years. Things like that. Sometimes they hold on until whatever they’re waiting for comes to pass.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Emma sighed a deep sigh of relief as she expelled a whiff of suppressed air. She didn’t realize she had held her breath.

  “Oh, and congratulations!”

  “For?”

  “On your engagement.”

  Uh-oh!

  “My what?” Emma’s brain activity fired up all kinds of thoughts. She wondered if the news of her fake impending marriage had anything to do with her grandfather’s topped up spirit—his second wind of hope. Just then, a sick feeling sank inside her stomach. She could not bring herself to peer into Evan’s concerned, unsuspecting face. He had no idea what was going on.

  “Right. Of course.” Emma swallowed, ever aware of Evan’s soft, sexy brown eyes on her.

  “By the way, the reason why I’m calling now is because your grandfather is so excited about you getting married that he’s spoken with the chaplain at the hospital. The end of next week would be fine to have the ceremony here. We can have the wedding take place in your grandfather’s room. We just need to get the groom’s name. Is that Evan Fletcher spelled E-V-A-N F-L-E-T-C-H-E-R.?"

  What?

  Emma froze.

  The phone pressed firmly to her ear, she could not move or blink or breathe.

  Oh, God, help me! Now, what have I done?

  “Not to pry, but is everything okay, Emma? You don’t look too well.” Evan leaned in closer to her as if he were ready to catch her fall as she stood looking as if she would pass out any minute by the side table.

  She was clearly in a daze.

  The look of shock—or was that horror--glazed over her face. Evan looked aghast as if she was having a cardiac arrest and he needed to do something—quick!

  “Um...” She could barely speak. But she had to say something.

  Oh, Lord. Now what have I gotten myself—and my boss— into?

  3

  Two hours later, Emma sat typing away at her keyboard on her desk. They were on tight deadline to get the presentation pitch ready for the principals at Weddings R Us.

  She hated herself for telling that fib earlier in the day. The lie about her engagement to Evan. Now, she hated herself even more. How was she going to wiggle out of this one?

  Her brain was working overtime. A thousand thoughts a minute. How was she going to impress her new potential client? And how was she going to convince Evan to go along with marrying her next week, for the sake of her dear old dying grandfather.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Why did you have to open up your big mouth? You should’ve just listened and not said anything. Now you have to get married next week. Or else.

  “Got a second?” Evan poked his head around her opened door, causing Emma to jolt upright with a flush on her face.

  “Sure, Evan. Anything.” Her cheeks burned. Her insides felt like a hundreds of butterflies had turned loose inside her belly.

  I need air. I need Evan.

  “Okay, I’ve got the sketch for the new ad design. I thought we could go with a touch of tradition and a blend of new age.”

  “Sounds great. I also think we should add in the multicultural mix. Give it the universal appeal. You know the effect.”

  He nodded, stroking his chin. “Good, good. But we need to design a fresh angle. Remember, they’re eyeing a few agencies for their big campaign.”

  “Yeah, but we’re in their top two.”

  “Soon to be number one.”

  They both smiled. For a moment, Emma’s brown eyes locked with Evan’s deep, rich dark eyes. She quivered inside. She had to remind herself who he was. Her boss. Her very serious-minded, all business, commitment-phobic boss who also held the keys to her promotion. Her dream was to one day head the department as Account Director. Evan was already in the process of giving her a wonderful reference to get into the master's program for business admin to which she was eternally grateful.

  What could she do? Should she deliver the news of their impending marriage? Or risk breaking her dying grandfather’s heart by telling him she fabricated the whole marriage thing?

  “Um…Evan. Just wondering. You know. About our new potential client.”

  “What about them?”

  “Weddings R Us. What is your take on…you know…weddings?”

  “Well, I haven’t hidden th
e fact how I feel about marriage. Not into it. Not for me. But of course, that's between us. We can't have Weddings R Us thinking I don't believe in their product now, can we?” His facial expression and body language spoke volumes. You would think he was asked about shaving off his scalp as an experiment by the look of disgust in his cringed facial expression.

  “So you would never consider marriage?” she asked, a teensy bit of hope edging her query.

  “Never.” Evan’s brows furrowed. “Emma, why are you asking me this now?”

  Now it was Emma's turn to be tongue-tied. “Oh, um…nothing. It’s just that. Well, we need to believe in our client’s work and…” She swallowed hard. Where are you going with this thing, stupid? You’re digging yourself in deeper. Shut up and quit while you can. Quit talking. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to find a way to discuss getting married next week or face smashing her dying grandfather’s heart in a million tiny pieces. The latter seemed more unbearable at the moment.

  Evan couldn’t help but notice Emma’s strange behaviour. He wondered what she was hiding. He didn’t take too well to people keeping secrets. Especially those he trusted.

  Still, he had to respect her privacy. He figured it was the stress of caring for an ill relative.

  Lord knows he could relate to that. His own father was his responsibility—which reminded him. The home-visit nurse had called earlier to tell him that his father refused his medication again. He was going over there to pay a quick visit. That meant he would be leaving the office earlier than usual, then coming back later in the evening to finish up the proposal for the potential new client.

  Talk about timing.

  “Hey, listen.” Evan grew impatient and the thought of his father colored his mood in an unfavourable way. “Outside of the client, the subject of marriage or weddings is off.” It seemed as if the serious look he directed towards Emma caused her heart to stop. He noticed she swallowed hard.

  “Sure. No more mention of weddings. Outside of the office, so to speak. Let’s get down to business.” She laughed nervously. What was with her? She was usually so calm, collected, in control. Not now. Not around Evan. And not after that ridiculous could-kick-herself-a-thousand-times-for-that-stupid-little-indescretion moment she had at the hospital today. All because she was trying to spare her Gramps's feelings as he lay helplessly, in the last few days—or weeks—of his life.

  “Good.” Evan did not look back up at Emma. She didn’t know how to take that. Still he was irresistible. The scent of his aftershave drove her crazy. His clean shaven, honey-tanned skinned reigned smooth enough to stroke. But she dared not. Why did she keep having these recurrent thoughts of her boss?

  He was, after all, her boss. And so completely, irrevocably, unavailable.

  Stop it. Stop it. Focus, Emma. Focus. Okay, so the issue of bringing up getting married next week is out of the question. Good thing I’ve always got a plan B.

  She watched as he spread out pages of information and pored over them. Different pieces of ideas from the graphics department were included for the full picture. They mulled over which spread to present at their big client meeting tomorrow.

  Emma thought five o’clock would never come.

  She logged out, switched off her computer, and grabbed her keys and handbag. She was satisfied with the materials and ideas she presented to Evan for their upcoming client meeting. Now, she had to settle another issue. At the hospital. Her fake wedding that she must stop. If only it was as simple as hitting the escape key on the computer.

  Later that evening, Evan pulled up to the ranch where his father lived. The housekeeper, June, was usually in the back doing laundry at this hour.

  Memories of their once happy home that was filled with music and laughter faded with each step. It had been ten years since the messy divorce that flipped his father’s world upside down. His own mother died when he was born. He never knew her outside of the photos stored in the attic. His step-mother, his father’s second wife, banished the pictures when she was Mrs. Evan Fletcher, Senior. But she left. The pictures came down from the attic. It was hard on his father dealing with his mother’s death at childbirth. Then his second wife walking out on him in the scandal that almost rocked this side of Mercy Springs, Texas. But Evan could not think about that now. He was paying for a private nurse to come in to see his father every so now and again, but twenty-four hour care may be the way to go. If he secured the deal with Weddings R Us, that may be more feasible.

  Evan walked up the cobblestone pathway to the house. He could hear the TV blared to full volume and the stereo on high.

  "Dad, what are you doing?” Evan walked briskly over to the TV and turned down the volume. “Where’s June?”

  June rushed in, her face flushed, her eyes on the verge of tears. “He’s been climbing the walls again. You should see the kitchen. He keeps saying the devil is in the house, and he’s going to chase him out by cranking up the volume.” June threw her hands up and her head back. “What have I gotten myself into? I can’t take any more, Evan. He needs to go away.”

  “No.” Evan’s anger rose fierce. “My father’s not going into some home.”

  June knew too well that when Evan, Jr. didn't want to do something, it wasn’t going to be done. Once he’d made up his mind, that was that. His Royal Stubbornness inherited the trait from his father. But June was a distant cousin and more family than help.

  “It’s the curse! The curse!” His father came back from the kitchen with a broom in his hand. “The Fletcher curse. Evan, don’t ever fall in love. Women. They’ll steal your mind, steal your heart, and steal your soul. The curse.”

  “Dad. Okay, enough. Stop it now.” Evan tried to be as gentle yet firm with his father as possible. The transition was almost enough to break his strong spirit. This man who taught him everything he knew about life, love, business. Ethics. Once a strong man. Prominent business man in the community. Reduced to an emotionally fragile state of pity.

  “What’s this about the curse? The Fletcher curse, Evan? That’s new.”

  At first, Evan ignored June and convinced his father to take his anti-psychotic medication. “Dad, you need to take your medicine to help you feel better. Remember what the doctor said?”

  “Oh, Evan. When did you get here? Nice to see you again.” The elder Mr. Fletcher extended his hand to be shaken.

  By now, Evan’s eyes moistened. Not something June was used to seeing. She knew it must be hard for Evan. He loved his father and this must have been torture for him. Finally, the elder Fletcher took his pills and sipped a cup of water, like a child, defenceless, harmless. No, Evan would not like to see his father institutionalized. Somehow, the elder Fletcher would listen to his son, though not always to the home visit staff that saw him from time to time.

  Evan knew how important compliance with medication was for his father as an outpatient. To remain as an outpatient. And even if that meant coming back and forth, driving from south Mercy Springs to north Mercy Springs to where his father’s ranch was located ten times a day-so be it.

  Evan got back to June on her question. “The Fletcher curse is not new, June. Dad told me about it when I was much younger. But it was meant to be secret.”

  June stood silently, her mop still in her hand. She’d cleaned up the spill in the kitchen earlier after the elder Fletcher thought he saw the "devil in a cape hiding in the kitchen" and wanted to "wash him out with ice water."

  Evan drew in a deep breath and bit down on his lip. “Grandpa took a rifle to his head back in the day. It wasn’t because he lost everything in the depression. It was…because of a woman. And Dad, well…” He broke off.

  “It’s okay, Evan. It’s okay. You don’t have to go into it.”

  “I’m good. I’ll be fine. I guess that’s why I’m not exactly gung ho on this marriage business. I mean, it doesn’t seem to agree with the Fletcher men, does it? Then there was great-grandpa who did the same thing. It’s like commitment leads to being committed.
” He chuckled a humorless laugh, trying to bury his own memory of having his heart broken. “Seems like the Fletcher men have a curse of loving too hard and falling too hard if it doesn’t work out.”

  Still, Evan thought about it. He had another problem he didn’t wish to think about right now. It had something to do with keeping as far away from the beautiful Emma Wiggins as much as he could handle it.

  4

  “Here she comes, the beautiful bride-to-be.” Grandpa Wiggins smiled broadly when Emma approached him at the hospital. He was sitting up in the wheelchair, his friend Mr. Harry at his side along with Mr. Harry’s visitor.