by Rachel Hauck
Jake cocks his head.
My entire face catches on fire. “No I didn’t.”
“Then what was up with all those little hearts you drew everywhere?” He traces an invisible heart with his finger. “JS plus ET equals true love.”
I am going to murder him.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Mom says.
“Me too. I’ve always thought you two would make a great couple.” Dad claps his hands, then rubs them together. “Now Jake, I hope you’re hungry. When Emma said she was bringing a guest to dinner, I think Marie thought the Packers’ entire defensive line would be coming.”
Jake pats his flat abs. “Starved.”
“Anything else happen while we were away?” Mom asks.
I swallow, my throat suddenly parched. This is the perfect opportunity to make the announcement, only I find myself waffling. Liam was not part of tonight’s plan. We were going to tell him after we eased into the charade by first telling my parents. I had come prepared for something akin to a warm-up speech, given in front of the safety of a mirror, only to find out there would be no practicing. “Well . . .”
Jake runs his finger under his collar. “Emma and I . . .”
“We’re engaged!” I blurt.
“What?” Mom and Dad say the word in unison.
I hold up my left hand, grateful for Jake’s forethought. It would have looked extra suspicious if I didn’t have a ring.
“Engaged?” Dad asks.
“To be married?” Mom adds, as if there is another kind of engaged Jake and I might be.
Liam coughs, or maybe it’s a laugh. I can’t tell.
I stare at my parents, trying to gauge their reaction, wondering if we shouldn’t have somehow led up to the announcement. Told them we were serious over salads, in love over the main course, engaged by dessert. “We know it’s fast.”
“More like warp speed,” Liam says.
The fire in my cheeks spreads into my ears. My brother is many things—a charmer, an adrenaline junkie, the life of the party—but he’s also shrewd and skeptical. And right now his shrewd, skeptical stare bores into the side of my face. I cannot look at him.
“Mystery woman,” Mom mumbles.
“What’s that?” Dad says.
Her face brightens, a tangible lightbulb moment. “You are Jake’s mystery woman?” She laughs—fairy dust sprinkling the air, dissolving some of the tension.
Dad furrows his brow. “What mystery woman?”
“Jake’s been dating someone for the past several months. All the ladies of Mayfair have been trying to guess who. Turns out, that woman is our daughter.” Mom takes my hand and examines the ring. “This is gorgeous.”
“It was Jake’s grandmother’s.”
“Wait a minute,” Dad says, apparently trying to keep up with Mom. “If you and Jake have been dating, why did you keep it a secret?”
“They probably didn’t want to put pressure on the relationship, Martin. You know how nosy this town can be. I understand wanting to keep things private.” Mom looks up from the ring. “What I don’t understand is keeping it-private from us.”
“We’re sorry. We, um, didn’t want anything to be awkward. In case things didn’t work out.”
Mom shoos away my apology and examines the ring more closely. “Jake, are those rubies?”
“Garnets,” he says.
I take my hand back and peek at Dad, watching the wrinkles gather on his forehead. Time is a funny thing when the end of a person’s life draws near. Days that once flew by like discarded seconds turn into twenty-four-hour lifetimes. The definition of fast changes. This engagement came out of nowhere, but my dad’s face softens. I wonder if he’s picturing me in a white dress, my arm wrapped around his as he walks me down the aisle. I wonder if he’s thinking about his bucket list.
This is for you, I want to say.
“This is really what you want?” he asks me.
“Yes.”
That’s all it takes—one simple yes. His face splits into a smile that transforms him into a happy, healthier, younger man. Then he grabs Jake’s hand and pulls him in for a hearty thump on the back. “Congratulations!”
Jake thumps him in return. “Thanks.”
“Now you’ll officially be a part of the family,” Mom says.
“Does that mean we get the family discount at the hardware store?” Dad gives Jake a wink. “I want to replace the floor in Emma’s old room.”
My fake fiancé jumps into this new conversation wholeheartedly and, much to my relief, avoids Liam as diligently as I do. He and Dad chat about the benefits and drawbacks of real hardwood versus laminate as they walk down the hall, toward the room in question. I want to go after them, pretend to contribute to their conversation. Instead, I’m left alone with Liam and my mother—the wolf and the over-excited puppy.
“Emma!” Mom swats my arm.
“What?”
“What? You are engaged to Jake Sawyer.”
“Will you stop using his last name?”
“I’m sorry, it’s all just happening so quickly. My head is spinning.”
“Mom, you and Dad only knew each other for five months before you got married. I’ve known Jake my entire life.” I peek sideways at my brother as I say it.
He stands with his hands folded behind his back, eyes slightly narrowed, as if measuring every single one of my words. I want to cup my hand over his eyes and tell him to stop staring.
“Oh honey, don’t get me wrong. You know I’m thrilled, it’s just . . .” I wonder if she’s going to bring up Chase and the fiasco that was my first engagement. We dated on and off for six years before I said yes, and look how well that turned out. “Do you love him?”
“Mom.”
Her expression turns serious. “It’s an important question, Emma.”
“It’s Jake. Of course I love him.”
“All right then.” She smiles. “Have you picked a date?”
“October twenty-fifth.”
Her eyes go buggy. “Of this year?”
“I know all of this must be overwhelming, but October’s my favorite month. And if we wait until next year . . .” I don’t have to finish the thought. The smirk tucked into the corner of Liam’s mouth dissolves. All three of us are thinking the same thing.
If we wait until next year, Dad will be gone.
Chapter 4
Tossing a wave over my shoulder at a couple of men in yellow hard hats conferring in the middle of town square, I hurry across the street. The early morning sun is at my back, and caffeine is the last thing I need with this much adrenaline coursing through my veins. But Monday morning coffee at Patty’s House of Pancakes is a ritual, something Lily Emerick and I have been doing since we were old enough to drive. According to Lily, rituals aren’t meant to be broken. Besides, I have to tell her the news before she hears it from somebody else.
The upcoming announcement pulls my chest muscles tight.
My parents had no problem believing Jake and I were getting married in a little over a month. Sure, they were shocked, but that quickly gave way to delight, because we are quick to believe what our hearts want to be true. My dad wants to walk me down the aisle. My mom has always wanted me to be with Jake. And they’d much rather focus on a wedding than an impending funeral. Liam, I’m sure, didn’t buy it, but at least my parents’ presence kept him from verbalizing his doubts. He remained suspiciously quiet throughout last night’s dinner, and neither Jake nor I attempted to rouse him.
My best friend, however—straight shooter, no-nonsense, can’t-get-anything-past-her Lily—will not be so accepting. Her senses are unclouded by grief, and not only do I need to tell her the news, I also need to convince her to help me. With Dad officially retired as of three weeks ago, I am now the only veterinarian in Mayfair, which means I’m too swamped at the clinic to pull off an entire wedding in such a short amount of time. This is what Lily does for a living—she plans parties and events. So surely she will help me.
I open the door and step inside Patty’s, inhaling the salty-sweet aroma of fried sausage and syrup. The place is all wainscoting and wallpaper and wood-framed pictures, with a counter spanning the length of one wall and booths lining the other, a space in between too narrow to fit any tables. I give the place a quick scan, but Lily is MIA.
Patty, on the other hand, lights up like the sky on the Fourth of July the second she notices me in the doorway. Almost as wide as she is tall, she waddles out from behind the counter wearing her pale pink Bunco Babes T-shirt, puts her umber hands on my cheeks in a gesture befitting grandmothers everywhere, and pulls my head down so it’s level with hers.
“Um, hi, Patty.” This is not her typical greeting.
“Child, how on God’s green earth did you keep it a secret?”
Oh no.
“You and Jake Sawyer getting married?” She lets go of my face and shakes her head. “You, the mystery woman?”
A wave of panic rolls through my limbs. Patty is not a soft-spoken woman, and Lily will be here any second. “Where did you hear that?”
“Please. Where did I hear that? Your mother stopped in for a to-go coffee after that 5:00 a.m. Zumba class she’s always going on about.” Patty turns toward two men who sit across from each other in one of the booths, a game of gin rummy between them. The one on the left is Jake’s great-uncle, Al, and across from him is Al’s best buddy, Rupert—Mayfair’s oldest residents. “Did you hear the news?”
Al looks up from the cards splayed in his hand. Somehow, his sagging jowls, stretched earlobes, and bulbous nose mesh together in just the right way, giving meaning to the phrase “He’s so ugly he’s cute.” This morning he wears his cowboy hat tipped back as opposed to pulled low—a sign to the world that he woke up in a good mood. “What news?”
Rupert—not so decidedly cute in his old age—looks up too, squinting at Patty as though keener eyesight might make up for his pitiful hearing.
“Our very own Emma Tate and Jake Sawyer are engaged.”
“What’s that?” Rupert asks.
I shake my head. Wave my hands. Consider cupping one over Patty’s mouth, but I am not quick enough.
“Emma and Jake are engaged!”
The diner goes quiet.
“Jake Sawyer, my great-nephew?” Al says.
“What other Jake Sawyer do we have in this town, Al? Of course your great-nephew!” Patty turns back to me. “Now let me see that ring. Your mama said it was something.”
Eager to dispel her excitement as quickly as possible, I stick out my hand.
“Oh!” Patty brings her hands to her ample chest and leans closer. “But it’s an unusual engagement ring, isn’t it? Not a single diamond anywhere.”
“An engagement ring?”
I shut my eyes. The disbelieving question belongs to Lily. Sure enough, when I look, she stands just inside the doorway, her expression every bit as disbelieving as her voice.
“You mean you didn’t even know?” Patty’s dark eyes widen. “Emma, you kept the news from your best friend?”
“What news?” Lily asks.
“Emma and Jake are getting married.”
For a couple of seconds, Lily does not react. She stares, almost bored, back at Patty, until the corner of her mouth curls up, as if trying to meet the downward turn of her scrunched eye. It’s a classic Lily face, code for yeah, right.
“Speak of the devil!” Patty points toward the window, where my fake fiancé is walking past—his baseball hat in place, carrying what appears to be a heavy load of lumber. “Nobody move. Coffee’s on the house!”
If Patty hears my groan, it doesn’t stop her. She bustles outside. I watch through the window in horror as she grabs Jake’s arm and pulls him inside, lumber and all. When his attention lands on me, he raises his eyebrows.
I shrug apologetically.
Patty grabs a full coffeepot and hurries around the diner like a whirling dervish, topping everyone’s mugs. She forces a mug into Lily’s hand, fills it up, then scoots me over so I’m standing next to a bewildered Jake. His shock is this palpable thing beside me. We both stand there like a pair of openmouthed idiots, and I cannot—will not—look at Lily.
“To Emma and Jake.” Patty raises her own mug high into the air and waits for everyone else to follow suit. “I’ve known you both since you were in diapers, and now look at you—the town sweethearts. May your life together be filled with health and happiness!”
“And a passel of Sawyer babies!” Al adds.
My body flushes as mugs clink together and customers take delicate sips.
“What are you waiting for?” Rupert calls. “Kiss your woman!”
Someone whistles in agreement.
My heart jumps into my throat. I have never kissed Jake. Not once. Not even during our spin-the-bottle phase in junior high. And now we’re supposed to kiss here, in Patty’s restaurant? A nervous laugh flutters past my lips. This was not a detail we discussed when we made our game plan on Saturday.
“Yeah, Jake, kiss her,” Lily says.
I dare a glimpse, just one. Enough to catch Lily’s quirked eyebrow, her expression so dry I could douse it with all the coffee Patty just poured and it wouldn’t make a difference.
Patty nudges me closer. My back bumps against Jake’s bundle of two-by-fours. I look over my shoulder, up into Jake’s face, which registers the same panic I’m feeling. He hesitates for a moment, then dips his head and does what everyone urges him to do. He kisses me. Jake is kissing me. Oh my goodness. He smells really, really good. And he’s kissing me.
Before I can register anything else, the kiss ends. The onlookers cheer. And I force myself to breathe. In all my schoolgirl fantasies—wherein Jake realized that he was madly in love with me—I never imagined our first kiss would be in front of his great-uncle Al.
Jake clears his throat. “I, um . . . have to get back.”
I nod like an overeager bobblehead doll and bite my lip, tasting cinnamon—Big Red. Only I’m not chewing Big Red gum. I taste it because Jake chews Big Red and his lips were just on mine.
He looks at me one last time before turning around and walking out the door.
Our captive audience returns to what they were doing before Patty caused a scene, like nothing crazy had just transpired in the house of pancakes. I slide into an empty booth, attempting to feign casualness. Setting her mug on the table, Lily sits across from me, tucks a strand of her chin-length strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, and crosses her arms.
I want to push her eyebrows down her forehead. Instead, I give her some halfhearted jazz hands. “Surprise.”
“There is no way you and Jake are engaged.”
“Why not?”
“Because as of Saturday, you weren’t even dating. I’m pretty sure you would have told me.”
Little did she know, we were already “engaged” by the time I attended the Fall Harvest Festival committee meeting. “You know what they say about whirlwind romances.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “You spent an entire week agonizing over paint samples when it came to updating your bathroom.”
“So?”
She plops her elbows on the table and curls her long fingers around the mug. “So you expect me to believe that Jake proposed to you on Saturday, out of nowhere, and you said yes?”
Patty approaches, humming “Here Comes the Bride.” She sets a mug in front of me, fills it up, gives my arm an excited squeeze, then waddles away. I wilt beneath Lily’s deadpan stare. Who am I kidding? I can’t keep this from her. I look around to make sure the coast is clear of eaves-droppers, then lean over the table and tell her the story—starting with the bucket list discovery and ending with the fiasco just now in Patty’s House of Pancakes, as well as everything in between. By the time I finish the last word, I feel as though I’ve shed three layers of body armor.
Ribbons of steam curl up from the dark liquid in our cups, clouding the space between us, but not so much that I can’t see Lil
y gaping.
“Would you please say something?”
She dips her chin. “Have you gone insane?”
The question puts me on the defensive. I didn’t realize until now how much I was counting on her support. “My dad is dying.”
“I know, but—”
“This is my chance to give him something before he’s gone.”
“A fake wedding?”
“The experience of walking his only daughter down the aisle.”
“But Emma, it’s not real. You’re giving him an illusion.”
Her words cut. I don’t let myself examine the wound. I can’t afford to. This is my chance to do something for Dad, and we’ve already told my parents. Jake phoned last night to say he’d told his father as well, and he was just as happy as my parents are. As we sit here and speak, the news is spreading all over Mayfair. I’ve set this train in motion, and now I must ride it to its foregone conclusion—my father walking me down that aisle, which is exactly what I want. I can’t let Lily’s disapproval distract me from that.
I look down at my mug until the steam disappears. Patty makes the best coffee in town, and I can’t bring myself to take a sip. “I should get going. The Montgomerys’ new puppy is scheduled for vaccinations at nine.”
“Emma . . .”
“What?”
“I’m worried about you, okay? We never really talk about your dad or how you’re doing. I’m afraid you’re using this as an excuse to avoid reality.”
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“The last thing you need added to the mix is a broken heart.”
My exasperation grows. “A broken heart? Lily, it’s Jake. My heart is safe.”
She stares at me in that way she does—cutting straight through the nonsense, getting right to the bone.
“This is for my dad.”
“Does Jake know that? Because it seems like a pretty drastic favor to offer a person.”
“Jake knows what it’s like to live with regret. He doesn’t want that burden on my shoulders.” If only my best friend could feel the same. “That’s all this is.”
She couldn’t look any more skeptical if she tried. “I think it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”