How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  Hip against the counter, he grinned.

  “Oh. My. Starch. It actually works.”

  Why did the man have to be handsome and right?

  “The drill is brand-new and the bit sterilized.”

  “How?”

  He pointed to her stove where she’d set a pot of water to boil. The only copper one that survived the cave-in. “That’s my best pot. I’m not sure whether to applaud or pummel you.”

  “Applaud gets my vote.”

  “You aren’t allowed to vote when I’m thinking up means to torture you.”

  He grinned, and her gaze snagged on it whether or not she wanted it to.

  She tried two more apples. Hands covering hers, he repositioned the drill and peeler. The peel zipped off. So did her common sense, because she found herself stalling just to be near him and continue the friendly contact. His chest to her back, his body felt warm, smelled freshly showered. She fought to de-acknowledge appreciation of his physique and voice, but deep rumbles of laughter after every apple melted her bones into caramel.

  She refocused on his drill-peeling method. Its efficiency sank in, and she turned to look at him. “You’ve revolutionized my vegetable and fruit prep.”

  He nodded, looking handsome with his heroic drill.

  Her mind exploded with possibilities. “Potatoes. Pears. Everything!”

  “Maybe not overly ripe pears. They’d probably tear.”

  “Right.” She plucked up an apple. “Still, what a time-saver for this.” She beamed at him. “I’m impressed, for real. Your brilliance blinds me, sir.”

  Colin smiled slowly, and like this morning’s dawn after a stormy night, the sight of it stole her breath. Staying mad at him would be so much easier if he wasn’t so funny, suave, and smart. She needed distraction. Quick!

  She snatched up his drill and went to town attacking more apples.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he watched her curiously before plucking his jacket from a wall hook. “I’m going across to your place and get back at it.”

  “I feel bad not helping you.”

  He tapped her schedule for the next few days, which she’d written on a whiteboard on her—his—office wall. “You have a catering gig tomorrow. Listen, your part of the deal can wait until after spring. It looks like you’ve come into a busy season. No wonder you panicked when the roof fell in.”

  “Yeah, so thank you. Still, I feel bad, you over there renovating and me here peeling apples.”

  He leaned in. His cuteness became intoxicating. “Tell you what, Meadow, you let me taste test some of that great-smelling Tex-Mex food, and we’ll call it even.”

  She smiled. “I can do that. I’ll even fix you supper, if you want.”

  “My TV dinner tummy won’t protest that. Especially since I don’t cook well, unless by microwave or grill. But regarding dinner, instead of Tex-Mex tonight, would you join—?”

  Her phone chimed. She frowned. “It’s the hospital.” She answered the call.

  “Miss Larson? This is Del’s doctor. She listed you as her emergency contact and medical power of attorney.”

  “Yes.” A siphoning sensation numbed Meadow’s arms.

  “How far are you from the hospital?”

  Meadow’s knees weakened at the doctor’s tone. “Twenty minutes maybe. Why?”

  “She’s had some setbacks. We’re looking at surgery pretty quick here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We believe infection from gallstones. She has life-threatening pancreatitis.”

  After he expounded, Meadow said, “Be right there.” Remembering at the same time that she had left her coat at the catering event earlier, she whirled to grab her purse and ran smack into a slab of muscle. Reflexive arms came around her, surprising Meadow with their strength and sustaining power.

  Colin.

  He lowered his head to peer directly into her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Del—” My goodness, breathless. Mostly due to Del, but partly because Colin was so close. She had the strangest, strongest urge to lean in and let him shield her from the unrest exploding in her head. Worry over Del. Catering work. Obligations. Life.

  “Del’s having complications?”

  Meadow nodded, biting her lower lip. Everything hit her at once. Del. The train wreck her business was about to be with this new time crunch. But she couldn’t be selfish. Del’s health took priority. Still, Del’s and the teens’ futures depended on Meadow’s business success. Part of why Meadow pushed it so hard.

  Colin moved very much inside her personal space. “Meadow?”

  Panic and desperation pulverized her pride and made her want to step close to him. She dared not. She fixed eyes on the floor. No use. His nearness magnetized. Her will stretched like a mozzarella string to a point of thinness about to break. Crazy as it was, his kindness was getting to her . . . demolishing walls. He may be reconstructing her house but simultaneously deconstructing barriers she’d spent a lifetime building.

  Never mind all that now.

  She returned Colin’s steady gaze. “I’m scared for Del.”

  “God’s got this. But she needs you too. When’s the Tex-Mex gig?”

  “Rehearsal dinner’s tomorrow, wedding reception the day after. Why am I getting so many weddings during the week now, when everything is such a mess? My teen helpers will be out of school in time to help some, but I’m still short a very important hand in Del. I even have that wagon wheel prop over there she only got started.” She pointed with a shaky hand.

  “Oh, Colin, how will I do this alone?”

  Enormous relief settled inside Colin. She was letting herself lean on him. Big step. Big, big. “You won’t do this alone. I’ll help.”

  She blinked. “You said yourself you can’t cook. Del’s my only trained chef.”

  “Hey, I peel a pretty awesome apple.”

  “Colin, no offense, but . . .”

  “I can handle it. Besides, you don’t have time to argue with me about this. Del needs you.” Not seeing her coat anywhere, he draped his jacket around her shoulders and ushered her out the door. He always had a spare coat in his truck.

  “Thank you,” she said after a few blocks. “I realize you don’t have to do all this.”

  “I feel honored to. We’re neighbors.” And he hoped, soon, friends.

  “I can’t help but think you’re doing this because you still feel sorry for me.”

  She probably assumed that because of what he’d said about the root of his relationship with his ex-fiancée. Colin only semi-regretted sharing, but was his care forged of guilt? He’d been duped by his motives before.

  “I have no basis for feeling sorry for you, Meadow. You underestimate your value. You’re worthy of respect. Not pity. I do feel sorry . . . but not for you. I feel sorry about you—and for me—that I couldn’t see how damaging my actions, inactions, and immaturity were to you back then.”

  She grew so quiet he couldn’t begin to read how she took that. He knew better than to ask. She had a lot to be anxious about at the moment, and he didn’t want to add to it.

  “What’s going on with Del?”

  “Gallstones led to serious pancreatitis and infected many of her organs.”

  “Vital ones?”

  “Yes. Fluid collected as a cyst in her pancreas to a point it ruptured, causing internal bleeding. She developed low oxygen from lung damage caused by the chemical changes. Her kidneys are beginning to fail and her blood sugar is out of control.”

  “Can it all be fixed?” He accelerated to get there faster.

  “Only with surgery, intensive post-op care, lengthy recovery, and, according to her doctor, prayer.”

  The gravity of Del’s situation set in. He asked about Del’s military service and anything else he could think of to keep Meadow from worrying over her dear friend’s fate.

  After pulling into a hospital parking stall, he grabbed Meadow’s hand. “Father, we place Del in your
hands. Guide the surgeons, keep her safe. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  He slid from the truck, amused at the shock he’d glimpsed freezing Meadow’s face.

  “What?” he said. The shock was still there when he met her on the passenger side.

  “You just . . . I think you just prayed.”

  “That’s what people of faith do.” He smiled kindly and nudged her shoulder with his. “You should know, Miss Pepper-Your-Walls-with-Scripture.”

  “You noticed?”

  “I noticed.” But truth plastered to her walls was of no help if she didn’t grant him access to bring down the walls inside her. They quickly navigated halls to the elevator.

  “That’s what’s different about you,” she murmured as they exited the elevator to the surgery waiting room. His chest expanded at the wonderment in her tone.

  “When did you become a Christian, Colin?”

  “In the military. A chaplain led me to the Lord.”

  She looked interested to hear more, but a nurse intercepted them. “Here for Del?”

  “Yes. Can we see her?” Meadow looked close to tears.

  Colin ached to comfort her.

  “She just went to the OR. Doc will be with you soon as surgery’s over.”

  “How long will that be?” Meadow clutched her purse to her middle.

  Colin put a hand to her back in case the answer upset her.

  The nurse flipped through papers. “At least three hours.”

  Meadow’s face paled. That she didn’t protest his comfort proved she was reeling and feeling pressure and fear over Del, plus a wedding rehearsal the next day followed by a wedding reception that she was many hours away from being prepared for. Del took priority, but Meadow needed to meet her catering obligations to her Tex-Mex bride and groom and keep the teens’ paychecks coming too.

  The emotional struggle played out over her expressive face. He needed to find a way to help her and keep her contracts from jeopardy. He gently steered her to a quiet corner sofa. She sat like a statue. He sat on a chair across from her. Leaned in. “Is there someone I can call?”

  She blinked. “Who? There’s no one.”

  “Flora, maybe?”

  She shook her head. “She’s stressed about her wedding and readying her apartment for our siblings, arriving soon. They’re staying for a few weeks. They were going to be at my house, but . . .”

  “Would you like me to wait here with you? Or I could go back to my place with a list from you as to what I can do to save you some time. How best can I help you, Meadow?”

  She stiffened. “You’ve done so much already.”

  His heart shredded for her. She’d had to fend for herself and her siblings for so long that she’d become destructively independent. “It’s always easier to help than be the one needing it.”

  She met his gaze. It felt like their souls connected through their eyes. She searched his with an expression that beckoned the question he was trying so hard to prove in worthy actions the answer.

  Can I trust you?

  Colin cradled her gaze intently in an effort to anchor his answer therein:

  I promise I will never hurt you again.

  There were twelve inches, then ten, then seven inches of space between them, and it still felt like seven hundred miles. It became the longest seven inches of Colin’s life as he risked rejection and found the courage to reach for her. His hands spanned across the chasm of inches and years, offenses and tears of hard history between them and grasped hers.

  Rather than stiffen or pull away, she held tight. “I have the hardest time accepting help from anyone, Colin, especially you. Plus, you need to spend time with your dad and your business. You’re the CEO now . . .”

  Leaned forehead to forehead, he smiled. “Will you please stop that? I see Dad every day. We get quality time. He gets tired from so much visiting. And I do have staff and crew at McGrath Construction, you know. Besides, you want to pull off this catering gig or not?” He squeezed strength into her hands with each word.

  “Of course.” She slipped her hands from his. Had he imagined she’d only reluctantly done so? She dug through her shiny purse until she produced pen and paper.

  A yearning to recapture the closeness whittled the edges of his resistance. He forced himself to focus on how much he loved her transformation from worry to work mode. Determination fueling her movements as she quickly jotted a list made him smile.

  Paper down, she pointed. “These are things I’m certain you can do.”

  She made a second list. “These are things I’m okay if you can’t do, but if you think you can, would save me a lot of time and preparation.”

  She bit her lower lip, then scratched a third list. “These are things it would take a miracle for you to be able to do, but since I’m desperate and you’re nuts enough to try anything, I’m turning this over too.”

  He chuckled, absorbing with pleasure the camaraderie, thankful for humor lifting layers of stress from her pretty amber eyes. Owlish in the sense they were so absolutely stunning and vivid on her face. He scanned the list mostly because he could get seriously lost in her eyes, but neither of them had time for that at the moment.

  Or maybe ever.

  Her first list mostly involved chopping food and gathering supplies. “Got it. Keep me posted on Del.” He wanted to stay here with Meadow and support Del, but they needed him elsewhere more. He picked up her phone and put his number in her contacts.

  She started to hand him his jacket. “I’ll come help you as soon as I’m able.”

  He pressed the jacket back into her arms. “Keep it for now. Call when you’re ready for a ride home.”

  “Home?”

  “The pole barn.” He shook his head of ardent cobwebs. Things got too crazy cozy there for a second. He needed to remember he was out to earn her forgiveness, not her forever.

  Colin had worked on the lists several hours before Meadow called to say Del weathered surgery well. Thanking God, he drove to pick up Meadow, satisfied with all he’d accomplished.

  “You look beat,” he said as he helped her into his truck.

  “Am, but can’t sleep. Have to be ready.” Her shoulders and eyelids drooped.

  “I only have two things left on the last list and that’s because I wasn’t sure how to go about them.” He’d never seen so many serving dishes and cutlery in all of creation.

  Her neck craned. “You finished all but two things? You’re a keeper.” She smiled so brightly and her words planted such a vivid seed, he almost ran off the road.

  “You’re really pretty, but exceptionally so when you do that.”

  “What?”

  “Smile.” He loved being on the receiving end. Maybe they could build a close friendship after all. It took a mile for Meadow’s blush to tame. The rush of red that graced her face reminded him of the showy roses in his mom’s yard. His grin faded on the fleeting memory that she’d nurtured her flowers but never her family.

  Once at the barn, Meadow guided them through everything else that could be done ahead of time. Under his outdoor lights as darkness fell, they loaded covered buffet servers, hot and cold drink dispensers, serving bowls, beverage bins, and gobs of catering gadgetry Colin couldn’t identify. He’d been able to finish the wagon wheel display, and they loaded that into his truck since Del’s vehicle was unavailable.

  He carted Meadow’s countertop convection oven while she hefted her portable microwave. Midway, she yelled, “Race ya!” then sped ahead. He met her mirthful challenge. Somehow she had rallied from her earlier fatigue.

  By the time they reached her SUV, they were laughing hysterically and about to drop the heavy items. Just being in her presence was fun, laughing alongside her a joy. He never realized she was so funny. He severely regretted not taking time to get to know her in high school. His loss. He’d caved to selfishness and peer pressure—big-time regrets.

  Peace settled between them while they loaded pan carriers, chafers, trays, condiment holde
rs, table numbers, signs, and nonperishable food.

  She playfully pinched tongs at him and said, “En garde!”

  Colin armed himself with his own set and countered, “Prêt!” He grinned at her obvious delight that he knew the French word for ready. He was trying to remember the word for go when a spark lit her eyes.

  “Allez!” she commanded, then lunged, making playful contact with his sleeve.

  He tamped his foot several paces forward, forcing her to scramble back. Then she blocked, advanced, and—most surprising of all—giggled like a carefree little girl.

  After fencing themselves into fits of laughter, they continued gathering a plethora of other catering stuff and serving ware. It was well after 1:00 a.m. when they wrapped up. Rather than feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated.

  “Thanks, Colin. You made a stressful prep a delight rather than a duty.”

  “My pleasure.” He fought OCD-fueled urges to sweep unruly bangs from her eyes.

  She pressed fingers to her temples, something he’d come to realize she did when majorly stressed—and just when he thought she’d relaxed. She let him walk her to the pole barn and up its porch steps. “Thanks, Colin, for letting me stay here. It’s cozy.”

  “My pleasure. I like having you close.”

  Her eyes softened at that. He wanted to stay and chat with her, but it was cold and late; the next day would be filled with catering challenges, and he didn’t want to push down too many walls at once.

  Soothing forest scents, stars, and night sounds greeted them, which added an ambience of romance to the air. He tried to ignore it, but his will vaporized the instant she tilted her face up and peered shyly through her lashes. He’d already turned off the outdoor lights except for one, one that allowed him to see every facet of her lovely face.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Are you sure after lunch is soon enough for me to get there?” He drank her in as she nodded. Wanted desperately to fix the haunted look that never really ever left her eyes. How much of it had been etched there by him? Swallowing hard, he did the exact opposite thing he wanted: said good night and stepped off the porch to head to his house.

  “Colin?”