How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

Thinking she’d forgotten something, he turned his head. Conflicting emotions swirled in her face. He swiveled fully, showing her he’d listen if she was ready. She scanned his eyes before brushing the ground with hers. “Thanks. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “No need to.”

  She nodded and recaptured his gaze. He loved staring into her eyes so much; he walked backward all the way to his door since he’d memorized the path. Grateful the barn was right next to his house and that his house porch light was still on so she could see him, he waved playfully once there and, okay yeah, in a flirty way.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t recoil, scorn, or scoff. Rather, he saw a tremendous smile on her face that surely eased tension from her eyes and lifted her shoulders from the burdening weight of Del’s emergency surgery.

  “Tomorrow,” he called softly as a promise. Not even sure yet for what.

  “Tomorrow.” She met his pledge with a grin he could swear was part miracle, part maniacal. Probably thinking humorously of him and the bumbling mess he’d be in his fledgling attempt as her assistant cooking host in an actual high-risk catering event.

  Peeling apples was one thing. Pulling off chef-level meals and service entirely another. It hit Colin full force what he’d actually agreed to do for her.

  Lord, help me not drop an entrée pan or something equally disastrous. He really was a complete spaz in the kitchen. Of course, Meadow already knew that and had let him help her today anyway. Did that mean it was possible to earn her trust after all?

  Lord, order our day. Don’t let me ruin Meadow’s catering reputation.

  He thought about his inability to stop thinking about her or curb enjoyment of her presence. He was making strides earning her forgiveness, but after seeing her strength today and interacting with her tonight, Colin was tempted to want more.

  Much more.

  It was either the stupidest or the bravest struggle he’d ever owned.

  He courageously added to his mental Meadow Agenda: Earn her admiration and build a friendship forged in forgiveness.

  Once inside, he peeled his curtain back to make sure she made it safely inside. Hand pressing the window reflecting her entry into the haven of his barn’s doorway, he prayed.

  “You’re all about renovation, Lord. Redeem the mistakes of my past and let your will prevail between us in whatever fashion pleases you.”

  “It’s green.”

  Christopher, one of the teen helpers, pointed at the blob simmering in a stockpot the next afternoon. Colin grinned at him and winked at Meadow. She felt laughter bubble at Christopher’s innocent observation. Joy also rose that Colin had quickly bonded with her waitstaff teens, Chris, Aimee, Abbi, and Aurora. Clearly, they adored him.

  Despite her and Colin’s late-night scramble to get everything done, a feat she never would’ve accomplished without him, Meadow wasn’t tired today. Not even after dreaming restlessly of him all night and while enduring the teen girls’ matchmaking efforts ever since he’d arrived. She was glad, though, that they’d had only a half day of school that morning.

  Aurora sidled next to Colin and said conspiratorially, “Mr. McGrath, did she admit how much fun she had prepping and loading supplies with you yesterday?”

  Colin’s eyes held delight and mirth as he faced Meadow. “Why no, she didn’t.”

  Abbi joined the teasing by adding, “Yeah, before you got here she said you make even mundane tasks adventurous.”

  Chris said, “Ladies, give it a rest. Seriously, why is the chili all green and stuff?”

  “It’s supposed to be that color,” Aimee informed him. “Meadow used authentic Hatch chiles from the bride’s New Mexico family homestead.”

  Aurora attached herself to Meadow, as usual when she was preparing something new. She was a sponge for learning. “The bride met the groom at a rodeo there.”

  Meadow helped Aurora measure ingredients for Spanish flan. “She’s a Hispanic New Mexico native, he’s a former Texas rodeo cowboy, hence their Tex-Mex wedding theme.”

  Colin nodded. “Nice.”

  Nice was the graceful symphony of sinew and strength evident in his arms as he hand-shredded a block of cheddar cheese. Took tremendous effort to peel her eyes away.

  “Plus, they rescue Andalusian horses. That mission’s how they met.”

  “Awesome. I’d love to hear more stories about how your engaged clients met, Meadow.”

  The earnestness that had entered Colin’s eyes made her sad his engagement hadn’t worked out. That she’d begun to have his best interest at heart made her wonder when he’d seeped under her walls. There were a billion women out there. Surely if she could turn his attention to one, the teens would stop teasing them. “Colin, I’m surprised you’re not dating.”

  She’d know if he was. Between Flora and Del, they seemed to have found out just about everything there was to know about Colin since he’d come back. Still . . . “I hope our deal isn’t impeding your social life.”

  His expression deadpanned. “I’m spending time exactly where I want to.”

  Gulp. “Out of guilt? Because I’d hate to be the cause of your lack of a love life.”

  “My lack—?” His head whipped up so fast he bashed it on a cabinet, then laughed. “Spending time with you”—he gestured to the organized mess around them—“and all this chaos is an honor.”

  “Aw. What a guy!” Abbi breathed, to which Aurora sighed and Aimee grinned. Chris rolled his eyes, clearly in solidarity with Colin.

  Meadow absolutely flustered herself by realizing she no longer had any idea which side she stood on. Nevertheless, she busied herself mostly to hide how his words thrummed delight through her. “Is chaos why you’re compelled to go behind me straightening utensils, arranging pots in order of size, and lining every celery stalk to microscopic degrees on trays? Yes, I noticed.”

  He blushed. “I’m compulsive like that. But not impulsive.” He peered from where he pulled taco shells from the oven and fixed her intently with his gaze. “Regarding your dating question, maybe I haven’t convinced the right one yet.”

  Her pulse sped, then plummeted. He hadn’t said “found.” He’d said “convinced.”

  Which meant he had someone in mind. She couldn’t deny disappointment at that. And she hoped it wasn’t Blythe Matthews.

  “Green chili looks kinda gross, but it’s actually very tasty,” she said to change the subject.

  Chris and Colin eyed the bubbling poblanos, onions, lean ground beef, garlic, flour-thickened sauce, and flame-roasted tomatoes with skepticism.

  “If you say so,” they responded at the exact same time, then laughed.

  She dipped a clean spoon into the pot and drew out a spicy bite. Chris stepped back, but Colin leaned and sipped it off, suspicious expression still intact. A moment later he lolled his head back and moaned. “Amazing. Seriously.”

  Chris leaned in and gave the chili a second look, eyed Colin, then tried it. “Sick!”

  Meadow scowled until the girls translated, “Sick means good nowadays.”

  “Save us a couple of bowls of that, would ya?” Colin said to Meadow.

  “Glad to. I always make extra for my veteran buddies.” She recalled his pleasure at discovering she hadn’t forgotten his wounded friends, that she hadn’t waited to fulfill that part of their bargain. He’d thanked her profusely and offered to deliver meals she cooked. That it meant so much to Colin touched her.

  “I’m gonna gain ten pounds a year if you keep feeding me like this.”

  His statement seasoned her confidence but also stunned because his phrasing made it sound like he thought they’d be in one another’s lives for the long haul.

  He’d made similar statements all week. Was he trying to hint at something? Fish for feelings? She couldn’t manage to bring it—or her hopes—up. She wasn’t that brave. Yet. Every day around Colin grew her courage.

  Except he’d said he hadn’t convinced the right one yet.

  A thought materialized th
at he could’ve meant her. Impossible, right?

  That would almost be tragic. Their past and her inability to let go of it was too big a barrier between them. Plus, he’d made clear his aversion to romance in light of his last relationship. Yet sometimes it seemed he liked and treated her as more than a friend.

  Should she step over fear and into faith that God may have goodness cooking for her? She’d avoided getting serious with anyone because she’d been career building and waiting for the right guy.

  Is this you? Dare I hope, Lord?

  Her mind swayed in constant contrast, not knowing which image to grasp. Was Colin really the man he portrayed standing here? Or was he the heartbreaker she remembered from yesteryear?

  The teens had been working since shortly after noon and, thanks to Colin, Meadow felt on top of things enough to excuse them until they had to be at the rehearsal dinner venue, dressed in uniform.

  After the teens left, Colin gestured to loaf pans. “We stuff chili in the soapy things?” Yeast scents permeated the air, mingled with hearty cheese, meat, and Mexican spices.

  Mouth watering, Meadow giggled. “Not soap. Sopapillas. It’s like Native American fry bread, and we’re going to make it from scratch.”

  “We?”

  “Since I don’t have a mouse in my pocket, yes.”

  “Gimme a miter saw—I’m in my element. Gimme an oven mitt—I’m a misfit.”

  She’d started giggling, but his last word killed it. She tried to shake it off.

  He was beside her in a heartbeat. “Hey, what’d I say that upset you?”

  She sprinkled wax paper with flour. “It’s stupid, really. Just that Blythe called me Little Miss Misfit all through school.”

  “And my saying the word misfit induced bad memories you’d forgotten.”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him lowering the bread basket he’d been holding before he curled his hand over her shoulder. “It is a big deal.”

  His words froze her frame but thawed her heart. He drew close. So close. His gentle breath ruffled hairs on her neck.

  “Words wound worse than bullets or blades. But you’ll ultimately be okay.” His voice resonated deep. To barren places she’d thought too fragile, too far out of reach. Yet he managed to get there, to seep words in like water through a microscopic breach, wicking through her window frame, reversing the drought that had become her soul. A tiny bead, then a trickle, then a flood. Tears. Now.

  Silent, she let them flow.

  Courageously not blinking the moisture away this time, she hoped like crazy what he said was true, right, and maybe even could be a promise from God. That knowledge alone would make her—and everything—okay.

  “God himself will make you okay,” he repeated with penetrating conviction.

  That made it sound like the promise from God she’d hoped for. Dare she believe?

  “What makes you say that?” she whispered, tattered soul truly needing to know.

  “Because I know it’s true, I know it’s for you, and I know you need to hear it.”

  “I hope you’re right, Colin, because I feel far from okay,” she whispered with such frailty from a raw-honest place, unsure he’d even hear or if she was ready for him to. “This is embarrassing. I haven’t cried since high school.” Her famed walk of shame, actually.

  “It’s time then.” She turned her head to look at him. He smiled, appearing to want to encourage her. “What triggered your tears?”

  “The frustrating fact that I still feel like I have ‘loser’ tattooed on my soul.”

  His gorgeous emerald greens tracked every tear as though sacred jewels slipped down her cheeks. The strength of his hand multiplied into her shoulder as care magnified in his Irish eyes. “Feelings can lie to us.”

  Could be good or bad, Meadow decided. Especially since she was having unsettling feelings of warmth beyond friendship, care for Colin that was scary.

  “Just because someone calls you a name, doesn’t make it true. How much enchilada sauce did you say?”

  She smiled at the drastic change in subject, dabbed at her face with a towel, and brought the can over. “Just enough to cover the pan bottom.”

  He drizzled sauce while she observed the crimson pouring. She envisioned heart-red streams of forgiving oil drenching down an ancient Israel cross.

  Thank you, King Jesus, for dying for me. Meadow pictured nail-pierced hands plunging through dirt, like she’d shoved fists into the snowman for her shoe. Images hit of those strong, scarred hands deep underground, closing deftly around a root. She thought of Colin’s hand coming out of that snowman with her shoe and realized the symbolism.

  God sent him to encourage her. Lord, I release Colin from any wrongdoing, and I reject this bitterness. Please pull it out of me, root and all.

  “Let me guess, tortillas next?”

  Colin’s question drew her from the prayer, but she departed it in peace. Something felt different inside. Either the green chili was working up an inner warmth or hope had a safe place inside her to lay its head for the first time in ten years.

  “Yep. Two deep, like this.” Together they layered corn tortillas over the enchilada sauce, then added hamburger meat cooked with onions and garlic, then cheese.

  Colin spread her clumped cheese to the edges, making her smile. “Sorry. OCD.”

  She grinned. “Not complaining. My enchilada pie never looked so good.”

  They started adding the next layers.

  “We add tomatoes and lettuce after baking?”

  She nodded, not complaining one bit when their hands brushed and mingled in the process. Maybe their hearts a little too?

  He peered down at her. “It layers like lasagna.”

  She smiled. “Exactly. You’re a fast learner.”

  “On some things.”

  His remorseful tone elicited compassion and an urge to comfort. She changed the subject instead.

  “Del’s improving.”

  He nodded. “She told me about her abusive ex.”

  “Really? When did you talk to her?”

  “Went to see her this morning after my pavement therapy.”

  “I see you running sometimes when I walk to the lake to watch the sunrise.”

  Mention of the lake jarred them both. She knew without it being said that he thought of the night he and his friends left her at the other lake. His face looked stricken with sorrow as his eyes roamed every facet of her face.

  She thought the hurt had been behind her. But his coming back to town and ending up as her neighbor had shaken things up and shown her she was far from healed of it. “Not the lake. I meant the little pond at the park,” she found herself clarifying.

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Just continued studying her with tender, probing eyes. Then finally, “I still had workout gear on when I went to see her.” As though remembering something, a grin squeezed past the remorse holding his handsome face hostage. “She told me she wouldn’t be caught dead running unless someone was chasing her with a substantially sharp knife.”

  “Sounds like Del.” Glad he’d veered off the lake subject, Meadow turned left to put a spoon in the sink the same time he turned right to grab a trivet.

  “Oomph!” They collided; her face smushed in Colin’s chest, his steadying arms springing up to grasp hers.

  They stood like that a shocked moment before Meadow realized Colin wasn’t letting go. She stalled, not knowing what to do, say, think, or what this moment meant.

  Determining to be brave, if even for a blink, she let herself feel. Strong arms shielding. Tender heart beating against her cheek. Soft cotton shirt warm against her skin. His fresh waterfall scent and piney aftershave awakened her senses. For an unguarded instant, she let herself soak in not just him but all he was becoming to her.

  Breaths deepening, he shifted. She thought he was about to let go until he further encircled her, curving his a
rms protectively. He felt so solid, so warm, so like heaven in a hug. Every place he touched came alive, especially in her soul.

  He held her like that. The tender moment couldn’t last long enough if it stretched past forever. Yet she’d never been more scared in her life. He pulled her closer until there wasn’t a breath between them possible. She did the craziest thing imaginable.

  Meadow let herself, and all her stress, lean completely into the strength of Colin McGrath.

  His arms overpowered her deadlines, her cave-in, worry over Del. He absorbed her overdrawn agenda, her overdue to-dos, her insecurities, and her inability to discern his motives and trust. She was scared. But he was harbor. He was hope. He was haven.

  She was safe.

  After a moment his velvet voice threaded through the benevolent fog of bliss that cocooned her within his arms. She felt stronger and sounder than she had in years. She sensed him pray as he held her, and she knew credit for her peace and strength belonged to God. But she was thankful for Colin too.

  “Wish I could stay like this forever, Meadow. Thank you for letting me in.”

  She nodded against him. “Thanks for making your stubbornness outlast mine.”

  He smiled, and they separated slowly. Rather than feeling awkward over the extended-release hug, Meadow felt exhilarated, hopeful, and free.

  She eased back into meal-prep mode. “Can you hand me the medium chafing dish?”

  He blinked big at the conglomeration of pans and pitched a cute but panicked look.

  “Square white serving thing with the underburner and lid.”

  He brought it over and set it down with a grin. “It begins.”

  “What?” She stirred masa batter for the chile rellenos dish.

  “The crash course in Catering Dish Identification.”

  Meadow felt a crash coming on but not with catering. It had to do with her growing dependency on Colin. That she’d begun to long for their talks. She’d shifted at some point from doing everything she could to avoid him to seeking opportunities and excuses to spend more time with him.

  “What’s the rest of the week look like schedule-wise?”

  She was tempted to say it looked perfect as long as he’d be in it, but tamped down the urge. She needed to get control of herself. Stay on guard. Just to be safe. “Just in case” was her go-to phrase, the way she lived life in relationship to others. Safe.