How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  Skye hurried toward the back pew, hoping to reach it before the congregation sat down, hoping no one would notice how late she was. How late we are. The thought made her tingle from head to toe.

  She stepped into the pew and turned, her gaze sliding to Grant as he moved in at her side. He removed his hat, and when they sat, he placed it on his left knee.

  How long had it been, she wondered, since a man had come to church to be with her? Never. Not really. When she was younger, she’d sat with the boys from youth group. Later, she’d often sat with rodeo friends who came to church as a group. But coming to church to be with her? That hadn’t happened until now. Of course, Grant had said it was to hear Tom preach, but instinct told her that she was the real reason—and it felt good.

  Grant saw her looking at him and smiled. There was that tingling sensation again. She looked toward the pulpit, lest he see what she felt.

  Skye had dreamed of marriage, a husband, and lots of children since she was a girl in pigtails. But she’d longed for all of that under God’s covering and blessing. Was it beginning to come true at last?

  The service passed in a blur. Skye had a difficult time concentrating on the words spoken and the songs sung. She tried to focus, but it seemed an impossible task.

  The congregation rose for Tom Butler’s closing prayer, and when he said “Amen,” the sanctuary buzzed with voices as people began to depart. Friendly invitations to Sunday dinner were spoken. Hugs were given. Laughter erupted from small groups.

  “So,” Skye said to Grant, “what did you think?”

  “I liked it. Tom’s a good preacher. Figured he would be.” He stepped backward out of the pew, then waited for her to exit and walk with him.

  Skye felt warmth color her cheeks. So strange. She didn’t blush easily. Why now? Why this? Before she could answer her own questions, her mom’s voice intruded.

  “Skye, you are here.”

  As her parents approached, Skye answered, “Yes, I was running late, so we sat in the back.”

  The word we drew her mom’s gaze to Grant.

  “Mom. Dad. This is Grant Nichols. Grant, my parents, Midge and Rand Foster.”

  The two men shook hands and exchanged a greeting while her mom turned questioning eyes upon Skye. She returned the look with a small shake of the head. A shake that said, Don’t pry.

  “So,” her mom said, as if she hadn’t understood the silent warning, “what are you two doing for Sunday dinner?” Her gaze took in both Skye and Grant.

  Skye wanted to sink into the floor.

  Grant didn’t look bothered. He answered, “Mrs. Foster, I was planning to ask your daughter to go for a drive. It’s a fine summer day. I thought we’d get something to eat up in McCall.” He glanced over at Skye. “Interested?”

  The embarrassment over her mom’s question vanished as she nodded to Grant.

  “Well, you two have fun,” her mom said. Then she leaned in to kiss Skye’s cheek before whispering, “Call me later.”

  Grant once again cupped Skye’s elbow, and they followed her parents out of the church, all of them pausing long enough to speak to Tom Butler before passing through the open doors. On the sidewalk, her mom and dad said good-bye to them and walked toward the church parking lot.

  Grant tipped his head in the opposite direction. “I’m parked down thataway. You ready? Do you need to go home first?”

  “No. I’m ready.”

  “Great.”

  He stepped around to her left side so that he walked closest to the street. Skye wondered if he treated all women with this much care and respect. But as soon as the thought came to her, she knew the answer was a yes. He was that kind of man. It was obvious that was how he’d been raised.

  She glanced at him, curious to know more about that. “Have your parents come for a visit since you moved to Kings Meadow?”

  “Nope. Not yet. You know how hard it is for a rancher to get away for any length of time. Dad takes care of most of the ranch work himself. I’ve got brothers who pitch in, of course, but they’ve got other jobs, and all but one have families of their own.” He gave a slight shrug. “So I go home for visits when I can.”

  They arrived at his Jeep, and he held the door for her as she got in. What was it about his polite actions that made her feel pretty and feminine? And so very eager to know what would come next.

  Northbound traffic was light on this summer Sunday afternoon, and Grant was content to drive in silence with Skye at his side. The windows were down, and the wind tugged at their hair. The air smelled fresh and sweet. He glanced to his right and saw a smile curve the corners of her mouth.

  That’s a good sign.

  When he had to slow down for a series of curves in the winding road, he said, “I’ve got a friend who recently opened a restaurant in McCall. I thought we’d eat there. Unless you’re too hungry to wait that long.”

  “I can wait,” she answered. “There’re not a lot of choices between here and there anyway.”

  He sensed her gaze upon him. It was insane, the way it made him feel. The way she made him feel. And it surprised him how eager he was to dive headlong into the insanity.

  “Okay to have some music?” she asked, already reaching for the audio control.

  His Jeep was over twenty years old, but he’d had a new stereo system put in the previous year. Even with the windows down, the speakers put forth a great sound. The playlist was a mixture of classic country and hits by current recording artists, and he knew he’d chosen well when Skye began to sing along. Soon Grant’s voice joined hers.

  The miles seemed to melt away beneath the spinning tires as they sang their way toward their destination. When they tired of singing, they chatted about this and that. Grant always enjoyed learning something new about Skye. And even when they fell silent, it was comfortable instead of awkward. Before Grant knew it, they had reached the outskirts of McCall. He eased off the gas as the speed limit dropped, ten miles per hour at a time. Skye reached over and turned off the stereo.

  At last, they entered the resort town. His friend, Andy Davidson, had given Grant clear directions to the restaurant’s location. Easy to follow—a right, a left, and another left. After the last turn, at the end of a short road, he saw the sign on a new building: THE SUNDOWN.

  “There it is,” he said to Skye.

  “Good. I’m famished.”

  After parking the Jeep, Grant hopped out and hurried around to open the door for Skye. He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. As if they’d been holding hands for years. He was sorry when she let go.

  “How do you know the owner?” she asked as they walked toward the entrance.

  “Andy’s from Montana too. We met at the university in our freshman year.”

  “And you bonded over your common interest in food and cooking?”

  Grant chuckled. “No. He was a business major. He planned to be a CEO of one corporation or another by the time he was thirty. But the first business he invested in was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and he found he liked running it. So he bought a place that was bigger and better and liked it even more. Then he inherited this piece of property from a relative and decided to tear down what was on it and build the Sundown.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Not surprised.” He pulled the restaurant door open and waved her inside. “It just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Has he tried to steal you from Ultimate Adventures and the Tamarack Grill?”

  Before Grant could answer in the affirmative, Andy appeared, walking toward them with an arm outstretched.

  “Great to see you.” Andy shook Grant’s hand with gusto. “Have you thought about my offer?” Without waiting for an answer, Andy looked at Skye. His eyes sparkled with appreciation, and his voice deepened as he said, “You must be Miss Foster. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Andy Davidson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  “Was good of you to drag Grant out o
f Kings Meadow. I’ve been after him to come up to McCall for months, but he’s always busy.”

  Skye glanced in Grant’s direction. “This was all his idea. I had nothing to do with it.” She smiled, and the warmth of her gaze made him feel like a hero out of one of his sisters’ romance novels.

  After a period of silence, Andy cleared his throat. “I’ve got the best table in the house all ready for the two of you.” He motioned for them to follow.

  Andy hadn’t lied. It was a great table. At the back of the restaurant, up five steps, then up another five, the table looked out over the lake. Sunlight glimmered off the water in sparks of gold and silver. Waves created by breeze and boat motors lapped at the shore below them.

  “It’s beautiful,” Skye said.

  Andy grinned at them both and then walked away. Moments later, the waitress came to take their beverage order.

  As soon as the waitress was once again out of hearing, Skye leaned toward Grant. “So he has tried to steal you away from Kings Meadow,” she said in a hushed tone.

  He shrugged, liking that she’d overheard Andy’s question. Not that he wanted to be prideful, but still . . .

  “You aren’t going to leave, are you?” There was earnest concern in her voice now.

  He matched her posture, his gaze holding hers. “I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave.” A slow smile curved his mouth before he added, “At least I hope so, Skye.” Another few heartbeats. “Do I?”

  The room seemed to spin. Skye’s heart raced. The conversations of other diners dimmed.

  “I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave . . . At least, I hope so, Skye . . . Do I?”

  She found it hard to draw a breath as the words repeated in her head. Was he asking about her? About her feelings? Was she one of those good reasons for him not to leave Kings Meadow?

  Before she could think of what to say, the waitress arrived with their beverages. Skye felt a sudden and strong dislike for the girl and her lousy timing. Oblivious, the waitress asked, “Are you ready to order?”

  Skye glanced at the menu, settling on the first thing she saw. “I’ll have the lemon-crusted chicken.”

  “Any sides?”

  She shook her head. Hurry up. Go away.

  The waitress looked at Grant.

  “I’ll have the pan-seared trout, please. Garlic mashed potatoes for the side.”

  The waitress smiled. “I’ll have these right out.” She walked away in the direction of the kitchen.

  Skye feared the interruption had ruined the mood, but when Grant’s gaze returned to her, the intense look in his eyes made her pulse gallop a second time.

  He drew his chair closer to hers. “Skye, I’ve never known anyone like you. Never felt this way before. There’s something . . . something special going on here.” He pointed to himself, then to her. “Between you and me.”

  She swallowed.

  “Do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice low.

  Yes, she mouthed, but no sound came out.

  He didn’t smile, as she’d expected him to. Instead, his dark brows drew together in a frown. “There’s something you should know about me, Skye.”

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “I . . . I haven’t always lived the way I should. I partied hard for a lot of years. Wasn’t very respectful of the girls I dated. Never thought it mattered because I didn’t have any intention of settling down.” He ran a hand over his hair. “God got my attention a few years back, and I’ve been trying to live right since. It’s one of the reasons I came to Kings Meadow. To move away from the man I used to be. I didn’t come here to . . . to get into a serious relationship. I never had plans to fall in love with anybody.”

  Serious relationship? A warm thrill passed through her. Fall in love?

  He reached across the corner of the table and took hold of her hand. “I don’t know for sure where this is going. Maybe it won’t go anywhere. But I’d sure like to find out. Wouldn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned in slowly, his gaze on her mouth. Unable to breathe, she waited for their lips to meet. The sensations, when it happened, were delicious. She wanted it to last forever. It ended in seconds. But brief as it had been, she knew she would never be the same.

  Skye was still asleep the next morning when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “You were supposed to call me when you got back yesterday.”

  “Hi, Mom.” She pushed hair off her face. “I . . . forgot.” It was the truth. Her mind had been in a muddle after Grant brought her home late in the afternoon.

  “So . . . tell me about your young man.”

  “It’s a little early to start calling him that.”

  “Is it?”

  She remembered the brief kiss in the restaurant. She also remembered the second, slower kiss they’d shared, standing on her doorstep.

  “Skye?”

  With her free arm, she drew a pillow to her chest and held it close. “Oh, Mom. He’s really special. I know nobody’s perfect, but I think Grant’s perfect for me.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Eyes closed, she launched into a litany of all she’d learned about Grant since the moment they first met. Every wonderful, thrilling, fascinating, charming thing she knew about him.

  “My goodness,” her mom said when Skye fell silent at last. “He does sound perfect. Doesn’t he have any flaws?”

  Trying to sound more serious and less starstruck, she answered, “He isn’t a very good dancer.”

  “Hmm.”

  “But we’re working on that.” Eyes open again, she laughed. She couldn’t help it. She was too happy to hold it in for long.

  “Your dad and I would love to get to know him. More than to just say hello in church. Could we have you two over for dinner sometime soon?”

  “Sure. That’d be great.” Skye shoved aside the pillow and sat up. “Sundays and Mondays are his days off. He’s pretty busy the rest of the time. Working two jobs and all.”

  “Well, how about next Sunday after church?”

  “Okay. I’ll ask him if he’s free and let you know.” She glanced at the clock and quickly counted the hours until she would meet Grant at the dance studio. Anticipation caused her insides to spin.

  Her mom deftly changed the subject, and they chatted for a few more minutes before saying good-bye.

  After dropping the phone back into its cradle, Skye was tempted to fall back into bed and pull the sheet over her head. Going back to sleep sounded like the best idea, but something told her it wouldn’t happen, even if she tried. Not with Grant’s image planted firmly in her mind. She would blame her mom’s call, except she’d been dreaming about him when the phone rang.

  Smiling, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, wet hair wrapped in a turban, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in her underclothes, and applied makeup. Normally, she was in too much of a hurry to care. A little eye shadow. A bit of mascara. A quick brush of mineral foundation. Even when competing, she’d never been one to primp too much. But today she didn’t want to look normal or even settle for pretty. She wanted to look beautiful. For Grant.

  Is it real? Can this be happening?

  She lowered her hand, still staring at her reflection.

  God, I think Grant’s the one. I hope he is. Did You bring us together so we can build a future together?

  A husband. A home. Babies. Meeting Grant, loving Grant, could mean all of that.

  Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of the children of his youth. Isn’t that what You say, Lord?

  There was that luscious swirl of sensations in her midsection again.

  “Mmmm.”

  She dropped the makeup brush into a bin in the middle drawer, then reached for the blow dryer. If she didn’t hurry up, she wouldn’t be ready for that lesson with Grant this afternoon.

  Grant stood by the river, skipping smooth, flat stones across the surface of
the water. He’d come here to think, not long after the sun was up. It was a quiet setting. Far from any homes or ranches. Far from the road that wound its way east. Most fishermen didn’t come to this spot, although Grant didn’t know why. He’d seen fish swimming near the banks. But he wasn’t about to ask any fishermen. He liked knowing he could come here and be alone, to think and to pray.

  This morning, his thoughts and prayers were all about Skye Foster.

  It wasn’t often that he felt as unsure of himself as he did right now. BC Grant had been arrogant and impudent. The new version of Grant was more levelheaded, more of a clear thinker, more prudent.

  Prudent? He skipped another stone. Not exactly what I’d call what I said and did yesterday.

  Maybe not, but he’d meant it. All of it. He wanted to find out where things might go between them. And he’d meant that kiss too. Those kisses. He was more than attracted to Skye. It wasn’t merely the desire of a guy for a beautiful gal. There was more to his feelings than that.

  “But can I trust my feelings? The heart’s deceitful. Right?”

  He tipped his head back and looked beyond his hat brim at the cloudless blue sky, as if expecting to find the answer written in the heavens. It wasn’t.

  Skye was special. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was afraid he would. This was new territory for him. He’d never expected to meet a girl who could change his mind about love and marriage. Not that Skye had changed his mind. Especially not about the latter. Not yet anyway.

  But what if she did change it and then he discovered—too late—that he wasn’t cut out to be one half of a whole? What if he was meant to be a whole all on his own? Hadn’t the apostle Paul written that it was better to be single? Grant didn’t have to be like the rest of his family, rushing into love, rushing into marriage, rushing into having kids.

  He shook his head as he scuffed his boot against the hard ground. He’d been sure of himself yesterday morning. Why all the doubts now?

  Maybe because there’s already more between us than I know what to do with. Maybe because it scares me, not knowing what’s going to happen next.