How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  “Mac?” Hollis turned to Ethan. “She’s the one writing the story?”

  “She’s their reporter . . . and the photographer,” Ethan said. “Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No.” Hollis frowned. “As a matter of fact, you didn’t.”

  Coach smiled. “Well, you both will have some catching up to do.”

  The pastor returned to the podium, and the buzz of conversation dropped to a whisper as everyone shuffled back to their seats.

  “What’s the matter?” Ethan asked as they sat down again. “Mac grew up next door to us. You have to remember her.”

  “I remember her,” Hollis murmured. “I’m just hoping she doesn’t remember me.”

  Ethan was a little puzzled by the cryptic statement, but he didn’t have an opportunity to question her further because the worship team took their places at the front of the church.

  The congregation joined in the opening song and Ethan struggled to remember the words. On the rare Sundays when he wasn’t working in the ER, he’d tried to catch up on his sleep.

  Ethan bowed his head and let the music flow over him.

  He and God definitely had some catching up to do too.

  “They’re getting married Saturday and they don’t have a caterer?”

  The stunned look on Annie Price’s face told Mac that yes, this could present a problem.

  “Not according to Ethan.” Mac shook her head. “He claims that Hollis wants to keep things simple but when I was at the house on Wednesday, I kept waiting for a team of people to show up like they do on those makeover shows and build a ballroom over the outdoor patio. Maybe move the shoreline a little.”

  Annie chuckled. “I can’t imagine changing a thing. I’ve seen Channing House when Jesse and I go kayaking. It’s . . . big.”

  It was also the only house in town that actually had a name.

  Mac adjusted the flannel bundle cradled in her arms. Once a month she volunteered for nursery duty during the morning worship service and she considered it divine intervention that she’d been paired up with Annie, who was only a month away from exchanging vows with Red Leaf’s favorite county deputy. When they weren’t rocking fussy babies, they’d been discussing Hollis’s wedding plans. Or lack thereof.

  “You look deep in thought.” Annie, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from Mac, carefully extracted one of her platinum curls from Isabelle Gibson’s chubby fist. “Is something else bothering you? Other than the fact Ethan bribed you into sharing your wedding expertise, of course.”

  “In my case, wedding expertise is an oxymoron.” And Mac was sure Lilah Channing would agree with her.

  “I don’t know about that.” Annie smiled. “From the way you described it, you seem to have a vision of the perfect outdoor wedding.”

  Mac felt a blush coming on and turned away, carefully transferring her sleeping charge into one of the cribs that lined the wall.

  What she’d described—the floating lanterns, centerpieces made up of lacy-white hydrangeas, and twinkling lights—had been the wedding she’d spent hours dreaming about as a teenager. Only in those dreams Ethan had been the groom.

  She checked on the rest of the babies before dropping down on the colorful square of carpet again. “Hollis will probably nix everything. I’m surprised she even wants an outdoor wedding.”

  In fact, when it came right down to it, everything about the Channing-Blake wedding was a surprise. Like the way Ethan had reacted when he’d found out his mother had contacted the newspaper. And Hollis returning to Red Leaf—the town she hadn’t visited in years—to marry a celebrity.

  An Internet search had sparked even more questions about Hollis’s groom. Sure, Dead in the Water was the actor’s first movie, but aside from the trailer and a few publicity shots taken with the other cast members, Connor Blake seemed to go out of his way to avoid the spotlight.

  “You’re doing it again!” A plastic doughnut sailed through the air and bounced off Mac’s arm.

  She blinked and Annie’s face came back into focus. “Sorry. I just don’t understand a bride who is too busy to oversee the details of her own wedding. The Hollis I knew in high school was a control freak with pom-poms.”

  “You said you haven’t seen her for ten years. People change.”

  “Their mother hasn’t,” Mac muttered. “You should have seen Lilah’s face when she looked at the yard—and that was after we’d cleaned it up!”

  “I think I might have seen Ethan when I picked up cinnamon rolls at the bakery yesterday,” Annie mused. “What does he look like?”

  “About six two. Broad shoulders.” Really broad shoulders. “But he’s not one of those muscle-bound guys with no neck,” Mac added. “He has dark hair . . . and there’s always one swatch that hangs in his eyes.”

  “Mmm. What color are they?”

  “Light green. Like a willow leaf.”

  “A willow leaf.” Annie grinned.

  It occurred to Mac that she’d probably gone into more detail than what was required. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who’s blushing.”

  “I’m not—” She was. Mac could feel her freckles beginning to glow. Which reminded her of the whisper-soft brush of Ethan’s finger against her cheek. “You asked me for a description.”

  Annie leaned forward, careful not to disturb Isabelle. “Ethan’s an old flame, isn’t he?”

  “An old . . . no,” Mac sputtered. “Ethan Channing was on the varsity team when he was a freshman. He was also the most popular guy in school. Dated the most popular girls.”

  “You weren’t popular?” Annie looked so astonished that Mac burst out laughing. Sometimes she forgot her friend had moved from Madison to Red Leaf only a year ago.

  “Not at all. Coach was allergic to stores that sold anything other than sports equipment, so I had no fashion sense. What made it even worse was that I didn’t know I was supposed to care about stuff like that.” Mac had had her own uniform in high school. Blue jeans and T-shirts. “I was either on the sidelines handing out water bottles or sitting on the bus next to Coach when we had an away game. The guys treated me like the team mascot instead of a potential girlfriend.”

  “And Ethan was one of those guys?”

  “He didn’t even notice me.” Mac strove to keep her voice light. “It was high school. Crushes and broken hearts, they kind of go with the territory.”

  “Which one was Ethan Channing?”

  “Both.” Mac shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

  “I manage a bookstore. I love stories.” The flash of sympathy in her friend’s eyes released an avalanche of memories.

  Mac had never told anyone what had happened after the homecoming game but suddenly, she was telling Annie everything.

  The Red Leaf Lions had spent the days leading up to the game working on a strategy that would guarantee a victory, and Mac had been working on a plan of her own. She’d recently started her freshman year and it was time to break free from her cocoon. Show people she wasn’t just the coach’s daughter, content to remain on the sidelines. She was going to reveal a brand-new Mackenzie Davis.

  She was going to reinvent herself.

  She was going to wear a dress. Not just any dress. A sparkly here-I-am dress that would get everyone’s attention.

  And maybe . . . just maybe . . . it would get Ethan Channing’s attention too.

  Except the evening hadn’t gone quite the way Mac had imagined. Beetle Jenkins had gotten sick and Coach had asked her to wear the mascot suit. Mac hadn’t minded. There would be plenty of time between the game and the dance to get ready.

  But after Ethan’s winning touchdown, Chad Fletcher had gotten so excited he’d jumped up from the bench and landed hard on the ankle he’d injured during the first quarter of the game.

  Two of Chad’s teammates had helped him into Coach’s office. Mac had administered the ice pack while Coach tried unsuccessfully to get in touch with Chad’s m
om, who worked at a resort a few miles from town.

  The hospital was half an hour away, but Mac wasn’t surprised when Coach announced he was going to drive Chad to the ER for X-rays.

  Mac knew her dad felt personally responsible for every single player, but one look at the clock told her there was no way she was going to make it to the dance now. Cinderella had had a fairy godmother and a horse-drawn carriage. Mac was on her own. Coach wouldn’t have time to drop her off at home on his way to the hospital, let alone wait until she changed clothes and did something with her hair.

  She froze when Ethan wandered in, wearing a clean football jersey and a pair of jeans. He’d stopped for a minute to check on his injured teammate and then turned to her. “Ready?”

  Mac opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “I asked Ethan to give you a ride home so you can get ready for the dance.” Coach ruffled her already ruffled hair. “You don’t mind, do you, Pumpkin?”

  Mind? Mac had hoped Ethan would see her after the game. In her sparkly blue dress—his favorite color—not covered from chin to toes in faux lion fur. And smelling like stale popcorn.

  As if by mutual agreement, neither of them said a word until Ethan pulled up in front of her house. Then he shocked Mac all the way down to her furry slippers when he offered to wait while she got ready for the dance.

  All Mac wanted to do was forget the entire night.

  “I’m not going.” She bailed from the cab of his pickup and headed toward the front door.

  Ethan caught up to her in two strides. “Why not?”

  Why not? Because she would need at least an hour to get ready. Because she’d seen Hollis and Kristen walking into school and they looked dazzling and stylish, and why had Mac thought for even a minute that she would fit in?

  She couldn’t tell Ethan that, though, so she’d latched onto the first excuse that popped into her head. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “It’s not hard.”

  Said the guy who was good at everything.

  Mac kept walking. A little faster.

  “You know how Mom sends me and Hollis to Chicago every year over spring break, right?”

  Mac managed a jerky nod. Everyone knew. When they returned, Hollis showed off her new wardrobe and boasted about the fancy restaurants and the concerts she and Ethan had went to with their grandparents.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret.” Ethan bent down and his breath stirred a damp wisp of hair by Mac’s ear. “Etiquette school. Chapter 8 was dancing lessons. This quarterback knows everything from the tango to the cha-cha.”

  All Mac could manage was a garbled sound when she found herself being nudged toward the center of the yard.

  The moment Ethan took her hand and placed it on his shoulder, he’d captured her fifteen-year-old heart as well.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mac’s slippers were soaked with dew and the stitches holding her tail in place had started to unravel, but she didn’t care.

  One final twirl and Ethan ended the lesson with a courtly bow. “You’re going to the dance, right?”

  Mac nodded. Right now she would have agreed the happiest cows were from California.

  “Good. I’ll find you.” He smiled down at her. “Save a dance for me.”

  Ethan wanted to dance. With her.

  After his pickup disappeared from sight, Mac spun circles in the yard until she was dizzy.

  Coach had gotten home as she finished getting ready and drove her back to school.

  But Ethan never showed up.

  Mrs. Hudson had needed help with refreshments so Mac tied an apron over her dress and spent the entire evening in the kitchen, cutting up bars and making punch. She did slow dance with Timmy Hudson, but he was nine months old and drooled on her shoulder so Mac decided it didn’t really count.

  She also decided that if she truly wanted to reinvent herself, she was going to have to leave her hometown to do it.

  “Did you talk to Ethan and find out why?” Annie’s question tugged Mac back to reality.

  “And risk even more humiliation?”

  “Maybe he had a good reason.”

  “He did. Kristen Ballard.” Mac had heard her bragging about watching a movie at Ethan’s house after the dance. “She was on the homecoming court four years in a row. I couldn’t compete with her.”

  “Maybe you didn’t have to,” Annie said softly.

  “Ethan was hoping to score some extra points with Coach by being nice to his geeky daughter.” And then he’d promptly forgotten about her. “I’m okay, Annie. It was a long time ago. Ethan was a long time ago.”

  “But he’s here now,” Annie pointed out. “In Red Leaf.”

  “And I’m leaving.” Mac felt the need to point that out too.

  “I don’t know why.” Her friend’s face took on a look of dreamy contentment. “Red Leaf is perfect.”

  “You say that because you didn’t grow up here. When I moved back home after Coach’s heart attack, it was as if I’d never been away. It doesn’t seem to matter that I graduated from college and lived in the city for a year.

  “Every time I go into the bakery, Mrs. Sweet tells me that I’m too skinny and tries to force-feed me sprinkle doughnuts. When Vivienne Wallace sees me at church, she asks how my piano lessons are going.”

  “I didn’t know you played the piano.”

  “I don’t. Not since fourth grade anyway.” Mac released a sigh. “If I stay, people are always going to see me as the geeky little girl with braids . . . Why are you smiling?”

  “Because Ms. Viv is a bit eccentric . . . and because I can’t wait until those kinds of things happen to me. I’ve lived in a lot of places but I never felt like I was part of them.” Annie reached out and squeezed her hand. “You have roots here. A shared history. I don’t think people look at you as the geeky girl with braids. They look at you with . . . love.”

  Mac didn’t have time to process that because the door of the nursery suddenly swung open and a petite brunette charged in.

  “Can I help—Hollis?”

  “I talked to your dad,” Hollis said without preamble. “He said you’re the one who’s going to write about my wedding.”

  Mac tried to come up with her qualifications but she really didn’t have any. Or explain that her editor had given her the story based on the assumption they’d been close friends—but that would have sounded more like the punch line of a joke.

  Leaving Mac with only one option. The truth.

  “That’s right.”

  Ethan’s sister took two steps toward her, bringing them nose to perfect freckle-free nose. Then she threw her arms around Mac’s neck. “Thank goodness.”

  Ethan had wandered into his dad’s office on Monday morning, cup of coffee and Bible in hand, not expecting he would find an answer to prayer when he was searching for a pen in his father’s desk drawer.

  But there it was. The most unusual collection of memorabilia Ethan had ever seen. Photographs of bald-headed babies and gap-toothed children. Stats cut from the sports page. Fishermen proudly holding up the catch of the day. Handwritten notes and a four-leaf clover preserved under a yellowed piece of Scotch tape.

  As Ethan had slowly flipped through the pages, he realized these weren’t random items. They were gifts from his dad’s patients. Pieces of their lives.

  Ethan closed the cover of the scrapbook, along with any remaining doubts he’d been having over his decision to stay in Red Leaf.

  He’d been putting a fresh coat of paint on the boathouse Sunday night when his mother had marched up to him.

  “I just had an interesting conversation with Frank Heath in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store. He seemed surprised that I didn’t know you’re planning to take over his practice.”

  Mac was right. He had forgotten what it was like to live in a small town.

  Ethan had tried to explain his reasons, but his mother looked more frustrated with him than she had when Hollis announced that Hank Ackerman ha
d agreed to provide the music for the wedding reception.

  “I don’t understand you, Ethan. You have a future at Midland Medical. I can’t believe you’re willing to give up everything for a family practice in Red Leaf.”

  “It depends on your definition of everything,” Ethan had said quietly.

  Connor had shown up with a paintbrush and Ethan’s mother had backed off, but he’d had a hunch the conversation wasn’t over.

  “Ethan?” His mother’s voice floated down the hall.

  And his hunch had been right. Ethan braced himself for round two.

  His mother appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Have you seen your sister? I can’t find her anywhere.”

  “No, but maybe she went into town. She wanted to talk to Mrs. Sweet about ordering cupcakes for the reception.”

  “Cupcakes.” His mom’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “I don’t know why they’re so popular. Cupcakes are for children’s birthday parties, not weddings.”

  “It’s what Hollis wants.” A phrase Ethan had repeated at least a dozen times over the past twenty-four hours. “She and Connor want to keep things simple.”

  “Simple.” She sniffed.

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t be special. The two don’t cancel each other out.” Quoting Mac made Ethan think about Mac.

  And thinking about Mac made him want to see her again.

  When was he going to see her again?

  On the way home from church yesterday, Hollis had told him that Mac wanted to interview her before the next issue came out, but she hadn’t come over to the house.

  Now that his mother had arrived, Mac probably assumed he didn’t need her help with the wedding anymore. But he needed her honest opinion. Her spunk.

  Her smile.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into your sister lately,” his mother said. “She used to be so sensible.”

  No, Hollis used to do exactly what their mother wanted. She didn’t know what to do with her offspring when they deviated from her perfect plan.