It's Always Been You (Seasons of Hope Book 4)

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Okay. The quartet is playing and the seats are filled. Everyone is in place.”

  Eden wasn’t helping.

  “Stall or something, Eden.” Sierra breathed deep.

  Cassie’s voice boomed from the other side. “What the French toast is going on in there? Constipation? Let’s get the wedding and the bowels a movin’.”

  Jemma sat on the edge of the whirlpool tub, her head in her hands. “I can’t do this.”

  Sierra sat beside her, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. Jemma had balked at every turn and changed her mind a dozen and one times, but this was going overboard. “Why? I know you love him.”

  “I do. But I’m not sure he loves me.”

  Oh boy.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I want…” Tears trekked down her cheeks. “I want to be loved like Ezra loves you. I want Ansel to study me like Ezra does you—like he’s memorizing everything about you for fear he might forget.”

  Sierra swallowed the burning in her throat.

  “I want Ansel to give up everything just to be with me. He won’t even give up the back nine.”

  Sierra shook her head. What did she think Ezra had given up? “What are you talking about?”

  Jemma grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “I want Ansel to drop everything for me. He never has. Not once.”

  “Ansel put a ring on your finger. He’s out there right now waiting on you to become his wife. You’re scared. You have nothing to be scared of. Go out there and marry that man.” Sierra looked at Jemma through the mirror. “Stop being afraid.”

  Stop being afraid.

  A man who loved Sierra was waiting on her. Wasn’t he?

  You have nothing to be scared of.

  She could do it. She could go to France. Stop worrying about what would happen to The Bistro, and the house, and who would lead worship. God would lead her. If she’d trust Him to do it.

  Abraham from the Bible came to mind. God had told him to pack it all up and leave. He’d only gone half way. But then God reminded him again after Abraham’s father died. Go. To a land I will show you.

  It was time to take a chance.

  A second chance.

  She hadn’t ruined her future by making a mistake all those years ago. She hadn’t let God down so utterly that He was holding it against her.

  And after she talked Jemma into getting married, at the reception she’d tell Ezra she’d go. To France. They’d figure it out together. Together with God.

  “Ansel postponed our honeymoon for a week because of work. Ezra broke his teaching contract to stay in Chicago. He won’t get that opportunity again.”

  Sierra stood stunned. “What? How do you know that?”

  “I heard him tell Genevieve late last night he was calling them first thing Monday morning. He’d gotten some clarity or something or other and wasn’t taking the job. That he couldn’t leave again.”

  No. He couldn’t stay. He loved France. Loved art, and this was the chance of a lifetime. A prestigious offer.

  She couldn’t fixate on it now. She had to knock some sense into Jemma. “You can’t let Ezra’s choices keep you from marrying Ansel. Every couple’s love story is unique, and Ansel loves you. Now get out of that robe.” Sierra pointed to the dress hanging on the closet door. “We’ll be out here waiting. With your Uncle Charlie.” Without flowers.

  Sierra left Jemma in the bathroom.

  Eden and Audrey stood on the other side with expectant faces. Cassie had disappeared, probably to enlist Jax to help search for the van and flowers. “Ezra is staying in Chicago.”

  “Great. But is Jemma getting married?” Audrey asked.

  “Yes.” Sierra slunk onto the edge of the bed. The bed Ezra slept in. She ran her hands along the soft fabric, smelled Ezra’s clean, masculine scent. “I can’t let him do that.”

  Cassie busted into the room. “Ladies, we have a problem.”

  Not another one!

  “Did the lights go out?” Eden asked. “Because Knox messing with twinkling lights will only earn a few swear words.”

  “The only swear words are going to be coming from Ansel. Jemma just left a trail of dust.”

  Sierra jumped up. “What?” She rushed to the bathroom door and twisted the knob. Locked. “Jemma!”

  “Is about three miles down the road by now,” Cassie offered and dropped her work box, pulling out a screwdriver. “Audrey, can you discreetly go get Gabe. You know what? Eden, you go.”

  “Hey!” Audrey protested, then immediately gave up with a shrug. “Yeah, Eden, you go.”

  Cassie worked the knob off the bathroom door and opened it. “I’m gonna wring that girl’s neck when I get my hands on her.”

  Empty bathroom. Open window. Not if Sierra didn’t wring her neck first.

  “I just talked to my sister.” Adah Alcott breezed into the bedroom, spiky hair as short as her red dress. “Cassie!” She hugged her. “It’s good to see you. However, my sister just called and said she couldn’t do it. She’s on her way to the Chicago airport.”

  “I have done all this work for nothing!” Cassie slung the screwdriver across the room. “Jax isn’t thrilled I took the doors and painted them. My back aches. And hundreds of people are out there.”

  Sierra ran her hands along the silky fabric of the wedding dress. Jemma had run. Fear. Nothing but fear sending her running away from a lifetime of love. From a man who wanted to commit his life to her. Or maybe she didn’t truly love Ansel.

  And it hit her. That’s exactly how it had looked to Ezra all those years ago. He had every right to think she didn’t love him. Yet he was still going to give up his contract, give it all up to stay here. To fit into her life. She stood in the bathroom doorway staring into Ezra’s master bedroom.

  Gabe graced the room, calm and collected. “So she’s really gone?”

  “Yes! And so is the van and the flowers, just so you know.” Audrey, in typical dramatic fashion, fell like a tree—all someone needed to do was yell “Timber!”—and collapsed face down on the bed. “This is like going through hell backward.” Her words muffled through the pillow.

  Gabe arched an eyebrow, clearly used to her melodrama. “The van is gone? The florist van? When?”

  “Summer pranks,” Audrey mumbled. “I hate kids. I mean I won’t hate our kid. I just hate everyone else’s.”

  Gabe rolled Audrey over and hovered. “Pull it together, babe.” He planted a solid kiss to her lips. “We’ll find it, but I need to tell Ansel and the guests about Jemma.”

  “People are getting antsy out there.” Knox stormed into the room.

  “Well, I’m antsy in here. Some punk stole my van!” Audrey moaned. Gabe started to pull her up then waved off her antics with a small smirk, leaving her on the bed.

  “They’re about to get antsier. There isn’t going to be a wedding,” Eden said.

  “Yes, there is,” Sierra said. She covered her quivering mouth. “Yes, there is.”

  ***

  The crowd shifted and whispers stirred. Ansel bobbed his knees and tapped his foot.

  Ezra whispered, “I’m sure it’s a girlie thing. She probably got a snag on her dress.”

  Ansel frowned. “This is getting embarrassing.”

  “Maybe she got sick.”

  “Then she needs to grab a plastic bag and haul her butt and cookies up this aisle.”

  Alrighty then.

  “Sorry. It’s just…my mom said she was fickle, and I can’t stand one more ‘I told you so’ from her mouth.”

  Ezra cleared his throat and loosened his tie. He hadn’t wanted to be a groomsman to begin with but here he was, sweating bullets inside a gray tux while Jemma might be pulling a Jemma.

  “I mean, what did they need the preacher for?”

  “Audrey’s pregnant. Maybe she got sick.” Or worse. Jitters had Ezra flexing his hands.

  “I hope not.” Ansel’s phone buzzed. He had his phone on him? Seriously?

  He turn
ed his back on the crowd and read a text. His face turned ten shades of red, and he punched the screen’s keyboard with entirely more force than necessary.

  The crowd’s whispers grew louder.

  “What’s going on?” Ezra dreaded to ask, but needed to.

  “I need to talk some sense into your sister.”

  Oh, no. She’d gotten cold feet. What was Ezra supposed to do? Stay put? He heaved a sigh as Ansel stalked through the trees.

  Murmurs increased.

  In the midst of everything sat Jim and Brenda Bradley. Ezra caught Jim’s eye. Jim nodded. Ezra gave one in return.

  Gabe made his way to the front, a tight smile on his face.

  “Is it true?” Ezra asked. “Did she fly the coop?”

  “Don’t worry. A wedding is taking place. It’s all under control.” Gabe motioned for the quartet to start the bridal music.

  “Ansel’s not back yet,” Ezra hissed.

  Gabe clutched his Bible. “It’ll be okay.”

  The shed doors opened.

  Ezra’s heart lurched into his throat and his knees turned to water.

  He blinked once.

  Twice.

  Was this a dream?

  Attendees gasped but stood, too proper to come undone by the sight of the wrong bride.

  But the right bride.

  Tears blurred his vision but he blinked to clear it. To take Sierra in. To memorize the beauty. White. Pure. Holy.

  Eden, Cassie, and Audrey came behind her, beaming. Weren’t bridesmaids and brides supposed to carry flowers? And weren’t they supposed to be in front?

  Tradition tossed out the door.

  Tears glittered in Sierra’s eyes.

  Half way up the aisle, her father stood and made his way through the crowd, taking her arm in his, confusion furrowing his brow, but moisture in his eyes, too.

  Gabe stepped up. “Who gives this bride away?”

  Mr. Bradley kissed Sierra’s cheek. “Her mother and I.” He placed Sierra’s hand in Ezra’s. “You look beautiful, honey. And after you’re married, you have some explaining to do.” The crowd laughed and Sierra simply smiled.

  Ezra drew her to him. “What is going on?”

  “I’m taking a chance. A chance I should have taken when I was eighteen. I’m done being afraid. Because I love you. So much. I’m coming to France.”

  “Then you’re going alone. I’m staying in Chicago.” He grinned and framed her face. “Painting isn’t going to dictate my choices any more. I let it become my world, hoping it would fix me. Fix my pain. Fix my future. It didn’t. It didn’t even take away my love for you.”

  “And fear has dictated my choices—or lack of, in my case. No more. I trust you, and more importantly, I trust God. Even with all the uncertainty ahead.” She sniffed; her lip trembled. “I saw the paintings. Genevieve showed me. You really do have a wall of my pictures hidden in a room.”

  A small smile formed. His thumb caressed her lower lip. “Then you know,” he whispered. “It’s always been you, Sierra. It will always be you.” Slipping his hand around her neck, he brought her lips to his, relishing the sweetness, the softness.

  “Well,” Gabe said, “nothing about this wedding has been traditional so we’ll just watch the show, then proceed. And if anyone knows any information on where Audrey’s red florist’s van might be, see me at the reception.”

  What?

  Laughter ensued.

  Sierra snickered against Ezra’s lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Alcott.”

  “Not just yet, pretty boy,” Knox hollered.

  Ezra ignored him and nodded to Gabe. No more waiting. He’d waited long enough to make Sierra Bradley his bride.

  ***

  Sierra stood barefoot in her wedding dress on the pier. The sun had almost set. Only a few streaks of pastels graced the sky, along with the lights that had been wrapped around the dock posts, and twinkling lights from the reception where people ate, laughed, and danced. Her wedding. Almost exactly how she’d pictured it.

  People she didn’t know had congratulated them. Betsy Davis had something to talk about for years to come. Sierra raised her head as the breeze blew across her face. She’d explained to her parents all her dreams and fears. They’d taken it better than she expected. She needed to make a phone call and let Paul know he could move in. She wasn’t buying the house.

  Maybe someday she’d open a B&B somewhere else. Maybe in France.

  Jemma had called Adah, and Ansel had met up with her at the airport. They’d hopped a plane and were on their way to Vegas to elope. Irony right there.

  Or Providence.

  “What are you grinning at?” Ezra slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Not having second thoughts are you?”

  “No, that’s your sister,” Sierra joked. “It’s mean but I’m glad she ran out.” She leaned against him, and he peppered her neck with soft kisses. Her skin hummed. “Where are we going to have our honeymoon?”

  “How ‘bout right here on this dock, right now.” He laughed into her ear, sending tickles down her spine.

  “Just a reminder, we’re not technically married.” They were going to postpone the flight to Paris for a week and file for a marriage license to finalize things and shop for a ring. “Besides, I’m not a fan of splinters. Especially in sensitive places. Not that I’ve ever had splinters in sensitive places…” She giggled. “But I’m a fan of you.” She turned and laced her fingers together around his neck. “I love you. France for a honeymoon sounds perfect.”

  “Are you sure? About leaving Mistletoe? Because I’m sure about staying.”

  “No. We’re going. Together. Like we should have a long time ago.”

  He nipped her bottom lip then skimmed his mouth across her jawline to her ear, nibbling her lobe. “Remember the first time I kissed you?”

  A longing burned in her abdomen. “Yes. I was so nervous. I knew it was gonna happen, but I’d never kissed anyone before.”

  “Which is why I did what I did.”

  “Hard to be nervous when coughing up lake water.” The first of many tosses into the lake.

  “You tasted like sugar, spearmint, and lake water. I was so turned on.” He nuzzled her neck. “Thank you.”

  “For turning you on?”

  His breath from a chuckle tickled her skin. “For marrying me. For taking a chance, a leap of faith.”

  “It was time I walk on water, so to speak. And you did say you wanted me to leap for once.”

  He scanned the lake. “You want to walk on water, do ya? Take a leap?”

  Sierra glanced at her dress then toward the still waters. Joy bubbled in her chest along with anticipation and the taste of freedom. As if invisible chains had been broken, releasing her to move forward. “Yes, I do.”

  He laughed, then sobered. “Serious?”

  “No fear.” She grabbed his hand and yanked him with her as they soared off the dock, arms in the air, smiles stretching across their faces, Sierra’s veil blowing in the breeze. She screeched as they hit the cool water and went under.

  Sierra surfaced to Ezra’s smile, hair matted to his forehead. “This dress is heavy.”

  “I know a way we could remedy that.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, helping keep her afloat, and shoved the mass of hair from her eyes with the other.

  Her skin heated then broke out in chill bumps. “In a week,” she reminded him.

  “Legalities.” He tsked. “One thing I don’t have to be miserable waiting for…a kiss. I didn’t get to kiss you the way I wanted. Not in the lake that first time when we were sixteen. Not in the woods. Not after my baseball injury.”

  “The boo-boo.” Sierra giggled.

  He placed his index finger on her mouth as they treaded water. “Or in front of all those people. Half of them strangers. Two of them your parents. But I’ve been waiting. Anticipating it. For years.”

  “Sounds like some kiss.”

  His
eyes darkened. “Oh, it’s going to be.” His breath went ragged. Enticing. Seductive.

  Ezra’s lips found hers. Gentle, almost lazy, taking his time to savor her. Sierra curled her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life as he turned a kiss into something otherworldly. She’d never experienced this. Not even on their most passionate summer nights years ago. He had been holding back.

  “I adore you,” he purred and slid his fingers into her tangled hair, tilting her head back to explore her naked neck, collar bone, shoulders—using his lips to faultlessly paint her skin with unbroken love, hope for the future, and promises of forever.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Two years later

  Sierra unbuckled her seat belt and kissed Ezra. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

  Ezra grinned. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  They’d been in France for the past two years with a few weekend trips back to the States. They’d come for the birth of Audrey’s and Gabe’s baby girl, Gabriella Snow Brookson. Gabby for short. She was a little over a year old now.

  “Sometimes I’m thankful for Facebook.” Sierra patted her baby bump and leaned into Ezra as they headed up the sidewalk to Jax’s and Cassie’s. They were holding a huge Fourth of July picnic. “I feel bad for not bringing anything.”

  “We haven’t been off a plane but for thirty minutes.” He kissed her temple and they climbed the porch and rang the door bell. Eli, Eden’s oldest son, barely a teenager but as tall as Ezra, opened the door with a huge grin. “Everyone is out back.”

  They followed him through the house to the deck. The smell of charcoal reminded her she was hungry. She’d finally gotten past the nauseous stage of pregnancy. In December they’d have a sweet little baby boy—Chance Bradley Alcott. A name that reminded them daily how precious and wonderful taking chances could be.

  Knox swung Rachel on a wooden swing. Almost three, she looked more like him every day, but there was Eden in her as well. Eden dashed to Sierra, hugging her to suffocating levels. “I’ve missed you.”

  Audrey came around the corner with Gabby in a baby sling across her chest. Gabe stood at the grill with Jax. Sierra did a double-take. The shed doors were still white from the wedding. The rest of the shed was still hunter green. She laughed. “I thought you were supposed to paint those back the original color?”