“I’d love it right there,” she told him, pointing to the broad patch of grass between the dairy store and the house. “But we didn’t order a tent.” Piper had seen the cost of tent rental and nixed that idea. Even with Marty’s help, her frugal side had prevailed.
“Then that’s where we’ll put it,” the man said. He tipped his hat, but Rainey darted around front to stop him.
“But we didn’t pay for a tent,” she tried to explain.
The man smiled as if money was no big deal. “All paid for, ma’am. No charge to you.”
All paid for?
Rainey’s to-do list loosened up with the thought of not having to attack the barn. The men hauled out the tent on a long, wheeled dolly, positioned it in place and began unrolling the huge white canvas shelter.
Marty, she decided. Marty must have seen the sense of providing a roof for his son’s wedding and ordered the tent despite Piper’s financial misgivings. Rainey called him on his cell phone.
“Marty, the tent’s here and I wanted to thank you,” she exclaimed when he answered. The rumble of the combine competed with his voice, but Rainey heard the last part loud and clear.
“I didn’t order a tent, Rainey.”
He didn’t? “Zach, then?”
“I doubt it. I think he figured if Piper wanted a tent, she’d have okayed it.”
True enough. Rainey watched the men, torn. Should she make them wait? The driver had said it was paid in full. So why stop them? “All right. But when your partner gets home and sees this beautiful wedding tent in the yard, she’s going to ask some questions, and I have no answers.”
“Blame those elves you were telling the girls about the other night,” Marty suggested, laughing.
“I’ll see you later, Marty.”
“Will do.”
She watched the men another moment, then realized she was wasting time. Whoever had sent the heavy-duty tent would be blessed by her prayers of thanksgiving and lots of cookies at the wedding feast. She went back into the house, pointed out the front-yard activity to her mother and turned on the double ovens, thrilled that baking cookies took precedence over sweeping spiderwebs.
Chapter Ten
“Do you have a sitter for Piper’s wedding tomorrow?” Jenny asked Luke Friday night.
He hedged. “Kim and Jack said they’d take Aiden to the zoo with them if I needed someone.”
“If?” Jenny tugged on her jacket and gathered her knitting bag. “It’s your friend’s wedding. You’re invited. Of course you’re going.”
Luke had been struggling with that question since Sunday. “I’m not sure my presence will be all that welcome.”
“Because of Hillary’s performance last weekend,” Jenny noted. “Have you talked to Rainey? Apologized?”
“No, and before you ream me out, it’s because I know how busy they are this week. I don’t want to add any more drama to the wedding preparations while she’s also working and taking care of the girls. She told me she’s spending this week focusing on the wedding and Piper. In that order. But I did send a note. And a tent. With tables and chairs.”
Jenny made a face. “You what?”
“You think it was dumb?” Luke scowled and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I saw the forecast and knew they didn’t want to spend extra money on a wedding tent, but Rainey said she’d use her day off cleaning the barn for the wedding if we expected rain. I figured a tent would buy her some time. Was that a stupid idea?”
His mother’s smile assured him it wasn’t. “You did good. Does she know it was from you?”
He shook his head quickly. “I wasn’t looking for thanks. I just wanted to make her life easier.”
Jenny reached up and hugged him. “The gift of time is the best present ever. And don’t you forget that. I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you tomorrow. At the wedding.”
Undecided, he shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Children learn what they live,” she reminded him as she walked to the door. “You’ve got that poem on the wall of Aiden’s room. Might be a good time to reread it.”
Luke knew she was right. He needed to take charge of his own life if he expected his son to do the same. And Piper had been his friend for several years. She’d been a huge support after Martha’s death. His mother’s expression said he’d be wrong to miss this wedding.
He called Jack, firmed up plans for Aiden, then circled the barns before he called it a night. Spirit nickered, then padded across the soft dirt, looking for a nose rub. Luke gave the horse some well-deserved attention and a promise. “We’ll take a ride soon. Life’s been busy, old man.”
The horse leaned into his touch. The tired movement told Luke that Spirit didn’t care all that much about riding. He just wanted attention now and again. Rubbing the horse’s head and neck calmed them both.
Luke decided he would go to the wedding. If things seemed uncomfortable for Rainey, he’d duck out of the reception. But the idea of seeing Rainey in a bridesmaid dress?
That image alone was enough to put a smile on his face.
* * *
Rainey reexamined her checklist on Friday afternoon. So far, so good. Lucia came through the kitchen door with a clutch of mail and handed her an official-looking envelope.
The return address made Rainey cringe. “A letter from school. I’m afraid to open it.”
Lucia dismissed her concern. “The girls are doing much better. I see it in the papers they bring home, their little projects. You are doing well, Larraina.”
“We’ll see.” Rainey slit the envelope with a butter knife, opened the sheet inside, then read aloud, “‘Dear Ms. McKinney, it is my pleasure to inform you that both Dorrie and Sonya are adjusting well. The problems we discussed are abating and both teachers report above-grade-level assessments in reading and mathematics. Behavioral concerns have been minimized. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Your girls are a delight. Frank O’Mara, Principal, Kirkwood Lake Elementary School.’”
“I am correct once more, it seems.” Lucia smiled broadly as she hugged Rainey from behind. “I hope young Aiden has received a similar good report.”
Rainey hoped so, too, but she hadn’t heard from Luke since she’d received his note. She thought wedding prep would leave her too busy to care. It didn’t, but she’d pushed thoughts of Sunday’s drama to the back of her mind. This week was about Piper and Zach. Come Sunday she could refocus on the festival and the upcoming holidays. And maybe think about how much she missed Luke.
“The tables and chairs are set up.” Berto walked into the kitchen and motioned to her sheet. “I do not remember them on our list.”
“They weren’t. We have picnic tables for guests,” Rainey replied. “That’s why we sanded and painted them.”
“Well, there is seating for over a hundred out there.” Her uncle waved to the yard. “And nice tables and chairs. No one will have to climb into a seat in their pretty dresses now.”
First the tent. Now tables and chairs.
Rainey and Lucia walked outside. The day had started bright, but increasing clouds said rain was imminent. Even so, the guests would be warm and dry inside the large tent. Rainey, Marly and Noreen had decorated the interior with fall-colored silk flowers and ribbons. They’d crafted candle-filled Mason jars of varying heights for simple, vintage centerpieces. Tomorrow they’d arrange small gourds and pumpkins around the jars, the clutch of fall colors a contrast to the burlap tablecloth background. With the dairy store closed for the day, Marly and Noreen were free to oversee the guests’ comfort.
“This looks wonderful. And when I find out who ordered this setup—” she fingered the tent’s thick canvas “—I’m going to kiss him. Or her.” She looked at her mother, but Lucia stepped back.
“Not me. My bank account empties each week. But I a
m glad, as well. This looks as a wedding should look.”
It did.
Piper was surprised but pleased. She’d scolded Zach and Marty for not obeying her wishes.
They denied knowledge of the tent and the seating.
She looked dubious, but it didn’t matter. Tomorrow they’d have room to sit, eat, dance and gather around the happy couple.
Save a dance for me....
Rainey pushed the thought of Luke’s request aside. She wouldn’t think of him this weekend. Come Monday, she’d re-strategize her feelings. But right now, she had a wedding to help host. Making Piper’s day perfect was more important than anything.
* * *
Gorgeous.
Luke had taken a spot near the edge of the dock, out of the press of folks surrounding the gazebo. Forecasters had predicted rain by noon, the time of the wedding. He hoped they could get everyone up the hill to the warm, waiting tent before the heavens opened up.
And then Rainey stepped into view with her daughters, and his brain was wiped clean.
The girls were twin bursts of color and energy in bright pink gowns with gathered, tucked skirts that fell to the floor—two miniature princesses, precious and sweet.
Rainey’s deep purple gown was made of some kind of thin, gauzy fabric that swirled with her every move. It was fitted on top. Below the waistline, the skirt flared and whispered as she monitored the girls.
Luke stayed in the background, out of her line of vision, but when she scanned the crowd, he wondered why.
Was she looking for him?
The music started. Luke’s vantage point gave him a clear view, and as Piper followed Sonya, Dorrie and Rainey into the vintage gazebo, the wedding party formed a picturesque image of new beginnings.
Luke longed for a similar chance. A chance to begin anew. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to take that step. With Rainey.
* * *
Rainey spotted Luke at the far end of the tent as the bride and groom shared their first dance as husband and wife. He raised a glass of punch and dipped his chin, a silent hello.
She’d looked for him at the ceremony, but the press of people around the gazebo kept him hidden from sight. Seeing him now, in a fitted, dark blue suit, made her wish things were different.
She helped Piper adjust her veil for the cake-cutting, then gathered food for the bride and groom’s dinner. She laughed when the bridal bouquet landed in the arms of Mrs. Thurgood, a widow from the village who sold her crocheted afghans in local venues.
Rainey had pledged her time and service to Piper and Zach, and despite the rain showers, the day was heartfelt and beautiful. A day to thank God for second chances and new beginnings.
A hand touched her back. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was, but she turned anyway, hoping she could hide her feelings.
“I believe I requested a dance?” Luke’s hand gently pulled her to the small dance floor at the front of the tent. “And the DJ is playing our song.”
“We don’t have a song.”
“We do now.”
Her heart melted as the opening chord to Lonestar’s “Amazed” came through the speakers, but she hardened it again when she thought of last Sunday’s spectacle. Whatever Luke’s issues were, her past and his present didn’t mix. She couldn’t forget that, and her girls didn’t need any more drama in their lives. And that thought reminded her of yesterday’s letter. “I got a very nice letter from Mr. O’Mara.”
She pulled back to glance at Luke’s face, but he drew her close again. The movement of his head against her hair confirmed he’d gotten a letter also. “Mine said my kid was making great strides and that Miss Patterson is pleased with his turnaround in behavior. Which, of course—” this time Luke pulled back and met her gaze “—I owe to you.”
“To us,” Rainey corrected.
He laughed softly. “Only because I started swallowing my pride and taking advice. Anyway, he’s doing better, still shy, but participating. And answering questions. That’s a big step forward for Aiden.”
“Luke, I—”
“Let’s not talk about Sunday now. Please.”
He’d read her mind, but it wasn’t hard to do. Sunday’s events had created a chasm between them, with no bridge in sight. “We can’t ignore it,” she told him.
His sigh said he agreed.
“But it can wait, I suppose.”
He smiled against her hair. “Thank you.”
The song drew to a sweet conclusion. Rainey didn’t want the music to end. Luke’s expression mirrored her thoughts. But then Sonya and Dorrie clapped their hands and raced to her side. “Mommy! They’re playing the ‘Hokey Pokey’ and we know it!”
“Then let’s dance.” Rainey grabbed Sonya’s hand. Luke gripped Dorrie’s. As people filled in the circle for the kid-friendly dance, Luke and Rainey ended up on opposite sides. The sight of him dancing with Dorrie, the way her daughter’s bright smile met his, brought Rainey’s buried dreams back into the light.
He cared about her girls. He cared about her. But emotions weren’t always reflected in actions. Rainey knew that. Right now, seeing Luke with Dorrie, she wondered if her hopes and dreams might really be possible.
* * *
As the reception wound down, a local farmer approached Rainey about carrying his family’s scented, goat-milk soaps in the store. “I’d love to talk to you more about it later,” she answered, then redirected her attention to the girls. “But I’ve got to get these two to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll help.” Luke stepped up from behind and picked up Dorrie. “Come on, snugglebun, let’s get you inside. The temperature’s taking a nosedive out here.”
“I want to wear my bunny jammies,” Dorrie told him, but a yawn distorted the last words. “I love my bunny jammies.”
“Are they clean?” Luke knew that busy single parents didn’t always have total command of laundry.
Rainey’s soft smile said she understood. “Clean enough,” she told him. They took the girls inside. Lucia was working with a small crew of women in the kitchen. A pot of fresh coffee and a plate of Rainey’s cookies added to the down-home feeling.
They took the back stairs to the girls’ bedroom. In five minutes they had the two changed, teeth brushed and tucked into twin beds pushed side by side.
“They don’t like being separated, do they?” Luke whispered as their eyes drifted shut.
“No. But they’re getting better about it,” Rainey replied as she walked him downstairs. She excused herself for a moment, went back upstairs, then returned a few minutes later in jeans, a turtleneck and a sweatshirt. “Round two—cleanup.”
“I’ll help.”
“You’re all dressed up,” she scolded.
“Then I’ll help carefully.”
The outside crew had stacked the cleared tables and a good share of the chairs onto dollies. The rain had moved on, but the cold, wet ground around the tent reminded Luke that change had come. Fall was a short season near Lake Erie, and November snow wasn’t uncommon.
Once the last of the guests said their goodbyes, Lucia called a halt to cleanup. “The little we have left can be handled after church tomorrow,” she announced. “It is time to rest.”
Within minutes, Luke and Rainey were alone in the farmhouse kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle, poured the contents into two cups and heated them in the microwave. Once it was done, she handed one to Luke and led the way into the living room, where a small fire glowed in the soapstone stove.
She sipped lightly and indicated Luke’s mug with a glance. “Tell me what you think.”
He sank into the chair opposite hers, made a show of eyeing the cup with suspicion, then sniffed, sipped and smiled. “That’s delicious. H
ot cinnamon milk?”
“Soothing and warming. Mama used to make this for me when I was little. Cinnamon settles the stomach, she says.”
“The scent alone should sell it.” He sat back, knowing they needed to discuss things other than milk. “Rainey, I—”
“Luke—”
They spoke in unison, then paused. Luke gave way. “Ladies first.”
Rainey’s bittersweet smile made him wish he could backtrack to last Sunday and fix things, but he couldn’t. Maybe she’d allow him to move forward. Maybe not.
“I love that the kids’ behavior is improving,” she began. “I think your idea is working brilliantly and it shows in so many ways. Sonya and Aiden are more verbal, they’re laughing more and accepting changes. That’s a huge step forward.”
“You’re telling me the positives to get me ready before you hit me with the negatives,” he assumed. Her guilty look said he was right. “I know what you mean, Rain. And I know how badly I messed up last Sunday.” He leaned forward, hands clasped. “And it’s not my first mess-up, but you’ve helped me see that my behavior was influencing Aiden’s. We were enabling each other.”
“You had help.”
She meant Hillary, and obviously wondered how two adults could possibly be so very wrong about one little kid. Which meant he needed to tell her the truth. “Losing Martha was hard.”
Rainey nodded. Her look of sympathy said she couldn’t imagine the grief of burying a loved one so young.
“But having Aiden come through it alive made me so grateful that I went a little crazy, trying to keep him safe. Happy. Well-adjusted. And in doing that, I messed him up.”
“Aiden came through what alive?” Her knitted brow said she had no idea what he was talking about. A part of Luke wished Piper had filled her in, but Piper respected his privacy.
“My wife killed herself, Rainey.”
* * *
His unexpected words hit Rainey hard. But the follow-up only made it worse.
“Martha dealt with ongoing depression after Aiden’s birth. I thought it was getting better. Now I know she was pretending, but back then I hoped and prayed we could conquer her feelings. Get on with our lives. We were so happy together, and all I wanted was to reclaim that joy.” He sat quietly for a moment, eyes down, hands clasped, then sighed. “One day she asked me to take Aiden to day care. I was running late and said no.”
The Lawman's Holiday Wish Page 13