Jace’s voice cut to low. “Eden, trust me on this—”
“Max? As in Max Sharpe?” Owen’s voice sliced through the conversation.
Eden glanced at Grace, who’d stilled at his tone. How much did Owen know about that night he got hurt?
“Yeah, uh . . . he’s been helping me with the wedding.” Until now.
Owen frowned at her. “Are you two together?”
She swallowed.
“They’re together, yes,” Jace said quietly. “Owen, listen—”
He held up a hand. “No, actually, I don’t want to hear it. For his own good, you’d better hope Max doesn’t show up.” He walked away, and if possible, the kitchen got quieter.
“You know where Max is?” Eden said to Jace.
“Let’s not talk here,” he growled and glanced at Grace.
What—?
Eden took off after him as Jace stalked into the reception area. Sure—like Grace would let this conversation happen without her. She followed them.
Jace had Eden in a huddle, leaning down to speak into her ear.
Eden’s expression as she glanced at Grace stopped her cold. She slowed, winding her way around the tables. “What’s going on?”
Jace appeared ill, shook his head.
“Max’s brother is in trouble. He . . . Max thinks he might be . . .” Eden sighed, took Grace’s hand. “Max’s brother has Huntington’s disease. And Max went to make sure that he was okay.”
“Huntington’s disease?” Grace frowned at Jace, who wore such an odd, pained expression that she reached for one of the chairs. “Isn’t that a hereditary disease? Something like Lou Gehrig’s?”
“Yeah,” Jace said softly.
Again, the way he looked at her . . . Her grip tightened on the chair. “Does . . . does Max have . . . ? Is Max sick?”
Jace drew in a breath. “Not yet.”
Not. Yet.
“Oh.” She pulled out the chair, lowered herself into it. “He’s . . . going to be sick.”
“Someday. Yes.”
Eden sat across from her, her own expression stricken, probably mirroring Grace’s. “That accounts for a lot. Like his weird behavior, hot, then cold—”
“Then hot.” Grace’s eyes had started to fill. “He told me he loved me. That he wanted to love me. Wanted to grow old with me. Wanted to have a family . . .”
Eden slid her hand over Grace’s. “But wanting it is different from actually having it.”
Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, her body tight, numb.
No wonder he kept walking out of her life. She kept pulling him in and he kept trying to extricate himself without hurting her.
Oh, Max.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know,” Jace said, coming over to Eden. “That’s why he threw the cooking contest. His brother tried to publicize the event, and Max couldn’t—”
“Bear for me to find out.” The words settled over her—he threw the cooking contest. That made sense, then—his exit from her life, even why a guy like Max might let guilt push him into helping her with this wedding.
She looked at the glittering, beautiful room, the sunlight cascading through the high windows, diamonds in the sunbeams. The sounds of laughter filtered from the kitchen as the students prepared for the most beautiful day of Eden’s life.
Grace put her hands over her face, her shoulders shaking.
“Oh, Grace.”
She wanted to put up her hand, to say she was fine, but—
No. She’d never be fine. Because suddenly it all made sense . . . from his reckless behavior in Hawaii to their conversation at Pearl Harbor, even his cryptic words that day in the elevator. I think everyone who gets to have dreams should reach for them.
He believed he didn’t get to have dreams—because his dreams coming true would mean destroying hers . . . like having a family. A home. A husband to grow old with.
I am going to be okay without you.
No. No, she wouldn’t.
The truth hung over her, descended into her, wrecked her. Oh, God . . . Her prayer stumbled there, stuck inside.
“C’mon, Grace. Let’s get out of here,” Eden said.
“I—I have . . . to . . . make . . .”
Ingrid entered, carrying place cards, Amelia behind her. Ingrid knelt beside Grace. “Honey, are you okay?”
Owen joined them. “What did he do to her?”
“Owen, stay out of this,” Eden started.
“There you are!” Casper’s angry voice jerked Grace’s head up. Her brother stormed in, still looking as rough-edged as he had this morning.
“Casper, are you all right?” Ingrid said, rising, but Casper was advancing hard, something wild in his eyes.
Still, no one expected him to launch himself at Owen. He tackled his brother to the ground, slammed his fist into his face. “What did you do to her, you jerk?”
He hit him again, but Owen had reflexes born from being the youngest and grabbed Casper’s arm, the next blow just grazing his face. “Get off me!” He pushed Casper, and they rolled over in a tangle, wrestling, their fists finding ribs.
“Casper! Owen!” Ingrid ran toward them.
Grace got to her feet, grabbed her mother’s hand. “Stay back!”
They banged a table and dishes crashed to the floor. Amelia screamed.
Jace plowed into the battle. “Guys—break it up!”
John, Darek, and Ivy walked in. Tiger ran ahead, but Ivy caught his hand.
Grace’s stomach hollowed at the look on her dad’s face.
“What on earth—?” He ran over, but Darek beat him to the pair. Jace got hold of Owen while Darek hauled Casper up.
Owen’s eye patch had fallen off, the ugliness of his wounds laid bare. Blood ran from his mouth, his nose, his eye plumping. “He started it!”
Casper had shaken Darek off and now leaned over, clutching his knees, breathing hard. “Get him away from me.”
“What is wrong with you, Casper?” Ingrid’s voice shook, but Grace heard the fury gathering. “Have you been drinking?”
The look on his face pained Grace. The expression of a broken heart.
“No, Mom. I haven’t been drinking. There’s only one member of this family who drinks and destroys things.” He looked pointedly at Owen.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why don’t you tell me why the first time I met Raina, when she thought I was you, she said, ‘Go away, Owen!’ Why she accused Darek—our family, actually—of using people. And why Dad had to ask me if I’d ever hurt her. It wasn’t because of us, was it, Owen?”
What—?
Grace looked at Owen, at the disheveled, angry, reckless person her brother had become, and suddenly she saw it. Owen and Raina sitting at the end of the dock the night of Darek and Ivy’s wedding. Raina laughing as Owen charmed her.
Oh no.
He didn’t. They didn’t . . .
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Owen snapped. “I never hurt Raina. We . . . So we hooked up.” He lifted a shoulder, nonchalant, but Grace could see how he glanced at their mother, couldn’t hide the flicker of embarrassment.
It was only going to get worse.
“You . . . hooked up,” Casper said softly, and the expression on his face was so terrible, Grace glanced at Darek.
He slid a hand over Casper’s shoulder.
It was then that her heart finally shattered because her brother Casper, the one who had never been anything but light and laughter and teasing, put his hand over his eyes and wept.
Silence descended around them.
Finally Ingrid took Grace’s hand. Then Eden’s. “John, I’ll leave you to get our boys to the church. I guess we’ve all forgotten this is actually Eden and Jace’s happy day. I’ll expect smiles, even if you fake it, for the next six hours.”
She glanced at Amelia, then turned. “Come, girls. We have to put on our pretty faces.”
Focus on life.
Max drove right to th
e warehouse, the words thrumming in his head for the last two hours.
He wanted to throw his cell phone out the window, shout at the top of his lungs, Grace, I’m on the way!
No doubt she thought he’d abandoned her. Hopefully Jace had given her the message. Tell Grace I’m sorry.
He could almost see her staring at Jace, incredulous. Sorry? What did that even mean?
It was Hawaii all over again.
He got out of the car, started for the reception hall. Stopped.
What if Jace had told her the reason Max had to see his brother? What if . . . what if she knew?
Max stood in the lot, the heat of the afternoon on his shoulders, trickling down his back. What if she knew and she looked at him with pity?
Suffering can either destroy you or it can save you. Because without suffering, we don’t need more; we have enough. But when we suffer, we can’t help but reach out.
Reach out. Past pity, past fear, for Grace.
And for grace.
God, I know You don’t hear from me that often, but I’m feeling desperate here. In fact, he felt desperate pretty much all the time.
Maybe he needed God all the time too. He blew out a breath. Give me courage.
He opened the door to the warehouse.
Out drifted the odor of burning sugar, acrid and sharp. He took off at a run through the reception room, to the kitchen.
Two assistants were fanning smoke where it emanated from the sink. Ty was running water into a pot, causing a hiss from the darkened mess inside.
“What happened?”
Ty looked up at him, his eyes wide. “We had a little kitchen fire.”
“A little kitchen fire? The entire venue stinks, and there’s smoke everywhere.”
“It’s my fault. I was stirring the mango sauce and it started to boil up, and pretty soon I couldn’t stop it, and then it spilled over and began to burn . . .” This from a skinny, long-haired student who held a rag to his hand.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“It’s just a burn—”
“Run some water over it, then go find a couple fans, see if you can get them going in the hall. Ty, let’s get more made.” Max glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Raina?”
“She never made it in.” Ty opened the fridge. “And then they had a big fight.”
“Who had a big fight?” Max reached for his chef’s jacket. “Raina and Grace?”
“No. I think it was Jace and . . . maybe Owen?”
Oh no. Owen was here? He’d forgotten that.
“I think it was the other brother. The one with dark hair. He came in and beat up the other one,” said a girl with short blonde hair.
He stared at them. “The Christiansen family had a fistfight?”
“Yeah,” Ty said. “Sort of. I just know that Grace and her mom and sisters took off, and then Mr. Christiansen made all the guys reset the tables. We helped, but the sauces got started late and—”
“Has anyone made the bread?”
“I did,” the blonde said. “It’s cooling, about ready to slice.”
“And the pig?”
“Nearly roasted, sir,” said a girl with dark hair pulled up in a net.
“Ty, let’s get started on that sauce.”
But Ty just stood at the open cooler door. “We’re out of mangoes.”
“What else do we have?”
“I don’t know. Some ginger. Carrots. Red onions.” Ty looked at Max. “Four oranges and two limes and a coconut.”
“C’mon, chefs. Think outside the box.” Max went to the cooler, pulled out the ingredients. “If there’s one thing hanging with Grace Christiansen taught me, it’s that you have to reach out and try. You never know what is going to taste good.”
The words left his mouth, and he let them hang in the room.
Reach out and try.
He grabbed the bag of red onions and handed them to the blonde kitchen assistant. “Julienne these.” Then he shoved the carrots into the arms of the brunette. “Clean these and grate them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone find me a bottle of white wine.” He picked up the tray of oranges. “And a knife, please.”
Ty handed him a knife and he sliced the fruit in half. “I need these juiced.”
Max returned to the cooler, found garlic and the coconut. After he crushed and minced the garlic, he pulled out a pan and went to the stove. He retrieved the olive oil, added it to the pot, began to heat it.
“Onions!” The cutting board slid next to him, and he began to add them to the pot, stirring. He glanced at the clock.
The ceremony would be starting soon. Shoot, he should have left earlier, should have made his uncle wake him. He didn’t realize he’d overslept until they returned with a stringer of walleye and were frying them up for breakfast. The sweet camaraderie of his brother and his uncle had mended the wounds from the panic of the night before. Helped foster the courage to drive home and face Grace.
Max tossed the garlic in, and the tangy redolence curled around him. The onions turned translucent. “Carrots!”
Ty brought them over. “What are you making?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Really?”
“It’s going to be great, though.”
“What if you make a mistake?”
“Then we figure out something else, right? C’mon, buddy. Just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean it won’t be delicious.” The carrots sautéed to a beautiful, rich orange. “Get me the orange juice.”
He poured it into the pot, turned the heat down. Grabbed the white wine and added it. Added more. Put the top on. Okay, please let this work.
Please, please let this work.
Because his words to Ty sank in and suddenly seemed right—he and Grace might not have the right ingredients for happily ever after, but maybe they could make their own version of it.
Maybe the recipe wasn’t always worth following.
Maybe, in fact, it was time to improvise.
EDEN WOULD TAKE JACE’S BREATH AWAY. Grace stood behind her sister, pulling out her train, layers and layers of fluffy chiffon. “You are gorgeous.”
Eden seemed stunned herself, staring into the floor-length mirror. Her dress outlined her slim figure—a V-neck, cap sleeves, princess-style, with a cluster of fabric flowers at the bustle. Not overly beaded, just enough to catch the light. And in her hair, loosely twisted into a chignon at the nape of her neck, a simple veil that fanned out to her waist.
“He won’t be able to speak,” Grace said as she handed Eden her bouquet of orange-and-white roses, blue plumeria.
Eden met her eyes, then turned to Grace, catching her hand. “Are you okay?”
Grace tightened her jaw against a well of heat in her throat. She just had to keep breathing, keep focusing on Eden and her perfect day and everything she had in front of her and—
She pressed a hand to her mouth, looked away. “I don’t think so.” She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I’m so silly. It’s not like Max and I—” She shook her head. “We probably didn’t have a future anyway.”
“Why would you say that? Of course you did—you do. He loves you—even Jace can see that.” Eden touched her cheek. “But the bigger question is, do you love him?”
Grace drew in a trembling breath. “Yes. I do. He makes me feel as if I could do anything. Go anywhere. He makes me a better version of myself.”
“So . . .”
“So—for how long, Eden? Ten years? Less? And then I get to watch the man I love die an excruciating early death. And what about kids? He’d leave them behind—”
“Shh.” Eden pulled her into her arms.
Grace held on. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to walk toward Max, knowing I’m going to have to let him go. Maybe he was right to push me away.”
“Grace. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“But I’m not. I’m . . . scared a lot of the time. And I’m tryin
g to be the woman who trusts in Jesus, but I just feel like I’m going to . . . well, that I won’t be strong. Not at all. And the worst part is . . .” She stepped out of Eden’s embrace. “I haven’t told him I love him. I wanted to but . . . I think I was scared. Maybe he was right to believe that I would run away. Maybe—”
A knock, and then the door burst open. Tiger ran into the room, dressed in his mini tuxedo, Ingrid on his tail. Her mother wore her game face, the one reserved for those moments when she hid her emotions for the good of the family. Whether those emotions were about Casper and Owen’s fight or her oldest daughter walking down the aisle, Grace didn’t know.
She wouldn’t easily purge Casper’s fight with Owen from her own mind either. The event cast a wretched pallor on the day. Watching her brothers tangle on the floor—well, she’d seen it in jest for years. Never in hatred. They all needed their game faces today.
Her mother came up to Eden with a genuine smile, however. “You are a sight to behold.” She took Eden’s hand, surveyed the dress. “Wow.”
“Mom, they’re almost ready.” Amelia had followed her in, wearing the same blue bridesmaid dress as Grace. She wore her auburn hair in a similar chignon, and for a second, the sight of her stunned Grace into the realization that her little sister had turned into a grown woman.
Who was headed to Europe for her first year of college.
Oh, if only Grace possessed that kind of courage. To leap out in faith, to trust and believe—
“Aunt Eden, you’re so pretty!” Tiger said.
“Are you ready to carry the ring, big man?” Eden asked.
He nodded. And the sight of him, his blond hair all slicked into place, dressed like a miniature version of her brother, so adorable she could gobble him up, made Grace want to weep.
She’d never have one of these. A miniature version of Max. Or if she did, how could she protect him from the fate of his father?
Yes, Max had been right to push her out of his arms.
“Ready?” Ingrid said to Eden.
Eden nodded.
Grace picked up Eden’s train and followed her out. At least one of the sisters would marry her prince.
“Eden Joy Christiansen, do you take this man, Jace Maynard Jacobsen, to be your lawfully wedded husband . . . ?”
Grace listened to Eden say her I do, captured by the expression on Jace’s face.
When I Fall in Love (Christiansen Family) Page 29