by Mary Burton
The shop owner had been expecting her, confessing that Sammy had called and told her to expect a crazed woman in need of a dress. Zoe had been glad to see her and had dismissed Jo’s apologies for arriving near closing. An hour later, the patient woman, who’d borne all Jo’s indecision and worry with grace, had helped her settle on the green silk. The dress hugged her waist and the hem hit her mid-calf. Feeling at home in the dress and relieved to have found it, she’d barely balked at the five-hundred-dollar price tag.
She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and wondered again if she should let it hang or tuck it back into the chignon. One call and her mother would have come over and made it perfect in seconds. But the visit could also stir the tension still simmering between them, and Jo did not want to taint this day.
Thinking about her mother and their last conversation, Jo stared in the mirror, studying her features. This time she didn’t pay attention to her makeup or the sweep of her hair. This time she searched for features that matched Cody Granger’s.
Her red hair had been a surprise to all, but her mother had always reminded anyone that commented that Jo’s red hair came from a great-grandmother who’d had hair as red as the rising sun. Jo knew little else about this great-grandmother and often wondered if she’d ever existed. Her mother claimed Jo’s green eyes and the wide curve of her mouth as her own, but her nose and all her other features were only Jo’s. She didn’t share one physical trait with Cody Granger.
Sighing, Jo turned from the mirror, leaving her hair loose as she grabbed her purse. Today was not a day to wallow or whine.
The drive on I-35 toward Lara and Jim’s house took her thirty minutes. She’d volunteered to arrive at the crack of dawn, but Lara had told her not to worry. “The day is not about stressing,” Lara had said. “Arrive with the rest of the guests.”
However, as a bridesmaid, unwritten obligations compelled her to arrive early. Jo knew the best-laid plans always could be tripped up by the smallest detail. And when she pulled up the long, dirt driveway that led to Lara’s adobe-style home, her worst-case-scenario brain was relieved to see the catering truck had arrived, the white tent, tables and chairs had been set up and the band was tuning up. The place was abuzz with the controlled chaos that came before a wedding. Jim stood next to a large smoker grill where a caterer basted a huge pig. Beside Jim sat Lara’s dog, Lincoln, a large wolflike shepherd whom she’d heard was now devoted to Jim.
Jo parked off to the right at the edge of a field and walked into the house where she found Lara standing in the living room, her hair in curlers, dressed in a bathrobe. Around her sat dozens of unopened presents.
“Lara,” Jo said.
Lara glanced up from a photo image and smiled at Jo. “Hey, girl. Boy, do you look superfine.”
A warm blush rose up Jo’s cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Looks like you solved the dress dilemma.”
“Will it work?” Sudden indecision nipped at her. “I know I should have bought it sooner and shown it to you, but life has been kinda crazy.”
An appraising smile warmed Lara’s face. “It’s perfect. Today everyone wears what works for them.”
Jo arched a brow. “Which means Cassidy is wearing black.”
Lara laughed. “She has a flare for the dramatic that I do not.”
Jo laughed. “Never a dull moment with Cassidy. She’s as dramatic as I am understated.”
“That’s why I love you both so much. Now, come help me decide which picture I should frame and display at the reception.”
Jo set her purse aside, shaking her head. “Lara, you’re getting married in an hour, and you are framing a picture.”
“Jim sent me in here and told me to do something productive. He doesn’t like a vegetarian offering her two cents while he does his caveman grilling.”
Jo laughed. “I’d think you’d be fussing over your hair or makeup.”
“Cassidy will be here soon and she can do that.” Lara was an artist who had built a reputation for herself as a wet plate photographer. She created her images using a 150-year-old camera that looked reminiscent of a time long past. Jo owned several of Lara’s pieces and displayed them in her home.
Jo looked at the image. It featured Lara and Jim sitting side by side in chairs on the front porch. The black-and-white coupled with the rich grain told Jo she’d used the bellows camera. “Did you take this?”
“I set it all up and asked Cassidy to remove the lens cap and count to thirty before she replaced it. I hopped up and quickly processed the glass plate.”
“How many times was Jim willing to sit for his picture?”
She chuckled as she held the print up to the light and studied it. “He told me I had him for three images and he was done. The one I liked best was the second shot.”
If Jo had looked at only Jim, she would have sworn the image had been taken a hundred years ago. Like Brody he looked as if he’d been plucked out of the old west wearing his white Stetson, lariat tie, jeans and scuffed boots. Brody and Jim’s similar attire coupled with their square jaws and stiff gazes, made both throwbacks.
What anchored this picture in the present was Lara who wore jeans, a white button-down shirt and no shoes. Her long, blond hair highlighted the high slash of her cheekbones and the vivid paleness of her blue eyes.
The look of love in Lara’s eyes struck a chord deep in Jo. That kind of passion, which had eluded her so far, was rare indeed. “This is really good, Lara. Really a work of art.”
Lara inspected the image. “I know it’s not the traditional wedding portrait, but I’m not so traditional. My main worry now is that I should have edged in this corner a little more. Maybe if I slip back into the darkroom.”
Jo laughed. “The picture is perfect. Stop second-guessing. By the way, have you looked at a clock lately? You have fifty-nine minutes before the wedding.”
Lara frowned as she stared at the photograph’s corner. “I can always fuss with it later.”
“Why don’t you put it in that frame, finish the job and stop worrying?”
Lara took one last look at the portrait and laid it face-down in the glass. “I can get a little crazy when it comes to my pictures.”
“Which is what makes you such a successful artist. Don’t worry so much today. Enjoy.”
Lara laid the mat over the picture. “I think I’m nervous.”
“What are you nervous about?”
Lara laughed. “That sounds very shrinklike.”
Jo shrugged. “Hazard of the trade.” She cleared her throat. “What are you nervous about, Lara?”
Lara chuckled as she clamped down the frame fasteners. “Commitment. I can be a Ranger’s lover. But to take one on for life . . .”
“You and Jim have done pretty well.”
“Oh yeah, we’re great. But I worry that I might not be as cool about the dangers of his work once I hang ‘wife’ around my neck.”
Wife. Some said marriage was just a piece of paper and that it didn’t change anything, but it changed everything.
Lara continued. “People say marriage is no big deal but it is to me. My mom married four times and each new husband was worse than the last. I swore I’d never marry but now that I am I want it to last forever.”
“Marriage is work.”
She frowned. “Yeah, but what exactly does that mean?”
Car doors closing had Jo glancing out the window in time to see Brody get out of his Bronco. He moved with steady, determined strides to Jim and shook his hand. “Sometimes I think it means staying and accepting the other person when all you want to do is run. Giving the storm time to pass, knowing smooth waters are ahead.”
“That sounds a little bit like experience talking.”
Jo turned from the window and found Lara staring at her. “Not many people know this, but I was married once.”
“Really?”
She fiddled with the strand of pearls around her neck. “We shouldn’t have ever married. We knew we
wouldn’t last.”
Lara didn’t prompt Jo for more information but waited silently.
“I got pregnant when I was eighteen. He married me for the baby’s sake. But I lost the baby. And when the baby went away, the reason to stay married went with her.”
Lara moved from the picture and took Jo’s hands in hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Jo swallowed unshed tears. Fourteen years of ignoring the marriage and pregnancy had caught up to her in one crashing thud. “Thanks. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean this to turn into a session about me.”
Lara hugged Jo with a warmth that somehow eased the lingering loneliness that had stalked her since she’d woken up this morning. “I think that is the first time you’ve opened up to me.”
Jo had maintained such a tight rein over her emotions since she’d lost the baby that she’d not realized her need for control was so isolating.
She pulled away and smiled. “You need to get ready for the wedding.”
Lara touched a curler. “Cassidy said she’d be here any minute.”
“I can do your hair. You may not know it from my spartan hairstyles, but I grew up in a beauty salon.”
“Did you?”
“I could roll a perm when I was eleven, and Mom had me doing her highlights by the time I was fifteen. I can promise you, brushing out curls is a piece of cake.”
Lara grinned. “Have at it, sister.”
Jo regarded Lara’s jeans. “Are you wearing a white dress for the ceremony?”
“No. No white dresses for me. I’m wearing a sundress. It’s a light purple.”
Jo raised a brow. “The throwback carnivore marries the artsy vegetarian.”
Lara and Jo both were laughing when Cassidy burst through the front door. Her dark hair was swept up on her head, and she wore a black dress with a large silver concho belt and red cowboy boots. “Let’s get this party started!”
Lara laughed. “My life is gonna be interesting.”
Brody’s tie coiled around his neck extra tight as he took his seat on a white folding chair under the large tent. He and two dozen other Rangers and their wives sat behind Jim’s mother and grandfather. A bluegrass band played standard tunes as a cool breeze blew over the tall grass and into the tent.
Jim stood at the front with his younger brother at his side. Both wore dark blue suits that highlighted the olive complexion they’d inherited from their mother and the broad shoulders from their grandfather. Lincoln sat peacefully beside Jim, his collar decorated with small, rather unmanly flowers, which Jim had announced were coming off right after the ceremony.
When a set of guitars started to play the wedding march, everyone rose and faced the dirt path that led back toward the house. The first to appear was Jo. When Brody spotted her, unexpected tension tightened his gut. He’d always found her business suits a little erotic but today’s sweep of her hair over her pale shoulders and the green halter dress had him hardening like a teenager.
Her gaze fixed on the minister, she grinned broadly, moving down the aisle. As she moved past, she didn’t spare a glance at him, but his gaze locked on her. He caught the whiff of a perfume she’d not worn before. Spicy. And sensual.
He straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands in front of him as she passed. He’d never been one for looking back or wishing away what was, but right now he’d have paid dearly for a clean slate with Jo Granger.
Next on deck was the brunet with the red cowboy boots. Cassidy. She was one hell of a looker in her own right. Nothing like Jo. Not his type. But stunning.
And then Lara emerged. She wore a purple peasant-style sundress that brushed the ground and her sandaled feet. Her long hair hung loose around her shoulders and someone had woven small flowers into several strands. Woodstock would have greeted Jim’s artist bride with open arms.
Lara’s gaze locked on Jim’s, and she moved toward him with a pace that purists might consider too fast. She looked eager and ready to jump into this marriage. Jim looked equally as happy, and the first twist of jealousy Brody had had in years snapped. Back in the day, he’d coveted a new bike, a new car, better bats, and the number one pitcher job, but now all that was downright meaningless. What he coveted was what Jim and Lara shared.
The reception was the kind Brody liked: an old-fashioned Texas barbecue. The bride and groom didn’t have the overstressed expressions he’d seen at too many weddings, and the guests looked comfortable. The men had taken off their sport jackets, and the women mostly wore sandals, not those punishing high heels that sent them searching for Band-Aids halfway through a party.
Brody stood with several Rangers talking about a recent trip to the shooting range. Scores were compared. Jokes made. Challenges issued. The talk rumbled around him as he scanned the crowd for Jo. He found her by the food table, a soda in her hand as she talked to Santos. When she smiled at him her eyes lit up and her posture was relaxed, not stiff and defensive. Santos leaned forward and said something close to her ear, and she tossed back her head and laughed out loud. It struck him that he’d never heard her laugh. He suspected now that the laughter had always been there, but he’d been too bullheaded and self-pitying to coax it.
He took a long pull on his beer and imagined landing a punch on Santos’s grinning jaw as the other Ranger held out his hand to Jo and the two went to the dance floor in front of the bluegrass band.
Santos led Jo through a two-step, which she had no talent for. The more she protested and laughed at her own missteps, the more endearing she became to Santos and him. After one sloppy spin, she lost her footing, only to have Santos steady her and pull her close. Her hand went to his chest as her other gripped his forearm.
Brody finished off his beer.
“You don’t look like the happiest padre I’ve ever seen.” Jim, who’d taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, stared squarely at Brody. “Looks like you could gnaw on broken glass.”
Brody tore his gaze from Jo and shrugged. “Naw.”
Jim looked past Brody to Jo. “I didn’t realize you had a hard-on for the good doctor.”
His temper rumbled. “I don’t have a hard-on for Dr. Granger.”
Jim laughed. “I’m trained to spot liars.”
Brody, like any good cop, could lie as well as any thief, but his tense posture and biting grip on his beer bottle were giving him away. He opted to change the subject. “Lara looks nice.”
Jim’s gaze locked on his bride who was snapping pictures of her guests. “She’s pretty damn perfect.”
“You two lovebirds taking a honeymoon?”
“Not now. She’s teaching, and I’m in the middle of a couple of cases. We’re taking a road trip to Galveston in about six weeks.”
“Should be a good trip.”
Jim drew his gaze away from his wife. “Looking forward to it.”
He pondered his empty beer and wished for a second. “Hell of a party.”
“Fussy is not our style.”
“Amen.”
The band stopped playing and the couples on the dance floor stopped and clapped. The bandleader announced a fifteen-minute break. Good. No more dancing.
“So you gonna talk to her?” Jim said. “Or are you gonna stand there like a yellow-belly coward?”
Brody met Jim’s amused gaze. “Is this middle school, pal?”
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know when a guy is smitten. And padre, you’ve been bitten by the bug.”
Brody rubbed the back of his neck with his hands. “I’m about the last guy that Jo Granger would date.”
“Why’s that? She strikes me as the type to stand up to your type.”
“And my type is?”
“Let’s face it. Like any good cop you can be an ass when pushed. I’ll bet you hate hearing no and you think everything should stop when you speak.”
Brody didn’t deny it. The Jo from college days had been tentative and worried about offending anyone. But somewhere along the way she’d grown up into
a sharp gal. “More the type to settle with a doctor or a lawyer.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why’d you say that?”
“Just guessing.”
“You might be right. Lots of Rangers have circled and sniffed around her, but she keeps them all at arm’s distance.”
Sniffing around. Shit. “Santos looks like he’s doing his share of sniffing.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s a pal to her.”
Brody’s laugh was dark and mirthless. “Don’t seem too pal-like to me.”
“She helped him with his sister, Maria, when their mom died. He’s more like a brother to her.”
“He isn’t having brotherly thoughts.”
“He can have all the thoughts he wants. According to what she told Lara she sees him as a friend.”
Good.
Shit. He shouldn’t care one way or the other.
He didn’t have the right to stand here moping and wishing away a relationship that would make her happy. He’d lost all those claims a long time ago.
“What is it between you two?” Jim pushed.
Brody’s fingernail dug into the label on his bottle. He considered dodging the question but refused to shy away from the plain facts. “Would you believe Jo and I used to be married?”
Jim stared at him openmouthed.
Brody had never shared that bit of information. Never made sense to talk about his past. But the present and the past were getting tangled up and suddenly it mattered. “Son, you’re going to catch a fly with that trap.”
Jim shook his head. “I’ve known Jo for two years. Never a word about a marriage. Not that she’d share much anyway. That’s not her style.”
“It was in college. She was a freshman and I was a senior. We had a lot of emotion and not much common sense. We met in the fall and were divorced by spring.”
“Damn.” Jim shook his head. “Just too young, I suppose.”