The Wedding Dress Yes (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “Probably.”

  “I…” His hand on her cheek—why did it feel so right when in five minutes she should be hearing a prayer prayed over her and Preston? “We really can’t do this today.”

  He agreed, and she wanted to argue with him, but how could she argue with a guy agreeing with her? “But—”

  This time, he cradled her face in his hands. “Lara, it’s all ready if you want it. I have rings, a tux, your bouquet—your bouquet. Your dress, a minister—”

  “You’re that sure?”

  Something flickered in his eyes—something that looked suspiciously like disappointment. “I’m that sure, but I want you to be, too.”

  “People will be so confused.” Before he could say anything, Lara shook her head. “Who cares? This is about us and what we want for our lives, not what people expect.”

  Ty agreed.

  “We’ve never even been on a date, though. That’s just weird.”

  “It is.”

  Lara shot him a look designed to silence him. It worked. Meanwhile, she kept talking through her thoughts. “Then again, dating was probably weird once. If we’re okay with it, why not?”

  Ty only nodded.

  “Lauren would be happy. She’s made a million hints about how stupid Preston is and how great you are over the past three months.” A giggle escaped. “Well, she had that right.”

  Lara stepped closer, watching him. “Is it crazy that I want to say yes?”

  Ty leaned forward, ready to kiss her, and the realization that it wasn’t the first time pierced her conscience. Lara held him back with one hand and tried not to wince at the disappointment on his face. “Can you give me a few minutes to pray about it—go tell Preston and his family, tell the St. James guests that I apologize for the hassle and that all gifts will be returned?” At his nod, she added, “And ask Brenna to come here?”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world.” Lara eyed him until he added, “But only until about three-thirty if you want to do this today.” With a squeeze of her hand, he was gone.

  Lara prayed until she heard the soft click of the door closing in place. A glance up showed Brenna standing there. “It’s over?”

  “He was marrying me because I remind him of someone. Ty thinks he’s grieving still.”

  “Grieving? The other someone died?”

  The whole story spilled—every bit that she could remember. “Do you want that purse? It’s more you than me, and I don’t want it at all.” Lara gazed down at the ring on her finger. “Where’s Lauren?”

  “Outside the door. Where else?”

  As she removed the ring from her finger, Lara called for Lauren. “Find Preston and give this to him, will you?”

  “Sure, but…”

  Brenna just shook her head. “She’s not keeping it, Lauren. Go!”

  “All right, I’m going. I still say it’d be a good down payment on a house…”

  The moment the door shut behind Lauren, Lara turned her attention back to Brenna. “Ty wants to marry me. Today.”

  “Um… isn’t that a bit sudden? You go from one guy to the next in one day?” A small smile played around the corners of Brenna’s lips. “Maybe you should give yourself a little time to deal with everything.”

  Something from deep within her bubbled up and over. Lara paced and talked through her thoughts. “You know what I think? I think I’ve hid the fact that I am in love with him from myself and everyone else until I feel like I’m going to burst. Now I don’t have to hide it anymore—not from me. Not from you, not from him… Why wouldn’t I want—?” She choked back the question and tried another one. “Should I?”

  That small smile grew into the biggest grin Lara had ever seen on Brenna. “I’ve tried to tell you something for the last three months, but I didn’t know how—didn’t think it would be right to butt in just because of what I think or like but…”

  “But what?”

  “You’ve never talked about Preston the way you talked about Ty. If I wanted to be one of the men in your life, I’d want to be Ty.”

  A knock on the door sent Lara flying to it, ready to tell Ty she’d do it. Two men stood there, her father and Mr. St. James. “Oh…”

  Her father hugged her. “I heard from Ty—are you sure?”

  “She’s sure.” Mr. St. James gave her a look that spoke of genuine affection—more than she’d ever seen from him. “My son wasn’t ready. You were good for him, so I ignored that he wasn’t good for you. I owe you an apology for not looking out for you.”

  If someone had told her that she’d be standing in her chosen dress, on her wedding day, contemplating marrying another man, and hugging Mr. St. James with genuine regret that he wouldn’t be a part of her upcoming life, Lara would have laughed. Instead, she fought back tears that might ruin her makeup—makeup she might need to look nice.

  Maybe…

  Mr. St. James paused at the door. “I hope you’ll be happy, Lara. We’ll get him the help we should have years ago. He won’t contact you again. I give you my word.”

  Her father kissed her and told her to change. “I’ll go send everyone home.”

  At the door, just as her father reached for the knob, Lara cried out. “Dad, no! Just hold on.” Her panic at the idea of him sending everyone home began to solidify her thoughts. “Don’t say anything yet. See if you can get Mom and Yvette to sing something. And send Ty in.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but Brenna will fill you in on possibilities. I really need to see Ty… now.”

  The room emptied, and she prayed again until she felt Ty’s hands on her shoulders. With eyes still closed, she asked, “Do you think it’s unhealthy to marry someone when you were engaged to someone else less than an hour ago?”

  “Maybe…” His breath tickled her cheek. “But I don’t think it’s a problem. Mama knows, Elder Park knows—”

  “Because I want to say yes.”

  He turned her to face him, his eyes searching her face for the answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. That question followed. “You do? Why?”

  “Because the idea of not marrying you hurts my heart. I wouldn’t have felt that way with Preston, even a few weeks ago—disappointed, maybe, but not hurt.”

  After fumbling in his pocket, Ty pulled out a ring and laid it on her palm. “Lara, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” Her heart did flip flops, flop flips, and somersaults at the look in his eyes. “Today, even.”

  “I’ll go put on that tux.”

  She kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’ll meet you at the end of the aisle in ten minutes.”

  “I’d better hurry, then.” And with that, he was gone.

  Lara stood there, staring at the simple ring with its modest diamond. “He’s the one, Lord. He’s the one. Thank You.”

  Black suit, his glasses in his tux pocket, birth certificate, too. Ty stood at the front, Mitchell in a shirt and tie—no jacket—to one side of him. At the last second, he remembered something.

  Ty bolted from the room, raced to the kitchen, and returned with six Ziploc bags of rose petals—pale yellow. He tossed three at Mitchell and hurried down one side of the aisle, creating the runner Lara had asked for. Mitchell followed just a few steps behind on the other side. Half a bag’s worth remained at the end, so Ty knocked on the double doors at the back of the chapel and handed that bag to Brenna. “Just in case she wants you to,” he whispered. And at that, he and Mitchell took off for their places.

  Just as they reached the front and stood waiting again, the doors opened, and Brenna stepped out. One hand held her bouquet of lilies. The other dropped a few petals as she moved along. One here… one there… until she reached the front.

  The doors closed again. Ty risked a glance at Lara’s mother and found the woman mopping her eyes. A glance at Mama found her beaming. She’ll sob later. A wink told her she’d read his thoughts.

  The cellist shifted from one classic
al piece Ty didn’t know to another. The doors opened, and Lara stepped into view. Lord, with all my mistakes… is she really doing this?

  The slow, steady walk of brides the world over became a near jog. A titter rippled over the room as Lara practically dragged her father to the altar. Tom Allen stepped forward and asked, “Who gives this woman to be married?”

  Mr. Priest shrugged. “Beats me. Girl can’t make up her mind.” He gave Ty an apologetic look. “Not that I care. You’re a better choice in my book.”

  Lara kissed the man’s cheek and shoved him toward his assigned seat. Turning back to Tom, she said, “I do—wait. No, God does.”

  Tom prayed. He read I Corinthians chapter thirteen. Instead of personalized vows, Tom offered classic vows rewritten with scriptural phrasing. “Do you, Tychicus Barnabas Jamison—?”

  Lara snorted. “Tychicus?”

  He nodded.

  “Barnabas?”

  Again, he nodded. Mama’s voice rang out, “With a last name like Jamison, I knew I needed a couple of solid Bible preachers to ensure my boy embraced his calling.”

  Laughter rippled across the room as Ty promised to love, honor, and cherish his wife—to live with her in an understanding way. What Lara vowed, he didn’t hear. His mind still reeled with the wonder that he stood there, in front of his congregation, marrying a woman he’d expected to bind to another man that day.

  “—now pronounce you husband and wife. Ty, you may kiss your bride.”

  An air of expectation built as he slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. Unwilling to be rushed, he allowed himself the pleasure of memorizing every nuance of her face. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. His thumb traced the outline of her lips, and he breathed in the scent of a perfume he hoped she’d wear until he couldn’t smell anymore.

  Once their lips finally met, time froze, even as the moment warmed him from lips to toes and back again. In the fuzzy, foggy back of a mind lost in a kiss like he’d never imagined, Lauren Kinsey’s voice pressed forward and blared in his ears. “Come up for air! You’ll suffocate her—or us!”

  Ty broke away only long enough to say, “Hey! I’ve waited a really long time for this and seen too many others I did not want to see. Just deal with it.”

  The congregation’s laughter gave him another minute to lose himself in the rest of a kiss he considered unfinished. He might never have stopped had he not felt Tom’s hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the congregation. That’s when the hoots and hollers of the guests filled his ears—Mama the loudest, of course.

  Over the din—the excruciatingly embarrassing din—Tom introduced Mr. and Mrs. Tychicus Jamison to the congregation.

  And Lara snorted. Again.

  It took forty-five minutes to get to the Rockland County Clerk’s office, thirty-five minutes to get the license, and an hour and fifteen minutes to make it back to the reception. They didn’t run into traffic, an accident, or any other of the usual reasons for trips to take longer than expected.

  It had more to do with stops every ten to fifteen miles for “get to know you” sessions. Lara refused to apologize for or feel guilty about them, either. They pulled into New Cheltenham and into Lara’s parking stall at three-thirty. “I’ll be down in like two minutes,” she called as she bolted from the car.

  Ty laughed and followed. “What?”

  “You couldn’t get out of that thing without Brenna’s help. Do you really think you’re going to get it done up again without at least a little?”

  Oh, Lord, help. He was right.

  His laughter followed her into her apartment. She made it into her room and managed to lock the door—for reasons Lara couldn’t explain, even to herself—and pulled off the jean shorts and t-shirt she’d worn to get that license.

  Getting into the dress—easy. Zipping it up to the halfway mark? Equally easy. Buttoning even one of the twenty little buttons that held the mesh upper back together? Impossible.

  There wasn’t anything she could do. She’d have to get his help or call for Brenna.

  Except that she’d left her phone at the church.

  Ty entered the moment she unlocked the door. “Are you okay?”

  “Embarrassed.”

  Without a word, and without the tender, romantic moment she’d imagined as she’d stood there wondering what to do, Ty fumbled his way through fastening the buttons and stepped back. The mirror that hung on her door caught his reflection—the unease, the uncertainty, the rejection.

  “Ty?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It wasn’t you. I felt awkward getting Brenna’s help the first time.”

  That’s all it took for him to kiss her again, and that’s all she needed to feel like everything was back the way it should be. “Let’s get to the reception before people start blowing up your phone asking where we are.”

  “So, that’s why you left yours at the church.”

  “Nope.” Lara hooked her arm in his and froze at the sight of her face. “First stop, classroom for a repair job. And I left it at the church because I didn’t carry it down the aisle.”

  The greatly-reduced crowd of guests cheered as they entered the reception hall. The deejay shifted from a popular tune to “Lara’s Theme.” Lara shot a look at Brenna, who shook her head. Lauren, however, grinned. Good one, kid.

  With tulle billowing overhead and tied back with—were those white roses instead of lilies?—Pastor Allen called Mitchell, Brenna, Ty, and Lara to the front of the room and asked for the license. Not once had Lara ever seen a bride and groom sign a license. No wedding she’d ever attended had a signing ceremony. However, Pastor Allen stood there, and as everyone signed, spoke a few words.

  “We all witnessed the vows Ty and Lara took today. As they sign this legal document, let’s remember that you all agreed to hold them to those vows—to help them keep each one. If you see a pattern of disrespect in Lara, speak to her in love. If you see Ty being self-centered instead of giving himself up for her, call him on it. This is what the body of Christ does for one another. There is no love in ignoring sin.”

  At the close of that little ceremony, Ty took a selfie of them and asked for London Hutchins’ number. He typed out a message and passed it to her. Lara read it aloud. “The dress fits perfectly—no inflatable underwear necessary. Thanks for going the extra mile to get it to us on time.”

  “Inflatable underwear?”

  Lauren laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I can’t wait for you to hear this one.”

  Ty just pulled Lara into his arms and swayed with her to the music. “Shall we talk about how you didn’t find the guy who stole the St. James dress?”

  “Who needed to find him? I saw him carry it out of our house in a black trash bag!”

  While Ty gaped, Brenna scolded. “And you let the whole town panic for Lara over it?” If Brenna hadn’t been smiling, Lara might have felt a little sorry for Lauren.

  “Sure. I couldn’t let anyone find it until Ty convinced Lara not to wear it.”

  “I swear,” Ty blurted out. “That girl knows what people are thinking before they can think it.”

  Ready to dodge that subject, Lara gave an affected sigh. “There’s only one thing wrong now.”

  “What’s that?” His rumbly murmur in her ear sent shivers down Lara’s spine.

  “I had that old saying all worked out. I had the old wedding dress, the new ring, the borrowed wedding dress—because who says you can’t use the same thing twice, right?—and blue forget-me-nots on my big toenails.”

  Lauren jumped in on that one. “Well, now you have a new dress, and you still have the blue flowers on your toes.”

  “I could say we borrowed this wedding from the St. Jameses…” Lara winced. “They did pay for most of it.”

  “Here.” Earrings appeared in Lara’s line of sight, and her mother winked as she added, “I get those back. They’re old and borrowed.”

  As Mama and a few of her friends served
prime rib to the remaining guests, Ty sat at the head table, one arm around Lara, and resisting the urge to salivate. Lara watched the proceeding with an expression he couldn’t read. “What is it?”

  “The food… the flowers… all of it. It wasn’t about Preston not liking my choices, was it?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  In that dazed-like way people have as they work through new ideas, Lara tried to explain. “I just thought he wanted what he thought looked better—like the lilies. Or, what was best for their guests—the food. That wasn’t it at all, was it?”

  Still, Ty didn’t follow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think it was… and I can see it in some of the things he said now, even. I think it was all a recreation of his wedding with Monica. She didn’t like my flowers, and she chose lilies. She didn’t have meat at the reception.” Lara gave him a weak smile. “It’s not important, of course, but things just make more sense now.”

  His phone blipped, and out of habit, he glanced at the screen but ready to stash it away again. A text message. From Detective Frome.

  Just heard the news. St. James Sr. called to report his mother-in-law’s confession. Had a breakdown after that wedding didn’t happen. Threatened a Lara Priest. She’s been taken for a psych eval.

  The message went on to say that Preston IV had been taken in for giving a false police report. He knew what his grandmother had done, and he’d hidden it when he found out—even after being asked by the authorities.

  The bottom line was simple. The people who needed to get help were about to get it, and Mr. St. James had ensured it the moment he knew Lara could be in danger. Thank You, Lord. Thanks that I can tell Lara that Mr. St. James really did care about her.

  Something Lauren said at the end of the table jerked him from his prayer. “What was that?”

  Lauren popped a bite of prime rib into her mouth and talked around it. “It’s good! Really!” The girl shrugged when he didn’t respond. “I just liked the mushroom steak better.”

  The End