by Rose Verde
“And you said you were six. How long had this been going on?”
“I think a year or more. It just escalated with time.”
Wyatt’s anger rose swiftly. Why did some people have babies they didn't want? He held her close, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Where are they now?”
“I don't know. Pam's father is my dad's older brother. He came to visit over one summer break. He took Pam and me swimming and saw the marks on my body. He pressed me for information. I don't know what he said to my parents but they never made trouble. They didn't want me, anyway.”
Wyatt wrapped both arms around her. “I'm so sorry.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago.”
“I know.” What he also knew was that the impact still remained. They stayed that way for a few minutes. Wyatt kissed her head. “Let me see you home.”
When Wyatt climbed into bed later that night, the things Crissy told him stayed with him. She turned out well in spite of her past. With the emotions that roiled in him—anger against her father, compassion for Crissy—as she told her story, he realized he was falling for the blue-eyed lady. And somehow, he felt he could trust his heart to her and not be betrayed.
Chapter Seven
The smell of new leather wrapped around Crissy in the Everything Cowboy Mall. The place was packed with anything anyone could want—jeans, sun dresses, all kinds of shirts, Wranglers, belts, sturdy boots, Stetsons, in all sorts of colors and sizes. Bouquets of assorted flowers lent their scents to the atmosphere.
The sales girl handed Crissy a pair of boots. “That boyfriend of yours really cares about you.”
“He’s just a friend.”
The young girl’s eyes almost popped. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head as smoothly as Becca always had hers. Why did people succeed with styling their hair better than Crissy did with hers? Pulling her messy curls into a ponytail perpetually was the easiest way to go. Especially when she managed to conquer them with a brush.
“Then I want that kind of friend, sweetheart.”
Feeling self-conscious, Crissy emerged in a slightly above the knee sundress. The background was mainly cream with multiple flowers. She loved this one. Would Wyatt like it? He’d politely rejected all six dresses she'd tried on in the last fifteen minutes. Each time, he'd told her it didn't bring out her beautiful eyes, or took too much attention away from her perfect figure. Even though he seemed like a difficult to please person with her choice of clothes, he was a good sport about it and... it was kinda romantic.
She flushed at the thought. Thankfully, his gaze was buried in whatever he was doing on his phone.
She reached him. “What are you doing?”
“Checking my email. I...” The words died in his throat.
He did a slow appraisal from her Stetson, down to her dress and cowboy boots. Crissy tried not to squirm.
“You take my breath away.”
“You like it?” she asked. Heat crept into her face. After telling him about her past, she hadn’t expected him to show up today. Yet, instead of leaving, he treated her differently. Like she was someone special.
“You're kidding me? I love it.” She stopped a foot from him. “You'll steal the show from the bride.”
She laughed. “Not likely. I'm never the belle of the ball.”
“I beg to differ.” He stepped closer and adjusted her hat. “You could grace any western magazine.”
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, leaving fire in its wake. Crissy swallowed, her legs threatening to cave under her.
The door opened and Wyatt blinked. He scratched his head. “Uh, I'll pay for this and we’ll leave.”
Crissy nodded, trying to shake some semblance of function into her mushy brain. She didn't doubt Wyatt would've kissed her this time. The thought of his well-sculpted lips on hers sent her blood pressure skittering off the chart. She swallowed a groan. What was wrong with her?
He made her feel special, stirred her heart like no one ever did, but she wasn't here for a two week fling. He didn't strike her as that kind of person either.
Her cell phone rang just as Wyatt joined her, and they walked to the truck. Bossy Boss, the name she used for Nick, flashed on the screen. Crissy almost ignored it but that would be rude. She hadn't heard from him since she sent the document last night.
She accepted the call.
“I saw the article you sent. I must say that's pretty creative.”
Was that actually Nick praising her? Crissy almost fell out of the truck.
"Uh, thank you?"
Wyatt chuckled, a hand thrust out to help her.
“Have you started on the main story? The western corner is a good idea and will fit right into the magazine.”
“I'm working on it, sir.” She gulped at the thought of Wyatt overhearing her conversation. What would he say if he knew she planned to use him as her main story?
"Very well. I'm interested to see what you come up with. Don't let me down Crissy. It could cost you your job."
Just like that, he'd transformed back into the grumpy man she knew and feared. "I won't let you down, Nick."
“What had you almost tumbling out?” Wyatt asked as soon as the call ended.
“Nick actually praised me for once.”
He frowned. “And Nick is?”
Crissy narrowed her gaze at his tone. “Don't tell me you're jealous.”
“Should I be?”
“Maybe.”
He fell silent as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street.
“You shouldn't be. He's my boss,” she said, taking pity on him.
“You're kidding me? Don't do that again.”
“I got you there, right?”
“A little.”
He held her gaze for one heart stopping second. His smile sent her heart picking up a staccato beat, making it double time.
What are you doing to me? She wanted to scream.
Wyatt slipped a CD into the player, this time it was a soft blues song declaring love to someone that had just come home. “You think Kitty's okay?”
“I'm sure she is, otherwise Consuela would've called us. But if you prefer to check in,” he pulled his phone from his pocket, took his eyes briefly off the road to pull up the number, he hit dial and handed it over to her. The woman's voice came immediately.
As soon as Crissy mentioned her name, Consuela said. “Not to worry. Kitty's fine.”
"Is she eating? How's she feeling?"
"She's eating some. Not much, but she is feeling good enough to walk around a bit."
"Oh, thank you so much, Consuela! I'm so lucky to have you."
"It's no problem, dear. Kitty is welcome here anytime."
Crissy thanked her and handed the phone back to Wyatt.
“Satisfied now?”
She nodded.
Soon he turned into an area with field after field of greenery. A couple of ranches dotted the distance. So different from the bustle in town. Serene, the environment called softly to her.
After a few minutes, he turned onto a narrow road.
“Is this your first western themed wedding?”
“Yup. Thanks for inviting me.”
“That's late in coming.” He grinned and she swatted him.
He entered a gate with the inscription Lazy D Ranch. There was a row of trucks parked to one side of a huge red barn. “Who gets married in the evening?”
“Meghan.” He chuckled. “That's what she wants.”
A big guy walked toward them. Crissy climbed down and waited for Wyatt to join her.
“Just the man I've been meaning to see.”
They shook hands vigorously and did the shoulder thing guys did.
“And who is this gorgeous lady with you?”
Wyatt took her hand. “This is Chrystolle. My friend Luke. The one I told you bought me the bull.”
He shook her hand, his brows raised at Wyatt. Crissy wasn't sure how to interpret the body language.
“How was your trip?” Wyatt asked. If he saw his friend's look, he chose to ignore it.
“It was great. I'll be around for a bit before I'm off again.”
“Luke owns the highest number of bulls on the PBR circuit,” Wyatt said in explanation.
“Don’t pay him any mind. I’m just a small fry in the pan. Wyatt likes to exaggerate.” He favored Crissy with a smile and then turned to his friend. “I guess you're ready to jump back in the flow?”
“Yeah, I rode this week. I had a beast of pain. But, it’s not stopping me. I plan to join the circuit once it kicks off for the season.”
“Good for you. By the way, I saw Chelsea. She's getting married.”
Wyatt’s grip tightened on Crissy’s hand and she cried out in pain. "Ouch!"
Wyatt’s gaze jumped to hers and as if embarrassed by his reaction, his face reddened and he let her go. “I'm happy for her,” he said through clenched teeth. Apparently, he was anything but. “We’ll go greet the couple before the ceremony.”
Did Luke realize he'd upset Wyatt with the piece of information he passed? Not likely, because he moved on to how happy he was that Wyatt was back on track.
“Sure.” Luke shook hands with Wyatt again, waved at her and left.
As they cleared the big doors of the ranch house, Crissy was about to ask Wyatt why he’d become so angry at finding out about the Chelsea girl’s wedding, but before she could ask, a hysterical woman cried out on the other side of a closed door.
“What do you mean the bouquet is not here! How can this day get any worse?”
Another voice tried to soothe her. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“Who was supposed to pick up the bouquet? First the cake and now this! I might as well call the entire wedding off!”
Wyatt gave Crissy a look and then proceeded to the door. He knocked lightly and was soon met by a middle-aged woman who peeked at him from the other side.
As soon as she saw him, her face brightened. “Oh, Wyatt!” She opened the door wider. “Come in. We are having a mini crisis here.”
She waved him in and Crissy waited.
“Come on in, sweetie.”
Not really wanting to be in on all of the drama, Crissy hesitantly followed Wyatt through the door.
The bride, who didn’t look older than a high school senior, stood in a beautiful gown. Her face was puffy, and her makeup had smeared down her face.
“What happened?” Wyatt asked.
“First the cake was late and then when it finally came it was lopsided! We got that straightened out and then I find out -” She threw her hands in the air. “No one picked up the bouquet! This has been the worst day of my life! How can I get married without a bouquet!”
Crissy struggled to maintain her composure. It wasn’t funny, and the girl looked so upset, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, but it certainly wasn’t the end of the world.
“Okay,” Wyatt put a hand on her shoulder. “How long before the wedding starts?”
“Only a half an hour!”
“Is it at the floral shop in town?” he asked.
“Yes! But that will take ... just forget it! It’s too far away! My wedding is ruined.”
“There were some flowers at one of the shops we went into the other day.” Crissy volunteered with a mild shrug. “Granted they aren’t exactly wedding bouquets, but if it would help..."
“That’s right.” Wyatt agreed. “What kind of flowers do you want?”
“At this point you can pull up some weeds for all I care!”
Wyatt grinned. “Give me twenty minutes.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “And you will have your bouquet.”
“Thank you, Wyatt!” The bride gave him a hug. “You’re a life-saver.”
Wyatt took Crissy’s hand and as they left the room, the middle aged woman said, “No more crying, dear. Let’s get your face cleaned up. You look like the walking dead.”
Crissy covered her mouth to hold back a giggle. “That was really sweet of you, Wyatt.”
“Can’t let the girl go to the altar without flowers, now can I?” He winked at her. “A woman’s wedding is the best day of her life.”
Crissy thought to bring up the way Wyatt had gone rigid at the mention of another woman getting married but decided it wasn’t her place to ask. He’d tell her if he wanted her to know.
By the time they returned, the same older lady was waiting to get the flowers—a gorgeous blend of spring colors, including yellow billy balls, chamomile, peach roses, peach and red ranunculus.
The sound of the organ started in the big barn.
“Time to get in.” Wyatt said, taking Crissy’s hand.
They slid into the barn as the wedding march played. Wyatt located a bale of hay at the back and gestured for her to sit. His friend sat a few rows from them. He turned and smiled at Wyatt. Or was it at her? Crissy frowned and then quickly smoothed her expression.
Wyatt plopped down beside her and Crissy chanced the question that had been on her mind. “Were you planning on apologizing for almost fracturing my fingers earlier?” she whispered.
“Are you kidding? You sure know how to hold a grudge.” His eyes lit with humor as he took her hand and kissed it, spreading warmth in its wake. “I'm sorry.”
Ignoring the glance of the young lady on the other side of the aisle, she said with a huff. “That's so late in coming.”
He chuckled quietly. “Sounds like our national anthem. Why did you ask, then?” His warm breath fanned her neck and her heart fluttered like a kite in a blustery wind.
“THIS IS REALLY COOL.”
Wyatt took in the over two hundred people in attendance, amidst fairytale lights, Mason jar flowers, wooden signs, chandelier and string lights that offered some romance to the atmosphere. He wasn’t one to pay attention to decor but this wasn’t bad if he said so himself. It was vastly different from other barn weddings he'd attended that held mostly bales of hay and flowers around the room to disguise the faint odor of cow manure. He'd consider something this picturesque when he got married. That the thought even occurred to him was startling. Crissy was doing something crazy to his heart.
“The bride is here.” Crissy’s voice sounded breathless, and Wyatt turned to look at her. There was awe on her face.
Meghan walked in holding her father's arm in a sheet of satin that looked like she'd been poured into it. Cowboy boots like the ones her bridesmaids wore completed her outfit. She held the flowers Crissy had picked out. Whoever had redone her make-up had covered every telltale sign of her tears from earlier. “The flowers are pretty. You have good eyes.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, and Wyatt wanted to kiss her. In the midst of the confusion, no one had thought of dashing to the store, and yet Crissy, a woman who didn’t even know Meghan, had saved the day by remembering there were flowers only a few minutes away. How could he not fall for this caring woman? She didn't know Meghan from Adam.
When Meghan reached Dustin, he turned with a smile and mouthed, “You look beautiful.”
Crissy sniffled and wiped her eyes. Wyatt took out his neatly folded bandana and handed it over to her. She gave him a watery laugh and accepted it. He could see the bride's mother too, wiping her eyes. Why did people always cry at weddings, anyway?
Wyatt had missed everything else in between. Next thing he knew, they were sitting down to hear the message. The pastor, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, mounted the podium. He had a huge smile on his face that lit his dark eyes. His cowboy ensemble sat well on his tall slim frame.
“You know why I love weddings?”
There was a chorus of “No”.
“Jesus performed his first miracle at a wedding. He must love weddings, too.”
That earned some laughter.
“We'll go straight to the point. This is just going to be a charge for everyone here, single, married for a day, a year, whatever.”
He slipped on his glasses. “Let's turn in
our Bibles to Mark 10 verse 7 and 8”
A rustle of papers followed and then he began to read. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife and the two will become one flesh. So, they are no longer two, but one flesh.”
He took off his glasses. “This scripture is an echo of Genesis 2 verse 24. I'll just examine the word, ‘become.’ There are different meanings—to arrive, to come about, and begin to be. Let's take a look at begin to be. If we insert it into the passage, it says the two shall begin to be one flesh, the principal word being “one”. It means what hurts you will hurt the other. When you slight the other person, you actually slight yourself, because you're what?”
“One flesh,” came the chorused answer.
Wow. Wyatt had never looked at it that way.
“A wedding is just a ceremony. The real deal is the marriage and it takes work. It means we throw away our selfish inclinations to have things our way. We find ways to merge our wills, and deal with our emotions in a way so that the other doesn't feel lost in the maze. It's hard work.”
He laid emphasis on the hard work.
He turned to the couple. “Cathy and I have had a good marriage, not because we never offended or got upset with each other, not because we never said hurtful things to the other. Not because we never slammed doors or gave the other person the cold shoulder until our hearts healed. We wanted the relationship. We loved, despite our differences, we agreed to disagree. We worked at it. And gradually our fights become us against the problem, not us against each other.”
“Ask yourselves today. Is this what you want, five years, ten years down the line? If it is, you're going to apply yourselves to make it work, love in spite of everything. None of you is perfect.” He was silent for a moment as though allowing the words to sink in.
“Just like the wedding at Cana in Galilee didn't fail, because Jesus was there. He's the third in the three fold cord. It cannot be broken. Will you give Him room? In your own strength, you will fail, but with Jesus in your boat, no matter the storms that rise, you will come out on the other side victorious. Shall we rise?”