The smell of coffee wafted toward him from the kitchen, but considering the early hour, he figured he was the first one awake. Darcy had invested in a coffeemaker with a timer, and he’d seen her put it on last night. At least there was coffee.
He stumbled toward the kitchen, only to pause outside the closed bathroom door. The unmistakable sound of water running in the shower told him that Darcy was up after all.
“Gotta get yourself together, man,” Bill grumbled to himself, his voice gravelly from sleep, or lack of it. “If she sees you like this, there’s no way she’ll go through with it, phony marriage or not.” He forced his feet to move and lurched toward the kitchen.
Maybe if he drank half the pot of coffee, he’d have made himself reasonably human by the time Darcy came out.
* * *
DARCY RINSED the soap away, turned off the water, then stepped out of the shower. She breathed in the sweet, floral scent of the old-fashioned soap Nettie used, not for the fragrance, but for the economy, and smiled. Maybe this particular brand was inexpensive, but she loved the subtle smell of the flowers that hinted at the life and warmth of spring. It seemed to make a promise.
And maybe it was appropriate for the day, she thought as she toweled herself dry from head to toe. She ran a comb through her short hair and briefly wished that she’d been able to get someone to style it for her, but she shook that thought away. She’d chosen the style for its ease and simplicity. It suited her.
And considering that the rest of today’s ceremony wouldn’t be real, she might as well be.
She dressed slowly in shorts and a T-shirt. There was no sense in putting on the white suit so early. The linen fabric would only wrinkle in the thick summer air, already muggy at this early hour.
Darcy stepped out of the bathroom, letting a cloud of steam escape into the hall. She wondered if she should wake Billy, but decided against it. Billy’s door was closed, and he had no real reason to get up so soon. She shrugged at that. Neither had she, but she’d found herself waking at the crack of dawn like a child on Christmas morning.
She smiled at the irony as she headed for the kitchen and a cup of coffee to get her going. After all, with the exception that she and Billy were going to stand in front of a judge and Nettie to make promises they had no intention of keeping, this was just going to be another day. Why she was comparing it to Christmas, she didn’t know.
Well, she did, but she tried not to think about it. After all, she shouldn’t feel as much for Billy Hays as she did.
She stopped short in the kitchen doorway, startled to find Billy at the table, hunched over, nursing a cup of coffee as if his life depended on it. She couldn’t imagine why.
He looked up slowly, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was coming down with something. And maybe he was: cold feet.
Still, her nurse’s training kicked in, and she felt his forehead. It was cool. Or as cool as it could be in a poorly air-conditioned house on an Alabama summer morning.
“Are you all right?”
Billy motioned for her to sit, and nodded. He took a huge swig of coffee, swallowed, then spoke. “Yes. No,” he muttered, his voice gravelly. “I don’t know.”
Darcy’s pleasant spirits slunk away like a whipped dog. He’d probably spent all night tossing and turning and dreading the prospect of marrying her.
* * *
“THIS IS IT,” Bill said, punctuating his statement with a deep breath, as he pushed his mother’s wheelchair up the ramp and into the courthouse.
“Theron’s office is over there,” Momma said, pointing.
Bill steered the chair in that direction, and Darcy trailed behind. He knew Darcy must feel as if she were an afterthought, and he wished he could do something to make it better. But they had to remember that this wedding was not for them. It was for the woman seated so expectantly in the borrowed wheelchair.
They’d stopped by the courthouse earlier to apply for the license before they’d collected Momma from the hospital. So, all that was left was…to do it.
He sucked in a deep breath before knocking on the closed door marked Probate Judge.
In a few moments he was going to be a married man.
Even if it was in name only.
A portly man wearing a rumpled seersucker suit opened the door and smiled broadly. The lines around his mouth extended all the way up to wreath startling blue eyes that twinkled, making him look like a clean-shaven Santa Claus in a summer suit.
“Come in, come in,” the man announced, with a welcoming gesture. “I don’t expect you remember me all that well from when you were a boy, but I’m Judge Armistead.”
He turned to Darcy. “And you must be our Billy’s intended bride.” He took her hands and kissed them in a courtly gesture that made Bill think of a scene out of a period movie.
“Yes, sir,” Darcy said, smiling and looking as if she were resisting the urge to curtsey. “Pleased to meet you.”
But the judge seemed only to have eyes for Momma. He stooped down and took her hands. “It is so good to see you, Nettie. And for such a happy occasion.” He lifted Momma’s hand, still wearing the hospital bracelet, to his mouth and kissed it. She blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.
Then Bill remembered. “Uncle Terry?” He had come around for a while after Daddy had died, bringing Momma gifts, helping her out. He hadn’t thought anything of it then, but had the man, a lawyer then, actually been trying to court his mother? He couldn’t help thinking that their lives would have been so much easier if Uncle Terry had succeeded.
The judge pushed himself to his feet, and clamped a meaty hand down on Bill’s shoulder. “Ah, you do remember me.” He looked down at Nettie and smiled fondly. “I tried so hard to win your mother’s hand after your daddy died, but she’d have nothing of it. Said she was a one-man woman.” He shook his head slowly. “My loss,” he said with a hint of sadness. Then he clapped his hands together suddenly.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, then he cleared his throat. “R.J.? Are you ready?”
A young black man wearing a crisp linen suit came in carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers. “I believe these are for you,” he said, offering them to Darcy.
Darcy gasped as she accepted them and lowered her head to sniff them. Bill sucked in a deep breath. He hadn’t even thought about flowers.
“This is R.J., my clerk. He’ll be the other witness, if that’s all right with you.”
Momma’s hand flew to her mouth. Was she going to object? “Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled something out of her pocketbook. “This is for you, son,” she said. “I know you didn’t have time to get Darcy a proper ring. So, I want you to use mine.” She smiled fondly. “It’s hardly been off my finger since your daddy put it there, but I’m not going to need it… .”
Then she turned to Darcy. “And this is for you.” She produced a tiny gold locket from that same pocketbook. “Billy gave this to me for Christmas when he was in grade school. This can be your something borrowed. I reckon the ring is old, the bouquet is new, and the forget-me-nots are blue. So,” she said brightly. “We’re all set.”
Judge Armistead picked up a book from his cluttered desk, opened it to a marked page and began to read. “Dearly Beloved…”
Darcy stiffened straight enough so that Bill couldn’t help but see it. Then she took a deep breath and managed an anemic smile.
Bill reached for her hand and squeezed. He whispered, “If you’re not sure you can go through with this, it’s not too late to back out.”
Then he held his breath, hoping Darcy wouldn’t take his offered out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DARCY KNEW IT the moment Bill stopped breathing, but Judge Armistead continued speaking.
Was it because Bill was anxious over what was about to come to be? Or that she might accept his out?
She returned his gentle squeeze and managed a timid smile. “I’m all right,” she murmured.
The judge stopped.
“I’m okay. Go on. Just a little nervous.”
“…to join these two people in holy matrimony.”
Why did it all seem like a dream? As much as she tried, Darcy found it difficult to focus, to concentrate on the words of the pledge she was about to make.
She must have made the correct responses, for suddenly Billy gathered her into his arms.
“Billy Hays, you may kiss your bride.”
“Hoo ah,” Billy cheered softly, then pulled her yet closer.
Panic caused Darcy’s heart to flutter wildly, but when she saw the expression of joy in Nettie’s eyes, Darcy knew she had done the right thing.
She moistened her lips and tilted her face up to Billy, so handsome in his dress uniform. He bent down to kiss her. His hot breath excited her, and his clean man scent turned her insides into warm chocolate pudding. She melted into his arms.
How was she going to pretend she felt nothing for this man when her heart was insisting that she did?
Why was she falling in love with this gruff, gentle stranger who’d been trained to make war, but seemed perfect for love?
Billy claimed her lips and branded her with a kiss. He started to draw away, but Darcy drew him back to her. They might have agreed that were going through the motions just for Nettie, but her heart demanded otherwise.
If this was going to be all there was, then she was going to have all she could take. She heard a whimper of need escape from somewhere deep within her as Billy took what she offered and gave what she craved.
Why couldn’t it work out? a portion of her mind asked.
Darcy gasped and pushed away, the spell broken. Her face grew hot, though the rest of her body felt cold as ice.
Nettie laughed and clapped her hands joyfully. The judge congratulated Billy, pumping his hand up and down for all he was worth. But all Darcy could think about was the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
She had done it. She was a married woman.
And though she might have promised herself that it was only for Nettie’s sake, she knew from the bottom of her pounding heart, that she wanted it to be so much more.
“Best wishes, Mrs. Hays,” R.J. said, and Darcy wondered briefly who he was talking to before she realized that he’d addressed her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my duties.”
She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment, and hoped it didn’t show. “Thank you,” she said numbly, blinking as if to make the surreal moment clearer.
She and Billy were married.
The papers that the judge was beckoning her to sign would testify to it.
But even if their marriage lasted just today, Tracy D’Arcy Harbeson Stanton would always and forever, in her mind, be Mrs. Billy Hays.
Fighting giddy hysteria, she scribbled her name on the paper. Her right hand trembled, and she had to steady it with her left. Seeing the tiny band of gold on her third finger did nothing to calm her nerves.
How was she going to make it through the rest of the day? Through the night?
How would she be able to hold it all together until they checked Nettie out of the hospital and brought her home tomorrow morning? Until Billy returned to the combat control squadron and his teammates at Hurlburt Field?
She drew in a deep breath. She had to.
* * *
BILL STEPPED OUTSIDE and felt as though he’d been mugged by the thick, sultry air. He hated having to check Momma back into the hospital, but Doc Williamson, whom he had sworn to secrecy for the same reasons he’d given his mother, had only allowed her a short furlough for the ceremony.
She was to remain under observation for another night. Was the extra stay a ploy to give them time alone?
Time he didn’t need—even if he wanted it so badly he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stay away.
Darcy touched his sleeve. “Do you think we should stay out here all dressed up like this? What if somebody we know sees us and asks questions?” she asked quietly.
Bill hadn’t thought of that. He’d figured once they got Momma checked back in they’d be home free.
Darcy was right, of course. As beautiful as she looked in her white suit, and in spite of the tiny blue bouquet she still clutched, they couldn’t tell anyone what they’d done. They wouldn’t be free until they got home.
He might want to shout it from the rooftops for everyone to hear, but he couldn’t.
“We’d best get home and out of these clothes,” he said, but he couldn’t help yearning for the honeymoon that normally followed even the smallest wedding.
Darcy blushed, just like the bride she was pretending to be. Had his thoughts been so obvious that she could read them on his face?
“I’ve got to finish up some repairs around the house this afternoon before I go back to Florida tomorrow,” he added gruffly, though repairs were the last thing he wanted to make. He didn’t want Darcy thinking that the only thing on his mind was kissing her again.
That hadn’t been part of their bargain.
Maybe he could remind himself often that Darcy didn’t love him, that he wasn’t meant to have a wife, then he might be able to stay away.
He did want her, he might even need her, but he’d never take anything from her that she didn’t offer willingly.
And hadn’t he asked enough of her as it was?
* * *
“SUPPER’S ALMOST READY,” Darcy called, looking up to the roof where Billy had been tacking down shingles loosened by the summer storm the night before. He had been banging around up there all afternoon, and she couldn’t help thinking that he’d stayed up there longer and banged louder than necessary.
“I’ll be right down,” Billy shouted back, after another barrage of pounding.
Darcy sighed and stepped back inside. This was her wedding night, and so far it had turned out to be nothing like the romantic experience she’d dreamed of since she was a child.
Of course, as a child she hadn’t expected that she’d be marrying a man for the reason she’d pledged herself to Billy. As a child, she’d believed in happily-ever-afters. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
She smelled something scorching and hurried back into the kitchen to find the pasta for the spaghetti boiling over. Darcy lowered the flame and sighed. So much for impressing her new husband with her culinary abilities.
Why she should be worrying about impressing Billy, she didn’t know. They weren’t married for keeps. But real marriage or not, this was going to be her only first meal as a married woman. Even if she did, someday, fall in love with a man who loved her back, it wouldn’t be the same as the first time, the first kiss, the first…anything. It might not mean anything to Billy, but it mattered to her.
She’d pulled out all the stops and cooked the one fancy meal she knew she could pull off. The one meal that she could count on everybody to like, and the one she always got raves for. And she had scorched the pasta.
What a way to impress a man! Darcy shrugged and dumped the noodles into a colander and ran cold water over them to stop them from overcooking. Now, all she needed was someone to eat it.
Billy came in, bare to the waist, shiny and slick with sweat, and stopped in the middle of the living room. Darcy’s breath caught in her throat. Then he sniffed the air appreciatively, and Darcy smiled. Maybe she had impressed him after all.
“Do I smell spaghetti?”
“You smell the sauce,” Darcy said. No need to point out that you really couldn’t smell the noodles. “It’ll be on the table by the ti
me you wash up.”
“I’ll hurry,” he said, and Darcy grinned. Maybe the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach.
Then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t have expectations. This marriage was only supposed to be real to Nettie, and for Nettie it was real enough as it was. Darcy let out a small sigh and turned back to the kitchen.
In her childish daydreams, she had imagined roses and candlelight. In reality, she had daylilies plucked from one of Nettie’s perennial flowerbeds and it was still broad daylight. No need for candles, and there was no point in bothering with them anyway. This meal was merely to satisfy their bodies’ needs for nutrition.
Glancing involuntarily at the finger adorned by the thin gold band, she wondered if she should put it away. If it were out of sight, would the marriage be out of mind?
She tugged at the ring, but her finger, swollen by the heat of the kitchen, wouldn’t release it.
“What are you doing?”
Darcy looked up to see Billy, damp and rosy and obviously fresh from a fast shower, standing in the doorway. She let go of the ring and blushed. “Nothing. Are you ready for dinner?” she said brightly. “I made my world-famous spaghetti and meat sauce.” It wasn’t exactly spaghetti weather, but…
“I love spaghetti. There was a place I used to go to when I was at Fort Bragg in parachute training that really made great spaghetti.” He laughed as he took his place at the table. “It almost made jump school bearable.”
He was probably talking about Luigi’s, but Darcy thought it prudent not to mention that she’d been there, too. He still didn’t know that she’d spent her life moving from one military base to another. Billy didn’t know that her father was a general in the army and her uncle was the colonel in charge of his squadron back at Hurlburt Field. Darcy knew she ought to come clean about her background, but somehow, her wedding night, such as it was, didn’t seem to be the right time. There would be plenty of time to explain all that later on in their married life.
If there was a later on.
No, she told herself sternly. There was only now.
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