Trouble in Paradise

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “You start looking at bridal gowns,” Anne suggested as they walked toward the shop’s door, “and the girls and I will check out the bridesmaid and flower girl dresses. That way we can be done in half the time.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Half an hour later, Shayla stood in a fitting room with an overly cheerful saleswoman and a selection of gowns. As soon as the first one—hooped skirt, huge puffy sleeves, and all—was zipped up the back, she knew why she hated shopping so much.

  “I thought all brides were supposed to be beautiful,” she muttered at her reflection. “I look like a cream puff about to explode.”

  Anne—beautiful, model-like Anne, who looked gorgeous in anything—chose that precise moment to poke her head through the curtains.

  “Shayla, I think we found the perfect—” She stopped and stared. “Oh, it’s definitely not you, my dear, sweet sister.” She entered the fitting room and began to poke through the other gowns. When she was done, she rolled her eyes at Shayla. “You are hopeless. None of these are right for you.”

  “Tell me about it. Maybe I should get married in shorts and a T-shirt. It’s more my style.”

  Anne grinned. “I don’t think you have to resort to that. I saw something I think would be perfect. Get out of that Scarlett O’Hara thing. I’ll be right back.”

  Without a word, the saleswoman stepped toward Shayla and unzipped the back of the gown, then helped her out of the yards of satin, beads and lace and the voluminous underskirt beneath it all. Anne returned a moment later.

  “Don’t look until it’s on.” Glancing at the saleswoman, Anne said, “Would you mind helping the flower girls with their dresses? They’re anxious to try them on. I left them in the next room over.”

  A look of horror crossed the woman’s face, obviously realizing what havoc two unchaperoned six-year-old girls could create in her shop. She hurried out of the fitting room.

  “Anne, really,” Shayla whispered, fighting a smile.

  Her sister chuckled. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound the least bit repentant. “Turn around and lift your arms over your head. And remember. Don’t look until I say so.”

  “Yes, sir, General, sir.”

  They laughed together.

  But Anne quickly sobered. “Shayla, I’ve been meaning to say something to you for days, and I can’t wait another minute. I want you to know how blessed I am to have you for my big sister. I know I haven’t shown it often, but you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. Just like letting me come to stay with you for a while. I know I’m in the way—”

  “Oh, Anne. That’s not true. I never thought—”

  “It is true. I took advantage of your generous spirit. I knew you wouldn’t turn me down.”

  Shayla shook her head.

  “There’s something else. I have a confession to make.” Anne dropped her gaze. “I read your manuscript while you were gone the other day.”

  What did you think? Did you like it? The questions echoed in her heart, but she was too afraid to speak them aloud.

  Anne looked up again. “It’s wonderful. Truly, it is. I love the mystery and the characters. But most of all, I love the way Chet lives his faith and shares it with True. It made me…it made me wonder a little about my own Christianity. It made me hope I can have that same kind of trust in God, no matter what happens in my life.”

  Joyful tears threatened in Shayla’s eyes.

  “I’m so proud of you. The Lord’s truly given you a gift.” Anne gave her sister a tight hug, then turned her toward the mirror. “Now, take a look.”

  Shayla sucked in a breath of surprise. “Oh, Anne. Is that me?”

  “It’s you. You look beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

  The gown of silk and tulle was understated with simple, flowing lines. It had an old-fashioned look that made it perfect for the outdoor ceremony she and Ian planned.

  “I can’t believe it’s me. Ian won’t recognize me.”

  “How can you say that? He thinks you’re beautiful all the time.”

  She met her sister’s gaze in the mirror. “Do you really think so?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “His first wife was gorgeous,” she said, more to herself than to Anne. “You know. You saw her photograph.”

  “But he loves you, Shayla.”

  “I know. I know he does. And I love him. More than I thought possible.” She turned to face her sister. “What if I’m not the sort of wife he needs? What if I make him unhappy? We’re so different, he and I.”

  Anne shook her head. “Not as different as you think.”

  “But I’m serious. What if I—”

  “I know you’re serious. You are also suffering from a raging case of prewedding jitters. That’s normal. Get over it. You two are perfect for each other.”

  “But what if—”

  “Miss Vincent?” the saleswoman called from the next room.

  “Yes,” Shayla and Anne answered in unison. As they looked at each other, they laughed and the tension was broken.

  “Could you come here a moment?”

  Anne went to see what the saleswoman needed, and Shayla turned back to the mirror.

  Please, God. Let Anne be right. Let me be the right wife for Ian.

  “Wait till you see ’em, Uncle Ian,” Cathy said as she tumbled out of Shayla’s car.

  “They’re the prettiest dresses ever!” Angie added, eyes aglow.

  Ian ruffled their hair with his hands. “Sounds like you had a great time.” He looked at Shayla, who was now standing beside her car.

  “We did.” She smiled.

  There was a glow about her. He hoped he was the cause of it.

  To the twins, he said, “You’d better go wash up. Supper’s almost ready.” Then he moved toward Shayla, eager to hold her in his arms. “I missed you all day long,” he whispered before he kissed her.

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Oh, brother!” That came from Anne as she got out of the car. “Is this mushy behavior going to go on for long?” She sounded disgusted, but there was a definite sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

  He winked at Anne, then looked down at Shayla. “Not for as long as I’d like.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Not nearly for as long as I’d like.”

  “Is Ty in the barn?” Anne started walking in that direction even as she spoke. “Maybe I can hitch a ride to the cabin instead of having to suffer you two lovebirds.”

  “Yeah, he’s in there.” To Shayla, Ian said, “Will you stay for supper?”

  “I should go home. There’s a million and one things I’ve got to do.”

  “Don’t I know it. But another hour won’t make that big of a difference. Will it?”

  Her arms tightened around his torso. “You’re much too tempting for my own good, cowboy.”

  “I do my best, ma’am.”

  She laughed softly. “I know you do.”

  Putting his arm around her shoulders, he walked her toward the house. “I accomplished something today myself. I found a sitter to stay with the girls while I’m working. I decided it wasn’t fair of me to ask for your help with the hiring. You have enough to do. Like you said.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Nat’s sister. Vicky Briscoe. The little blonde who sits next to Hydrangea Zimmerman in the church choir.”

  Shayla hesitated, drawing them to a halt outside the back door to the house. “How old is she?”

  “Fifteen, I think. Maybe sixteen.”

  “Are you sure she can handle those two? They’re a handful sometimes.”

  “I’m sure.” He gave her a squeeze. “’Course, she’ll only be available until school starts, but that’ll give us plenty of time to find someone more permanent.” He grinned. “We can do that after the honeymoon.” As far as Ian was concerned, the wedding and subsequent honeymoon couldn’t get here fast enough.

  “The eighth of August will arrive before we know it,” Shayla whispered, as if re
ading his mind.

  “Not fast enough to suit me.” He drew her back into his embrace and kissed her, slow and sweet.

  The days that followed were among the happiest of Shayla’s life. Full from dawn to dusk, but happy all the same.

  There never was a free moment—or so it seemed—to turn on the computer, let alone hours when she was alone so she could write. She would have felt guilty, only she hadn’t time for that, either.

  She talked to her parents several times by phone and made more plans for their arrival in August. She cleaned the house at Paradise and found herself thinking of it as their home—Ian’s and hers—instead of his home. When she saw that Joanne’s photograph was gone from his bedroom, she was touched by his thoughtfulness.

  She and Ian went horseback riding some evenings, just the two of them, while Anne stayed with the children. Blue and Pumpkin carried them high into the mountains, following narrow tracks that normally saw only deer and elk. Most days they ate supper together, and often they sat on the porch swing until after midnight, listening to the sounds of the night, enjoying the feel of holding one another.

  One day, just over two weeks before the wedding, Shayla arrived at the ranch to find the art studio emptied of everything except the bookshelves and the three portraits of Ian. He asked her if she wanted those paintings taken down, too.

  “No,” she told him, touching the side of his face with her fingertips. “I learned a lot about the man you are from those paintings.”

  He seemed about to ask her what she meant, but she stopped him with a slight shake of her head. She wasn’t sure she could explain it and didn’t want to try.

  The next day, a surprise arrived for Cathy and Angie—their own Shetland ponies. Shayla would never forget the looks on their faces when they saw the ponies for the first time. Nor would she forget the expression on Ian’s face. Joyful. Excited. Eager.

  He was the most wonderful man she’d ever known, she thought as she watched him instructing the twins on how to properly saddle and bridle their ponies. He was so much more than just a good-looking cowboy with a heart-stopping grin. He had a big heart, a big heart full of love that he showered on those around him. Especially on her.

  And she loved him so much, it almost hurt. Sometimes the intensity of her feelings for him frightened her. She’d heard it said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

  She wondered if that was true.

  But then, there was no reason to worry, for she was never going to lose Ian O’Connell. God had brought them together. Ian would be her husband, as amazing as that seemed to her, and she would be his wife.

  And so the days of July sped into August, rushing toward their wedding day and a bright new future for the two of them.

  Shayla knelt on the floor of her bedroom and stared into the box she was packing.

  With the rest of the Vincent family arriving from Oregon the next day and only four days remaining until the wedding, she was moving to the ranch house. They’d already taken her office equipment and her clothing over there. This second trip was to pack all the miscellaneous items.

  “I don’t remember bringing so much with me,” she muttered. “Where did it all come from?”

  “You’re asking me a question like that?” Ian laughed as he came to stand behind her. “You already saw how things multiply around my place.”

  She glanced up. “Your house needs another good cleaning before your mother arrives on Friday. What will she think—”

  “Sweetheart…you’re fired.”

  “What?”

  “I said you’re fired.” He took hold of her arm and drew her to her feet. “You are not my housekeeper any longer. You’re going to be my wife.”

  “A wife who is still needed to clean your house.”

  “Hey, I—”

  She kissed him, stopping his words. “Get busy, cowboy. I need you to carry those boxes to the truck.”

  “Happy to oblige, Miss Vincent.” He moved to draw her back into his embrace. “But you’re a mighty tempting distraction.”

  She put a hand flat on his chest, stopping him. “Likewise, Mr. O’Connell, but I’m more self-disciplined than you are.” She gave him a tiny shove. “Back to work.”

  “Shucks.” His grin was teasing. “Thought I was more irresistible than that.”

  “Ian, my family arrives tomorrow, and your mother the day after that. We have so much to accomplish and too little time to do it in.”

  He released a deep sigh. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “Oh, but I can. I do.” Despite her words, she was tempted to forget herself and all the work yet to do in the wonderful circle of his arms.

  The phone rang. She groaned as she hurried out of the bedroom to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. May I speak to Shayla Vincent, please?”

  “This is she.”

  “Ms. Vincent, this is Bradley Karnes of Masterson Publishing House.”

  Her heart stopped. “Yes?” There was a strange buzzing in her ears.

  “I’m an acquiring editor for Masterson. I’ve read your submission, Ms. Vincent, and…”

  From the doorway of the bedroom, Ian watched and listened, a sense of doom perched on his shoulder.

  “Three weeks?”

  He couldn’t be certain from her expression or the tone of her voice what she felt. It didn’t seem to be bad news on the other end of the line, and yet…

  “Well, I suppose…” Her brows drew together in a frown. “But you see, in a few days, I’ll be getting…” A lengthy silence as she listened, then, “Yes, I understand.”

  She glanced toward the bedroom, saw Ian standing there, turned away.

  His sense of doom darkened, grew heavier. He took a step forward.

  “By the end of August. Yes, I believe I can do that. I’ll do my best. Thank you, Mr. Karnes.” She reached for a pad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling notes on it. “Yes, I will… No, I don’t think so… Of course… Yes, and thank you again, Mr. Karnes. Goodbye.”

  Ian took another couple of steps toward the kitchen.

  “They’re interested in my book,” Shayla said. She turned toward him, her eyes wide with surprise. “They might want to buy it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Buy your book?” Ian strode toward her, trying to ignore his growing apprehension. “But, honey, that’s wonderful.” He embraced her, squeezing tightly.

  “I sent him the first three chapters,” Shayla said, her voice muffled against his chest. “The editor wants the completed book by the end of August.”

  Ian drew back. “And?”

  “And I don’t have it finished. I need at least another hundred and fifty pages. Maybe more.”

  His mouth was dry. His heart was pounding.

  “There’s no way I can get it finished between now and the end of August. Not with the wedding and the honeymoon and everything else.”

  “Then we’ll postpone the honeymoon.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “No. I would do it for us.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “He didn’t guarantee they would buy it. We might be putting off the honeymoon for no reason.”

  “But it wouldn’t be for no reason.”

  “Thank you.” She placed the palm of her right hand against his left cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

  Why now, God? I’m not as understanding as I sound. I want this for her, but did it have to be now? Is this some sort of test? If it is, I’m not likin’ it much.

  Shayla stepped out of his arms. “It will mean long hours in my office. I’m not a fast writer, and my outline is still a bit sketchy.” She turned away. “Maybe I should have told Mr. Karnes there was no way I could do it.”

  “You’ll do it, sweetheart.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I have faith in you.”

  A tiny shudder passed through her.

  “Let’s get to work,” he said, turn
ing her toward him again. “We’ve got to finish packing and get you over to the ranch. You have words to write.”

  “But I—”

  “No buts.” He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “This’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

  Shayla closed her eyes as she leaned back in her office chair. “Done,” she whispered.

  Despite the time it took to get her office equipment up and running, she had managed to write ten pages today. It was a momentum she hoped to continue. It wouldn’t be easy. Especially once her family arrived.

  She glanced at the clock. After midnight.

  The house was silent, everyone else asleep by this time. The twins had gone to bed at nine, and about an hour ago, she’d heard Ian and Anne bid each other good-night in the hallway.

  She smiled to herself, remembering her sister’s excitement when she learned of the publisher’s phone call.

  “Oh, Shayla. It’s wonderful. You’re going to be published.”

  “Not yet. Nothing’s for certain.”

  “Yes, it is. I can feel it. It’s going to happen. What can I do to help?”

  I’m blessed, she thought as she closed out of her word processing program and shut down the computer. Both Ian and Anne were being so understanding. Not all that along ago, she’d felt alone in her writing pursuits. Now she felt lifted by the support of her fiancé and sister.

  At the doorway to her new office, she paused and glanced down the hallway toward Ian’s bedroom. No light came from beneath the closed door.

  Father-God, thank You. Thank You for bringing me to this valley and into Ian’s life. Help me to be a good wife and help me to be a good writer.

  After putting on a nightshirt and following her normal bedtime routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth, Shayla tiptoed into the guest bedroom she would share with Anne until Ian’s mother arrived from Florida. Guided by the soft glow of a night-light, she slipped beneath the sheet and blanket, rolled onto her side, and tucked her arm beneath the pillow. Sleep overtook her in an instant.

  It was the calm before the storm.