by Becky Wade
He made his way toward her. She approached him with a smile.
“I was worried you weren’t going to come,” he said.
“I took time to change and redo my hair after the rehearsal.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. Is everything going well so far?”
“Yes.” He offered the crook of his elbow and she set her hand in it. He guided her through the barn.
“It’s like magic,” she said. “I can’t believe the transformation.”
The equipment had been moved out and round tables brought in. Linens, votive candles, and large flower arrangements decorated each table. The caterer had suggested they hang lanterns staggered at different heights from the overhead beams, and he’d agreed. “Do you like how it turned out?” It mattered to him that she did.
“I absolutely love how it turned out. Everything’s even better than I expected.”
If only she’d let him, he’d throw her parties like this, or buy her jewelry, or take her on trips, or hire someone to socialize Shadow, or whatever else made her happy. “Anything you’d change?” he asked. “If so, I might still be able to make it happen.”
“I wouldn’t change anything about this rehearsal dinner. Nothing at all.”
I wouldn’t change you, he thought.
They made their way through the guests to the far edge of the flagstones. When they came to a stop, she stepped gently away from him. Conversations and laughter surrounded them with a friendly hum. Rows of string lights extended from the roof of the barn over the patio, like a canopy.
“Can I get you something to drink or eat?” he asked.
“Maybe in a minute. Wow, look at the view.”
In the distance, the lake reflected the glow of sunset like a bronze coin. The fading light made her earrings sparkle and her skin glow.
“I thought the rehearsal went well at the church,” he said, making an effort to steer his thoughts toward safer ground.
“Yeah. I thought so too.” She glanced up at him out of the corners of her eyes. As usual, the gray-blue depths shone with wry humor. “You did a good job charming the flower girls.”
“I try.”
“You kept them calm when they started to get rambunctious.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“Heroic. What’re you going to do next?” She angled her chin toward the edge of the patio. “Take a running leap off this thing so we can all watch your cape unfurl as you soar off to charm more five-year-olds?”
“No.” One side of his lips rounded upward. “I don’t like capes.”
She chuckled, then took a moment to let her attention sweep slowly over the guests. “How does this party compare to the ones you attend in Paris?”
“Favorably.”
“Really? But there aren’t any French women here.”
“No.”
“French women are famously chic and beautiful.”
“Are they? I hadn’t noticed.”
“You mean to tell me you don’t have a French girlfriend?” She arched an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Are you sure? Does the name Genevieve ring a bell?”
“No.”
“Margaux?”
He shook his head. “Would you be happier if there were French men here?”
“I prefer Texan men.”
“Texan men who can cook?” The question showed too much of his hand. He sounded like a jealous boyfriend, except that he was only one of those things. Just the jealous part.
She sized him up, looking highly entertained. “Cooking skills are optional.”
Two of Ben’s groomsmen joined them. The guys clapped him on the back and introduced themselves to Holly. He watched her shake hands with them, then nod and listen to the story one of them was telling about how badly Josh had played on their golf trip.
Josh had almost made it through his time in Texas. He was leaving day after tomorrow. One more day. He only needed to survive one more day without doing or saying something stupid to Holly and making a royal fool of himself.
She’d been kind to him, but there was a big jump between feeling kindly toward someone and loving them.
One more day. Could he manage to hold back the words inside of him for one more day?
The first rule of mingling on a flagstone patio: avoid accidentally wedging a high heel into a crack between stones. Holly focused on exactly that while chatting with Ben and Amanda’s guests. She knew many of them because such a large number lived in Martinsburg.
Even Mitzi had come, something of a surprise. Holly would have expected Mitzi to spend the evening before Amanda’s wedding running twenty miles, drinking organic green tea, and working feverishly on her iPad.
The sun vanished below the horizon line, putting on a great show of artistry and color before the light ebbed away and the temperature dropped.
When they moved inside, Josh showed her to a table at the front. The name cards revealed that he’d assigned her the seat beside his.
“I don’t have to sit right here next to all the action,” she murmured. “Really. You could have put me at a table in the back corner. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“I’d have minded. I like talking to you more than I like talking to anyone else here. Sit and let’s eat some buttermilk fried chicken.”
She gave him a bemused look.
“What?”
“I’ve been waiting all my life for a good-looking man to order me to eat fried chicken. I guess I can cross that off my wish list.”
The dinner commenced in a blur of happiness, delicious southern food, and rustic Texas charm. It had been ages since Holly had had a reason to don her Spanx or shoes more formal than TOMS wedges. She’d been browsing through a boutique months ago when she’d found the burgundy lace sheath she had on. At the time, she’d had nowhere to wear it. She’d bought it anyway, because her intense dress-crush had outweighed practicality. She was very, very glad she had.
During the meal, Josh frequently left Holly’s side to attend to his duties as host. Whenever they were apart, she could sense his whereabouts. She’d spot him across the room only to have him look over as if her gaze had called his attention to her. Each time that happened, she returned to the table’s conversation with a warm glow spreading through her.
When the last bite of apple pie had been eaten and the final toast given, everyone rose to exchange subdued chitchat and good-byes. The euphoria that had hovered over Holly all evening began to dissipate. She didn’t want the night to end. But it was ending, with or without her go-ahead.
When just ten or so guests remained, Holly found herself alone with Josh. She picked up her purse. “I’d best be going.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
They headed toward the patio. “I had a wonderful time,” Holly said.
“I’m glad. Thank you for all that you did to help me plan the dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” Such dismaying formality! Next, she’d be curtsying and he’d be bowing crisply like a soldier.
The outdoors greeted them with a very faint fog of rain. Holly glanced upward toward the moon, glowing dimly through clouds.
“Let me see if I can find an umbrella for you,” Josh said.
“No, that’s all right.” The water hadn’t formed into droplets. Instead it seemed to hover in the air, misty and magical. “I like it.” She smiled up at him.
Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes as he returned her smile.
Thunk. One of her high heels wedged between two flagstones. She swayed a little and Josh immediately caught her forearm and helped right her balance. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, got both shoes on a level stone, and laughed. He still held her arm protectively. “I was just thinking earlier that I needed to avoid doing that very thing.” But then you smiled at me, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you, and so I lost my concentration. “I was kind of hoping to make it throu
gh the entire night without falling on my face.”
“You did.”
He was standing so close that she could feel his body heat. “D–did what?”
“Make it through the night without falling.”
Literally, perhaps. But not figuratively. She’d fallen, all right.
His expression turned utterly serious and for the first time since Josh had returned to Martinsburg, Holly could see past his defenses. She saw tenderness in his eyes. Tenderness for her.
Warm goose bumps spread over her body. He did still like her. More, he was going to kiss her. He stepped closer.
He was going to kiss her! She wanted him, physically and in every other way. He was her Josh. The one she’d never gotten over. Anticipation coursed through her. Her breath went shallow with desire—
Wait.
What was she doing? Instinctive worry clashed with confusion. And, abruptly, she stepped away.
His hand dropped from her arm. He looked down and to the side. As if irritated with himself, he gave a slight shake of his head before returning his attention to her. Awkward silence solidified between them. “Holly. I was—”
“Excuse me,” the caterer said as she approached, wearing her floral apron. “Sorry to interrupt. I have a quick question for you, Josh.”
He inclined his head to listen to the caterer, keeping his vision on Holly.
She could practically feel her heart shriveling. He’d been about to kiss her and she’d stepped back. She’d rejected him even though they’d had the most perfect dinner in the history of perfection. Even though she’d been married to her cell phone for days on the off chance that he’d call. He liked her and goodness knows she liked him. He’d told her himself earlier that he didn’t have a girlfriend.
So why had she stepped back?
Two of the women in Amanda’s house party walked from the barn onto the patio. “Want to walk out with us?” They looked from her to Josh.
Um. She wanted to stay and let Josh finish his sentence.
“Go ahead,” Josh said to the women. “Holly and I will follow in a second.” He exchanged a few more words with the caterer, then he and Holly fell in step several paces behind the women, who were in the midst of a discussion about the benefits of Brazilian blowouts.
“I’ll look for you tomorrow at the wedding,” he said.
Gamely, Holly tried to act as if she hadn’t just ruined her one chance at kissing him. “I’ll be the one at the wedding impersonating Mitzi’s lap dog.”
“Someone has to.”
“That someone is me.”
“I’ll be the one in the tuxedo.”
“I’ll do my best to recognize you, seeing as how men in tuxedos all look alike.”
His lips bowed into an imitation of humor. He wasn’t actually amused, she knew. His eyes remained troubled.
Remorse twisted hard within her.
Josh slowed his progress. “Good night,” he said, loud enough for the ladies in front to hear.
The other women fell over themselves thanking him, flirting with him, and wishing him goodnight.
He responded with his trademark politeness. His suit jacket spread open as he thrust his hands in his pants pockets. He nodded to Holly right before she was bustled toward her car by the women’s excitement and chatter.
She drove home with a lump in her throat and tears stinging her eyes, trying to understand what had just happened.
She’d been working so hard to battle back the love for Josh she’d always harbored. Nonetheless, her time with him had softened her heart toward him. It had. When he’d dropped his guard just now, she’d seen that her feelings weren’t one-sided. He cared about her too. She’d felt the attraction behind his intentions and experienced the leap of her own response.
So what had gone wrong inside of her? What had sabotaged her?
Fear. That’s what had derailed her. She’d been afraid. Not of Josh. Of what, then?
She reached her building, climbed the exterior staircase, and let herself into the hallway. Rob, gone. Mrs. Chapel, long asleep. Loneliness waited for her within her dark and solitary apartment. Beyond her apartment’s windows: people coming and going. Inside, emptiness.
She didn’t bother turning on lights. The depressing mood of the place suited her. Slipping out of her heels, she walked to her cold fireplace and stood before it, her arms crossed tightly.
Ruthlessly, she raked through her thought patterns, trying to get underneath her fear. Why was she afraid?
She was afraid because she didn’t think a romance between Josh and her could possibly end well. She wanted to blame that certainty on the fact that he lived overseas, or on the fact that they’d run out of time in which to cultivate a relationship, or their past history.
But none of those things were the real, hard truth. The real truth was that she didn’t think it could end well for them because she didn’t believe she was . . . enough for him.
How humiliating! Maddening. She had good self-esteem. She liked herself and she liked her life. But somewhere along the line, a small voice had started whispering to her that Josh was too good for her. Maybe the voice had been there long ago, when they’d been dating, which would partly explain why she’d followed through on his mom’s request that she break up with him. In her heart of hearts, perhaps, she hadn’t thought herself worthy of him.
Or maybe the voice had begun in those dark days after they’d broken up, when she’d told herself their romance never would have worked anyway, in an effort to make herself feel better. Or maybe all the years of disappointing dates, of watching her family members move on to bigger and better things, of humble middle child syndrome, had given the voice credence. Unlike what they said about a lot of people of her generation, Holly was not filled with a sense of entitlement. No. Quite the opposite.
Somewhere along the line she’d become like Shadow the cat, content to remain alone in the place where she’d always lived, because this was where she felt she belonged and what she deserved. Martinsburg was safe and familiar. She’d closed herself off to opportunities for change. For adventure.
For love. Tears brimmed on her lower lashes before seeping over.
“Holy smoke, Holly. Enough already. Quit it.” She swiped the tears from her cheeks.
That sly voice that had been whispering to her wasn’t God’s voice. She saw that very clearly, standing before her fireplace in her bare feet and her beautiful dress. Josh might be intelligent and successful and rich. But God valued her every bit as much as He valued Josh. Her worth, just like Josh’s worth, was found in Him alone. Without consciously knowing it, she’d let doubts creep in and distort her vision.
If she cleared her mind, she could see how Josh’s return to Martinsburg might even be considered somewhat . . . ordained. Amanda and Ben could have married in any number of fabulous destinations. Instead, they’d decided to marry here, which had brought Josh back into her life.
It was as if God was saying, Do you trust me, Holly? Do you believe my timing is best? You’ve been asking me to prepare you for someone and someone for you, and I’ve been busy doing exactly that. You and Josh were too young the first time. You both had a lot of maturing and growing to do. But now I’ve brought him back because he’s ready and you’re ready and he’s the one. I’ve brought him back to you, Holly. I am, after all, a God of grace and second chances.
She dearly wanted a do-over of that moment on the patio when fog had encircled them like a blessing and Josh had been on the verge of kissing her. She might not get a do-over. But if she did, she’d draw on God’s strength and use it to kick her fears to the curb.
Then she’d risk all.
“Chao ban,” Sam greeted Holly the next day.
It was lunchtime and they’d decided to meet at restaurant number ninety-five in their Year of Restaurants. Martinsburg’s only Vietnamese food place centered mostly around the take-out side of their business. They offered a mere two tables, both pushed up against a wall.
“Can you repeat that?” Holly took the seat opposite Sam. The restaurant’s interior had been painted in clean, bright shades of orange and pale green and white. The smells were promising.
“Chao ban. It’s Vietnamese for hello, friend.” Sam held up her phone. “I googled it.”
“In that case, chao ban.”
“Your appearance here leads me to believe that you were able to sneak away from the preparations for the wedding of the century.”
“Yes, but I have to hurry back. There are dozens of people at Trinity right now doing all sorts of decorating. It’s taking every bit of my energy to defend the church’s dignity.”
“Has Amanda’s professional wedding coordinator gone on a rampage?”
“On the contrary. Mitzi’s remained firmly in control of herself and everyone else. Especially me. I think she views me as her handy and inexpensive personal assistant.”
Sam sipped her ice water. “If I were you, I’d tell her to stick that assumption where the sun don’t shine.”
“But you see, unlike you, I’m a nice person.” Holly winked.
“Niceness isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“No. Mitzi’s already informed me that she needs me to wrangle the seven flower girls and one ring bearer from the time they arrive up until the start of the ceremony.”
“Dare I ask the ages of these children?”
“Two through six.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “I recommend giving them all Benadryl. I’ve heard a rumor that it calms kids down.”
“Sam!”
“You disapprove? Fine, then give yourself some Benadryl. I have nieces and nephews that age. Trust me when I say you’re going to need an emergency stash of non-messy candy to pacify the kids. I suggest gummi bears.”
A server arrived and patiently explained the menu choices to the two Vietnamese food rookies.
“So?” Sam asked, after the server moved off. Her expression communicated expectancy.
“So?”
“Tell me about the rehearsal dinner.”
A memory of how Josh had looked last night, sitting beside her at dinner, turning his head to watch her with affection, filled her mind. She relayed all the critical information to Sam. Everything but the almost-kiss.