Spur-Of-The-Moment Marriage

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Oh, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d make myself useful and make you two lovebirds something to eat, since I know you don’t keep much of anything in your refrigerator.” Pearl handed over the wicker basket and looked at him closely. “You two are getting along, aren’t you?”

  That all depends, Cisco thought, on how you defined “getting along.” If that meant being at loggerheads one minute, making wild passionate love the next, they were getting along splendidly. But not about to go into that with even a dear old friend, he peered inside the basket at the goodies she’d packed. “Your timing is great, Pearl. Gillian and I were just opening a few presents from Max and getting ready to go out to the honeymoon cottage.”

  Pearl cast a glance at the presents scattered across the sofa. She looked anything but pleased. “That buzzard still thinks he can buy his way out of everything, doesn’t he?” Pearl muttered, planting both hands on her hips.

  “I take it this means you’re still mad at him,” Gillian called sympathetically from the kitchen, where she was busy putting away the groceries she had purchased.

  “You bet I am,” Pearl replied, as she sashayed in to sit at the breakfast counter opposite Gillian. “You have my sympathies, Gillian, to be wrapped in another of Max’s crazy schemes. Though I must admit I can’t feel bad he is trying to get you married off, Cisco.”

  Cisco gave Pearl an odd look as he joined them. “Why?”

  “Well, you know…You had such a rough childhood and all…. I just want to see you happy arid with someone instead of spending your life all alone.”

  Cisco strode past Pearl and poured himself another cup of coffee, irked at the unexpected display of pity. “I don’t need your sympathy, Pearl,” he said gruffly as he poured her a cup of coffee, too.

  “Honey, I know you don’t” Pearl stirred in two lumps of sugar. “But you’ve got it anyway.” Giving Cisco no chance to respond, Pearl grinned and inclined her head at the discarded cowboy pajamas. “Ahh, now, who’s been wearing these?” she teased.

  “I have,” Cisco and Gillian said in unison.

  Blushing, Gillian poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the opposite counter as she went on to admit, “Actually, thanks to Max’s machinations, we were a little short on clothes last night, so we split them. Cisco wore the bottoms, I wore the top.”

  “Hmm.” Pearl grinned mischieviously, as if thinking the worst.

  Cisco held up a palm. “Now, Pearl, it wasn’t like that,” Cisco said.

  At least it hadn’t started out that way when they had made the decision to each wear a part of the pajamas, Gillian agreed. They had done so with the most conservative of intentions. It was only her bad dream…and his kindness…and the intimacy of the moment…plus their proximity to each other that had led to the lovemaking.

  “Well, I bet the two of you were both cute as buttons anyway,” Pearl said as she waggled a finger at Cisco teasingly.

  “Okay, Pearl, enough reminiscing.” He held up a staying hand as a flush started in his neck and climbed to his cheeks.

  “All right, I can see I’m embarrassing you,” Pearl said with a careless wave of her hand. “So I’ll be on my way.”

  “Sure you wouldn’t like to stay and have some breakfast with us?” Gillian asked, suddenly determined not to be alone with Cisco.

  “No thanks, honey.” Pearl gave her an officious smile as she patted the pins in her upswept hair, making sure it was still neatly in place. With her voice dropping a confiding notch, she said, “The upset way I’ve been feeling since I tangled with that rascally old beau of mine, I couldn’t eat a bite. In fact, if you want to know the truth, my temper is still as hot as a two-dollar pistol.”

  “Speaking of the rascal, have you talked to Max?” Cisco interjected.

  “No,” Pearl said, her chin setting stubbornly, “and I don’t want to, either. So you can save your advice for someone who wants to hear it.”

  Cisco fell in step beside Pearl as he walked her to the door. “The two of you have been together an awfully long time.”

  “Too long.” Pearl sighed with heartfelt chagrin. “It’s time I moved on to greener pastures, or at least to someone who loves and trusts me enough to confide in—and marry—me.”

  Concern etched deep lines around the corners of Cisco’s lips as he held Pearl up at the door. “Does Max know how you feel?” he asked.

  “He darn well should,” Pearl replied stubbornly. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t.” The discussion was finished, as far as she was concerned, and she slipped out before another word could be said.

  Gillian, who had joined them at the door to the apartment, was silent a moment. She turned to Cisco, fighting a wave of unbearable sadness. Maybe it was overly sentimental of her, but she hated it when people let happiness slip through their fingers, and from what she had seen when she first arrived in town three weeks ago, Pearl and Max had really seemed to belong together. “Maybe it’s time Max had a little of his own medicine,” Gillian suggested dryly.

  Cisco’s gray eyes lit with interest. “What are you suggesting?”

  Gillian grinned and linked hands with Cisco. “That we forget ourselves for a while and turn our talents to matchmaking, too.”

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN they won’t come for lunch?” Gillian demanded as Cisco joined her in the kitchen of his apartment.

  “Just that. They both said no.”

  Gillian bit her lip. “Think we were too obvious?”

  “Probably.” Cisco fell silent. “We’ll never get them back together if we can’t get them off somewhere alone long enough to talk.”

  “Any ideas?”

  Cisco stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Well, now that you mention it, Max does have that Silver Streak recreational vehicle. It’s as luxurious as they come and is rigged to be driven just about anywhere.” Cisco’s smile spread. “I know just the place to park it, too. Not too far from Trace and Susannah’s place, there’s a beautiful campsite next to the take.”

  “Sounds good, but how are we going to get them in it?”

  Cisco snapped his fingers. “By enlisting some comrades they’d never suspect.” He reached for the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  He smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

  “OKAY, EVERYONE SET?” Cisco asked Trace and Susannah McKendrick’s four rambunctious boys.

  “I’ll call Pearl and tell her we need a baby-sitter so Mom and Dad can have some time alone,” tenyear-old Jason said.

  “I’ll call Max and tell him the same thing,” eightyear-old Mickey added.

  “We’ll ask Uncle Max to show up thirty minutes early and do some fishing down by the lake,” sixteenyear-old Scott said.

  “When Pearl shows up, we’ll give a whistle signal and get her busy in the RV, and then get Max to come back up here,” fourteen-year-old Nate concluded.

  “He and Pearl will be really ticked off when they find out we tricked ‘em,” Mickey continued.

  “While they’re yelling at each other, we’ll all take off and leave ‘em stranded here at the campsite,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, and before you know it, they’ll be all kissyface again,” Mickey concluded impishly.

  “Indeed.” Gillian smiled.

  The next hour everything went like clockwork. Both Max and Pearl happily agreed to baby-sit the boys. Max showed up with the RV. He parked it at the campsite and then he and the boys promptly went off to fish while Gillian and Cisco crept back and put the finishing touches inside: flowers, candles, wine, soft music and a delicious lunch.

  Finished, they tiptoed out of the RV and into the nearby woods and waited. And waited. And waited. And still no Pearl.

  “What could be keeping her?” Gillian whispered anxiously as she paced back and forth, being careful to keep out of sight.

  “Heck if I know.” Cisco looked around. “She’s usually very punctual.”

  Gillian looked toward the lake, a short distance away beyond the trees. �
�Max and the boys are awfully quiet.”

  Cisco grimaced. “They’re fishing. They’re supposed to be quiet.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “Those boys are never that quiet unless they’re getting in trouble.”

  Cisco and Gillian exchanged looks. “Oh, my—”

  “You don’t think—”

  Cisco swore. Simultaneously, they raced down the leaf-strewn path to the lake. To their chagrin, where the boys should have been was a red bandanna tied to a stick and waving in the gentle summer breeze. A note written on Silver Spur stationery was pinned to that.

  “‘Dear Cisco and Gillian,’” Cisco read aloud. “‘Nice try, but Pearl and I saw your machinations a mile away. No need to let the next few hours go to waste, though. The distributor caps to your car and my RV will be returned to you this afternoon around two.’” Cisco sighed. “It’s signed by both Max and Pearl. And down here is another note—looks like it’s from the boys. It says, ‘Sorry, guys, but they paid us more than you.’ And all four of them have signed that.”

  Gillian didn’t know whether to chuckle or cry. She tipped the brim of her hat back. “So, we’ve been double-crossed,” she concluded wearily.

  “Apparently.”

  Gillian released an exasperated breath, and thought back to the distributor cap remark. She narrowed her glance at Cisco. “We really are stuck, then?”

  Cisco grimaced, swept off his Stetson and shoved a hand through his hair. “What do you think?”

  “HOW DOES THIS SPOT LOOK to you?” Cisco asked Gillian as they stopped next to a flower-filled meadow at the base of Silver Ridge Mountain. Trees surrounded the golden field on all four sides. In one direction a rushing mountain stream gleamed as blue as the sky overhead in the early-aftemoon sunlight, in the other the Silver Streak RV was plainly in view.

  “It looks great,” Gillian said quietly. A lot less intimate than the RV.

  Together, they spread out a blanket on the soft warm grass beneath the spreading branches of a large oak tree. The two of them settled on the blanket. Cisco watched while Gillian began bringing out the sumptuously prepared food they’d intended for Pearl and Max.

  “You’re really taking this in stride,” Cisco said as he helped himself to a slab of country ham and a serving of fresh, sliced fruit.

  Gillian filled her own plate to overflowing. “It’s not like we can do anything about being stuck out here, so we might as well enjoy our day off.”

  “Do you enjoy your work as a chef?” Cisco asked, watching the sunlight catch her hair and turn it into amber fire.

  Oblivious to his urge to run his hands through the wildly curling ends of her hair, Gillian nodded. “Usually, although when you work for a restaurant, even if you’re the head chef you’re stuck with the restaurant menu and traditions and business policies.”

  “They don’t let you try new recipes?” Cisco helped himself to a flaky buttermilk biscuit, too.

  Gillian shrugged a slender shoulder. “Sometimes you get a little latitude. The owners will let you try a new dessert, or add a new entrée to the menu, but it gets very boring cooking the same list of things year after year. That’s why I changed restaurant jobs frequently, early in my career, right along with Susannah, and later worked as an assistant for Susannah, when she became a restaurant consultant. She’d work with owners and regular clients to revamp the restaurant menus, I’d prepare the dishes and train the chefs on-premise to prepare the dishes exactly as Susannah wished.”

  Cisco understood always wanting to do more; it was the way he’d felt working side by side with Max. The bigger the challenge, the more he had enjoyed it. Obviously, it was the same for Gillian. He was pleased they had that in common.

  “How did Susannah talk you into coming out here with her?” he asked. Moving from California to Montana was a big change, especially for someone who had no family ties here.

  Gillian smiled. “Susannah told me how beautiful Montana was. And that if I took the position at the logging camp kitchen, Max would give me carte blanche.” Gillian smiled wistfully and a distant look came into her dark green eyes. “It wasn’t a hard sell. I’ve always wanted my own kitchen to run as I see fit. And to have the run of several—well, that’s a dream come true.”

  “The idea of being your own boss appeals to you,” Cisco noted, aware that he, too, had the same takecharge, entrepreneurial spirit.

  “In more than one way. I like being independent, Cisco.” Gillian turned up her nose at him playfully. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “Oh, I noticed all right,” Cisco drawled. “It’d be hard not to.” Just like he noticed the way the new denim split skirt and shirt, green cowgirl boots and flat-brimmed hat that she had changed into suited her.

  “So when are you going to open the envelope Max gave you?” she asked softly, seeming now as curious about him as he had been about her.

  Cisco looked down at his shirt pocket. He had been so busy trying to reunite Max and Pearl he had forgotten all about himself and what he had to gain in this cockeyed arrangement.

  “I forgot all about that,” Cisco murmured, already reaching for the envelope. Now that he thought about it, he did wonder what Max had given him.

  He opened it while Gillian watched. Inside, as suspected, was a handwritten note from Max.

  Cisco read it once, twice, hardly able to believe his eyes.

  “Cisco, what is it?” Gillian demanded, leaning forward. She grabbed his arm and shook it lightly. “What does it say?”

  Chapter Seven

  “‘Dear Son.’” Cisco read the letter from Max, his voice hoarse. “‘I know you’ve felt a part of our family for years now, but you haven’t officially or legally been part of the family. I want to remedy that, and this is one gift that has no strings attached. So herewith be advised that I have started formal proceedings—’” Cisco stopped as the enormity of what he was reading sank in, and he had to clear his throat before he could go on “‘—to adopt you as my own son and give you the McKendrick name, to pass on to your own children, and have forevermore.’” Cisco swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “‘Remember, I love you. And will always be watching over you and yours. Max."’ Still shaken by the heartfelt generosity of Max’s gift, but glad Gillian was there to share what had to be one of the best moments of his entire life, Cisco showed her the letter.

  “Oh, Cisco.” Gillian read it for herself, and handed it back. Her eyes shone as she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. “Congratulations,” she murmured, hugging him. “This is so wonderful for you.”

  “Wonderful, and completely unexpected,” Cisco said thickly, still feeling a little stunned as he folded the letter and carefully pocketed it. Though he’d felt like a member of the family for years, he’d never expected to actually be a McKendrick. He could hardly believe it was happening now.

  “The McKendrick family mean a lot to you, don’t they?” Gillian asked quietly as she gathered the lunch dishes and the food and put everything back in the picnic hamper with quick efficient motions of her slender hands. That done, she put her flat-brimmed hat aside and stretched out lengthwise on the blanket Lying on her side, her elbow bent, her head propped on her hand, she continued studying him with an earnest, endearing manner.

  Deciding to get more comfortable, too, he stretched out opposite her. “Patience, Trace and Cody have been like siblings to me. Max’s been the father I never had but always wanted.”

  “Your mom was a single mother, then?”

  Cisco nodded as he turned his eyes to the horizon. “I never knew my real father,” he said quietly, hoping if he shared some of his innermost secrets with Gillian, she’d share hers with him. “He walked out on my mom and me before I was born.”

  Her green eyes shimmered with a depth of compassion that soothed. “I’m sorry,” Gillian said softly, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “It sounds like you had a really rotten time of it.”

  Cisco let himself savor the warmth and tenderness
of her touch before he shrugged and met her eyes again. He had given up feeling sorry for himself years ago. “It’s the way it was.” Nothing could change it now. But something could change his relationship with Gillian, because she’d gotten to a place inside him no one else had ever touched. He realized he didn’t want her to walk away and leave his heart empty again.

  “What happened to your mom?” Gillian asked softly as she stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips.

  “She died when I was eight, and I became a ward of the state.” Cisco drifted back to that time of his life. “By that age, of course, I was considered too old to be adopted, and shunted from home to home.” Some of the mountain of hurt he felt then crept into his voice. His lips curved in a rock-hard smile as he struggled to rein in the unwanted emotion. “I tried so hard to be whatever it was the foster parents wanted me to be. Good athlete? Okay, I’d do it. They wanted a class clown? Fine, I could do that. A brain? I could be that, too. And for a while, a short while, during what the social workers used to call the honeymoon period, everything would be right as rain. The foster parents would be so proud they’d been assigned such a good foster kid. And then it would happen.” Cisco sighed and shook his head before he rolled onto his back, one hand propped behind his head, and continued in a low voice laced with regret. “Most of the time, I didn’t even know what I did to get myself on the outs. I’d just know I’d be given the boot, and off I’d go to the next foster home.”

  Gillian’s voice softened compassionately. “That must have been really devastating.”

  “It was.” Knowing it would do no good to dwell on it, Cisco shrugged off the nights he’d cried himself to sleep, before he’d learned to toughen up and accept that was the way things always seemed to play out, no matter what he did. “After a while, I knew what was coming and I sped up the process. I tested ‘em right off the bat to see what would happen. And just as quickly got tossed out and moved on to the next foster home.” He paused, his low voice taking on a rueful edge. “Until it got to the point I had one foot out the door of a foster home before I even entered. By the time I was fourteen, I’d had enough of not belonging anywhere and I ran away. I ended up living on the streets of Butte, Montana, with other runaway teens,” he recounted, some of the bleakness and despair he’d felt then creeping into his voice.