The Wedding Planner's Baby (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm)

by Amanda Ashby

  Anger swirled in her stomach. Why wouldn’t Pepper just leave her alone? “That’s not true. The reason I keep traveling is because I don’t belong here. I never have, and it’s okay for you, Pepper—you always knew you wanted to go to college and become a lawyer. But I’m not you. I’m not Emmy. Don’t you see I’m just trying to figure out where I fit in? Find a place for me and my baby?”

  Bec’s chest was pounding as the truth sat between them. This was normally where Pepper would bring out the lawyer talk. She didn’t. Instead her sister marched to the door and yanked the closest jacket off the hook.

  “We’re going to put a stop to this once and for all,” Pepper said as she threw the jacket at Bec, who awkwardly caught it.

  “What do you mean? A stop to what? Have you gone crazy?” She scrambled to keep up as her sister marched toward the barn. “Why are we going outside? I don’t want to go outside.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be stuck in Sunshine making sure my two dopey sisters don’t mess up their new business,” Pepper retorted as she dragged the barn door open. Trestle tables were already set up for the engagement dinner, and the long garlands Emmy had been creating were almost finished, but Pepper ignore it all and headed into the old tack room.

  Charlie’s office.

  Bec hurried after her. “I’m not going to change my mind just because you’re dragging me around the farm. I’m a grown woman. About to be a mother. This is silly. At least tell me what’s going on,” she demanded as Pepper all but pushed her down into one of the tattered old armchairs Charlie used for his afternoon nap.

  “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. But first I want you to look at some things,” Pepper said as she stood up on a stool and reached for an old cake tin. It was rusted with age, and the floral patterns that had once decorated it were barely visible. She climbed back down and thrust the tin at Bec. “Commence looking.”

  Bec opened her mouth to protest, but decided it was easier to just go along with it. She lifted the lid and peered in. Besides, it might take her mind off everything—

  Why’s there a photograph of me in a cowboy outfit and fairy wings?

  She studied the photo and tried to recall when it had been taken. She must have been eight, and if she remembered correctly, she’d been using a hay bale as a horse. She wrinkled her brow, waiting for an explanation, but her sister merely shook her head and pointed back at the tin. Underneath the photo was a letter. Bec unfolded it and studied the faded writing.

  Dear Charlie,

  Please inform Bec that it’s not appropriate to come into my store and press play on all of the televisions just because she wants to dance to four different songs at once. Oh, and I know she was the one who drew a moustache on the May editions of the Country Woman magazines.

  Yours,

  Ellis Duckworth

  Manager and Proprietor for Duckworth General Stores (and your cousin)

  Bec widened her eyes. She remembered doing both of those things after Coop had chickened out of helping her. The only thing she didn’t remember was being caught. Who knew Ellis Duckworth had been so attentive? She smiled as she delved further into the tin.

  There was another letter in a similar vein from one of the nearby farmers who wasn’t happy Bec kept stringing flower necklaces and putting them around the cows. Okay, in her defense, the flowers looked gorgeous and several cars had stopped to take photographs, so really it had been a public service to all involved. If Sunshine had a tourist board they would’ve given her a medal.

  She folded the letter up and studied several more photographs of her in various dress-up outfits as well as a snap of her getting ready to go on her first date. With Owen Everett, the guy accidently responsible for her making her realize staying in Sunshine and settling down was not an option for her.

  Once she got to the bottom of the tin she came across an old rock.

  It was painted vivid pink with a jagged rainbow running across the front, and she vaguely remembered giving it to Charlie one year for Christmas.

  Her throat tightened as unexpected emotions caught in her chest, and it wasn’t until Pepper coughed that Bec remembered her sister was even there.

  “What’s all this stuff doing here? Where did it come from?”

  “It came from you. These are the things Charlie’s always remembered about you. He has a box for each of us.”

  Bec rubbed her hand through her greasy hair and wished every part of her didn’t ache. Normally she was pretty good at putting two and two together and getting four, but right now she was coming up empty.

  “Yes, but what does it mean? I don’t understand.”

  “Because you don’t speak my language. And you don’t speak Charlie’s language, or Ivy’s, or even Emmy’s. This idea you have that you don’t belong, that you’re not loved… Well, it’s just crazy. And I know it sucks you can’t recall any memories about our parents, but haven’t you even considered it might be a blessing not a curse. Because remembering is painful—” At this, Pepper faltered before taking a sharp breath. “You’ve always been loved. Always belonged. You’ve just been too busy looking in the other direction. Too busy running. This tin of memories is Charlie’s love. Ivy’s was that stupid tractor.”

  “Hey, don’t call Matilda stupid. Ivy loved that thing,” Bec protested.

  “No, she really didn’t.” Pepper shook her head. “She hated that tractor. It cost her a fortune in parts, and she desperately wanted to get a new one. But you loved it, and she loved you.”

  Bec was silent as Pepper’s words rang through her body.

  It was like the world was shifting inside her.

  She could hear it creaking and groaning as things moved. She studied Pepper’s drawn face.

  “Is that why you’re still here? Because it’s your way of saying you love me?”

  “The reason I’m still here is a conversation for another day, when there’s a lot more wine and a lot less dust,” Pepper said as she plucked the tin out of Bec’s hand and hauled her to her feet. “My way of saying I love you is to show you all this stuff. I’m just sorry I didn’t show it to you sooner. You belong here, Bec. You always have.”

  Bec closed her eyes and let the darkness engulf her as she listened to the sounds of the farm. The low hum of insects, the sound of Pepper’s breath, the distant clatter of Charlie mending something. It was familiar, and yet in the past she’d never felt like it was for her.

  Was Pepper right?

  Had she been wanted and loved the entire time and just not been able to read the signs?

  She tried the idea out for size, like slipping into a new jacket. She moved her arms as warmth embraced her. Something lifted, and understanding caught in her throat as she finally opened her eyes to where Pepper was patiently standing.

  “How did you get so smart, Pepper Watson?”

  “I told Emmy, and I’m telling you—I’m not the robot you both think I am,” Pepper said, just as the tiny alarm beeped from her wristwatch. Her sister had the decency to laugh. “Okay, well, sometimes I am, and this alarm means I need to go and finish calling all of the of suppliers. If you’re staying, you can help me.”

  Bec breathed in. If she stayed, she’d have to face Lincoln when the wedding came around. But if Pepper was right, she wouldn’t be doing it alone. She’d be surrounded by her sisters, Coop, old Charlie, and the ghost of Ivy.

  “I’m staying. And thank you. I’m not sure what to even say right now.”

  “Good.” Pepper sniffed. “Because you know I feel uncomfortable with outpourings of emotion.”

  “I know.” Bec nodded, and she gave her sister a small pat on the arm as a darker thought hit her.

  If she’d been wrong about her sisters and Ivy, what else had she been wrong about?

  What if Lincoln had been trying to tell her things that she couldn’t understand?

  Lead hit her stomach, and her knees buckled as her mind sifted through memories of their time together. She’d been so su
re she was doing the right thing, pushing him away because she thought he couldn’t give her and the baby the life she wanted. And logically it made sense. He’d always have his obligations. Always be connected to his estate in England. But the sense of rightness that usually accompanied her decision was gone. Bec let out a strangled gasp as she reached for her cell phone.

  She had to call him. Speak to him.

  Test out her new understanding.

  Her hands shook as she dialed Lincoln’s number, but there was no answer, and the sickening sensation in her belly increased as the words throbbed in her mind.

  I think I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bec paced the room the following evening, ignoring the mountain of ironing she was meant to be doing, and wondered what was the point of having a life-changing epiphany about someone if the person in question wasn’t there for her to talk to.

  She turned and walked back in the other direction. She’d left enough messages last night and during the day. She’d even called his mother, but hadn’t had any luck reaching her, either. It was like they’d disappeared from the world.

  Even worse, despite badgering both her sisters six hundred times throughout the day, Lincoln hadn’t called to give them promised guest list, or the names of the bridal couple.

  Her temples pounded.

  This was all Pepper’s fault. If she hadn’t given her that speech, then Bec would’ve been a thousand miles away by now. Well, okay, perhaps one hundred, because she was a pregnant woman with a bladder that couldn’t be denied. But it would still be better than being on the farm.

  And why hadn’t he returned any of her calls?

  You know the answer.

  Because she’d screwed up and pushed him away. Even worse—what if she’d pushed him straight into Victoria’s arms? He said he didn’t want to marry for money, but what if he’d been so hurt by Bec’s rejection that he’d changed his mind? Oh God. That meant that right now they were probably—

  Come back.

  Bec took a deep breath. She had to keep concentrating on the task at hand, which was to iron vintage tablecloths. No good could come from thinking of anything that wasn’t tablecloths. It was all about the tablecloths. She looked at the iron in her hand.

  “Watch out, or you’ll burn that thing.” Coop’s voice echoed as he wandered into the kitchen with the ease of someone who was walking into their second home.

  “I thought you were going along to work on Martha,” she said, referring to the cute old silver bullet he’d bought and converted into a mobile bar to better promote his beers. He’d also stocked it with local wines and was already booking gigs around the area, the first one being an anniversary party later that week.

  “Please don’t call my van by that name. If it’s going to be called anything, it should “Satan” or “Lucifer.” Something sinister and edgy,” Coop said, and if it had been any other time, Bec might’ve found it amusing. As it was, she doubted she’d ever laugh again. “Anyway, I just got a call from my folks. They’re flying back home and are about to land. I said I’d pick them up from the airport.”

  “Oh. That’ll be nice,” Bec said, pleased for her friend. While she hadn’t always felt close to her sisters, Coop loved his parents dearly. “Do you want some company? It might help improve my mood.”

  “Actually, no.” He quickly shook his head. “I mean they’ll have loads of luggage. Speaking of which, I’d better go. But would you mind doing me a favor?”

  “If it involves going over to their house and cleaning up evidence of your bachelor lifestyle before they get home, then probably yes, I would mind.” Bec shook her head, which earned her a withering glare from Coop.

  “If anyone’s a slob, it’s you. And that wasn’t what I was going to ask. I had to leave the generator running to power up my kegs. Would you mind going down and turning it off in ten minutes?”

  Since when did kegs need to be powered up?

  She opened her mouth to ask, but Coop was already fumbling for his keys, so she just sighed. Besides, the fresh air might help her forget about the disaster that was her life.

  “Fine. Go and get your folks, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Not if I see you first.” Coop grinned and then wrapped her up in a spontaneous hug. “I love you, Bec. You know that right?”

  “Yes, you big dope. Now go away before I change my mind,” she said.

  Once his headlights had disappeared, she quickly finished the ironing before trudging outside. Despite the November weather, the evening wasn’t too cold, and so she grabbed a flashlight and walked down to the bridge. Thanks to years of sneaking out, she knew the path better than her times-table. Leaves crunched under her feet, releasing the smell of fall decay as it prepared for the winter ahead.

  She softly swore as she reached the flattened landing.

  The entire wishing bridge was lit up, glittering with hundreds of fairy lights. Whatever Coop had been testing, it was more than a keg, and she frowned as she walked toward the generator that was set up behind his mobile caravan. Then she frowned. The generator was already off. Which meant Coop had sent her down here for no reason.

  It still didn’t explain the lights.

  “I was wondering if you’d come,” a voice said out of the darkness, causing her to stop in her tracks. I know that voice. Then her nose caught the faint scent of sandalwood, and her pulse pounded. I know that smell.

  “Lincoln? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you.” He stepped out of the shadows. Lust curled in her stomach as she drank him in. No. Bad eyes. We’ve been through this before. No good can come from it. She squeezed them shut, but it was useless. Like magnetic north, there was no ignoring him. And did he just step closer to her?

  “But you’re meant to be in England avoiding my calls and tormenting me by not sending Pepper the name of the bride and groom.”

  “Nope. I’m meant to be at the wishing bridge, talking to you,” he said.

  She opened her eyes. He was just inches away from her. Aha! So he had moved closer. Her heart pounded as he went on. “Besides, I didn’t have to call Pepper to tell her the names of the bride and groom. I brought the happy couple over with me. I figured that since there was still a week left before the wedding, they might be able to help out with some of the last minute details.”

  Bec blinked. “What? I don’t understand. Why would you accompany them all the way over here, unless…” Her throat tightened. “It’s not—”

  “No,” he said in a soft voice as his finger drew a trail from her chin down to her neck, causing her skin to tingle with longing. “It’s not. Never for a moment. It’s my mother and Howard.”

  “Your mother and Howard are here?” Bec’s brain was sluggish thanks to his touch. “To get married?”

  “That’s correct.” He nodded. “You were right about them. But you were wrong about Victoria. There’s only one woman I’ll ever marry. Unfortunately, I messed things up so badly I’m not sure how they can be fixed. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try, though.”

  “Lincoln, what are you doing?” Bec let out a small gasp as from somewhere in the darkness music began to play and he dropped to his knees. Hysteria caught in her chest. “I don’t understand. You can’t be doing this. I don’t want to get married for all the wrong reasons.”

  “I absolutely agree,” he said as he looked up at her, his eyes more green than blue in the glittering lights. He took her hand in his, sending a flutter of sensations up her arm. “I did everything backward. The wrong way around. I don’t want to marry you because of the baby, or because it will stop an investment deal. Or even to spite my family. There’s only one reason I want to marry you, and that’s because I love you. Rebecca Jane Watson, I love you. From the first time you looked up at me on that beach in Italy, I was gone. I will always be gone. There’s no coming back from how I feel, and I was stupid to even try. So, can you please forgive my British reser
ve, that weird thing I do with my mouth, and any time that I’ve made you feel you don’t belong with me?”

  Bec opened her mouth and then shut it again as tears pricked her eyes. Emotion hammered in her chest as she managed to nod her head.

  “Okay, but I warn you, I’m taking that as a yes.” Lincoln’s own voice sounded shaky as he reached into his pocket and produced a velvet box. It was russet, the same as the fallen leaves scattered around them. “And I bought you a ring. There’s a real ring. It’s three hundred years old and in a bank vault in London, but in the meantime I’m hoping you’ll wear this.”

  Bec stared at the ring. It was pink and looked like something a child would own. Then she let out a little gasp. “It’s a dragon.” She looked at him and then back at the ring before remembering what she’d told him that day at the bridge. “You bought me my own pet dragon.”

  “It seemed easier than trying to get you a lifetime supply of popcorn. Especially since my shopping options were limited to the gift stores at Heathrow,” he said as he shakily slipped the plastic ring on her finger. “I know it’s not quite traditional, but as soon as I saw it, it reminded me of you.”

  “I love it,” Bec said before lowering herself down to the ground so that she was facing him. “So much. And you. Oh God, Lincoln. I made such a mess of things. I thought that I couldn’t handle coming second to all the other things in your life. That I could never belong in your world. Never be part of it. But then Pepper took me into the barn… Oh, never mind. The thing is, she made me see things differently. See you differently. I understand now.”

  “Do you?” he asked in a soft voice. “Because I never want you to doubt how I feel. Not for a nanosecond. I’ll spend my whole life proving it to you.”

  “That’s the thing—you don’t have to. I know who you are, Lincoln. All the things you are. How much you worry, how deeply you feel. It’s because you’re full of love for your family, for your baby. And for me. I see it now.”