Marilyn watched Beau walk with Constance’s friend, Bethany, and her friend, Chase. He looked resplendent under the soft lights in the courtyard. She was not even repelled that he wore jeans with his white shirt and tie. A good-looking man. She assumed, like her, he was in his middle forties. Very well preserved.
The rehearsal party was smaller now, just Beau, Justin, Constance, Bethany, Chase, the pastor and his wife and son, and herself. Beau’s mother and daughter would not be down for the rehearsal. Mrs. Burnham was busy cooking for Christmas Day.
The Castle Restaurant was almost empty. Marilyn spotted a party of four at one table and a party of six at another. A long table in the middle had been elaborately set for them. Marilyn was disappointed when Beau and the kids were led to one end, the pastor’s family in the middle, and she, Bethany, and Chase at the other end. She watched Beau and the children through the flickering light of the candles as they laughed and talked quietly. When did Beau start speaking so softly?
The waiter handed out menus and took their drink orders. He advised them hot apple cider and appetizers were provided for them downstairs while they waited for their entrees.
After ordering, the party went downstairs. Since it was a pub, Marilyn and Beau had not visited this area. But it was so beautiful. A small room with a large fire crackling behind two wingback chairs, a table laden with grilled marinated oysters, lump crab cakes, and a cheese tray. A small wooden keg produced fragrant apple cider. Marilyn fixed a small plate and stood in front of the roaring fire. Beau behaved like a perfect gentleman, but he had few words for her. When the waiter announced the entrees were ready, they went back upstairs to dinner. Marilyn glanced at Beau talking to the others, but he did not make any eye contact with her. She tried, for Constance and Justin’s sake, to contribute to the conversation, forcing laughter when appropriate. Why had it come to this? Why was he acting this way? Why did she care? Fighting nausea, she forced herself through the meal.
When everyone was through eating, they continued to chat. Marilyn stood and walked to the other side of the table to hug and thank Constance and Justin for the fine meal, offering the excuse of being tired after a long flight. She addressed the others and said she looked forward to seeing them the next day. Beau only smiled and nodded. Conflicting thoughts swirled through her head on the walk to her room. Where was the Beau she remembered? Realization hit her in the gut. She wanted him. So wanted him.
Beau didn’t know if he’d behaved like Marilyn would have wanted or not. He’d tried to be reserved so he wouldn’t get on her nerves like he did before. But she didn’t seem very happy. Maybe he was too cool. Maybe it didn’t matter. She’d be gone after the wedding. He doubted he’d see her again unless she visited Constance. But he figured they’d go to Denver since she was such a busy lawyer. Justin’s hand on his arm broke his thoughts.
Beau paid the waiter for the meal and thanked him for their hospitality. The pastor shook Beau’s hand, offering his gratitude before leaving with his wife. Constance and Justin planned to take Bethany and Chase on a short tour of Natchez and the river. So Beau walked over to the Dairy Barn, and hearing no sounds, closed his door and relaxed on the bed while he pondered how he felt about Marilyn. Tomorrow was the big day. Wedding at four. Reception following. Then the next morning an early drive back to Carroll County for Christmas at Mother’s. He supposed there wouldn’t be enough time for any connection with Marilyn. But that was in God’s hands. Beau had no answers, not being sure how he felt.
Chapter 8
The guests began arriving at three. They milled around, looking at the beautiful rooms and walking out on the grounds until almost time for the wedding. Marilyn counted thirty-five. Beau arrived about the time Wreath called the party to the front porch to wait for the arrival of the groom and bride-to-be. It was very cool outside, but not so bad that five or ten minutes would hurt anyone. Marilyn held the hankie Constance had placed on her bed the night before. The engraved gold lettering said, Mom, to dry your happy tears on my wedding day, as you have always dried mine. I love you, Constance. Tears filled her eyes now.
She heard the sound of horses before she could see anything. A white carriage, driven by four white horses, rounded the brick drive and stopped in front of the guests assembled on the curved steps. Justin, princelike in his white tux with a red rose boutonniere, jumped from the carriage step to the ground then turned to help his bride. Constance, carrying a bouquet of red roses, looked radiant in her straight white-satin gown, its bodice covered by lace and white roses. The crowd separated and allowed them entrance. They walked to the middle of the drawing rooms and were joined by the bridal party. Bethany, the bridesmaid, looked lovely in a red strapless gown, carrying a bouquet of white roses. Beau, the best man, debonair in a black tux with a white boutonniere, took Marilyn’s breath away. With the backdrop of the greenery on the mantel, the lit candles, white ornaments, and the white roses Constance had chosen, it looked like a Christmas fairytale.
Marilyn looked at Beau more often than she did the kids. Occasionally, she caught his eye. What did she see? Her sentiment should be with her daughter and not the father of the groom. She wondered if those around her could hear her heart beating. How could she have been so arrogant, so stupid? She wiped a tear as Constance and Justin said their vows. Her daughter looked lovely, and Marilyn was so proud of her commitment to God and her affection for these people in small-town Mississippi. How wrong she had been to judge them. She looked back at Beau. He was watching her. She attempted a smile. He gave her one in return. Her hand flew to her chest and covered her heart before she could stop it. He winked. She turned back just in time to see the groom kiss the bride. She felt the heat moving up her neck, she so wanted to be kissed like that. She returned her focus to Constance, her wise and precious daughter. How sorry she was for doubting her choice. And for the way she had felt about Beau.
Beau considered Marilyn’s reaction to him. Maybe she was different, or at least wanted to be. He took Bethany’s arm and followed the bride and groom out of the room. The reception was set up in the two rooms across the hall, the food in one, the wedding cake and punch in the other. The pastor announced for all to enjoy the reception and held his hand out to show the way.
The pianist played soft music for those who wanted to dance. Beau looked forward to dancing with Constance in the absence of her father. The guests flowed easily around the tables, the wedding cakes served after pictures were taken of the bride and groom feeding each other. And guests walked to the doors of the drawing rooms to watch Beau gracefully glide his new daughter-in-law across the floor before passing her on to Justin.
Beau followed Marilyn to the buffet table. He drew up beside her. She smiled, picked up a crispy chicken wing, and mischievously ate it in front of him. He raised his eyebrows in question. She smiled playfully. He took a napkin and wiped the sauce from her face.
“Would you honor me with a dance?”
“Why, I’d be glad to. Just let me eat one more of these delicious wings. I’m really hungry.”
“You’ve changed.”
“So have you.”
“Kind of like meeting in the middle?”
“Suppose so.”
He tipped her chin up and dabbed it with a napkin. “Let’s dance before the pianist goes home.” He took her plate and handed it to a waiter.
Beau led her to the drawing room. He took her hand and looked her over. “The dress becomes you. You look lovely.”
“As do you.”
He pulled her toward him. After a few steps, he pulled her closer. “I missed you, Marilyn.”
“I missed you, too.”
He smelled the sweetness of her hair before briefly tasting the sweetness of her lips. Just a light kiss. “Would you consider taking a few extra days and driving to Carroll County in the morning? I can promise you the best corn bread dressing this side of the Mississippi River.”
“I didn’t bring any jeans.”
“And why is it a
problem?”
“If I’m going to a farm, don’t I need some?”
“We’ll find you a pair.”
“That settles it, then. But I haven’t met your mother yet.”
“She’s here. Heather, too. So, no problem.”
“Then I’d love to go to Carroll County.”
Beau lifted her up and swung her around, shouting with joy. He saw Marilyn look around to see if they had caused a scene. Constance and Justin laughed, and all at once, the whole wedding party burst out in applause.
On that note, Beau took the opportunity to let her slide to the floor and kissed her again, embracing her, so this time she would know he meant it. And if she was embarrassed, she could get over it.
But she wasn’t. She looked happy. He looked up again and said a silent prayer. Just before she pulled him back to her for another kiss. When she stepped back, she said, “I love you, Beau Burnham, redneck or not.”
“And I love you, Marilyn McLemore, arrogant attorney or not.” He drew her back into his arms and tasted again the full, pretty lips that had tantalized him since the day he first saw her.
Christmas at Longwood
Cynthia Leavelle
Dedication
To my beloved husband, Tommy.
You are my hero.
Chapter 1
Mary pulled the trigger as the bandits drew even with Jim’s horse. One fell off his saddle, giving Jim the time he needed to take out Big Al. She grasped the reins, trying to curb the runaway horses’ headlong drive for the bluff. Could she stop them in time?
The ringing cell phone penetrated Meredith’s consciousness and stopped her typing. It took a few seconds for her agent’s voice to register. “What’s that, Linda? I’m sorry, my mind was somewhere else.”
“I said Prairie Firebrand’s a bestseller.” Linda had her attention now.
“Really? How did that happen?”
“Silly, you sold a lot of books. And Wagon Trails sales have picked up again since your new book came out. It may hit bestseller range soon.”
“Oh wow.” Dazed, she stared out the window at the brick wall across the alley, trying to understand what this meant for her.
“I’ve been getting calls from the editors. They want to sign another contract as soon as you have a proposal.”
Meredith’s mind churned. “I haven’t really thought of a new line.”
“What are you working on now?”
“Kansas Railroad Bride. I’m almost finished with the first draft.”
“Work that up and send it on. I’ve been thinking. Southern antebellum’s hot right now. Why don’t you do something from your hometown?”
“Natchez?” Meredith could hear the squeak in her voice.
“Sure.”
“I don’t know, Linda. Let me think about it.”
“Don’t take too long. You need to get stuff out there. You’re doing great. Keep it up.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” She pushed the red button and stared at the phone—bestseller status, at last. She wanted to call someone to help her celebrate but couldn’t think of anyone. Standing up, she stretched her stiff muscles and looked around.
The tiny apartment she’d taken when she decided to live on her writing looked awful. Dishes waited in the sink, and dust bunnies floated under her coffee table. What time was it? Eight? Five hours straight without a break. No wonder her neck ached.
She moved to the sink, started the hot water, and added detergent. Mother always said that cleaning up helped her think. Dear Mother and Daddy. She would never stop being their daughter, no matter how long they’d been gone. If she hadn’t moved away from Natchez, she could have spent more time with them. “But I had to go somewhere else. I couldn’t stay in Natchez.” Realizing that she had stopped thinking and started praying, she went on. “God, You know my situation. What am I afraid of ?”
The thought that came to her then must have come from God, because she never would have come up with it herself. “Go back to Natchez? Why?”
Deep in her heart, the answer resonated. She’d never find what she wanted until she made peace with her past.
The uneasy feeling she got when God wanted her to do something she didn’t want to do plagued her as she went downstairs to her mailbox. Among the credit card offers and political flyers, she found a personal letter, a rare occurrence.
Back in her apartment, she slit open the envelope and read the note from Francine inviting her to be a bridesmaid in her December wedding. Meredith couldn’t help but chuckle. She hadn’t seen Francine since high school. How like God to confirm His will. “All right, I’ll go.” She could leave next week and have time to research a possible Southern series before the wedding.
Two weeks later, Meredith stood at the public library desk in Natchez holding a stack of books. “You’re saying I need proof of permanent residence to check out books? I’m researching for a novel, and I need these.”
“We must have a recent utility statement with your address on it before we can give you a library card.”
Meredith set the books on the counter and started to leave when the man behind her spoke. “Sylvia, what if I let her check out the books on my card?”
Meredith froze. Could it be? Gary Bishop, the boy she’d turned down for the senior banquet in high school. She turned to him, allowing him to see her.
“Meredith, I thought that might be you.” He reached for her, and for a second, she thought he might hug her.
Before he could, she held out her hand to shake. “Gary, you’re looking well.”
“So are you.” His voice held admiration. He handed the librarian his card and books then turned to her. “I haven’t seen you since high school.”
“Were you going to let just any stranger use your library card?”
“I wouldn’t want to keep an aspiring historical writer from having good research materials.”
So he knew she wrote historical fiction. “I appreciate this. I’m staying in Hap and Ellie Roberts’s bed and breakfast, and that doesn’t qualify as a permanent residence.”
“How long will you be staying?”
“Long enough for Francine Green’s wedding.”
“I’m in that wedding.” He took his card from the librarian.
“I’ll be seeing you again, then.” She picked up her books to leave, but he followed her.
“Meredith, do you have time to visit for a few minutes?”
“Uh…sure. Do you want to stay here?”
“It would seem like old times. We spent hours in the high school library, didn’t we?” He laughed, shifted his books, and led her to a meeting room off to the side. “We can sit in here.”
Meredith wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment about the library. She couldn’t tell him how those memories haunted her now. Instead, she pointed out the obvious. “I needed to go to the library. I had studying to do.”
“That’s why you became our valedictorian. You studied more than the rest of us.”
“Yes, the nerdiest girl in the school.” Would that phrase remind him of the senior banquet? Bobbi Lee Cox had told her that Gary accepted a dare from his friends to take the nerdiest girl. When he asked her, she turned him down cold, even though she wanted to go with him. How could she go to the biggest event at school knowing everyone was laughing at her?
“I wouldn’t say nerdy, just intelligent. Meeting in the library before school helped me more than anything else to love history. You know, I’m a history teacher now.”
“Are you? That’s terrific. Where did you end up going to school?” He had mentioned Ole Miss and Mississippi State.
“I went to Mississippi College in Clinton. You went to University of Kansas, didn’t you?”
“Yes, they gave me the best out-of-state scholarship.”
“I remember. You wanted to get away so much. Do you still feel that way?”
“Well, I’m back now, aren’t I? Speaking of studying, I need to get started on these boo
ks so I can get them finished before they’re overdue. Thanks again for sharing your library card with me.” She picked up the books and walked out.
Gary watched her retreating back with jumbled emotions, the most prominent, admiration. She looked every bit a bestselling author, with confidence and fashionable clothes, but clearly, whatever kept her from accepting his offer to the senior banquet still rankled her. He’d thought they had a good friendship, so why had she turned him down and hardly spoken to him since? He needed to know. Something about her bravado and vulnerability appealed to him, and he wanted to protect her now from whatever was making her unhappy.
On Tuesday nights, he ate dinner with his parents, often grading papers in his mom’s kitchen till dinnertime. Tonight she welcomed him with a hug.
“We’re having your favorite, chicken and dumplings. Your dad’s washing up.”
“Great!” Gary kissed her cheek below the silver halo of her hair.
After they gathered in the large dining room and Dad said the blessing, his mother started. “Okay, something’s on your mind, and it isn’t school. Spill the beans.”
How did she always know? “I ran into Meredith Long at the library.” Gary passed her the English peas.
“You’re talking about that girl whose parents died in the tornado.” His father dipped dumplings from the tureen.
“The poor girl. She’s had a hard life.”
“You wouldn’t feel sorry for her if you saw her today, Mother. She looks incredible and she’s a bestselling author.”
“Yes, I know. She wrote those wonderful books you gave me. But I haven’t forgotten what she did to you in high school.”
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