Bridesmaid Says, I Do!

by Barbara Hannay

  Laughing, Kent took her arm, and his warm fingers encircled her, creating a bracelet of heat. Instead of pinching her, however, he stroked a feather-light caress on the fine, pale skin of her inner wrist.

  A tremor vibrated through her, and she gasped. Had he felt it?

  His dark eyes flashed a message—inchoate and thrilling—unmistakable.

  Her heart thundered. Don’t be an idiot.

  He was still watching her as he released her. He smiled. ‘I’m quite sure you’re wide awake.’

  Then, as if to correct himself, he became businesslike once more. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘It’s time to get cracking. We have a wedding to cancel.’

  Rusty hinges squeaked as Kent pushed open the old timber gate that led to the tangle of shrubbery and weeds surrounding the Shaw family’s homestead. Even on a pleasant spring afternoon, the unkempt jungle looked depressing—a far cry from the beautiful, prizewinning garden that had been Bella’s mother’s pride and joy. Mary Shaw would roll in her grave if she could see this mess now.

  Kent called out, partly in greeting, partly as a warning. ‘Tom, are you home?’

  Tom’s faithful border collie appeared, eyes eager and bright and tail wagging happily. Mounting the front steps, Kent greeted him. ‘Where’s your boss, Skip?’

  ‘I’m in here,’ called a deep male voice. ‘In the kitchen.’

  Relieved, Kent made his way down the hall, but his gut clenched as he thought of the task ahead of him.

  He’d already broken the news about the wedding to his parents and they’d coped surprisingly well. His mother had made a gentle complaint about all the money she’d spent on her outfit.

  ‘Where am I going to wear a brocade two-piece in Willara?’ she’d demanded, with a rueful smile, but she hadn’t really looked unhappy.

  His father had given his shoulder a sympathetic thump and muttered that he was proud of Kent’s courage.

  And Bella had spoken to Tom, of course, so Kent wasn’t about to drop a bombshell.

  Just the same, as he entered the big, airy kitchen at the back of the old timber Queenslander it was hard to shake off the feeling that he’d let Tom Shaw down.

  Kent looked about the kitchen filled with windows and painted sunshiny yellow. It had always been his favourite room in this homestead. In his primary school days, he’d regularly dropped in here for afternoon tea.

  There’d always be home-made macadamia or ginger cookies and milk, and he and Bella had eaten them at the scrubbed pine table, or sometimes they’d taken their snack outside to sit in their cubbyhouse beneath an old weeping willow.

  Now, Kent found Bella’s father standing at the greasy stove, thin, unshaven and pale, with heavy shadows under his eyes. At least he appeared to be sober, which was something, and he was stirring the contents of a pot with a wooden spoon.

  This Tom Shaw was such a different figure from the man Kent had known and admired for most of his life. It had been a rude shock to watch this man slide downhill so quickly and completely after his wife’s death. He’d hated to stand by and witness his hero’s self-destruction.

  So, yeah … the wedding plan had been all about propping Tom up again. Now, Kent squared his shoulders.

  ‘Evening,’ Tom greeted him morosely.

  ‘Evening, Tom.’ Kent stood with two hands resting on the back of a kitchen chair, bracing himself.

  ‘Bella rang and she explained about the wedding.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Kent swallowed. ‘I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out.’

  ‘Well … actually—’ Tom smiled wryly ‘—I’m relieved, son.’ ‘Relieved?’

  Tom nodded. ‘I know I was excited at first. It’s true I was thrilled with the notion of you taking care of my Bella and Blue Gums. I could die happy. But it wasn’t long before I realised something was missing. Something really important.’

  Turning the flame down beneath his cooking pot, Tom folded his arms and leaned back against a cupboard. ‘I’ve been in love, Kent. I had a great marriage, full of spark.’ He fixed Kent with knowing eyes. ‘That’s the thing. There has to be a spark—something beyond friendship. Something to set your soul on fire.’

  Kent knew he was right. This lack of a spark was exactly what he and Bella had finally acknowledged. They were very fond of each other. They were great mates. But deep down they knew the passion they both yearned for was never going to materialise.

  ‘I’m ashamed that you were both prepared to take that huge step for my sake,’ Tom said. ‘Heck, Kent, marriage is a gigantic step.’ His eyes took on a little of their old fire. ‘I couldn’t bear to think you were tying the knot to repay me for yanking you out of the flaming creek all those years ago.’

  ‘But I owe you my life.’

  ‘I happened to be on the spot, and I just did what anyone would have done.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Thank heavens you and Bella have come to your senses.’

  Kent took a moment to digest this. He had a sneaking suspicion that his parents were as relieved as Tom was, although they hadn’t expressed their views quite so strongly.

  ‘I’m glad you understand,’ he said quietly. ‘But while we’re being honest, there’s something else I need to get off my chest.’

  ‘What’s that?’ The other man’s eyes narrowed.

  Kent’s grip on the chair tightened. ‘It’s your turn to wake up, Tom. I know it’s been hard for you these past eighteen months, but you need to accept that no one else can take responsibility for your health. I can plough your fields and mend your fences, and I can even offer to marry your daughter, but none of that will help you if you can’t give up your bad habits.’

  Tom dropped his gaze, jaw stubbornly jutted. ‘You’re dead right. In fact, I’m one step ahead of you.’

  ‘Have you rejoined AA?’

  ‘I have and I won’t miss another meeting. That last time I put on a turn in front of Bella’s friend was my wake-up call. I really let Bella down.’

  Kent gripped Tom’s hand. ‘That’s great news, mate. Well done.’ Now he was grinning widely. ‘Doc King gave you plenty more years if you conquered the grog and worked on your fitness.’

  ‘Yeah, so that’s the plan. I want to be around to see my grandkids.’ Tom gave Kent’s shoulder a hearty bang. ‘And your nippers, too.’

  At the end of the day Zoe stood on the back veranda at Willara Downs, looking out at what had fast become her all-time-favourite view. She’d had a huge weekend and was almost dead on her feet, and Kent had insisted that she couldn’t possibly drive back to Brisbane this evening.

  So while he’d gone to talk to Tom Shaw, she’d prepared dinner—lamb baked with garlic and rosemary and lemon.

  For an afternoon, she’d been living her fantasy—fussing about in a farmhouse kitchen, cooking a tasty dinner for the handsome farmer who belonged there.

  Which only proved how foolish she was. It was time to put this episode behind her, time to forget about Kent.

  The emotional connection she felt towards him and his beautiful home was out of all proportion to her true relationship. She was nothing more than Kent’s former fiancée’s almost bridesmaid.

  OK. So maybe she’d promised Bella she would ‘look after’ Kent, but surely the kindest thing she could do was to leave quickly and without any fuss. Later she would stay in touch via email. Emails were safe.

  Even though she knew all this … for now, she was enjoying her last look at this lovely view. Beyond the fence bordering the homestead’s lawns and gardens stretched fields of sun-drenched golden corn and green pastures dotted with grazing cattle. Beyond that again, distant low hills nestled in a purple haze.

  For Zoe there was something magical about it, especially now when it was tinged by the bronzed-copper glow of the late afternoon.

  When she was small, she used to look out of the window of her parents’ bus at views like this. At this time of day she would see farmers on their tractors, turning away from the chocolate earth of their newly ploughed fields and heading for home.
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  As the bus trundled down the highway she would watch the lights coming on in farmhouses, spilling yellow into the purple shadowed gardens. She’d watch wisps of smoke curling from chimneys into skies streaked with pink and gold and lavender. Sometimes she caught glimpses through windows of families gathered around kitchen tables.

  Most evenings, shortly after dusk, her parents would turn in at a camping ground. Zoe and her mum would need a torch to find their way to the shower block, and they’d hurry back, damp and sometimes shivering in their dressing gowns. Her parents would cook a meal on their portable gas stove, and Zoe would do her homework, or read a book, or listen to the radio.

  The bus was cosy enough at night, but oh, she’d coveted those warm, sturdy farmhouses. For Zoe, the simple ripple-iron-roofed dwellings surrounded by crops and fields were more beautiful and desirable than any fairy-tale castles.

  Remembering those days now, she leaned on the veranda railing, drinking in details to keep them stored in her memory. The scent of newly cut grass. The deepening shadows creeping over the fields. The soft lowing of cattle. And coming from behind her, the fragrant kitchen aromas.

  ‘I thought I might find you out here.’

  Zoe turned, deliberately slowly, and smiled as Kent came to rest his arms on the timber railing beside her.

  ‘Now everyone who needs to know knows,’ he said. ‘I had to leave messages for one or two folk, but at least they’ve all been informed.’

  ‘How did Tom take the news?’

  ‘Surprisingly well.’

  ‘Wow. You must be relieved.’

  ‘Very.’ He turned, folded his arms and regarded her with a quizzical smile. ‘Dinner smells good.’

  ‘Yes, you have impeccable timing. The roast is due out of the oven right now.’

  Together they went into the kitchen and Kent opened a bottle of wine. It felt incredibly domesticated and intimate to Zoe. But then, she was in full fantasy mode, while Kent was getting over a huge ordeal.

  Nevertheless, he looked very much at home, pouring wine, wielding a carving knife, slipping a light jazz CD into the player. And he was lavish with his compliments for Zoe’s cooking.

  ‘I had farm-fresh ingredients,’ she said. ‘How could I go wrong?’

  Across the table, Kent sent her a smile. ‘Pity you’re heading back to Brisbane tomorrow.’

  It was silly to feel flustered, but there was a glitter in his dark eyes and a husky rumble in his voice that set Zoe’s pulses dancing a crazy jig.

  ‘So what are your plans for the rest of your week off?’ he asked.

  ‘Actually, I’ve been thinking that I might as well go back to work.’

  Kent’s eyebrows shot high. ‘And waste the chance to take a holiday?’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for a holiday now, and I can save this week for later. For when I go overseas.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Christmas in Prague. Is it all planned?’

  ‘No. I need to start booking my flights as soon as I get back.’

  Kent frowned and dropped his gaze. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

  ‘What about your plans, Kent? I know you had time set aside for a honeymoon. Are you still going to take a break?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not much point really. Besides, it’s the dry season and I need to keep the feed supplements up to the cattle. There’s more than enough to keep me busy around here.’

  Zoe was quite certain he was making excuses, but she understood. Under the circumstances, he wouldn’t enjoy a holiday on his own. For her, getting back to work was about keeping busy and stopping her mind from revisiting endless if onlys …

  It would be the same for Kent, magnified one hundred times.

  Zoe left Willara Downs after breakfast the next morning. For the last time, she stripped the pink-and-white sheets from the bed in the pretty guest bedroom, and looked around fondly at the space she’d foolishly begun to pretend was hers.

  Now it was time for reality. Back to the city. She needed to get over her silly crush on Kent, and the only way to achieve that was to stay well away from him.

  Her car was parked at the side of the house, behind a hedge of purple-flowering duranta, and Kent insisted on carrying her bags, while she carried the bridesmaid’s dress.

  After laying it carefully along the back seat, she stepped back and took a deep breath. Time to say goodbye. No tears, now.

  She offered Kent her best attempt at a smile.

  But to her surprise he was staring at the dress, which was now a filmy river of coffee and cream chiffon on the back seat. ‘You would have looked so lovely in that,’ he said in a strangely choked voice.

  Zoe tried to laugh. ‘It’s ridiculous how badly I wanted to be a bridesmaid.’ She shook her head at her own foolishness.

  ‘You’ve been perfect anyhow, a perfect almost bridesmaid.’ He flashed a brief quarter-smile. ‘Bella couldn’t have had better support.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so.’ Zoe squeezed the words past the tightness in her throat. ‘But if we talk about all that now, I’m going to make a fool of myself.’

  Determined not to cry, she opened the driver’s door, tossed her shoulder bag onto the passenger’s seat, and slipped the key into the ignition. She was blinking madly, trying so hard to be strong.

  ‘Zoe,’ Kent said softly, and his hand closed around her arm.

  She ducked her head, hoping he couldn’t see her struggle.

  ‘Zoe, look at me.’

  He spoke with such convincing tenderness she couldn’t bear it. She was swiping at her eyes as he turned her around.

  ‘Hey …’ With the pads of his thumbs, he dried her tears.

  Electrified, she was zapped into stillness by his touch. He was so close now she could see the tiny flecks in his eyes—fine streaks of cinnamon combined with hazelnut—could see his individual eyelashes …

  ‘There’s something I need to give you,’ he said and he produced from his jeans pocket a slim gold box.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your bridesmaid’s gift.’

  Shocked, Zoe clapped a hand to her mouth. She shook her head.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, smiling as he pushed the box into her free hand. ‘You’ve earned this, and I went to a lot of trouble to get the right colour.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her hands were shaking.

  ‘Here, let me open it for you.’

  She watched as Kent’s big hands lifted the dainty lid to reveal a bracelet made of beautiful, translucent beads of every colour.

  ‘They’re made of hand-blown glass designed by a local artist.’

  ‘Kent, they’re gorgeous.’ Each bead displayed a uniquely different rainbow of colours, but the overall effect was one of beautiful harmony. ‘I love it. Thank you so much.’

  Setting the box on the bonnet of her car, Kent took her wrist. Oh, the intimacy of his hands, of his warm strong fingers brushing her skin. A wave of longing and regret crashed over Zoe and she was in danger of crying again. She closed her eyes to hold the tears back. Then, to her utter surprise, she felt Kent’s hands cradle her face, tilting it ever so slightly towards him.

  Her eyes flashed open and for breathless seconds they stared at each other, and she saw surprise—the same surprise she was feeling—mirrored in Kent’s eyes.

  Surprise and disbelief …

  And knowledge.

  And helplessness.

  And then he was kissing her.

  Or Zoe was kissing him.

  Or perhaps they simply flowed together, drawn by a potent, irresistible magnetism, as if by some miracle they shared the same aching need, the same unspoken longing.

  Zoe’s senses revelled in the scent of Kent’s skin, and the dark taste of coffee on his lips, the thrilling strength of his arms wrapped around her. She was quite sure she’d never been kissed with such wanting, and she certainly knew she’d never returned a kiss with such fervour.

  When they drew apart, at last and with great reluctance, they stood facing each other, panting and f
lushed and slightly self-conscious.

  When Zoe spoke, she tried to sound a thousand times more composed than she felt. ‘That was unexpected.’

  ‘For me, too. But I’m not complaining.’

  No. Zoe wasn’t complaining either, but she felt compelled to offer reasons … excuses … ‘It’s been an emotional weekend. I—I guess I needed a hug.’

  ‘I guess you did,’ Kent agreed with a smile.

  ‘And I—ah—should be going.’ She turned back to the car again. Already the magic was fading, and the reality of their situation was rushing back. They’d both been under amazing strain and the kiss was an emotional finale to an incredibly emotional weekend.

  Nothing more. Certainly nothing to weave dreams around.

  What could she say now? So long, it’s been good to know you? If she looked at Kent again, she might make a fool of herself, so she spoke without turning back to him. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear from Bella.’

  ‘Thanks, and I’ll pass on any news from my end.’

  ‘Emails are probably the easiest.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Deep breath. ‘Goodbye, Kent.’

  ‘Bye.’

  He took a step closer, and dropped another warm kiss on her cheek. Zoe’s insides were doing cartwheels. ‘See you later. Maybe,’ she choked.

  ‘Make that definitely,’ Kent corrected quietly.

  She didn’t reply and closed the car door. He tapped on her window with his knuckle, and they waved to each other.

  Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them clear. Enough of this nonsense. They’d finished this story. This was.

  The End.

  She took off, watching Kent in her rear vision mirror. He stood with his feet firmly planted, his hands sunk in his pockets … watching her … and when she reached the end of the drive and was at last enveloped by the tunnel of trees, he still hadn’t moved.

  CHAPTER NINE

  To: Zoe Weston From: Kent Rigby

  Subject: The Runaways