The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Matt held out his hand, helping her up and onto the seat. Then he joined her, taking the reins.

  “I thought the draft horses were for the sleighs,” Brynn wondered aloud, referring to the Belgian mares stabled in the barn.

  “They are. But you don’t need a team for the small sleighs. Put a dozen people in one of the group sleighs and you’ve got to have a team of drafts or you won’t get any farther than the barn.

  “This is like the one in ‘Jingle Bells’—a ‘one-horse open sleigh,’” she realized with pleasure.

  “But we’re not ‘dashing through the snow,’” he warned. “Not at night.”

  “Are we singing all the way?”

  His eyes briefly met hers. “If you like.”

  Despite the insistent thudding that clamored in her chest, she kept her tone light. “We could go ‘o’er the fields, laughing all the way.’”

  Matt’s lips twitched as he snapped the reins and then clucked to the horse. “Wait’ll you hear the ‘bells on bobbed tails ring.’”

  To her surprise they did. Delighted, she listened to the merry bells that danced in a twinkling accompaniment to the horse’s steps. “I thought things like this only existed in storybooks and black-and-white movies.”

  One brow lifted. “Only black-and-white?”

  “Back when romance was alive. Before cable and bigbudget films ruined it.”

  “You like a little dash of Hepburn and Tracy?” he quizzed.

  “And lots of Cary Grant,” she added. “Back then, romance was bigger even than the stars—the ones in Hollywood and the sky.”

  “Not like today?”

  “Definitely not like today.”

  “That has a distinct ring of cynicism.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  “But a strange attitude for a new bride.”

  Brynn froze, then cursed her impulsive tongue. “I meant in general.”

  He probed the open wound. “Then you believe in romance for yourself.”

  Brynn’s eyelids flickered shut. “I’m afraid so.”

  Matt clicked the reins again, only the bells on the horse’s halter breaking the silence as they rode deeper into the remote meadows. It was a still fairyland. Snow like heavy bunched cotton hung on the pine boughs and giant ice cascades sparkled in the moonlight.

  Brynn shivered in the bite of the cold air and Matt withdrew a woolen blanket folded into the seat box. Stretching it out, he tucked it over their laps, still expertly driving the horse. It seemed suddenly intimate to share the bulky garment, and to be fitted beneath its heavy folds.

  The light from the full moon glittered over newly fallen snow, turning the meadow into a field of diamonds. Gliding through the aspens, beneath the stars, the echo of quiet sounded in the winter hush.

  It was like a moment plucked from time—from one of her daydreams. A magical moment that she didn’t want to end.

  “I don’t know where city people go to think,” Matt said, finally breaking the silence. “Where do you find quiet like this?”

  Brynn acknowledged the exquisite quality of the snowshrouded landscape, the unique tranquillity. “You don’t,” she answered truthfully. “You know this is one of kind. That’s why you’re here.”

  Matt angled his face toward hers. “You understand.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was an acknowledgement. One that spoke of the unvoiced pull between them.

  Matt slowed the horse, stopping at a break that looked down on an icy mountain stream crossed by a wooden suspension bridge. Snow brushed the limbs of overhanging trees and icicles dripped from their branches. The moonlight glinted from both, illuminating the rock-strewn riverbed as the water rushed along its ancient path.

  “So much beauty,” Brynn breathed, caught up in the spell of their surroundings, and of the man who filled the seat beside her.

  Matt turned to her, his expression unguarded, his longing clear for her to read. “Yes.”

  The simple word hung between them. A shiver, not caused by the cold, tripped through her. Instinctively she brought her bare hands together.

  “Where are your gloves?” Matt asked, picking up her hands, warming them between his palms.

  Brynn couldn’t answer. Overwhelmed by the strength and tenderness of his touch, she wanted nothing more than for it to continue. For him to show her exactly how he felt.

  Knowing he couldn’t cross the line she had erected with lies, Brynn was trapped. Trapped into a charade that had become meaningless. Trapped into a lifetime sentence of knowing that she had to walk away from the man she loved. Or face his censure.

  And because of that love, she gently withdrew her hands, unable to cause him to feel guilt. If Gregory didn’t return, Brynn couldn’t make Matt live with the knowledge that he’d betrayed his brother, not knowing whether he was dead or alive.

  Despite the love she held for Matt, Brynn couldn’t wish for Gregory’s demise, and the pain it would cause all of them. Knowing now how she felt about Matt, she realized how immature and unformed her feelings for Gregory had been. Silly dreams...lonely fantasies.

  Whereas this was real—a man who cared for his family, revered the legacy he’d inherited, guarded his heritage, and protectively warmed her hands beneath the moonlight. It seemed simple to see that now. But more complicated than the worst scenario even her fiction-filled mind could create.

  Matt read the reasoning in her eyes. Still he hesitated, then finally picked up the reins, signaling the horse. The sleigh glided over the snow, the whistle of the runners and the jingling of the bells filling the silence that lumbered between them.

  Too MANY LIGHTS WERE ON. The thought struck Matt as they approached the lodge. It seemed that every light in the place was lit and it was nearly midnight. A sudden sense of unease gripped him.

  “I wonder what’s going on,” Brynn questioned as they stopped.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “Gregory?” Brynn murmured.

  Their gazes jerked together. twin flares of guilt flickering in their eyes. Matt bolted from the sleigh, hurriedly helping her down. Then they raced across the packed snow toward the wide double doors of the lodge.

  One flung open before they reached it. “Thank God you’re back!” Miranda cried out.

  “Gregory?” Matt questioned, his voice grim.

  “No.”

  Brynn issued a silent prayer of relief.

  “It’s your father.”

  Sucking in her breath, Brynn took a step toward Matt, then paused, knowing it wasn’t her place to comfort him.

  Matt’s eyes locked with Miranda’s. “Is he...”

  “The ambulance took him to the hospital. Your mother’s with him. The paramedic says it’s another heart attack. I wanted to go, but I couldn’t leave Heather and Andy.”

  “They should be with him.” Matt spoke with the authority of the head of the family, a position he hadn’t claimed before.

  “I wasn’t sure.” Miranda hesitated.

  “I am. If he gets better, they’ll just be missing some sleep. If not...” He strengthened his voice. “If not, they need to be there.”

  From behind Miranda, a worried-looking Heather pushed forward. “Matt? Is that you?”

  “Yes, punkin.”

  Heather rushed to him, seeking the shelter of his comforting embrace.

  He smoothed her hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “We’re so scared,” Heather admitted, the words punctuated with a hiccup of tears.

  “I know.” Matt tucked back her hair as he confronted the tears running down her face. “But you’ve got to be strong for Dad. Now, where’s Andy? He’s going to need you, too.”

  Heather lifted drenched eyes to stare at her brother. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. It’s something we pass on. You’re his big sister. Go find him and you two get dressed into something warm.”

  She stumbled toward the stairs, then scampered upward. Matt turned to his aunt, seeing
her ashen color. “Let’s go into the family room.”

  The women followed as Matt opened the liquor cabinet, pouring three tumblers of bourbon. He handed them each a glass, then tipped his own, needing the fiery warmth. A cold pit had settled in his stomach, one that even the fine liquor couldn’t chase away.

  Frank MacKenzie was the backbone of their family. Strong, understanding, a driving force in making Eagle Point what it was today. It had been difficult to watch him grow physically weak, dependent on doctors and hospitals. But it would be more difficult to watch him die.

  Matt met Brynn’s concerned gaze, read the instant understanding. Believing that certain codes of honor couldn’t be bent, not even tampered with, Matt hoped he hadn’t tempted fate by wanting Brynn. Surely fate wouldn’t have repaid him by striking down his father.

  Turning away abruptly, Matt slapped the glass on the bar. “We’ll take the van. I’ll go collect the kids.” He watched as the women’s gazes met. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brynn hated the antiseptic smell of hospitals. The odor was tied irretrievably to her grandmother’s death—the tall, sterile bed she’d lain in. A woman of remarkable spirit, she had shown none of that when she was swamped by machines and IV drips, her will taken over by a troop of white-uniformed doctors and nurses. She’d never come home.

  The loss was still there—not as fresh, but still painful. Feeling that, Brynn willed Frank MacKenzie to live, to return to those he loved and who needed him. And with secondary insight, she prayed for Gregory to receive the same fate.

  Miranda and Ruth stood together in the hall, clinging to one another outside the intensive care unit as the doctors worked to stabilize Frank.

  Buoyed by Matt’s trust in her, Heather kept a watchful eye on Andy, finding his favorite candy bar, casually settling him on the couch beside her.

  Brynn drank her fourth cup of coffee and swallowed the last bitter dregs. Crushing the paper cup, she walked toward the garbage can. Still restless, she continued to pace. They’d been there for hours. Brynn no longer knew how many. Frank was alive, but his condition was critical.

  She’d watched Matt closeted with the doctors, the grim expression that clouded his face. Yet Ruth insisted there still was no diagnosis.

  Then Matt had disappeared. Worried, Brynn had finally searched the halls of the hospital, but hadn’t found him. She’d casually asked Ruth about him. Distracted, Ruth told Brynn that if she needed Matt, to call his cell phone. He was somewhere in the hospital, in one of the offices. Then she’d returned to her husband’s side.

  Miranda had patted her hand, telling her not to worry, that Matt was dealing with things. Concerned but not wanting to upset the family, Brynn had staked out a portion of the waiting room, hoping Matt would return soon.

  Glancing up, Brynn saw a nurse hovering at the doorway. Fear clutched her.

  “Miss Magee?”

  “Yes,” she managed to choke out, fearing the worst.

  “Phone call for you at the nurses’ station.”

  Unable to imagine who would be calling at the hospital, Brynn blindly followed the nurse, picking up the phone she indicated at the critical-care unit.

  “Hello?”

  “Brynn?” Matt’s voice flowed through the wires.

  Relief made her sag. “Are you all right?”

  “Brynn, did Gregory make out a new will after you got married?”

  “What?”

  “Did Gregory make out a new will?”

  She answered truthfully. “No, but what—”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  A dial tone buzzed in her ear as she stood, listening blankly. Seeing the nurse’s curious glance, Brynn replaced the receiver. “Thank you.”

  Returning to the waiting room, Brynn couldn’t settle into a chair, instead continuing to pace as the time dragged. Intermittent announcements over the paging system called for everything from maintenance cleanup to code blue. Still Matt didn’t return. Checking with Ruth, Brynn knew there hadn’t been any change in Frank’s condition.

  She’d expected Matt to stand vigil by his father’s side, not to disappear. It wasn’t like him. Steady, dependable, a man who could head the MacKenzie family, Matt didn’t run away from responsibility. He embraced it. So where was he?

  Another hour passed. Wearily, she leaned against the wall, her gaze lingering on Heather and Andy who were curled together on the couch, both finally dropping off to sleep.

  Hearing footsteps approach, she closed her eyes, hoping they would pass, wishing that would mean that Frank hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. But they came closer.

  “Brynn?” Matt’s hands closed around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “Where were you?” she blurted out, terrified and concerned.

  He managed a tired smile. “I didn’t bolt and run.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  He tucked back a wayward curl of her hair, then glanced at the sleeping children. “Come with me.”

  “Is—”

  “Dad’s the same. No change.”

  She followed him into the hall, to the long bank of tall windows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. After all, it’s your father who’s...who’s not well, and—”

  He placed two gentle fingers to her lips. “I appreciate the concern, but I need your signature.”

  For the first time, she noticed the file folder in his hand. She raised confused eyes. “What’s this about?”

  “Trust papers.” When she continued to look confused, he explained. “The medical trust. The one you suggested. I thought it was a good idea, I just didn’t know I’d need it so quickly. I placed the order for the new lifts the day we spoke, but I didn’t take care of the trust.”

  “And now?”

  “I called our lawyer. He drew up the papers and we ironed everything out in the nursing director’s office. She’s an old friend of the family—insisted we use her office.”

  Confused, Brynn stared at him. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “There’s one hitch in a trust like this.”

  “And?”

  “The trustee can’t be anyone with a financial interest in Eagle Point. And everyone in our family has one. Since Gregory didn’t change his will yet, that leaves you. Because officially he’s alive—” only a tick in his jaw betrayed what he left unsaid “—and hasn’t changed his will, you’re the only one in the family who doesn’t have a financial interest in Eagle Point.” Matt stared away for a moment. “And if Gregory doesn’t come home, it will take a while to make that legal, probate his estate. Until then, you’re an independent agent. That’s why you’re set up as the trustee.”

  “What?” Shock filled her face and voice.

  “The trustee,” he explained. “Of Dad’s medical trust. They’re talking possible transplant. These funds have to stay liquid—no matter what happens at the lodge.”

  “You want to make me trustee?”

  “I explained why.”

  “But surely you have trusted friends who are more qualified than I am.”

  “It has to be family.”

  “But... I’m not... I can’t....”

  “Matt, Brynn!” Ruth rushed up to them, her face both anxious and relieved. “I’m so glad I found you.” She leaned against her son for support. “Your father wants to see you. The doctor says it’s a good sign.” Then she reached out to clasp Brynn’s hand. “And you. He wants to see you. He misses Gregory, but by seeing you, Frank knows he’s all right. We all do.”

  Guilt and pain battled for prominence.

  Ruth studied Brynn’s anxious face. “I hope it won’t bother you to see him this way.”

  “Of course not. I’m...I’m pleased he asked to see me.”

  Together the three of them headed toward the intensive-care unit. And Brynn tried not to bow under the pressure. How had it gone this far? And how in the world was she going to fix it?

 
; BRYNN IGNORED THE QUIET, along with the concerned faces of her animals as she continued to pack. The three pets were unusually subdued as they watched their mistress. It was a cowardly time to flee, with the family camped out most of the time at the hospital, but Brynn knew she had to seize her moment. It wasn’t as though leaving with three animals could be done with stealth. She had to choose a time when the family was away. A time like now.

  Pleading a headache, she’d escaped the hospital before signing the trust papers. That she simply couldn’t do. Her conscience rang for relief. While she couldn’t rid herself of the remorse for having ever started the charade, she couldn’t take this final step.

  Brynn folded the oversize broomstick skirt she hadn’t worn in weeks. Matt would find someone else to be trustee—someone more appropriate, someone they wouldn’t despise once they learned of her deception.

  She reached for a scarf, and a piece of construction paper floated to the floor. Picking it up, she stared at the drawing. It was a rendering of Lancelot, drawn by Andy, entitled My New Friend. She smoothed the paper, placing it carefully in a folder with her important work files. It was a treasure she wanted to keep.

  As she reached for a blouse to fold and pack, she heard a knock at the door. Knowing the family was at the hospital she assumed it was one of the employees. “Come in.”

  Miranda entered, a tired smile spreading across her face until she spotted the open, half-filled suitcase. “What’s going on?”

  Brynn wished Miranda hadn’t been the one to discover her. “I’m packing.”

  “Why?”

  As she reached for another blouse, Brynn’s hand faltered. “I have my reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  Brynn considered the truth, then chickened out. “It’s almost Thanksgiving and I’m going home to spend the holiday with my mother.”

  Miranda reached over to pet Snookems. “I know that your mother plans to spend Thanksgiving with her young boyfriend.” She met Brynn’s shocked gaze. “Don’t think we’ve been spying. Ruth accidentally overheard and she’s been worried about you ever since. She thinks of you like one of her own. But then Ruth’s always been ready to mother the world.”