Issued to the Bride: One Soldier

by Cora Seton

  Alice didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Yes, there is.”

  The General straightened. “Have your say.” He braced himself.

  Over the years she would have given anything to tell him all the ways in which he’d let her down, but Alice felt she understood her father too well for that now. “None of the pain this family has felt has come from a lack of love. It’s come from an overabundance of it. The thing is we’re all terrified of losing what we have. I’ve learned something, though.”

  “What’s that?” The General’s voice was gruff.

  “We can’t lose it. Mom has proved that. She’s been gone eleven years, and her love surrounds us every day.” Alice steadied herself. “Dad, I love you.”

  Her father stiffened. Blinked. Jutted his chin and swallowed.

  Patted her arm.

  Alice waited, wondering if he would manage to say the words back.

  “I have something for you,” he said finally. He took out a small box, opened it and showed her the locket inside, just like the one her mother had worn when she was alive. Like the ones her sisters had each received on their wedding days.

  She allowed the General to help her put it on, knowing this was the only way he knew how to show what he felt in his heart. By giving her gifts, protecting her—

  Sending her a husband.

  Even though she longed to hear the words, she didn’t need him to speak them. Alice took her father’s arm. Guilt flared for a moment that she was the only one the General would walk up the aisle, but at the front of the room her sisters’ faces were shining with joy—and hope.

  And there was Jack. Wonderful Jack. The man who had seen all of her and loved her for everything she was. The man who believed her through and through. Alice’s whole heart yearned for him. She couldn’t wait to spend her days with Jack. Pledging her heart to him was a dream come true.

  “Take good care of her,” the General said to him when they reached the altar. “I love my girl.” He raised his voice. “I love all my girls.”

  An expansive joy filled Alice’s heart. Healing was possible. The General was truly home—

  Where he belonged.

  As Alice walked up the aisle on her father’s arm toward him, Jack’s heart stood still. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t what stole the breath from his lungs.

  It was the love that shone in her eyes as she met his gaze and held it. The moment she’d seen him, she’d brightened, pure joy shining in her smile.

  She loved him.

  Absolutely.

  The shell that had formed around his heart when his parents had died finally cracked open, leaving him fresh and new. As Alice walked toward him, he knew he’d been given another chance at life, and he promised himself he’d spend the rest of it cherishing her.

  When the General took his seat, Jack took Alice’s hands in his, and he knew he’d finally found home again. He could belong to Two Willows the way he’d belonged to his parents’ ranch back in New Mexico so many years ago. He had no doubt as the seasons passed he’d fall in love with the place, although he was already so in love with his bride he didn’t know if it was possible he had any left to spread around.

  “Dearly Beloved,” the minister began, and Jack listened to every word, knowing the traditional ceremony would change his life forever. It made him happy to think that so many other couples had made the same pledges throughout time. How wonderful to find a partner in life, he thought as he slid the plain band onto Alice’s finger, next to the beautiful diamond she already wore. When he thought of the vision Alice had in the jewelry store, Jack was happy to know that her mother, whom he was pretty sure had initially barred him from her maze, had worked on his behalf when he took Alice to pick out her engagement ring.

  He was happy, too, to see the General making a place for himself at Two Willows. Healing was happening, and Jack had a feeling when the grandkids came along, the healing would speed up.

  Meanwhile, he meant to enjoy every moment of the life he’d make with Alice. He had no qualms about their future.

  He couldn’t wait to get to it.

  Alice could barely form the words of her vows, she was trembling so hard—with happiness. Only now did she realize what a strain the last six months had been. Finally, her family was out of danger, and when she looked into the future—just a little bit—she saw peace at Two Willows.

  She and Jack planned to travel to Buenos Aires for their honeymoon and lie on the beach for a couple of weeks, soaking up the sun. That’s where they would conceive their child, and Alice looked forward to every moment of their lovemaking as they tried.

  She looked forward to coming home, too, and planning the house they’d build come spring. Two Willows was going to be busy for a long time. It would become a little community. There’d be lots more occasions for hoopskirts, she was sure.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the minister said.

  As Jack bent down to do just that, Alice went up on tiptoe to meet him. She kept a hand on her skirt to keep it under control. But when Jack scooped her up for another kiss, she forgot all about it.

  Jack was everything to her, and now she belonged to him.

  “Happy?” Jack asked her.

  “Ecstatic.”

  “After you, Mrs. Sanders,” Wye told her, gesturing for them to head back down the aisle first.

  “Hold on,” Alice replied. Once again, she struggled to get her hoopskirt in hand. She had to admit these things weren’t very practical.

  “Hurry up before we starve,” Logan called out. “Some of us want cake.”

  Alice led the way, Jack squeezing in beside her huge skirt. “How on earth are we going to dance with you in that?” he asked.

  “Very carefully.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‡

  Dear Augustus,

  You are finally home. Finally. My heart would ring with joy if I didn’t know what it took to get you there. But you’re safe and so are our daughters, and that means the world to me.

  Augustus, take it slow building your new life, and be patient with our girls as you all learn to live with one another again. You may be back at Two Willows, but the road home is a long one when you’ve been gone so many years.

  Our daughters need tenderness, empathy and strength from you. They need knowledge of our lives together—a connection to their heritage. They need to see you happy, Augustus, and I hope you’ll search for and find your happiness.

  You and I had a life worth celebrating. We shaped the land together, built a business together, brought up our family. I’d have given anything to extend my time with you, but I am grateful for all the sweet moments I did have.

  I am grateful for my children, too. For every moment I got to hold them in my arms. For every accomplishment I witnessed—and for those I didn’t. My girls are my heart, split in five and still living on this earth. Cherish them, Augustus, and keep them close, even if it takes time for them to get over past hurts.

  Your road back to me is a long one, too, and I hope you’ll be content to walk it slowly. Enjoy your life. I’m there with you even when you’re not aware of me. Ours is a love that endures. We both knew that from the start. Nothing can change that fact.

  I love you, Augustus. Always and forever.

  Oh, and you have one more (honorary) daughter to marry off. I’m sure you have a suitable man in mind.

  You’re always in my heart,

  Amelia

  Epilogue

  ‡

  Wyoming carried a stack of dishes into the kitchen, glad to get out of the heat and hubbub of the living room. All the Reed women’s weddings had been crowded, but with the General home, all of their friends and neighbors had wanted to come and get a chance to commend him on his service to their country.

  Alice and Jack had decided to turn the affair into a Thanksgiving wedding, and huge plates of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and other holiday favorites had been passed around at dinner. She was so full she th
ought it was a miracle she still fit into her dress. Lord knew her dress barely fit into the house.

  Everyone was married except her. Two weeks had given her enough time to play back over her brief courtship with Will and see all the times when the veneer of his cheerful behavior had slipped. The times he’d grown impatient with his work. The times he’d scowled when Emerson came near.

  He’d fooled her, but he’d fooled everyone else, too.

  That was small comfort, though. She’d always thought of herself as practical. The last person to be taken in by a quick smile and a false intimacy. Will had done worse than hurt her pride—

  He’d undermined her confidence in herself.

  It wasn’t helping she couldn’t seem to find a job, either. Without telling Cass, she’d begun to answer ads for positions in Billings and Bozeman. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to move to the city, she kept telling herself.

  So why did it feel like the end of the world?

  A tear slipped into the sudsy water in the sink, and Wyoming impatiently scrubbed a hand across her cheek. There was no time for feeling sorry for herself. She had a wedding to help with. A job to find. A life to get on with.

  When the knock sounded on the front door, it startled her out of her thoughts.

  Someone was arriving late.

  She hurried to answer it before one of the others did, wanting all the Reed women to have a chance to relax with their friends without having to play hostess. When she opened the door, she laughed.

  The corporal stood in the doorway, so handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes. She’d been too infatuated with Will to notice that while lean, Emerson was as strong as the other men. His gaze had depths she hadn’t plumbed yet. There were lines she hadn’t noticed around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t as young as he’d looked at first. She knew from watching him with the General he was a man who took his responsibilities seriously.

  “Emerson? What are you doing out here?”

  “The General sent me. Are you going to let me in?”

  Be the first to know about Cora Seton’s new releases! Sign up for her newsletter here!

  Other books in the Brides of Chance Creek Series:

  Issued to the Bride One Navy SEAL

  Issued to the Bride One Airman

  Issued to the Bride One Sniper

  Issued to the Bride One Marine

  Author’s Note

  While Issued to the Bride One Soldier was meant to be the last book in the Brides of Chance Creek series, Emerson and Wye simply wouldn’t let me go without telling their story, too. Click here to receive a special announcement newsletter when the pre-order for Issued to the Bride One Sergeant for Christmas goes live.

  Meanwhile, if you enjoyed the Brides of Chance Creek, you will love the SEALs of Chance Creek! Check out A SEAL’s Oath for free here, or read on for a short excerpt.

  A SEAL’s Oath

  By Cora Seton

  Chapter One

  ‡

  Navy SEAL Boone Rudman should have been concentrating on the pile of paperwork in front of him. Instead he was brooding over a woman he hadn’t seen in thirteen years. If he’d been alone, he would have pulled up Riley Eaton’s photograph on his laptop, but three other men ringed the table in the small office he occupied at the Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek, Virginia, so instead he mentally ran over the information he’d found out about her on the Internet. Riley lived in Boston, where she’d gone to school. She’d graduated with a fine arts degree, something which confused Boone; she’d never talked about wanting to study art when they were young. She worked at a vitamin manufacturer, which made no sense at all. And why was she living in a city, when Riley had only ever come alive when she’d visited Chance Creek, Montana, every summer as a child?

  Too many questions. Questions he should know the answer to, since Riley had once been such an integral part of his life. If only he hadn’t been such a fool, Boone knew she still would be. Still a friend at least, or maybe much, much more. Pride had kept him from finding out.

  He was done with pride.

  He reached for his laptop, ready to pull up her photograph, whether he was alone or not, but stopped when it chimed to announce a video call. For one crazy second, Boone wondered if his thoughts had conjured Riley up, but he quickly shook away that ridiculous notion.

  Probably his parents wondering once again why he wasn’t coming home when he left the Navy. He’d explained time and again the plans he’d made, but they couldn’t comprehend why he wouldn’t take the job his father had found him at a local ranch.

  “Working with horses,” his dad had said the last time they talked. “What more do you want?”

  It was tempting. Boone had always loved horses. But he had something else in mind. Something his parents found difficult to comprehend. The laptop chimed again.

  “You going to get that?” Jericho Cook said, looking up from his work. Blond, blue-eyed, and six-foot-one inches of muscle, he looked out of place hunched over his paperwork. He and the other two men sitting at the table were three of Boone’s most trusted buddies and members of his strike team. Like him, they were far more at home jumping out of airplanes, infiltrating terrorist organizations and negotiating their way through disaster areas than sitting on their asses filling out forms. But paperwork caught up to everyone at some point.

  He wouldn’t have to do it much longer, though. Boone was due to separate from the Navy in less than a month. The others were due to leave soon after. They’d joined up together—egging each other on when they turned eighteen over their parents’ objections. They’d survived the brutal process of becoming Navy SEALs together, too, adamant that they’d never leave each other behind. They’d served together whenever they could. Now, thirteen years later, they’d transition back to civilian life together as well.

  The computer chimed a third time and his mind finally registered the name on the screen. Boone slapped a hand on the table to get the others’ attention.

  “It’s him!”

  “Him, who?” Jericho asked.

  “Martin Fulsom, from the Fulsom Foundation. He’s calling me!”

  “Are you sure?” Clay Pickett shifted his chair over to where he could see. He was an inch or two shorter than Jericho, with dark hair and a wiry build that concealed a perpetual source of energy. Even now Clay’s foot was tapping as he worked.

  Boone understood his confusion. Why would Martin Fulsom, who must have a legion of secretaries and assistants at his command, call him personally?

  “It says Martin Fulsom.”

  “Holy shit. Answer it,” Jericho said. He shifted his chair over, too. Walker Norton, the final member of their little group, stood up silently and moved behind the others. Walker had dark hair and dark eyes that hinted at his Native American ancestry. Unlike the others, he’d taken the time to get his schooling and become an officer. As Lieutenant, he was the highest ranked. He was also the tallest of the group, with a heavy muscular frame that could move faster than most gave him credit for. He was quiet, though. So quiet that those who didn’t know him tended to write him off. They did so at their own peril.

  Boone stifled an oath at the tremor that ran through him as he reached out to accept the call, but it wasn’t every day you got to meet your hero face to face. Martin Fulsom wasn’t a Navy SEAL. He wasn’t in the military at all. He’d once been an oil man, and had amassed a fortune in the industry before he’d learned about global warming and had a change of heart. For the last decade he’d spearheaded a movement to prevent carbon dioxide particulates from exceeding the disastrous level of 450 ppm. He’d backed his foundation with his entire fortune, invested it in green technology and used his earnings to fund projects around the world aimed at helping him reach his goal. Fulsom was a force of nature, with an oversized personality to match his incredible wealth. Boone liked his can-do attitude and his refusal to mince words when the situation called for plain speaking.

  Boone clicked Accept
and his screen resolved into an image of a man seated at a large wooden desk. He was gray-haired but virile, with large hands and an impressively large watch. Beside him stood a middle aged woman in a severely tailored black suit, who handed him pieces of paper one at a time, waited for him to sign them and took them back, placing them in various folders she cradled in her arm.

  “Boone!” The man’s hearty voice was almost too much for the laptop’s speakers. “Good to finally meet you. This is an impressive proposal you have here.”

  Boone swallowed. It was true. Martin Fulsom—one of the greatest innovators of their time—had actually called him. “It’s good to meet you, too, Mr. Fulsom,” he managed to say.

  “Call me Martin,” Fulsom boomed. “Everybody does. Like I said, it’s a hell of a proposal. To build a fully operational sustainable community in less than six months? That take guts. Can you deliver?”

  “Yes, sir.” Boone was confident he could. He’d studied this stuff for years. Dreamed about it, debated it, played with the numbers and particulars until he could speak with confidence about every aspect of the community he wanted to build. He and his friends had gained a greater working knowledge of the fallout from climate change than any of them had gone looking for when they joined the Navy SEALs. They’d realized most of the conflicts that spawned the missions they took on were caused in one way or the other by struggles over resources, usually exacerbated by climate conditions. When rains didn’t come and crops failed, unrest was sure to follow. Next came partisan politics, rebellions, coups and more. It didn’t take a genius to see that climate change and scarcity of resources would be two prongs spearheading trouble around the world for decades to come.

  “And you’ll start with four families, building up to ten within that time frame?”