ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

He shut the door behind him. “Excuse me, but we heard a noise—the clerks were busy so I offered to check. Is there a problem?”

  “Who are you?” The man looked from Grayson to a jittery Adrea, suspicion clouding his eyes. He took a menacing step toward Grayson.

  Drunk, disorderly, disheveled. The shop’s back door stood open. Had this guy just wandered in off the street or did he know Adrea? Though Grayson barely knew her, she didn’t seem like the type to hang out with drunks. Yet, the man seemed possessive toward her.

  “Just a customer.” Grayson offered his hand. “Grayson Sterling.”

  The man’s jaw dropped. He stepped back. Without another word, he spun around and ran out the back door, slamming it behind him. Vase-laden shelves rattled in his wake, but nothing fell.

  Odd reaction. Grayson turned back to Adrea.

  With shaking hands, she pushed dark bangs out of her too shiny, midnight blue eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Her voice quivered.

  Anything but fine. “I realize it’s none of my business, but should that guy be loose on the streets?”

  “He’s drunk, but he said he’s not driving, and he’d never intentionally harm anyone.” She stooped to retrieve the container from the heap in the floor. “I’m afraid I dropped your flowers.”

  He winced at the sight of the damaged roses, their heads forlornly nodding.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll make a new arrangement.” A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away. “It won’t take a minute.”

  His gut twisted. “There’s no rush. My son’s begging to go to the park anyway.” He knelt to retrieve errant leaves and petals. “Let me help you clean up this mess.”

  “That’s not necessary.” She grabbed several paper towels and sopped up the spill then took the refuse from him and threw it all in the trash. “I’ll take care of it.”

  With trembling fingers, she plucked the flowers, ruined or not, from a block of foam and tossed them into a compost bin. She grabbed a contraption and began stripping the thorns from a few fresh roses on the counter.

  He should go. But his feet wouldn’t move. The handprint on the drunk’s face proved she could take care of herself, yet she looked so shaken. So vulnerable.

  She winced and blood dripped onto the translucent petals of a white rose.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.” Calmly, she removed the embedded thorn and popped the fleshy part of her right thumb into her mouth, only to gag. She crumpled the crimson-stained rose in her fingers and tossed it in the bin.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really. And I’m sorry about the delay.” She washed the puncture. With no paper towels left, she rubbed her palms down slender, jean-clad thighs and dug out a fresh roll from under the sink.

  “It’s not a problem.”

  The back door opened, and the clerk he usually saw in the showroom entered. She frowned when she saw him.

  “Pastor Grayson? Is everything all right, Adrea?”

  A blush crept up Adrea’s neck. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Good to see you, Rachel.” He offered his hand. “I wondered where you were today.”

  “Just had a couple of deliveries.”

  “Well, I better get back to Dayne.” What if the drunk came back? He ran his hand over his jaw and turned back to Adrea. “You really should consider locking the back door in the future.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened.

  “I’ll come back in about forty-five minutes. No rush.” With one more glance toward Adrea, he strolled back to the showroom.

  The door shut behind him, and Adrea darted to the floral refrigerator.

  The perfect romantic hero. A knight in shining sterling.

  But a deep sadness lurked in the emerald depths of his sparkling eyes. The knight had lost his lady.

  Arms laden, she chose another container.

  “What happened?” Rachel crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.

  Adrea unloaded on the worktable and touched a tender blossom to her nose. “Nothing happened, other than some broken flowers.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” A storm brewed in Rachel’s brown eyes. “How did the flowers get broken, and why did Pastor Grayson think you needed to lock the back door?”

  “Wade stopped by,” she squeaked.

  Rachel propped her hands on slim hips. “Isn’t he supposed to be in Missouri?”

  “Probably just here to visit his mother.” Though Helen hadn’t mentioned it. “He was drunk.”

  Adrea’s gaze locked on her sister’s.

  The phone rang. Adrea reached for it, but the red light already glowed. One of the salesclerks had nabbed the call.

  “I just don’t want you falling for his ‘poor me’ routine.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you almost married him.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t.” She picked up the rose-stripper.

  “Thank You, God.” Rachel looked heavenward.

  “Listen, I know you have this thing about trying to protect me, but I can take care of myself. I can handle Wade.”

  “You sure about that? You seem kind of shaky to me.”

  “I’d never seen him drunk before. He’d been sober for two years when we met.” Adrea hugged herself. “He’s like a different person.” And it’s my fault he started drinking again.

  “The nerve of the jerk. Today of all days.”

  “Can we drop it?” Finished with the roses, she inspected her thumb. Another split nail, just from arranging flowers. Flimsy and paper-thin, they’d never recovered from her childhood nervous habit of biting. And Wade’s visit made her want to do more than nibble.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “It was just a thorn.” Adrea held her hand out for her sister to see. “It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

  “I didn’t mean your thumb.” Rachel touched her arm.

  “I’m fine. Really.” She took several cleansing breaths and slowly rotated the flowers to inspect them from every angle. Satisfied, she turned her back to the counter and leaned against it, begging her heart to slow. “Can you take the roses out front? And let’s not charge him since he had to wait.”

  “Sure.” Rachel picked up the arrangement and turned toward the showroom.

  Adrea grabbed a heart-shaped crystal vase off the shelf. She filled it with red rosebuds, fern fronds, and baby’s breath, then turned to the final bridal bouquet of the day.

  She started with a cluster of fuchsia stargazer lilies in the center and worked them into a V shape. She loved the traditional cascading type rather than the popular rounded, hand-tied variety. It was what she’d planned to use for her wedding.

  As the bouquet took shape, she imagined it in the trembling fingers of a blushing bride. She clasped it in front of her and stutter-stepped across the floor.

  “Dun, dun, duh-duh. Dun, dun, duh-duh.”

  The showroom door opened and Adrea’s measured stride faltered.

  Helen’s blue-tinged updo blended with her periwinkle suit. Southern Belle to the bone. She looked a good eight years younger than sixty-five.

  With a wistful sigh, Adrea went back to the worktable to add more baby’s breath. “I was just wondering why anyone would come halfway across the country to get married in Romance. We even have a couple coming from New York this year. Do they think the name of our town will guarantee their happily-ever-afters?”

  “Someday”—Helen hugged her—“you’ll make a lovely bride, with all that dark hair and creamy complexion. I’m sorry this is such a difficult day for you, dear. And I’m sorry about Wade. I told him to leave you alone.”

  “It was no big deal.” She’d hoped Helen wouldn’t learn of his visit to the shop.

  “I so wanted you to be my daughter.”

  Adrea’s chin trembled. “I so wanted to be your daughter.”

  Helen handed her several fuchsia ribbons. “Good news; I think
Pastor Grayson has decided not to resign.”

  “Actually, I met him this morning.”

  “He’s such a wonderful pastor.” Helen clasped her hands together. “It’s just been really hard for him since Sara died.”

  “Maybe God gave him a gentle nudge to stay in the ministry.” Adrea threaded the satiny strands through the blossoms and snipped off the ends, leaving several trailing wisps shimmering along the stems. After final inspection, she wrapped the creation in white tissue paper and gently packed it in a large carton with the bridesmaids’ bouquets.

  She kneaded the tendons in her cramping hands and turned to the numerous corsages and boutonnieres lining the worktable. With sore, raw fingers, she stuck long, pearl-studded pins into the stems of each one.

  Helen tucked the finished product into clear cellophane bags.

  Weddings. With vehemence, Adrea jabbed the pin into the groom’s rosebud.

  “Careful.” Helen took the boutonniere from her. “You need a break.”

  “I do.” Her stomach knotted at the irony of her words. “Two more weddings to deliver, then we’re out of here.”

  With Dayne tucked in bed, Grayson stood on the back porch, stroking Cocoa’s velvety ears. The heavy dog leaned against his leg.

  When he’d returned for the arrangement, everything seemed calm at the floral shop. The salesclerk had tried not to charge him, but he’d paid anyway.

  Was Adrea okay? He couldn’t get her trembling hands and voice off his mind.

  He looked up at the stars and drained his coffee cup. Caffeine couldn’t hurt him. He never slept anyway.

  Stepping inside, he took off his coat and sniffed the air. Apple and cinnamon. Something baking, as usual, in the freshly painted pale peach kitchen. Sara’s favorite color. But it wasn’t the same.

  He sat at the pedestal table and lay his face against the cool oak surface.

  “Gray, you okay?” Grace’s voice quivered.

  “I miss the old house.” He pushed up from the table. “I miss her.”

  Grace’s slender arms came around his shoulders, and she rested her chin on top of his head.

  His twin had given up her life to help with Dayne. She’d cut back her thriving catering business in Searcy and moved to Rose Bud with them. All for him. For his future. A future without Sara.

  Only to hear him grumble about the new house because the air didn’t smell of Sara’s soft, sweet perfume.

  “It’s just a bad day.” He ran his hands over the smooth wood. Sara had ordered the table from a catalog and waited three weeks for it to arrive. She’d made an adventure out of it by sewing a red and white checked blanket and serving picnics on the floor.

  “I took her clothes to the Red Cross for hurricane victims this morning. But not the curtains she made. Even though they don’t fit any of the windows here…” Grayson closed his eyes. “I just couldn’t.”

  “I know it was hard, but you did good.” She hugged him tighter. “Sara would be glad her things went to people who needed them.”

  He concentrated on not letting her feel the sobs welling within his chest.

  Grace patted his shoulder. Grabbing his empty coffee cup, she walked over to the counter. “How was the wedding?”

  “I pasted a smile on my face, joined the happy couple in holy matrimony, and took Dayne to the cemetery.” Poor Dayne. A five-year-old shouldn’t think it was normal to go to the cemetery on Valentine’s Day.

  He stared out the window at the inky sky. “I never imagined this day would be anything other than a joyous occasion for Sara and I to share a special, romantic dinner. Instead of celebrating with my wife, I left the church where we were married to place flowers at a cold, marble stone.”

  She poured a cup of coffee and added one teaspoon each of creamer and sugar. When she turned to face him again, her shiny eyes swam in unshed tears.

  Lifelong friends with Sara, she hurt almost as bad as he did.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe the move was a bad idea.” She set the cup in front of him.

  “It’s not that.” He took her hand. “I shouldn’t have let the deacons talk me into staying at the church. I should have resigned back when Sara died.”

  “They don’t expect miracles.” She stepped behind him again and massaged the tense muscles in his shoulders. “They know what you’ve been through.”

  “I need to seclude myself in the office and not come out until I have a sermon for Sunday. I need to go see Mrs. Jones. I haven’t checked on her since the funeral.” How can I comfort the grieving, when I still grieve?

  “Why don’t you take them up on hiring an associate pastor?” Grace pulled a chair beside him and sat.

  “Palisade has never had an associate.”

  “I know, but the church has grown, and I think it’s high time you got some assistance.”

  An associate could hold the church together so I can fall apart in peace. Tempting. He could call his old professor for recommendations. See if there might be someone local…

  “It’s just the day. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

  “We both will be.” She kissed his cheek.

  The February morning air burned Adrea’s lungs. Each breath formed a visible cloud as she jogged around the walking trail.

  Another Valentine’s Day behind her and she hadn’t handled any weddings for two days. She silently thanked God for the much-needed reprieve.

  With the park to herself, memories stirred of the many times she’d set up flowers for countless happy couples there. Maybe a jog wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  A cream-colored sedan pulled into the parking lot. A small boy in a marshmallow-puffed coat bounced from the car, followed by a chocolate Labrador retriever. A hooded man, probably his father, braved the frigid air. She looked away from yet another reminder of what she didn’t have.

  “No, Cocoa! Come back!” The boy’s voice cut through the stillness.

  “Dayne! Stop!” the man yelled.

  As she turned toward the commotion, she saw the small boy, his little face awash in tears, chasing the Lab. Tongue lolling, the dog gained a huge lead, leash dancing behind.

  Adrea gasped as the pair veered straight for the highway. Darting from the path, she cut in front of the dog and stomped one foot solidly on the leash. She grabbed it before he could jerk it away and send her tumbling. Momentum threatened to propel her after the large animal, but she pulled with her entire body weight until he stopped.

  The boy caught up, sniffling. As he buried his face in the dog’s coat, the man joined them.

  An incredibly handsome man. Grayson Sterling.

  His breathing came in raspy wheezes. Young and in good shape, it didn’t make sense for him to be so short of breath.

  “Are you all right?”

  He clutched his chest and opened his mouth. Only a gasp came out.

  Why didn’t I ever take CPR? She tried to remember what she’d heard about injuries he’d sustained in the wreck. Nothing to do with his lungs. Just his knee.

  The boy stared wide-eyed, tears again coursing down his cheeks.

  Chapter 2

  Sit down here.” Adrea motioned to a bench. Heart ricocheting, she grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “No, don’t.” Grayson sucked in a ragged breath between each word. “I’m feeling better.”

  “You sure?”

  “I tried to run and hurt my knee.”

  That didn’t explain his shortness of breath.

  His eyes darted to the little boy.

  Taking his cue, she knelt to the child’s level and tried to sound calmer than she felt. “He’ll be just fine.”

  After several breaths, the gasping gradually eased. “With my bad knee, I can’t keep up with these two. I could just see Cocoa running into traffic, with Dayne right on his tail.”

  Tires locked up and squealed nearby, as if for emphasis.

  With a wince, he closed his eyes.

  Adrea cringed, waiting fo
r the crash. Thankfully, none came.

  Grayson cleared his throat. “Dayne, did you say thank you?”

  The boy turned his tear-streaked face toward her. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I love dogs.”

  Several chocolate-colored hairs stuck to the boy’s wet cheeks.

  “Maybe you should take this.” Adrea handed the leash to Grayson and fished a fresh tissue from her pocket to wipe away the fur and tears.

  “We really appreciate your help.” With his breathing returning to normal, he placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Don’t ever run off like that again, Dayne.”

  “Sorry, Daddy.” The boy looked at the ground.

  “If Cocoa ever gets away again, just call him. Once the squirrel climbed the tree, he would have come back if you had simply called him.”

  “But I don’t want him to go to heaven, too.” The boy’s chin puckered.

  A hard lump formed in Adrea’s throat.

  Grayson hugged his son. “He probably wouldn’t have run into the street. He’s smart. Full of life, but smart. From now on, I’ll hold his leash.”

  “Okay.”

  Adrea watched in silence, until Grayson turned back to her.

  “Sorry to drag you into our little melodrama.” Grayson’s voice fell flat. No life left. “Dayne, this is Adrea. She does Mommy’s flowers.”

  The boy shook her hand. Adorable.

  “At Miss Helen’s store? She goes to our church.”

  “Actually, my sister and I just bought the shop, but Miss Helen still works a few days a week.” She tweaked the child’s cold-reddened nose. Though he was blond, he had his father’s striking green eyes, paired with numerous dimples.

  “Again, we appreciate your assistance today.” Grayson clicked his tongue at Cocoa. “We better go; I need to get to the church and it’s colder than I realized.”

  She watched him leave. Going through the motions for his son’s sake.

  Alone at the shop at the end of a long day, Adrea couldn’t get her mind off the encounter with what was left of the Sterling family, though two days had passed. For six years, she’d created white rose arrangements for Sara and never met them. Now, she’d bumped into Grayson three times within a week. Weird.