Set the Night on Fire

by Laura Trentham

  He leaned in so she could hear him over the music. “Can we talk?”

  She nodded and took his hand, leading him behind the platform and along the grassy bank of the river until they left the crowd behind. The sun was setting, turning the sky brilliant colors. The wildflowers along the bank swayed in the slight breeze.

  “It went even better than I expected,” Ella said. “Once I get totals in from the food vendors, I’ll have a better idea how much money we collected for Marigold and Dave.”

  “You did an amazing job.”

  “It was a team effort. I was thinking—”

  “There’s something I need to say.” He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. This moment had been percolating for weeks. Ever since the day the lawyer had dropped off the contract he’d ripped up.

  “You know having the garage in Abbott hands has been an important goal for me.”

  Trepidation tempered the joy on her face. “I assumed you were past that.”

  “I’m not. It’s still something I want.”

  “I’ll sell you my part, Mack, if it’s that damn important to you.” She propped her hands on her hips. “I thought I was just as important though.”

  He wanted to smile at the ignition of passion, but he was too nervous. “I don’t want to buy you out. I want to make you an Abbott.” He cleared his throat. “In my bumbling way, I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “Marry you?” All the fire in her eyes had been replaced by shock.

  “I want to make it legal. I love you and want us to be partners in everything for forever. If you’ll take me.” He fished out the ring box that had been burning a hole in his pocket all day and dropped to one knee.

  She grasped her throat and her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

  “Geez, woman, put me out of my misery one way or another.”

  “Yes. Of course, yes. Oh my God.” She held out a trembling hand, and his was none too steady as he slipped the ring on her finger. “I love you, too, but I thought you were against marriage.”

  He recalled the conversation they’d had in his truck on the way to Rufus’s. It seemed a long time ago. “I had a change of opinion. What about you? I thought your experience ruined you on marriage forever.”

  She grinned. “I had a change of heart.”

  His heart swelled and his head grew swimmy. He stood and leaned in to kiss her. A kiss full of promises and endless sunsets and sunrises.

  Read on for a bonus epilogue!

  A Cottonbloom Wedding: Wyatt and Sutton

  Wyatt opened his eyes to the sound of rain on the roof of the barn. Through the skylights, the rain turned the world gray, masking time. His internal clock told him it was midmorning. Later than he usually rose, but plenty of time considering the wedding wasn’t until three in the afternoon.

  The wedding.

  His stomach flopped like a frog trying to escape a gigging. He was excited, but nervous. Even though he and Sutton had been living together for months, marriage was a commitment he’d never thought he’d make. Not because he didn’t believe in the institution, but because as an Abbott twin, he hadn’t expected to escape the curse. None of many sets of Abbott twins through the years, his aunts Hazel and Hyacinth included, had married.

  Movement at the door to his old room drew his head up. Rubbing his eyes, Jackson shuffled in, lay down next to Wyatt, and pulled the quilt to his chin. It felt like the old days when they’d shared a room and bunk beds. Having his twin brother close was his security blanket—a comfort beyond measure.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Jackson said in a scratchy voice. “How’s your head?”

  Wyatt, Jackson, Mack, and Ford had stayed up late drinking beer and talking. They’d tried to take Wyatt out for a bachelor party but all he’d really wanted was to hang with his brothers. Having Ford back in the fold was like finally getting their family engine running smooth.

  Ford had crashed with Mack, Ella had stayed at her old house with Megan, and Willa had stayed with Sutton, which left Wyatt and Jackson back where they had started so many years ago.

  “Now that you mention it, my head hurts, but I’ve been in worse shape,” Wyatt said.

  “You remember that time we snuck out into the woods with a bottle of Jack?”

  Just the memory made him feel queasy. “I couldn’t sit down for a week after Pop got hold of us.”

  Their laughter joined before petering out, leaving the sound of the rain. Besides his brother, the feeling of being close to nature was the one thing he missed about living in the loft with the skylights overhead.

  “Rain is supposed to be good luck for a wedding,” Jackson said.

  “Says who? Seems more like a bad omen to me.” Although his voice was light, he was only half-teasing.

  “You worried about the curse striking you like a bolt of lightning? Relax. I already broke it for you.” Jackson knuckle-punched Wyatt’s arm, but it lacked any force from their prone positions.

  Jackson and Willa had run off to the justice of the peace and gotten hitched months before without telling anyone or making a big hullaballoo about it. In fact, they were back to work the next day as if nothing momentous had happened. Yet, Wyatt could sense a change in Jackson like a river carving a new path through bedrock.

  “I wish I could have talked Sutton into eloping like you and Willa.”

  “This wedding is important to Sutton and her mama. All you have to do is stand up there in your monkey suit and do what they tell you to do.”

  Jackson was right, of course. Sutton had designed and sewed her own wedding dress and her mama had invited half the parish to witness the vows. He would endure as long as Sutton was happy. At least he wouldn’t be alone—his brothers would be standing up front with him in identical monkey suits.

  A snicker born of a long history of brotherly torture snuck out of Wyatt. “Getting Mack into a tux might be my life’s greatest accomplishment.”

  “He acted like a disgruntled toddler at the fitting until Ella whispered something in his ear that made him blush. After that, he was the definition of compliant.”

  A grin spread over Wyatt’s face. “I wish I could have seen him. I’ll have to admit the garage is a more pleasant workplace since Ella tamed the beast.”

  Jackson’s laugh faded into his characteristic seriousness. “I’m glad he’s happy. Ella’s a good woman.”

  “Good? She’s a saint for dealing with Mack’s grumpy ass.” Wyatt sat up. “Speaking of asses, we should move ours. Sutton’s mama will string us all up if we throw off her schedule. I swear she has it down to the minute.”

  Jackson grabbed Wyatt’s arm before he could rise. “Hey, bro. I’m glad you’re happy too.”

  Wyatt stared for a moment into Jackson’s eyes. Wyatt’s breath squeezed out of his lungs. Their shared family history—good and bad—was written in Jackson’s eyes and, no doubt, reflected back from Wyatt’s. The fact all of the brothers, including Ford in his roundabout way, had found their places in the world was a near miracle.

  No more needed to be said. Jackson let go and the solemnity of moment passed into a kind of excited peace as they got ready. They laughed through tying each other’s bow tie. After smoothing the lapels of his black jacket, Wyatt gave a twirl.

  “How do I look?”

  “Not as god-awful ugly as usual.” Jackson smiled, his eyes twinkling.

  Coming from one of his brothers, it was a compliment. Wyatt was ready to get hitched.

  He took one more look around the loft. Although he hadn’t lived there in months, and Willa’s touch could be seen from the matching dishes in the kitchen to the built-in bookcases flanking the TV and filled with books, a sense of melancholy finality overcame him.

  But he was ready to move on to the next phase of his life with Sutton. He jogged down the stairs and didn’t look back. The back barn doors were open a couple of feet, the rain obscuring the woods and puddling in the entry.

  Ford and Mack milled around the couch
. They too were in their rented tuxes. Ford’s bow tie was neatly tied and his jacket was on while Mack’s tie hung loose and his jacket was thrown over the back of the couch.

  “There’s the man.” Mack pulled him into a big bear hug, lifting his feet off the ground like he used to when they were kids. Mack was still the biggest and strongest of all of them. Once released, Wyatt exchanged a fist bump with Ford, then the four of them stood in a quiet semicircle.

  “Pop would happy to see us all together,” Wyatt said gruffly.

  “All of us settled and happy and the garage thriving,” Ford added.

  Mack clapped him on the back. “He’d be proud. Of all of us.”

  Age-old rivalries and tensions had been finally vanquished. Having all his brothers there to stand next to him while he took the biggest leap of his life was more important than he could put into words. Yet, he had to try.

  “Guys, I don’t want to get too sappy, but—”

  A crack of thunder had them all jumping. The rain outside turned from a downpour into a deluge.

  “That was close. Lightning must have hit a tree.” Jackson peered out the back door careful to stay out of the spray of rain. “Should we wait until it dies down?”

  A niggle of unease had the hairs on Wyatt’s neck standing on end. Or maybe it was the electricity vibrating the air. He checked his watch. They had plenty of time, yet an urgency to get to the church had Wyatt pacing.

  Fifteen minutes later, the rain had eased up enough to see the tree line in the distance. Sure enough, a pine tree looked as if God had taken an axe and split the trunk down the middle. Wyatt swallowed and turned to his brothers. “Not sure it’s going to get any better for a while. Let’s hit it.”

  They filed out of the barn and made a run for Mack’s black truck, shaking the rain out of their hair and brushing their jackets once they were safe and dry inside. Mack cranked the engine, flipped the wipers to their fastest speed, and eased them onto the road where water sluiced across the pavement in mini-waves.

  Mack gripped the steering wheel with both hands and sat forward in his seat, his concentration focused on the rain-camouflaged road. Wyatt pulled out his phone and pulled up his weather app.

  A yell came from Ford in the front seat. A heartbeat later, the truck jerked to the left and hydroplaned. They came to an abrupt stop. Wyatt’s head knocked into the door, and he blinked to clear the ringing in his ears. Tilted into a shallow gully, the front end of the truck was against a tree. Luckily, Mack hadn’t been going fast enough to do major damage.

  “Everyone okay?” Mack turned in his seat, his brows low.

  “What happened?” Jackson asked.

  “Looked like a white-tailed deer to me. Jumped right out in front of us.” Ford unclipped his seat belt and turned too.

  “I hit the brakes and managed to miss him but skid out.” Mack blew out a breath. “How you doing back there, Wyatt?”

  “Fine.” The ringing in his ears had abated but the side of his face throbbed. He shifted to check himself in the rearview mirror.

  “Ah, shit. Your face.” Mack looked horrified. Which in turn freaked Wyatt out.

  Wyatt touched his cheek. It was wet. He looked at his fingers. They were red. Spatters dotted the front of his formerly pristine white shirt. “I’m bleeding.”

  Jackson turned him around and grimaced. “You busted your eyebrow open and your eye is already swelling. Damn.”

  “Sutton is going to kill me,” Mack muttered.

  Ford handed a napkin back to Wyatt. He pressed it against his eyebrow. “No one’s going to die today. I’ll slap a Band-Aid on it and one of you will change shirts with me. No one will be looking at me anyway. Let’s see how good the four-wheel drive is in this monster.”

  Mack cranked the truck. The engine clicked but didn’t turn over.

  “On the other hand, Sutton may indeed kill you if you can’t get me to the church on time.” Wyatt tried to inject a tease, but the anxious knot in his stomach elbowed out his sense of humor.

  Mack ran a hand through his hair. “It could be something simple like the battery cable coming loose. Let me check.”

  He popped the hood and slipped out into the pelting rain. Two minutes later, he dropped the hood and Wyatt expelled a sigh of relief. That had been fast. Mack climbed back in accompanied by a litany of curses.

  “Radiator is busted. We’re stuck.” He punched the steering wheel.

  Jackson said, “Alright, not a tragedy. Is Landrum in town yet? He’d be happy to help out.”

  “He had a deal to close and wasn’t coming up until today.” Wyatt leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “The aunts should be able to squeeze us into the Crown Vic.”

  “I was going to pick them up later so they wouldn’t have to drive in this mess. What about Ella or Willa?”

  “Ella’d have to make four trips with her tiny convertible. Plus, I’d rather Sutton didn’t hear about this so she won’t stress. I’ll call the aunts.” Wyatt grabbed his phone from where it had fallen on the floorboard. The screen was covered in tiny cracks and remained dark. “My phone is busted worse than my face.”

  Mack picked up his phone and punched a contact. Wyatt met his gaze in the mirror.

  “Aunt Hy. The boys and I need a favor.”

  While Mack gave her a brief rundown, Wyatt asked, “Does anyone else appreciate the irony?”

  “What? The fact three and a half—sorry, Ford—mechanics are sitting in a broken-down truck on the side of the road waiting for a lift?” Jackson settled back in his seat and propped his foot up on the middle console.

  “That, but mostly because we’re waiting for Hy and Hazel to roll up in their Crown Vic. A car that’s been in our shop more than any car ever.” Wyatt checked the napkin. His face seemed to have stopped bleeding.

  “Considering the number of times we’ve changed the oil and air filter and given it a once-over, it’s the most reliable car in the parish,” Jackson said.

  “As long as Aunt Hy doesn’t hit anything on the way over.” Mack elbowed Jackson’s foot off the console.

  “What? Like you did?” Jackson shot back.

  “Touché.”

  * * *

  “What? You can’t be serious.” Sutton’s stomach took a flying leap to flail on the floor. “How did it happen?”

  Clutching her robe together with her hair coiffed and shellacked into place, Sutton’s mother paced in front of the twin bed Sutton had slept in as a child. Her teenage posters still decorated the walls, giving the room a time-warp feel. Sitting on the bed, Willa looked like Sutton felt—horrified.

  “Bad oysters. You didn’t have any, did you?”

  “I was too nervous to eat much, but no. Obviously, neither of you ate them either.” She glanced back and forth at the two of them

  “No. I didn’t.” Her mother covered her mouth.

  “What? Spit it out, Mother.”

  “You know how much your father loves shellfish.”

  Sutton sank to the edge of the bed. Nausea rose but it was due entirely to nerves and not tainted oysters. “Wyatt had the steak last night, so he should be fine.”

  “So did Jackson,” Willa said.

  “Who else is sick?” Sutton looked up at her mother who still had her mouth covered.

  “Reverend Mitchell. The organist. The florist. Several others too.”

  Sutton fell backward and pulled a pillow over her head, not caring if her hair was squished at this point. The pouring rain had been unwelcome but not a surprise after keeping an eye on the front moving through. Finding out half the wedding party had been poisoned at the rehearsal dinner might not qualify as a tragedy, but it was a shock.

  “Could I have a minute alone?” She didn’t raise the pillow until the door snicked closed.

  Without rising, she reached for her phone and called Wyatt. Even though he couldn’t fix things, she needed to hear his voice. Straight to voicemail. She tried again. No answer.

  No need to panic. He wa
s with Jackson, and no one was more levelheaded than Jackson. Except when he got a wild hair and raced hell-bent for leather around a racetrack. Oh God. She punched his name with a trembling finger.

  “Sutton. Great to hear from you.” Jackson’s voice had an artificial cheeriness.

  “Are you with Wyatt? He’s not answering his phone.”

  “Yeah, he’s right here. Hang on a second.”

  Confined, muffled conversation overlay the noise of rain. Even though she wasn’t going to see him before walking down the aisle, knowing he was on the way to her beat back the tears that threatened.

  “Hey, babe.” Wyatt’s warm voice was like an enveloping hug.

  “God, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “We’re fine. How did you hear?”

  “Mother told me.”

  “Wow. News travels fast.”

  “So none of you are sick?”

  “Sick?” There was a pause on his end. “Let’s back up. What are you talking about?”

  “The food poisoning.”

  “Aw, hell. From what?”

  “The oysters last night. My dad, the minister, the organist, and no telling who else.” Her brain whirred, and she sat up. “Hang on. What were you talking about?”

  “Dang it, Aunt Hy, slow down. It’s not a race.” His voice came over as if he’d dropped the phone from his mouth. Then, he was back. “Sorry, Aunt Hy thinks she can drive the parish roads like Jackson.”

  “Why is Miss Hyacinth driving you and not Mack? Is he sick?”

  “Not sick. We’re all fine and crammed into the Crown Vic with Hy and Hazel. I’m getting a sharp elbow from Aunt Hazel right now. Hang on.” A pause. “She wants me to tell you how much she’s looking forward to the wedding.”

  “There’s not going to be a wedding if we don’t have a preacher. And I’m not sure if my father will be well enough to walk me down the aisle.” Her tears were back at the thought of canceling.