She wasn’t sure she could be happy if she had to go through life alone, never knowing what it was like to give birth, to nurse a baby at her breast. She wanted to look into her babies’ eyes the way her brothers and their wives did, and see Dad’s Cuban heritage in a little girl’s brown eyes and coal black hair, or their mother’s Swedish blood in the blue eyes and stubborn jaw of a little boy.
Mickey had inherited equal doses of her parents’ blood. She had her father’s thick dark hair and warm olive skin, and Mama’s crystal blue eyes. It was a combination her high school friends had envied, but sometimes she would have preferred Mama’s silky white blond hair and Dad’s rich brown eyes. But even if that might have helped her fit into Clayburn’s Euro-American population, the Valdez name—and the Catholic faith that came with it—would still have set her apart from a phonebook full of Andersens and Petersens, Schmidts and Johannsens.
She would die before she’d tell her brothers, but truth was, a chance to change her name was just one more reason she’d always longed to find a husband. Her brothers had all married nice Latina girls—never mind they were Mexican, not Cuban. They’d joined their wives’ churches and settled down to raise large, noisy families. And they were happy. Nauseatingly happy. They didn’t seem to feel out of place in the Midwest. Of course, they hadn’t stuck around Clayburn. Rick had headed to college, and Tony and Alex to trade school, straight out of high school. And they’d never come back to Clayburn except to visit her.
She wasn’t ashamed of her Cuban ancestry, but Mama’s Swedish blood was in her, too. Pure native Clayburn blood. Why did people have trouble remembering that?
She would never deny her surname, but she wouldn’t be sad to shed it someday. Maybe then everybody wouldn’t automatically assume that her father had worked the railroad (which he had) and against Grandpa Swenson’s will, Mama converted from her Lutheran faith so she and Dad could be married in the Catholic church (which they had).
Dad had been a good man and a good provider, and Grandpa Swenson mostly forgave all when Mickey’s brothers started coming along. But Mama always said it was Mickey who finally melted his heart. She was christened Michaela Joy, after Michael Swenson, and that sealed the deal.
Grandpa died when Mickey was ten, but she had happy memories of the white-haired man with twinkly blue eyes like Mama’s.
She missed her parents and ached to think her children would never know their Papa and Nana Valdez the way most of her brothers’ kids had. She looked into the playroom and saw the DeVore twins playing with Harley. Sometimes it made no sense that God allowed someone like Kaye DeVore to die while Mickey Valdez, who had no one who depended on her, no one who waited for her to come home at night, went unscathed.
Dad and Mama had raised their four children to believe that life wasn’t fair, wasn’t supposed to be fair, but that didn’t keep Mickey from wondering why. If God was omnipotent, as she’d been taught to believe, then he had the power to balance the inequities in the world. Why didn’t He just make things fair?
She glanced at the clock. Doug would be here any minute. He’d been much better about picking the kids up on time since that night she’d had to bring them home. Mickey suspected Brenda had said something to him, though she denied it. At any rate, neither of them had stayed late waiting for Doug for several weeks now.
She’d thought often of her time at the DeVores’. Kayeleigh and Landon hadn’t been in daycare since the end of January, since Kaye’s mother was back and helping out with the older kids after school. The twins and Harley seemed to be getting along okay—they laughed and played like the other kids, though they seemed to stick together and play apart from the other children more than before. She had to wonder what kind of lasting emotional damage they would have. Even as an adult, you didn’t lose your mother without it affecting you deeply.
She heard the front door open and looked up to see Doug making his way through the maze of toddler-sized furniture and bookshelves to where she stood.
He nodded at the watering can in her hand. “Trying to keep a little green in your life?”
“Trying. I haven’t done a very good job lately. Things are looking a little wilty.”
He pinched the leaf of a hibiscus between his index finger and thumb. “A good watering, they’ll spring back.”
She winced. “I just hope I haven’t waited too long.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. “I want to pay my bill.”
“Oh…okay. Let me get you a receipt.” She set the watering can down and crossed to the file cabinet.
Doug followed her and straddled a chair in front of her desk. He pulled a blank check from his wallet and selected a ballpoint pen from the pencil holder made by some long-ago daycare child.
The scratch of his pen stopped, and she realized he was waiting for her to tell him the amount. “Oh, sorry.” She checked the hours and read off the amount.
He filled it in and handed her the check, looking up at the bulletin board behind her. “I see you’re invited to the big wedding, too.”
She turned to follow his gaze to the invitation tacked up on the bulletin board. “Oh, yeah…Jack and Vienne’s. Are you going?” she asked. She hadn’t decided yet if she was or not. Probably the wedding, for Vienne’s sake. But there was a reception and dance at Latte-dah after the ceremony, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to subject herself to that.
“I suppose I’ll go. It’s all Kayeleigh’s talked about since the day the invitation came.”
Mickey smiled. “I loved weddings when I was her age too.” It was true, but she refrained from telling him that lately they only served to emphasize what she didn’t have.
Doug became preoccupied with a loose thread on the carpet, rubbing at it with the toe of his boot. “What do you think a guy’s supposed to wear to something like that? I’m not going to have to rent a tux or anything, am I?”
She curbed a grin. “No, you can just wear a regular suit. A tie would be nice.”
He tugged at the collar of his chambray shirt as if the mere thought of putting on a tie made him claustrophobic. “Okay, then. Well…maybe I’ll see you there. See if I can remember how to dance.” The sheepish grin he gave her did something funny to her insides.
Maybe she’d go to that dance after all. Her invitation said “and guest.” Maybe she could borrow one of her brothers to chaperone her for the evening. It would beat sitting home moping.
Chapter 10
Doug yanked at his tie and craned his neck to catch his reflection in the pickup’s rearview mirror.
“You look fine, Daddy.” Kayeleigh flashed him a telling smile. “You look handsome.”
Embarrassed at being caught primping like some girl, he patted her knee. “You look pretty fine yourself, young lady. That’s a nice dress. Grandma buy you that?”
She huffed. “No, Dad. Don’t you remember? Mommy made it for me. For the Christmas program.”
“The Christmas program? Last year? It still fits?” He didn’t remember seeing her wear the dress before.
“This year.” She stared straight ahead, out the windshield, looking like she might cry.
“Oh…okay.” Had he said something wrong? It didn’t seem to take much to set her off these days. How did he always manage to say exactly the wrong thing? “Well, you look awful pretty.”
She turned to him with a shy smile, her chin quivering. “Thanks.”
They rode the rest of the way into town in silence. Kayeleigh smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress until he thought she’d flat wear a hole in it. She must be feeling as nervous as he was. He’d never been big on weddings, but if Kaye were here, he would have simply followed her lead. Kaye was the life of any party, and wherever they went together, her vivacious personality had paved the way and made him look good.
Over three months—more than a quarter of the year—and it still hurt to think about her. How was he going to walk into that church alone? He reached ov
er and patted Kayeleigh’s knee. He wasn’t so sure he was glad he’d let her talk him into going, but if he was going, he was glad he had his daughter with him.
He watched her out of the corner of his vision. When had she gone and gotten so grown up? Like all their kids, Kayeleigh had her mother’s thick blond hair. But she had more DeVore blood in her than Thomas. Her features were sharper than the delicate Thomas profile the other kids had inherited. Still, Kayeleigh was every bit as pretty as her mother, even if she was in that gawky preadolescent stage. He’d noticed with chagrin that her figure had begun to take on the slightest of womanly curves. He didn’t even dare to ponder how he’d face that aspect of raising daughters without Kaye.
He pulled into the parking lot of Community Christian Church and parked beside Pete Truesdell’s truck. Kayeleigh already had her hand on the door handle.
“You have that card?”
She held up the oversized—and overpriced—wedding card she’d helped him pick out. Shoot, the card cost almost as much as the crisp twenty-dollar bill he’d tucked inside. He could almost hear Kaye chiding him for being such a cheapskate, but he had his kids to think about and money was going to be tight until after harvest. Assuming his wheat didn’t get hailed out. He climbed out of the pickup and peered up at the sky. Clouds swirled threateningly overhead. “Let’s go…before we get rained on.”
He went around the truck and grabbed Kayeleigh’s hand and they ran across the parking lot. He opened the door to the church and followed her inside. The vestibule was all decorated in candles and ribbon. Kaye would have been in hog heaven. Kayeleigh was. She looked up at him, beaming.
A girl in a fancy dress handed each of them a program and a tuxedoed usher—one of the Brunner boys, he thought—met them inside the sanctuary. “Friends of the bride or groom?”
Doug shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
The usher held out his arm for Kayeleigh. Snickering, she took it, but had to practically run to keep up with the long-legged fellow. He stopped at a pew five rows from the front and motioned for Kayeleigh to go in.
Doug followed her to the middle of the pew, feeling the eyes of the guests in the pews in front of them turn to gawk. He was grateful when they were seated and the rows behind them began to fill up. Two empty spaces separated him from the aisle to his left, and he settled in to the padded bench, grateful for room to stretch his legs. It didn’t last long. He had to straighten in his seat when another Brunner brother deposited Mickey Valdez beside him.
He smiled and mouthed a hello. Mickey cleaned up mighty nice, if he did say so himself. Instead of her usual ponytail, her dark hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and she wore sparkly earrings and a little lipstick or gloss or whatever the shiny stuff was called. Kaye had always said lipstick was the one makeup she could never live without.
Kayeleigh leaned around him and waved to Miss Valdez. He noticed Mickey was doing that same skirt-smoothing thing Kayeleigh had done all the way into town. Maybe it wasn’t just nerves. Maybe there was a reason behind it.
A minute later, Jack Linder stepped out from a door behind the choir loft, followed by Trevor Ashlock and another man Doug didn’t know. He felt a tug on the sleeve of his suit coat and turned to find Mickey eyeing his wedding program. “Can I look at that for a minute?” she whispered.
He handed her his program and motioned to the one Kayeleigh was studying. “Keep it. We have another one.”
The organist held a long note and switched the sheet music with one hand. The very air in the room seemed to change, and he recognized a song he’d heard at weddings before. Maybe even his own. He glanced over Kayeleigh’s shoulder at the program. “Trumpet Voluntaire,” it said. She squirmed in her seat until she was facing the back of the room. Everyone else seemed to be looking there too.
Suddenly, as if to some invisible cue, everyone stood up. Doug nudged Kayeleigh, and they stood with the rest, turning toward the back of the sanctuary where a very elegant Vienne Kenney floated down the aisle on Pete Truesdell’s arm. She wore a radiant smile, but she had eyes only for Jack.
Doug remembered that same look in Kaye’s eyes when she’d marched down the aisle of that big church in Salina. He thought she’d never looked so beautiful…until the day she held a newborn Kayeleigh in her arms. And then sweet Rachel––
His eyes stung and he had to look away.
Kayeleigh tugged on his coattail, her voice a stage whisper. “Daddy, I can’t see.”
Mickey must have overheard, for she motioned Kayeleigh to come and stand on the other side of her in front of the seat on the aisle. Doug put his hands on Kayeleigh’s shoulders and eased her past him and Mickey, giving the teacher a grateful smile.
Vienne stopped at the front pew where her mother hunched in a wheelchair. It was sad to see Ingrid Kenney so frail, but she beamed a crooked smile at her daughter and raised her head to receive Vienne’s kiss.
Pete turned the bride over to Jack and the couple moved to the altar. While the congregation took their seats, Kayeleigh scooted back in front of Mickey to sit beside Doug again. He put an arm around his daughter, relishing the feel of her warmth against him. Nothing like a wedding to remind a guy how lonely he was.
Jack repeated his vows, his voice strong and clear as he echoed the pastor. Doug felt genuinely happy for him. The poor guy had weathered some tough times, and it was good to see him finding happiness. How much more quickly might Jack have overcome his addiction to the bottle—or even avoided it altogether—had God only allowed him a glimpse of this day?
For a moment, Doug wished desperately for a glimpse into his own future. If he knew for sure that the sentiment of all those sympathy cards was true, that someday time would dull the edge of his agony, maybe he could start living again. He pulled Kayeleigh closer.
Every morning he went through the motions, punching the clock for Trevor, doing the farmwork, picking the kids up from daycare.
He couldn’t allow himself to think too hard about what his life had become, because he wasn’t sure such a life was worth living. And for his children’s sake, he needed to live.
Chapter 11
Kayeleigh sat by the front window of Latte-dah, saving Dad’s seat with her little pink wallet and her wedding program. The coffee shop didn’t even look like the same place Dad had brought her and Landon to for hot chocolate a couple of weeks ago.
Today, all the tables had been cleared away and chairs were lined up around the room, leaving the shiny floor in front of the fireplace clear for dancing. Dad came back from hanging up their coats just as Jack and Vienne cut into their three-story wedding cake. With a gleam in his eye, Jack smashed a hunk of the white cake into Vienne’s waiting mouth. Chewing and laughing at the same time, she tucked her veil behind her shoulders and did the same to Jack. Cameras flashed all over the room, like those strobe lights Seth Berger had at his birthday party last summer.
Kayeleigh wrinkled her nose. “Did you and Mom do that?”
Dad got a faraway look in his eye. “Yeah, we did. It’s tradition.”
Watching the bride try to pick icing out of her curly hair, Kayeleigh decided then and there that she didn’t want that tradition at her wedding. But she did want to have a toast with grape juice in fancy glasses and pretzel her arm through the groom’s to take sips as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen…” A DJ in the corner by the door got everyone’s attention. “The bride and groom will share their first dance as man and wife. Allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Linder.”
Everybody clapped and whistled while Jack and Vienne took the floor. Kayeleigh let a sigh escape. She hoped she looked as beautiful on her wedding day as Vienne Kenney. And that God put her with a husband as handsome as Jackson Linder. They danced like there was nobody else in the room. When the music died down, Jack kissed Vienne—and not the quick, soft kiss he’d given her when the minister pronounced them man and wife. This time his kiss made all the people clap and che
er. Kayeleigh felt her face grow warm.
The DJ invited everybody to dance. Dad grabbed her hand. “Come on…you want to dance?”
She hung back. There were only a few people on the floor, mostly grandmas and grandpas dancing the old-fashioned way. “Not yet, Dad. Wait till the next song.”
“Chicken,” he said. But she liked the way he winked at her. He tapped the seat of his chair. “Save my place. I’ll be back for the next dance.”
She nodded and watched Dad cross over and shake some guy’s hand. Probably somebody he worked with at the print shop. When Dad’s face got that sad look, she could tell the guy was saying something about Mom and Rachel. But then they talked more and Dad even laughed at something he said. That made her feel better.
Dad turned around and started back across the dance floor, but Wren Johanssen stopped him. Still smiling, he gave her a hug. She said something, then pointed her way.
She waved at Wren and Wren waved back, but then Wren led Dad over to where Miss Valdez was sitting. Dad shifted from one foot to the other, looking kind of embarrassed. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Wren was pointing to the dance floor like she wanted them to dance together.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seth Berger coming her way. She looked away, but not before he caught her eye. Her hands started sweating. He was going to ask her to dance. Come on, Dad. Hurry up…hurry up…
But even as she thought the words, another part of her prayed she would get to dance with Seth. She wiped her hands on her skirt and licked her lips.
“Hey, Kayeleigh…” Seth’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “You wanna”—he swung his head toward the dance floor—“you know…dance?”
He had on a white shirt with a tie. His dark hair had gel in it, and he’d gotten it cut since she’d seen him at school Friday. He looked really good.
Yesterday's Embers (Clayburn Novels Book 3) Page 6