A Bride For Mr. Right (Redbud Romance Book 2)

by Carol Hutchens

  “Really?”

  “Yep,” Sam’s eyes glittered with humor, “but I doubt that’s what you heard.”

  Edee gulped, knowing there was a question in the look he sent her, but she kept her face blank as she pinned pieces of the cow together. She wasn’t ready to stick her neck out any more than she already had.

  “You can count on J.T.” Sam chuckled. “I remember this one time in high school. The Principal bought an old, run down truck.” Sam shifted in the chair, and crossed the opposite ankle over his knee. “His wife was our English teacher, and she had a fit.”

  Picking up a pincushion, he stabbed pins in a design. “It was tense in class for days. I’ve never seen a woman pinch her mouth that tight.”

  Edee laughed at the image playing through her head. “What happened?”

  “About three or four days later, the Principal stormed in during our class…this was senior year, so we had all figured out the problem.

  “He crashes the door against the wall and stalks up to the teacher’s desk and she just kept on reading to the class as if he didn’t exist.” Sam chuckled. “Right in front of the whole class, he says in this calm voice. “You win, Nell. I can’t go back on the trade, but I promise I won’t take that truck to the shop when it breaks down.”

  “What happened?” Edee managed around a laugh.

  “The teacher lifted her head. Gave him a regal stare and said, ‘Very well, James. I’ll hold you to your word.’” Sam shook his head and laughed. “She hated that truck. I never saw her ride in it, not once.”

  “She sounds tough.” Edee’s heart hammered against her ribs as she realized Sam was filling in the details she had been desperate to learn.

  “But here’s the funny part. Mr. Oliver loved that truck so much he drove it everywhere, except to church on Sundays. A couple months before graduation, the engine started knocking.” Sam shifted in the chair and put the pincushion down.

  “He would drive on the school grounds with that engine making so much noise we couldn’t hear the teacher.” Sam laughed and picked up a tape measure. “Mrs. Oliver would stare at the window and get this smirk on her face. She never said a word, but you could tell she was just waiting for that old truck to break down. After the Principal promised he wouldn’t spend money taking the truck to the shop, and she had a class full of witness.”

  “I bet the Principal broke his promise!”

  Sam pointed his finger at her. “That was one woman you didn’t cross…even her own husband didn’t dare.” Shaking his head, he laughed. “But, the truck broke down, and, man, was the Principal sad. He had run the wheels off that thing, and more than got his money back on his purchase. But he loved driving that truck.”

  “Did he buy a new truck?”

  Sam shook his head, amusement lighting his hazel eyes to a bright glow.

  “Nope. He kept his promise. But he was good at math, even if he couldn’t tell one end of a wrench from the other.” Sam snorted as he reached for the pincushion and started jabbing pins, again. “So, he went to a junk yard in Mt. Airy and helped the owner get his books in shape just in time to file income taxes.”

  Edee frowned. “So—”

  Sam held up a finger, stopping her question. “In exchange for his work, he took used parts off the junked vehicles. Even in those days, J.T. could fix anything with a motor.” He squinted as if looking back in the past. “A few days after the truck broke down, the Principal pulled in the school lot, with that old green Chevy purring like a kitten.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Just our luck, we were sitting in English class.” Sam’s shoulders shook with laughter. “The teacher’s face turned all shades of red. A few minutes later, the Principal marched in with his head high, and right there, in front of the whole class, he said, ‘Nell, I kept my word. I didn’t spend a penny on repairs. But my truck is fixed, and I’m proud of it.”

  “W-wh-at did his wife say?” Edee asked around giggles.

  “Her mouth scrunched up like she had been sucking a lemon. Everything was so quiet you could hear the clock ticking…except for a couple of snickers from the back of the room.

  “To this day, some people in the class will swear they saw smoke coming out her ears. But when she heard the snickers, she turned a glare on the class and loaded us down with homework for the rest of the year.”

  “Did she ever find out how the truck got repaired?”

  Sam shrugged. “A few days later, rumors started going around about J.T. taking the engine out of the Principal’s truck.” His grin disappeared. “Sad thing was, that was the only part of the story that got circulated. No one ever bothered to mention that the Principal asked J.T. to work on the truck.”

  Edee felt as if sparklers had gone off in her head. All this time, people had thought J.T. was the bad guy. “Why didn’t someone tell the truth?”

  “Are you kidding?” Sam stood up as Ellie returned. “Do you have any idea how much homework a senior English teacher can assign a class when she gets riled? She had already doubled our assignments because we had witnessed the confrontation. We made a pack to keep the story quiet.”

  “J.T., too?”

  “Especially, J.T. He didn’t want to lose his after school jobs because of homework.”

  “Sam!” Ellie gasped. “You’ll never guess who was on the phone! The designer I studied with in New York.”

  ***

  Edee mulled over Sam’s story all afternoon. As soon as the sewing circle broke up, she headed home with her brain consumed by what she had learned.

  Sam’s story made her laugh…and made her want to cry.

  All this time, the tale of J.T. taking the principal’s truck apart had made him look like the bad-guy, when the truth was just the opposite.

  J.T. could have cleared his name if he had told his version of the story. Then she realized he had kept quiet because of his pride…that explained his silence.

  He hadn’t wanted the extra homework. But her guess was that he hadn’t wanted to cause his teacher pain by admitting he had fixed the truck she despised.

  All this time, he had kept quiet, when the truth would have cleared his name.

  It was just too bad the truth hadn’t traveled fast enough to keep J.T. from feeling he had to leave home.

  With that thought echoing in her head, she made up her mind. If she was going to live in Redbud, she intended to make things right for J.T.

  ***

  “You want dancing lessons?” Edee stared at Pauline and the other women attending the committee meeting in the town hall. With the Strawberry Festival less than a month away, planning sessions had intensified. Pauline had drafted her to help on the decorating committee as well as the kissing booth. “I-I…all of you?”

  The women exchanged speaking glances, and then nodded, in unison.

  “We want everything perfect for the festival.” Pauline’s blue eyes twinkled. “Besides, lessons don’t seem to be hurting J.T.”

  Memories of J.T.’s dance lessons flashed through Edee’s head making her face flush. “Well, I—”

  “Brandy’s cousin spotted you two out on the town Saturday night.” Pauline winked. “Course, we know you were practicing your dancing skills for the festival, but from Denise’s comments to Brandy, you two were looking very chummy.”

  “And professional,” Brandy added. “Denise said you knew the latest dance steps.”

  “We want everything to be perfect, in case Shawn and Dawn come to the Ball.” A woman in a brown sweater said. After a few seconds, Edee remembered the librarian’s name was Nell Oliver.

  The other women nodded in agreement.

  “Shawn and Dawn?” Edee repeated, wrinkling her brow.

  “Sam’s cousin is Shawn Thorpe, the movie star.” Pauline shuffled the stack of paper in her hand with sudden fluttery movements. “I haven’t heard that he and Dawn are coming.”

  “Mr. Hale at the Gazette wants an interview if Shawn comes,” replied Evie from the S
nip-n-Curl beauty shop. “His wife told me yesterday when I put in her new perm. It should look perfect by the time of the Ball.”

  “Let’s just concentrate on getting everything organized.” Pauline raised her voice. “Now, who is in charge of sending the invitations?”

  “I want to add my nephew, Aaron, to the list of guests.” Emily Procter turned a glance toward Edee. “You can dance with Aaron.”

  Edee snapped her lips shut. Did everyone in this town think they knew what was best for her?

  “Okay, Emily,” Pauline’s commanding tone saved Edee from a reply, “we’re getting as bad as the men. I declare, the Mayor came home all frustrated last night because the men couldn’t agree on how many booths they needed to build. Now, stay on the subject.”

  “What’s the problem, Pauline?” Stella’s gum popped. “J.T.’s handy with a hammer. With Sam’s help, he could turn those little booths out in no time.”

  “J.T. was late getting to the meeting.” Pauline huffed. “He said he was at the real estate office looking at houses and lost track of time.” Pauline slammed the stack of papers on the table in front of her for the second time. Her glance darted to Edee and then away.

  “Is he planning to stay in town?” Nell Oliver asked.

  “That’s good news, if you ask me.” Stella whirled to the front and sat beside Pauline at the table, her gum popping.

  Edee glanced around. Varying degrees of disagreement showed in the raised eyebrows and prune like mouths of the other women. Turning back to Stella and Pauline, she realized they had taken a stand on J.T.’s side.

  Before she had a second to reconsider, she moved to stand at the end of the table and faced the group. “J.T. is doing good work on my house.”

  A feminine snort came from the back row. “He threw you out of that office, didn’t he?”

  Surprised by the angry in the question, Edee blinked. Frowning, she raised her voice. “J.T. plans to upgrade—”

  “J.T. gave her a job and hired her to design his website, that’s more than most of us have done.” Stella’s gum popped as her words shot through the room.

  Murmurs erupted. Heads nodded. Chairs scrapped.

  Feeling her stomach twist as Sam’s words replayed in her head, Edee stared at the group. Why weren’t these women willing to give J.T. a second chance? They had been so kind to her. And Ellie praised them for the way Redbud citizens had welcomed her to their midst.

  Again, her mouth popped open before her brain caught up. “If you’re holding that story about taking the engine out of the principal’s truck against J.T., you need to get your facts straight.”

  Shivering, she would have sworn the temperature in the room dropped as silence followed her words. The women sat with arms and legs crossed, and feet swinging, as their eyes bored into her.

  Finally, a woman on the back row spoke up. “What facts could a newcomer possibly know that we don’t? Is this something that J.T. told you?”

  Face flushing with heat, Edee’s heart sank as she stared around the group. She had made a big mistake. Why…why had she opened her mouth to defend J.T.? Obviously, she had just made matters worse. However, she couldn’t sit around and let him take the blame for something she knew he hadn’t done.

  Swallowing a lump the size of one of Brandy’s bakery muffins, Edee lifted her chin. “Sam told me.”

  “Sam?” A moment of silence followed, and then the room filled with murmurs.

  “What does Sam know?” The same angry voice demanded. “He was just a kid!”

  Already regretting mentioning Sam’s name, and not daring a glance in Ellie’s direction, Edee lifted her chin. “He was a senior in high school, just like J.T.”

  “Exactly!”

  Hands clenched in fists, Edee raised her voice. “He was there when the principal asked J.T. to work on his truck.” All eyes stared at her as if she had just admitted she was from Mars and she gulped back panic. She had done it now. She had opened her mouth and mettled in local affairs. Worse, she hadn’t helped J.T. at all.

  Well…she had uncovered the truth from Sam. She wanted to make Redbud her home. Why shouldn’t she set the record straight?

  “Sam told you this?” Emily Proctor asked.

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Why would he tell that story after all this time?”

  Hearing the hint of interrogation in Mrs. Proctor’s tone, Edee recalled her husband was the police chief and glanced at the other women. The expressions facing her were slightly less hostile, but waiting.

  “I happened to ask how his classmates had changed over the years, and the story came pouring out.” Edee admitted.

  “No one ever mentioned that before.” Nell Oliver frowned.

  “Why didn’t J.T. say something?” Stella’s gum popped.

  Pauline smacked the table. “In case you haven’t heard, J.T. bought the Beasley building. He’s planning to remodel and bring new office space and jobs to this town. He’s trying to help Redbud. I say we give him a chance.”

  ***

  Rain pounded on the roof of the turret later that night as Edee sat at the desk and tried to concentrate. Albert crouched under the desk at her feet as thunder boomed overhead. She was checking over her latest design, again.

  Over the roar of the pouring rain, she heard the doorbell chime. Clattering down the stairs in flip-flops, careful not to trip over the cat as he streaked by her side, Edee peaked around the lace covering the glass panes in the front door.

  J.T. stood in the yellow glow of the porch light, with his wet hair plastered to his head.

  Edee swung the door wide. “Why are you out in this downpour?”

  His teeth glistened in the shadows as he grinned. “This is the best time to check for leaks.” He motioned to the streams of water running off the eaves. “Mind if I take a look?

  “Come in!” Edee wrapped her arms around her middle to control the shivers shaking her insides. The chilly spring night was only part of the reason for her reaction. Seeing J.T. so soon after defending him in public made her edgy. What would he say when he heard about tonight’s meeting?

  And he would hear.

  Nothing stayed a secret long in a town like Redbud. But even as that thought flashed in her head, she wondered why the details of J.T. work on the principal’s truck hadn’t leaked out before now.

  “Should I leave Rascal on the porch?”

  Glancing down, Edee spotted the shivering dog for the first time. Soulful black eyes looked up at her from a sad face. “No! He’s freezing. Bring him in.”

  The dog looked from Edee to J.T. as if he understood what she said. He shivered and gave his body a vigorous shake. Water splattered in every direction. But nothing like what would have showered his surroundings if he had a full coat of fur.

  “Poor thing, he’s cold.” Edee cooed, darting a glance at Albert to check the cat’s reaction. He sat about five stairs up, watching the commotion at the door, his tail switching slowly.

  Following her glance, J.T. said, “Hey, kitty.” His wet face glistened from the overhead light.

  “Prince Albert is surveying his domain.” Edee smiled as he tried to approach the alert cat.

  “Not feeling friendly tonight, Albert?” J.T. laughed. “I see where he get’s his name. He’s sitting as proud as a prince.”

  “Albert thinks he rules the house.” Turning back to J.T. she frowned. “Take off that wet jacket. I’ll get towels and start a pot of coffee.”

  In seconds, she was back, tossing him a towel. “Dry your hair before you catch your death.”

  “Yes, ma—”

  J.T. almost choked on the rest of the word under Edee’s burning glance. Finally, her glance dropped to the shivering dog.

  Kneeling by Rascal’s side, muttering little cooing sounds, she wrapped the mutt in the fluffy towel. It didn’t take but seconds to dry his thin coating of fur. And the whole time, Rascal looked at her with doggy devotion in his black eyes.

  Giving and impatient s
nort, J.T. hid his head under his towel. Why did his gut twist at the sight of Edee’s hands tenderly caring for his dog? He felt the ridiculous urge to get down on all fours and beg for the same attention.

  And that admission added a few dozen more knots to his gut.

  Was he losing his mind? Had to be. Relationships never lasted in his family. Look at the life his mother had lived after his dad left her with a kid to raise on her own.

  Memories of her work-worn hands, her stooped shoulders, and the loving devotion in her sad eyes filled his head. His mother’s expression had been a lot like Rascal’s. That hopeful look of expectation always evident. That was one reason he couldn’t turn his back on the mutt after he spotted him on the street.

  The look in the dog’s eyes…and the fact that he needed a home…just like J.T. had in the past.

  Now Rascal was soaking up Edee’s tender care and J.T. ground his teeth to hold back a groan. Edee looked too cuddly for words in a blue fleece top and pants that hugged her curves.

  “I’ll check the roof.” He pulled a flashlight out of his back pocket as he looked down at Edee kneeling beside the shivering dog. “Keep Rascal down here so he won’t track up your house.”

  “I’m not worried about him making a mess. I just want him to stop shaking.”

  J.T. laughed. He would shake too, if Edee wrapped her arms around him. But he had to get that idea in his head. Slamming the door on dreams he could never acknowledge, he leaned down and rubbed the dog’s head.

  “This fellow always shakes. That’s why I took him home with me.”

  “Because he shakes?”

  “Because he didn’t fit in with the other dogs.”

  Edee looked at the dog and saw doggy devotion flowing from his big black eyes as he watched J.T. climb the stairs and felt a tug at her heart. Now she understood why J.T. had picked this dog. Why he wanted to give Rascal a home.

  A hiss caught her attention. She glanced up in time to see J.T.’s boots disappear on the last stair, right behind Albert’s streaking tail, and she sighed. Now she knew the truth.

  J.T. didn’t feel at home in Redbud any more than Rascal did.