Fatherhood 101

by Mae Nunn

  “Open it, Mama,” Meg pleaded. “Too much suspense isn’t good for an older person’s blood pressure.”

  “Oh, great.” Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Cullen. “Now she has age issues to be concerned about. A whole new world of worries just opened up and swallowed us whole.”

  “Just open the box, darlin’,” he encouraged her, every bit as excited for the surprises to come.

  Sarah lifted the box and flipped open the velvet lid. Nestled on a bed of white satin lay an antique curb-link bracelet molded from the finest sterling silver the mines near El Paso, Texas, had once produced. At Cullen’s request, the jeweler had polished the chain to restore its luster and updated the bracelet with four button charms, each encrusted with colored stones on one side, and names engraved on the other. Amethyst for Carrie, emerald for Meg, sapphire for Hope and ruby for Cullen.

  “Happy birthday to you,” they broke into song as Cullen fastened the dazzling piece around Sarah’s slender wrist.

  “Wait a minute.” The store owner snapped his fingers. “I just remembered there’s more.”

  All eyes followed as he produced a key from his pocket and fitted it into a locked cabinet built into the counter behind him. Reaching inside he found a small red velvet bag that closed with a drawstring.

  “Sir, I believe this is also part of your special order.”

  As the manager poured the contents of the bag into Cullen’s hand, his heart thumped hard against his ribs and his palms grew moist. But with excitement, not fear.

  He dropped to one knee in front of God and Sarah’s three daughters and offered them signs of his unending love. He slipped a tiny circle of diamonds on the ring finger of each girl’s left hand, and informed them it was to be worn until it was replaced by an engagement ring one day from a boy that Cullen himself would approve.

  Then he reached for Sarah’s hand.

  “My sweet Sarah, I’m not so much of an East Texas redneck that I didn’t realize I needed to get your daddy’s permission before asking you to be my wife. He didn’t exactly give his blessing, but he said he’d be honored to walk you down the aisle whenever you’re ready to say ‘I do.’”

  Cullen didn’t dare look in the direction of the sniffling group of girls or he’d forget everything else he’d practiced that morning in front of the mirror.

  Sarah’s mama and Alma had helped him pick out the platinum-and-diamond ring, and they’d both agreed it was magnificent. Now, he slipped the ring onto Sarah’s hand.

  “Will you marry me, darlin’?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. He stood and folded her in his arms, her tears hot against his shoulder.

  “Are those happy tears?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Cullen, you’ve done so much to put our family back together. How can I ever show you how much I love you in return?”

  “One more little girl should do the trick,” he replied from the bottom of his mushy heart.

  And he meant it.

  What could be more fun than a house filled with female laughter, squabbling, worries and wonder?

  As long as the good Lord was willin’ and the creek didn’t rise, Cullen Temple was about to find out.

  EPILOGUE

  “ARE YOU SURE you want to share the spotlight with us? There’s still time to change your mind.” Sarah gave Gillian one last chance to say she wanted to be the only bride at the ceremony on her wedding day.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gillian insisted. “We’re marrying identical twin brothers and I’m fairly sure that means we’re going to be sharing for the rest of our lives. This is the perfect start for all of us.”

  “You are stunning in that Vera Wang ball gown. It must have cost a fortune.” Sarah had browsed the couture designer’s site just for fun and the price of a one-of-a-kind dress would purchase a three-bedroom home in Kilgore.

  “It probably did, but it was a present and I never dared to look this gift horse in its mouth.”

  “A present?”

  “Last year when the celebrity couple who were going to get married at Temple Territory called off their wedding, the bride refused to take the dress. It couldn’t be returned and she didn’t want any part of it so she told me I could keep it.”

  “That’s amazing! The grand staircase of Temple Territory is going to look like a scene from Gone with the Wind when you glide down those steps on your father’s arm, Gillian.”

  “I wish you’d enter by the stairs, too.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Nope, that spotlight is yours alone. I’d probably stop, drop and roll—not quite what either of us intend for our guests’ entertainment today.”

  The two brides shared a laugh and a sip of champagne.

  “You’re beautiful, too, Sarah. That vintage lace gown your mother made is breathtaking.”

  Sarah slid her left hand down the bodice of the mermaid-style dress and admired the lace that had belonged to her grandmother.

  “I’ll share a secret with you. Mama took my first wedding gown apart and used the layers of lace to sew this one. It’s meaningful on so many levels.”

  “Does Cullen know?”

  “It was his idea. Mama pulled it out of her cedar closet the night of our engagement dinner, and Cullen said it was a shame to let such intricate handiwork go to waste. The dress was horribly out of style, though, so Mama and I had no qualms about ripping it apart to be repurposed.” Sarah’s voice fell to a whisper. “It felt as if the dress was going through the same thing I’d gone through, so we all agreed it was fitting and right.”

  Emotion swelled in the eyes of both brides and they dabbed at the corners with blue hankies that had once belonged to the twins’ mother. Alma had given one to each bride at the rehearsal the night before, asking them to carry it with their bouquet as a sign of what would surely be her blessing on their marriages.

  A soft knock on the door brought them out of the private moment and back to the present.

  “Ladies, are you ready?” Gillian’s father asked.

  “Come in, Daddy.”

  Sarah’s father followed on James Moore’s heels. The fathers of the brides were never more handsome than this moment in their black tuxedo jackets with tails and top hats.

  “I feel like a Barnum and Bailey ring leader in this thing,” Sarah’s daddy complained. “But if my baby girl asked me to dress up as Bozo the Clown that would be okay, too.”

  “I must say I appreciate you ladies choosing black tuxes instead of the powder blue my wife made me wear at our own wedding,” James said.

  Roger Callaghan burst out laughing and slapped James on the back.

  “The lengths a man will go to make his womenfolk happy would try the patience of Job.”

  “Do you think we should warn our future sons-in-law?” Gillian’s father asked.

  Sarah’s daddy wagged his gray head. “Heck, no. We had to figure it out on our own and they should, too. It shapes a man’s character in ways nothing else can, not even the military.”

  Music could be heard from downstairs, their two-minute warning cue.

  Sarah took her father by the hand. “Remember, Daddy, we’re taking the elevator down to the first floor so we can go through the back hallway and enter from the terrace.”

  “I was here for the rehearsal, missy, and I’m not so forgetful that you have to remind me what happened last night.”

  “I, on the other hand, am quite feebleminded,” Gillian’s daddy admitted as she took him by the elbow. “Tell me when to step off and pinch me if I go too fast.”

  The brides wished each other good luck and Sarah tugged her father toward the elevator. As they found their marks downstairs and the glass doors were about to be swept wide, Sarah caught a glimpse of Cullen under the archway made of yellow calla lilies. He’d chosen
her favorite flower! The thoughtfulness and insight of the man who would share the rest of her life caused Sarah to gasp with joy.

  “Honey, I need to tell you something.” Her father forced her eyes away from her beloved.

  “Can’t it wait, Daddy? We’re kinda busy here.”

  “It won’t take long and you should hear what I have to say before you tie the knot with that boy.”

  Oh, please Lord, no lectures on the history of the Temple family right now!

  “Daddy, Cullen’s not a boy. He’s a grown man. Accomplished, respected and successful. He loves me and adores my girls, so how could this possibly be wrong?”

  Bushy eyebrows knitted together in a scowl.

  “Who said anything about this being wrong?”

  “You did every time you brought up Cullen’s grandfather.”

  “Has your mother been repeating gossip again? I swear that woman couldn’t keep a secret to herself if it was sewn inside her brassiere.”

  Sara snickered in spite of the seriousness of the moment.

  “Cullen Temple is a fine man. Actually, Pap Temple was, too, only he had a greedy streak in him two ax handles wide. What I wanted to say before we walk down this aisle together is that this union has more than my approval. It has my blessing.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.” Sarah kissed his freshly shaved cheek. She almost raised her blue hanky to wipe away the scarlet lip prints but decided he should be wearing that badge of surrender when he handed his only daughter over to her groom.

  * * *

  CULLEN’S HEART THUMPED hard beneath the black onyx studs of his tuxedo shirt. The white bow tie cinched tighter around his neck. His breathing became difficult, like two fists had reached into his chest and squeezed his lungs without mercy. His pulse surged a message through his amygdala.

  Danger! Danger! Danger! the fear center of his brain warned him over and over again.

  Cullen felt the corners of his mouth lift in a lovesick grin as he experienced the fight or flight sensation he’d been looking forward to since Sarah and the girls had accepted his proposal. It was more intense than his worst panic attack and more fun than his first free fall in the Tower of Power at Six Flags.

  He couldn’t wait to experience life with four females!

  He was certain he looked good on this most special of all days because his mirror image stood six feet away beneath his own arch of flowers. Hunt had chosen violet orchids because he said they matched Gillian’s eyes.

  The string quartet began Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major. Joiner escorted Gillian’s mother to her seat and McCarthy walked Sarah’s mother through the guests and to her front row seat, as well. The two older brothers took their positions of honor beside the grooms as best men, Joiner with Cullen and McCarthy with Hunt.

  Next down the aisle marched the precious girls Cullen would make his legal daughters as soon as he and Sarah returned from their honeymoon in Ireland. Then he’d officially be their forever-daddy. He stepped down from the archway to give each girl a loud and silly kiss on the cheek as they passed before him on the way to their seats.

  During the final strains of the classic processional, Cullen took a moment to seek out and remember special faces in the crowded room. Alma and Felix, beaming as proudly as any two natural parents. Blair and Ailean, back from Italy for the occasion. Coach Uprichard and his wife, Manuela, who would mentor the girls’ baseball team Cullen had signed up to manage. High school friends and university colleagues had come to support the Temple brothers, and Cullen was reminded that God is good, all the time.

  The quartet moved effortlessly into Wagner’s Bridal Chorus, the terrace doors were opened, the guests stood and all heads swiveled toward the stunning red-haired bride in a white lace gown that hugged her curves and showed off her fair skin to perfection. When Sarah and her father stopped before Cullen, he struggled with the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her before the vows were said.

  But true to their promise to Hunt and Gillian, Cullen and Sarah turned with the guests and gave their attention to the grand staircase as the second bride floated down twenty-five steps on the arm of her father.

  Over the next hour, vows and rings were exchanged, heads were bowed for prayers, unity candles were lit and somewhere in the back of the room Rocket barked his approval when Cullen and Hunt kissed their wives for the first time.

  Temple Territory was finally a place filled with great joy and family celebration, just as Mason Dixon Temple had hoped it would be all those years ago.

  * * * * *

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Ingrid Weaver

  Finders Keepers

  INGRID WEAVER

  began her writing career by propping an old manual typewriter on her children’s play table. Twenty years later she is a USA TODAY bestselling author of thirty books and the recipient of a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. She currently resides on a farm near Frankford, Ontario, with her family and a varying collection of critters.

  Other books by Ingrid Weaver

  HARLEQUIN HEARTWARMING

  WINNING AMELIA

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER ONE

  IT WAS THE Harley she noticed first. A bike like that was hard to miss in a sleepy, small town like Port Hope, Ontario. Sunlight flashed from the chrome, momentarily blinding Brittany Barton as she carried two orders of fries to the teenage girls at the front table. She squinted through the window. Several adolescent boys had noticed the bike, too. They clustered on the curb, trying to act cool as they postured for the girls who pretended not to be watching them.

  What was it about a motorcycle, especially an in-your-face, old-school machine like a Harley-Davidson, that conjured up images of rebellion and adventure? Even a twenty-four-year-old woman who had been there, done that, and should know better wasn’t immune to the mystique, that lure of the open road. Brittany hated the way her pulse danced, and her breathing wasn’t quite steady, because of course it wasn’t the bike she reacted to, it was the memory of a particular boy who used to ride one.

  It had been nearly eight years since she had seen Jesse Koostra. He’d been everything her mother had warned her about, the quintessential bad boy: tall, tough and wickedly handsome. He had a voice as sensual as dark chocolate that fuelled her dreams like the rumble of his Harley.

  Countless summer nights she would lie awake in her bedroom under the eaves, restless and sweaty, listening to the crickets and the hum of mosquitoes on the screen while she waited to hear the distinctive echo of the engine as Jesse made his way home. His family lived a mile down the road from the Barton farm on a piece of land that was mostly swamp. Their yard and barns were crammed with vehicles in various states of disrepair. Old, rusted-out cars seemed to be the only crop his father raised. As for Jesse and his sister, they were allowed to grow wild.

  Brittany had longed to be free like them, but she hadn’t had the nerve. Instead, she dutifully did her homework, weeded the garden and tended the chickens. She tried her best to live up to everyone’s expectations, all the while secretly yearning for the next time she would see Jesse.

  Pathetic, wasn’t i
t? What was worse, the unrequited crush of her childhood years had so warped her mind that she later searched for a bad-boy like Jesse in every man she met.

  Apparently, she was still doing it, because the longer she looked, the more it appeared as if the bike parked in front of the restaurant didn’t simply resemble Jesse’s, it was precisely like his, right down to the hand-painted wolf adorning the blue gas tank.

  No. It couldn’t be his. He’d disappeared right after the trial.

  The bell above the front entrance tinkled. Sunshine streamed past the man who stepped into the doorway, hiding his features in shadow.

  But Brittany didn’t need to see his face. Her heart had already felt his presence.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “HELLO-OO?” THE sing-song question came from one of the girls at the window table. It was followed by a quick succession of finger-snaps and muffled giggles. “Those fries are for us, right?”

  Brittany realized she was still holding the plates. Speechless. Frozen in place. Like an idiot. And all because Jesse Koostra stood less than six feet away.

  Terrific. And here she’d believed that she’d come a long way in eight years.

  She deposited the plates and pasted on a smile for the teenagers, but she could have saved the effort. They were no longer looking at her, or at their cooling French fries. Their attention had shifted to a point just past her shoulder. One of the girls was actually blushing.

  Okay, so evidently idiocy was contagious. Or maybe no female, regardless of age, was resistant to whatever it was that Jesse exuded.

  Brittany wiped her hands on her apron. She hated the fact that his mere presence could make her palms damp. She also hated the frilly, pea-green apron her Aunt Mae insisted all the waitresses wear. This wasn’t how she’d fantasized being dressed when she saw Jesse again....

  Stop it! she told herself. He’s just a man. A customer. Who’ll likely tip better than the rude girls. Besides, he probably doesn’t even recognize you.