by Leigh Tudor
Now Mercy knew she liked Gus because she sounded like a guilty second grader who got caught eating glue.
“You do! And he’s perfect!”
“Okay, calm down there, Miss Tinder. I have no intention of embarrassing myself by having feelings for… him.”
“Why can’t you say his name?”
“I can say his name.”
“Then say it.”
“No. I’ve made a conscious decision not to.”
“That’s it. We’re going to Lucky’s after Rosemary’s baby pops out.”
Mercy smiled with deep satisfaction. Becky wasn’t arguing against going, which meant she wanted to go, which meant she was going to marry Gus.
Kicking back in her chair, she thought about how easy this matchmaking business was.
Then Alec walked into the waiting room with a huge smile on his face and looking a bit worse for wear.
Mercy jumped up and instantly grabbed Madame, who was tightly squeezing her handkerchief. And then she waved Cara over to make it a threesome.
The three women held one another in their personal huddle, beyond excited to hear what looked to be happy news from the expression radiating from Alec’s face.
He cleared his throat, capturing everyone’s attention.
“Before giving all the baby details, I have an announcement that should come first.”
Everyone groaned, having waited for hours in an uncomfortable hospital waiting room.
Alec, stepped out into the hall and seemed to be waving someone through the doorway.
Along with everyone else in the room, Mercy was surprised to see Pastor Roberts walk through the door.
Alec explained, “I knew I would never have this chance again, so I was a little high-handed, Loren’s words not mine,” he said under his breath, and everyone chuckled. “I asked Pastor Roberts to meet us at the hospital. I wanted to be sure to tie my girl down before she gave birth and before talking herself out of it.”
Everyone laughed, aware of the likelihood of that happening, and seemed to be bouncing on their toes as Alec gave the pastor the go-ahead to continue.
The pastor obliged with his usual reverence. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you, although the other half is in recovery, Mr. and Mrs. Alec and Loren Wilder.”
Everyone went crazy, hugging and kissing. Mercy took it as an opportunity to grab Trevor and kiss his face off while Becky stuck a finger down her mouth between bouts of joy.
“Oh my gosh,” Cara said, smiling wide and grabbed Mercy’s two hands in a death grip. “Do you realize that makes Loren’s name—Loren Ingalls Wilder?”
Mercy burst out a belly laugh, and Cara joined in, reveling in such a hilarious full-circle moment.
Alec interrupted the pre-celebration. “Okay, okay, now for the rest of the news…”
Everyone went still, Madame, Mercy, and Cara having found their way back to one another.
Alec continued, “Our little bundle of joy weighed in at eight pounds and six ounces and has a perfect APGAR score—Loren would accept nothing less—and the baby is screaming as I speak.”
It was as if they were all holding their collective breaths until he announced, “And her name is Amelie Ingalls Wilder.”
The room, once again, erupted. The men doing the manly handshake side bounce with a pound to the back move, and the women hugging one another and wiping at their eyes with unreserved joy.
All except for Madame, who stood so calmly but with a trembling smile on her face. Slowly, she pulled away from the celebration and walked up to Alec and laid her palm gently to his cheek. “Thank you, young man.”
Mercy watched the interaction, mesmerized, trying to make sense of the moment.
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Cara asked Mercy as if she too were having difficulty.
And then it came to Mercy out of nowhere. A memory from the far recesses of her mind that made her entire body buzz from a glimpse into another moment in time.
Mercy smiled. “Because Amelie was our mother’s name.”
Chapter Twenty
“Lesser artists borrow, great artists steal.” — Igor Stravinsky
Mercy sat on the courthouse bench in the new dress she’d recently purchased from the nearest T.J. Maxx clothing store while Trevor was decked out in one of his fancy undercover spy suits, complete with a skinny tie and shiny cuff links.
Pulling on the short hemline of her skirt she was sure she resembled a fish out of water while her husband-to-be was a shoo-in as a cover model for GQ magazine. Complete with a chiseled jawline, broody glower, and smelling like the cologne counter at a high-end department store.
She needed to up her game.
Yanking open her backpack, she fished around the individual compartments and found an old tube of lipstick and attempted to apply it while looking at her reflection in the inch-sized cap.
If she closed one eye, she could see a good portion of one side of her lip.
She’d have to apply in sections.
“What are you doing?” Trevor asked, without a single wrinkle in his suit or a misplaced strand of hair.
“What I’m doing is trying to look presentable for our wedding day,” she grumbled, closing one eye so she could see better. “I’m working harder than an ugly stripper but not getting very far.”
“Give me that,” he said, holding his hand out.
She pouted and dropped the tube of Ruby Woo matte lipstick in his palm. “I’m not sure, but I think brides are supposed to choose demure colors, but all I have is hoochie mama red.”
“I don’t want to marry someone demure. I want to marry you,” he said, turning the tube.
“Aw, thanks… I think.”
“Look at me,” he said, and she turned toward him as he secured her jaw in one hand and went to work applying the lipstick with the other.
Finishing, he turned her jawline from side to side to assess his work.
“There,” he said, dropping the lipstick back into the palm of her hand. “Perfect.”
She lifted the cap to see if she had lipstick running down her chin or up her nostril, but instead, she was quite impressed with his handiwork.
“How do you know how to do that?”
“My sister, Amber, was older than me and quite bossy,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees as another couple was called to the judge’s chambers. “Our one-sided relationship, where she lorded over me, morphed from me being forced to play makeup as kids to helping her get ready for prom because no one else could pull off a smoky eye quite like me. By the way, that’s a secret she’s sworn to take to the grave. That auspicious pact includes you as well now. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not telling a soul. Not only am I marrying a guy who any woman would drop her panties for, but can give me a full makeover upon request.”
“Don’t take advantage of my good nature. My sister did.” He sniffed.
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. As long as you do as your told and I’m always on point and camera-ready.”
Mercy noticed Trevor’s knee bouncing with nervous energy. That wasn’t typical. Trevor Forrest was cool and collected, well put together, and infernally even-tempered.
“Hey,” she said, putting her hand out to still his reverberating leg. “Are you okay?”
He smiled at her and covered her hand with his. “I am more than okay.”
“No second thoughts?”
“None,” he replied without hesitation. But then his eyebrows drew together. “You?”
“None,” she assured. But this had to be a lot for the man who went from being a bachelor and working twenty-four seven to having a ready-made family and a rather unmanageable wife. Not to mention the last-minute bombshell she threw at him. “And the kids? You’re okay with making us one big happy family? Because if you’re having second thoughts, I get it. It would be a lot for anybody.”
“Mercy Sara Beth Ingalls, there is nothing I
am looking forward to more than having you and our motley crew all under the same roof.”
She smiled. Even though she had every intention of sideswiping Loren’s legs out from under her for divulging her middle name.
When she wasn’t holding beautiful little Amelie, of course.
In truth, she was just as eager to get this family business all officially put together and settled. There was still a lot of paperwork to work through. Not everything was set in stone, but they were getting close. And then Trevor mentioned, after a rather robust interlude in the laundry room, what better time to get married than before the adoption papers finally went through?
Not necessarily a romantic scene in a rom-com movie, but the moment worked for them.
What they didn’t foresee was a rather lengthy waiting list to get hitched by the justice of the peace. And then to be called in rather unexpectedly when one of the happy couples before them decided that maybe wedded bliss wasn’t in the cards for them after all.
So here they were. At an early afternoon city hall wedding, on a Sunday no less. And although they had just celebrated Nate’s birthday last week, which made him the ripe old age of thirteen and in his mind, old enough to babysit the girls and execute his plans for world domination, they were eager to get the kids picked up from Madame’s impromptu post-church service picnic, tell everyone the good news, and go home as man, wife, and ready-made family.
Mercy was so glad they both nixed the whole big wedding idea.
The last thing she wanted was a wedding with a lot of pomp and circumstance. The idea of having to go through with all that literally gave her hives.
Breaking the news to Madame Grand that she wouldn’t be throwing a big shindig was her biggest concern. Now that the matriarch had the family she had always dreamed of, she was constantly planning dinners and picnics and family get-togethers.
But a big wedding wasn’t going to happen for Mercy and Trevor. Logistically, with everything they were trying to cobble together on the down low, a covert wedding with no one the wiser seemed to make the most sense.
Which was fine with her. Apparently, Mercy wasn’t built for the whole fancy wedding thing. Seemed to her like a lot of unnecessary anxiety and a boatload of details to wrangle and subdue. Nope, getting married by the justice of the peace in nearby Raley seemed the most expeditious and covert option.
“Do you regret not having the big fancy wedding?” he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
“Um, yeah,” she lied dramatically. “Now that I know I would have had my own professional makeup artist and stylist, you know it. Talk about a lost opportunity.”
“We can always delay this,” he said with a knowing smile. “Get married by Pastor Roberts in front of all the townsfolk. It would only be fair, considering you broke up with me in front of all of them.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” she muttered, searching for and finding a scrunchie in her bag.
He yanked it out of her hand with a grimace. “You’re not wearing that.” He deposited it in his coat pocket.
“Why not? I wanted to pull my hair out of my face,” she said, attempting to retrieve it. But he was too quick for her darting hands.
“You look perfect. You’re not going to ruin it by throwing a 1980s imitation velvet scrunchie in your hair.” He pulled it back out of his pocket and glanced at her accusingly. “With purple sequins.”
She sat back in the wooden seat and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am marrying someone who has more fashion sense than me.”
“Please, you could wear a burlap sack, and I’d be panting after you.”
She smiled at the endearment, her pout waning. “So, what I’m hearing you say is that you think I’m gorgeous.”
She batted her eyes at him.
“I wouldn’t go that far, and you’ve got something in your eye.”
“And that you’re hopelessly in love with me.”
“I find you passably tolerable…”
“And that you want to unzip this little dress, bend me over a dusty old desk, and...”
“Already did that, down the hall thirty minutes ago.”
He glanced down at his super fancy watch, and she smiled in triumph as he said, “We’ve got at least fifteen minutes. Meet me in the empty office at the far end of the hallway.”
“Got it,” she said, popping up with enthusiasm. “Just don’t smoosh my lipstick.”
Mercy’s phone decided at that moment, the most inopportune time, to begin buzzing. She searched a half dozen compartments in her backpack before finding it and holding up her finger, indicating to Trevor to give her a minute.
“Yes, this is Mercy Ingalls. No, no need to add him to the call. Mr. Forrest happens to be with me.” She looked at Trevor confused as the person on the other line was giving her last-minute instructions. “Now? On a Sunday? Okay, of course we’re ready. We’ll be there within the hour. We happen to be at city hall in Raley getting married.” The case worker on the line congratulated them, and Mercy was feeling a bit light-headed.
She pressed end on her phone and grabbed Trevor’s arm for balance.
“The adoption papers went through last night. Someone pulled some strings for us and they’re ready for us to sign. We’re about to get married and become official parents in the same day.”
Trevor grinned. “There’s no one I’d rather do life with than you, Mercy Ingalls. Let’s get married and go get our kids.”
Mercy’s heart was bursting out of her chest like rays of errant sunshine.
“That’s Buttercup to you, Sugarplum.”
Loren sat at the picnic table after putting Amelie down for a nap. At one month old, their little angel was sleeping through the night and nursing like a champ. Loren might have suffered a tumultuous pregnancy, but motherhood had proven to be sublime.
Fingers crossed for when Amelie became a teenager.
Madame had invited half of Wilder to the house for a Sunday picnic after church let out. Making Alec and Trevor round up extra tables to accommodate the huge turnout.
Just as everyone was showing up, Trevor received a phone call, whispered something in Mercy’s ear, and announced they had something important to attend to. They stumbled over one another like a comedy skit as she searched for her purse and he checked his pockets for his keys.
“Those two are up to something,” Cara said to Loren, sitting on the opposite side of the table next to Landon. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, but I wish they would get married and get over themselves,” Loren said, reaching for the salt, which Nate quickly snatched, moving it to the far side of him.
“Excuse me?”
“Hypertension,” he said succinctly, taking a bite of his lentil casserole. “You’re supposed to be watching your salt intake.”
Loren huffed, “I just love how this whole town knows my business.”
“Yeah, you do,” Cara said with a knowing smile.
Loren smiled back. “I really do.”
Alec, balancing a plate laden with copious amounts of food, stretched one leg over the picnic bench beside Loren, kissed her on the cheek, and then sat next to her.
Loren turned to Nate on her other side. “Aren’t you going to scrutinize the salt content of Alec’s trough of food?”
“Negative,” Nate replied, pointing at the lumberjack of a man. “He’s obviously doing everything right given his size, level of energy, and choice of life partners.”
“Aw,” Loren cooed. “You are such the charmer.” And then she narrowed them. “And bullshitter.”
“Language,” he said, searching the area for small ears.
Loren considered this little know-it-all probably had the backstory to Mercy and Trevor’s earlier disappearance.
“So, Nate,” she said, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “Do you happen to know where Mercy and Trevor are? What they’re hiding? There’s twenty bucks in it f
or you.”
“As much as I’d like to dine, cash-in, and dash, I’m afraid living with Trev has turned my devious past into a far more ethically charged present.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means, I could pretend to know and share the fallacy, taking your money but also losing your trust. My devious days are over. For the most part,” he added. “There are always outlier instances.”
One of Loren’s eyebrows rose in frustration. “Let me put it this way, tell me where they are and what they’re up to, or Alec here is going to give you a wedgie, a wet-willy, and tie your arms down with his knees and spit in your mouth.”
Alec leaned past Loren, to look at Nate. “No, I won’t.”
“Fine,” Loren said, “I’ll do all those things.”
“As much as I admire your imaginative threats, although they’re really not doing more than conjuring scenes from a 1950s coming-of-age movie, I must admit I have no idea, and I’m just as stumped as the rest of the family.”
Loren’s heart grew tenfold hearing Nate’s mention of “family,” the word rolling off his tongue so easily and without a second thought.
He was a teenager now, having just turned thirteen, and it was going to be a joy watching him grow up.
“That said, if I were a betting man,” Nate added, compelling Loren to scoot closer to him, given his lowered voice. “Which I’m not… unless of course you make it interesting, say a couple of hundred-dollar bank bonds in Haley’s and Marleigh’s names, my money would be on them surprising everyone with news of adoption papers being signed and codified.”
“But why all the secrecy?” Loren asked. Shaking her head. She didn’t buy it. “I mean, it seems like something else is going on. I say they got hitched.”
“Wanna put your money where your broad assumptions are?”
“You don’t think that’s it? You don’t think they’re eloping? Why are they being so obvious that they’re up to something, yet not telling us anything?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t say they were particularly good at subterfuge. When they make their grand announcement, I, for one, will do my best to appear gobsmacked.”