For several heartbeats, Laney could only stare in amazement at the tiny H-shaped piece of cardboard that lay in his palm. Then she picked it up and turned it over. And yes, the other side was shiny and pure black.
"Remember the dark gray suit I wore to your mom's funeral?" Jeb asked. "I had it cleaned after I got back to L.A., but I never wore again. I took it to Nashville in case I needed it for a fancy dinner with the record executives, and I didn't notice until I unpacked that there was an envelope taped to the hanger. The puzzle piece was inside."
"The cleaners found it in your pocket," Laney guessed. "You must have been toying with it the day of the funeral and absently dropped it in there."
"Or it fell in while I was sitting at the table."
Laney rubbed the piece between her finger and thumb. "I put the puzzle away."
"I know. The Graces told me. But even though you don't need it anymore, I thought you'd still be glad to have it."
"I am." The tears starting in Laney's eyes had nothing to do with the gift and everything to do with the sweet man who'd brought it to her. "Thank you."
He smiled tenderly. "You're an amazing woman, Laney Ryland."
"Hmm." Leaning away from him to put the puzzle piece in a safe place on the counter, she took the opportunity to dash away a trembling tear caught in the corner of one eye. "Don't you think 'Laney Bell' has a nicer ring to it?"
"Absolutely." He grinned and pulled her closer. "Hey, listen. I just figured out how to solve our geography problem."
"Are you talking about where we'll live?" Laney shook her head. "That's no problem. I don't have to stay in Owatonna. Not fulltime. The Graces might be pushing eighty, but I'm beginning to think they don't need me to look after them."
"Some day they might," Jeb pointed out. "Besides, I need them to keep me humble, so we'd better stay here. You love my house, anyway. And we wouldn't want to leave our church, would we?" His dimple flashed as he added, "And let's not forget that all of my favorite fishing spots are less than an hour's drive from Owatonna."
"Oh, yes," Laney deadpanned. "The fishing spots would be the most important consideration."
"Hey." Jeb's dimple winked again. "Fishing is important. Haven't you ever noticed how often it's mentioned in the Bible?"
Laney smirked at him, then sobered to ask, "But what about your band?"
"We'll turn your house into a rehearsal space," he said. "Maybe even put in a recording studio at some point."
Was he be serious about installing a band in her house? The neighbors might have something to say about that.
"I take it you'll be sending Mrs. Lindstrom on a world cruise," Laney said archly. "She's still living with Mrs. Schultz, you know."
"Hmm. Tempting. But your basement's plenty big enough to rehearse in, and we can soundproof it. Your three bedrooms and two baths will make a nice living space for the band. Two of the three guys are married, no kids yet, so the wives will be able to come and go whenever they want. There will be times when we're rehearsing for weeks or even months at a stretch."
Laney was beginning to see some exciting possibilities. "So when you're not touring or recording, you'll be right here?"
"Yep." He grinned. "You can call me home to supper every night, and I'll come running."
"But could I travel with you some?" she asked hopefully.
"Like I've always told you, there's nothing glamorous about life on the road," he said. "But I'd love having you with me."
"That might be difficult after the babies start coming." As soon as the words were out, Laney felt heat rushing to her cheeks.
"Let's play that by ear," Jeb suggested.
"Okay." Laney snuggled deeper into his embrace. "How soon can we get married?"
The laugh that rumbled through his chest sent pleasant vibrations through Laney. "I'd suggest we hop in Francine right this minute and go catch the next flight to Las Vegas, but we can't deprive the Graces of a traditional wedding. Not after they insisted all the way home from Nashville that you and I are the best match they ever made."
"I can't believe they're taking the credit for this!" Laney huffed. "Remember that day at the tearoom? Whatever happened to that poor woman they were so eager to fix you up with? I never caught her name, but—"
Jeb was laughing again. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Princess, that 'poor woman' was you. They've been planning this for years!"
Chapter Twenty-Nine
On a fine Saturday evening at the end of April, Laney married Jeb in the church wedding of her dreams.
A former wedding-planner's assistant, she'd had a blast arranging things just the way she wanted. Unsurprisingly, Jeb had shown little enthusiasm for helping to make decisions regarding flowers and catering and so on. But when Laney wondered aloud which of her friends to have as bridesmaids, he'd made an extremely good suggestion.
After the ceremony, several guests told Laney how charmed they'd been when the music had begun and they'd looked expectantly toward the church door and seen Caroline on the threshold, a bouquet of white roses in her hands. Aggie and Millie, holding bouquets of their own, had immediately stepped in to flank their sister. And then with plump chins held high, the Three Graces—first-time bridesmaids, all—had linked arms and swished proudly down the aisle in matching gowns of sky-blue satin.
The wedding was perfect.
So was the honeymoon in Paris, where Laney spent the better part of two weeks indulging her enthusiasm for classic French cuisine while Jeb looked on in fond amusement.
"We can stay another week if you want," he offered one balmy evening during supper at a sidewalk café.
"We don't dare," Laney said. "Not when I'm gaining weight and you're losing it."
A subtle breeze ruffled Jeb's dark hair as he shrugged. "The bread's good here."
That was what he'd been subsisting on while Laney enjoyed mouthwatering dishes garnished with shaved truffles and swimming in exotic sauces.
"I'll make you some Minnesota man-food the very second we get home," she promised.
"Hotdish?" He patted his flat stomach. "Now you're talking."
"You never said what made you decide on Paris for our honeymoon," Laney commented later as they left the café.
"I heard this was the place to go for French food," Jeb said. "And I knew you'd love seeing the gardens and art museums."
Was there ever a more exasperating man? Hugging the tissue-wrapped bouquet of purple lilacs he'd bought earlier at a charming flower stall, Laney gave him a piece of her mind. "Jeb, this is your honeymoon, too. What do you want?"
"I already have everything I want." He stopped walking and pulled her into his arms, crushing the lilacs and releasing their heady fragrance. "I spent years telling myself this could never happen, but just look where I am now."
"Yes, look," Laney said with tender sarcasm. "You're in Paris, eating food you hate and wandering through gardens and museums that don't interest you at all."
"I don't care about the food, Laney. It's who I'm sitting across the table from that matters. And if I don't seem very impressed by the gardens and museums, it's because I can hardly tear my eyes away from you."
"Oh, Jeb." She nestled her cheek against his chest and found the comfortable spot that belonged to her alone. "I can't imagine why you thought you needed the Graces' advice for courting me. You're the most romantic man I've ever met."
It was their last evening in the City of Light, and even though Laney's feet hurt from so much walking, it was too beautiful an evening not to enjoy one last stroll along the Seine. Holding Jeb's big warm hand as the nighttime sounds of Paris swirled around them, she was almost painfully happy.
When they stopped to admire a picturesque stone bridge spanning the river, Jeb shook his head in confusion.
"Are we walking in circles? Because this bridge looks familiar, and—" He broke off and squeezed her hand. "Laney," he said urgently. "It's the puzzle!"
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then it hit her: T
he pretty bridge arching across the dark waters of the Seine was the very one pictured in her mother's "Paris at Night" puzzle.
"Over there," Jeb said, pointing to the opposite side of the street. "That's where the picture was taken from." He tugged on Laney's hand and together they raced across the street, laughing like children, breathless with delight.
Jeb suddenly stopped. "Right here."
"Yes," Laney breathed, hugging her lilacs and struggling not to cry as Jeb wrapped his long arms around her. "I can't believe we're actually standing here. I can't believe we found this place by accident. If we'd come here in the daytime, we wouldn't even have recognized—"
"We didn't find this by accident," Jeb interrupted, his deep voice rumbling above her. "Don't you see?"
"See what?"
"Laney, we were led here," he said with quiet conviction. "This is a wedding gift from God."
"Yes," she whispered, understanding at last. "And you know, I don't think it's Mom's puzzle anymore. She started it, but we finished it, so it's ours now. So the very first thing we're going to do when we get home is frame it and hang it in our bedroom."
"Wrong." Bending down, he pressed a brief kiss against her lips and chuckled suggestively. "That'll be the second thing we do."
Epilogue
One year later.
Backstage at the Gospel Music Association's annual Dove Awards ceremony in Atlanta, Jeb cradled three gold-plated statuettes in his arms and tried not to flinch as he was mobbed by the media.
He was still trying to absorb the fact that he'd just won Dove Awards for Song of the Year, Male Vocalist of the Year, and Rock Album of the Year.
Spotting Justin Kramer over a TV cameraman's shoulder, his bald head reflecting the harsh overhead lights, Jeb caught the producer's gaze and then widened his own eyes in a silent message: Can you believe this?
The man who had become Jeb's close friend and spiritual mentor grinned broadly, his gold tooth flashing as he pointed one finger toward the ceiling: This is all God's doing.
Jeb shook his head at the interviewer in front of him. "Sorry. Could you repeat the question?"
"Just tell us how you're feeling right now."
"Overwhelmed," Jeb said. "Grateful."
He knew his one-word answers wouldn't satisfy the interviewers, but his attention had strayed back to Justin, who was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. When their eyes met again, the producer confirmed Jeb's hope by mouthing, "Laney."
"Excuse me," Jeb said to the people pressing around him. He quickly threaded his way through the clamoring crowd, his eyes on the prize in Justin's hand. Shifting his Dove Awards to one arm, he grabbed the phone.
"Laney?"
"I'm so excited!" she squealed. "Jeb, I can't stand it!"
He closed his eyes. "I know, sweetheart. I wish you were here."
"I wish that, too, Jeb. But you know we can't take her on a plane at this age."
Her. Their precious gift. The ten-day-old miracle they'd named Hannah Grace Bell.
Every time he thought of his daughter—His daughter!—Jeb's insides quivered with joy.
Someone touched his elbow. When he turned, a smiling entertainment reporter poked a microphone at his face.
"Congratulations, Jackson!"
"Thanks."
"When can we expect your second album to drop?"
"Release date is June first," Jeb said. "Please excuse me." Turning his back on the woman and the TV camera trained on him, he lowered his head and focused all of his attention on the sweet voice in his ear.
"I can hardly believe it!" Laney said. "First a Grammy and now three Dove Awards! I wish I could be there with you."
Her voice wobbled over those last few words, and Jeb pictured tears sparkling in her China-blue eyes.
"Laney, you are here. You're right here, in my heart. I take you wherever I go."
He heard a little sob, and then she said, "Jeb don't you dare make me cry when you're not here to hold me! Don't say any more romantic things until you get home, do you hear me?"
"I hear you," he said, loving her so hard it made his chest hurt.
"Good. So now I'm going to be all calm and wifely and tell you to be patient with the interviewers and give more than one-syllable responses to their questions, all right?"
"Yes, princess."
"And then go have some fun with your band."
His band. How could he ever express his gratitude to them? Not just for their professionalism and hard work, but for their companionship and encouragement. They had studied the Scriptures with him, and they had prayed with him for God's blessing on the music they made together.
Tonight he would tell them once again how much all of that had meant to him, and then he'd take his leave. They had families of their own; they would understand his eagerness to get back to Minnesota.
"I won't be on that flight tomorrow afternoon," he said suddenly. "I'm coming home tonight."
"Tonight? But don't you need to—"
"I need to be with you, Laney. I'll give a couple of interviews and then I'll do a quick round of back-slapping with the guys, but after that I'm heading to the airport. I'll call the hotel later and ask them to ship my suitcase."
"Not the awards," she said quickly. "Jeb, I don't want them lost!"
"I'll bring them with me," he assured her.
"Okay. But do you even know if there's a flight heading to Minneapolis that late?"
"There will be." He'd charter a private jet if that was what it took to get home in time for breakfast with Laney and Hannah Grace.
"The Graces knew you'd win," Laney said. "So earlier this evening, they brought over a celebratory pie. Your favorite."
"We'll have it for breakfast," Jeb said, grinning. "But you should go to bed now. You need to catch whatever sleep the little princess will allow you."
"You're right," Laney said. "I'll leave the kitchen light on for you."
Jeb told her that he loved her, and then he handed the phone back to Justin and turned to face the cameras.
Three microphones were immediately pushed toward him, and three people spoke at once. He managed to sort out the tangle of questions and give detailed answers to each one. Laney would have been proud.
When he'd had all he could take, he held up one finger and said, "Last question."
An attractive blonde woman elbowed her way forward. "Jackson Bell, you recently took home a Grammy Award for your chart-topping single, "Yours If You Want Me", and tonight you're walking away with three Dove Awards. Can you tell us where you're planning to go from here?"
Jeb knew she was asking about his music, and of course he had all kinds of plans for that. But looking straight into the TV camera and making no effort to hide his sappy grin, he said, "I'm going home to Minnesota to be with my family and eat some strawberry-rhubarb pie."
At the Atlanta airport, he made for the far corner of a deserted departure lounge where he wouldn't be disturbed. Loosening the tie Laney had made him promise to wear to the awards ceremony, he sat down and scrolled through the dozens of congratulatory text messages on his phone. The first one was from Shari Daltry, of all people:
You deserve this, Jackson. Your new music is amazing.
He hadn't heard from her in a year and a half, not since that awful day in Los Angeles, but he was still praying for her and for the guys from his old band. After all, if God could crack a skeptical heart like Jackson Bell's and slip inside it, anything was possible.
Two hours later, in the darkened First Class cabin of an airliner bound for Minneapolis-St. Paul, Jeb stretched out his legs and settled more comfortably in his seat. Staring at the bulkhead in front of him, he gave silent thanks to God for the remarkable success of his new music. Then he expressed his gratitude for the publishing contract Laney had signed last month for her afternoon tea cookbook. Saving the greatest blessing for last, he praised the Lord's unfathomable generosity in gifting him with Laney and with their precious Hannah Grace.
He tu
rned his head toward the window and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Lulled to sleep by the steady roar of jet engines, he dreamed of a little girl in a long blue dress, a sparkling tiara perched atop her flaxen curls. The dress was too big, but she wasn't worried because her mother could fix it.
Tugging at a puffy sleeve that had slipped off one boney little shoulder, she tilted her head back and grinned up at him. Do you like my tiara? she asked as that accessory's fake jewels caught the sunlight and threw dazzling sparks at him.
I like it very much, Jeb said. It's as beautiful on you as it was on your mom. Then he looked over her head and into Laney's shining eyes.
Jarred awake by two loud thumps and the high-pitched whine of the aircraft's descending landing gear, Jeb rubbed his eyes and felt his heartbeat quicken.
He was almost home.
A Note from the Author
After publishing four mass-market paperbacks with Harlequin's wildly popular Love Inspired imprint, I sent my editor a proposal for a story featuring a rock star hero. She didn't believe a character with that occupation would appeal to the established Love Inspired audience, but I had already fallen in love with the story and couldn't walk away from it. So I finished it on my own, and have now published it as an e-book.
Thank you for reading Her Minnesota Man. If you have enjoyed it, I hope you'll do me a huge favor and tell your friends about it. Also, would you please consider posting a review at Amazon or elsewhere online? This is my first stab at self-publishing, and I could use some encouragement.
I am currently working on another "Three Graces" story set in Owatonna, Minnesota.
Brenda Coulter
May 2012
My e-mail: [email protected]
I'll answer personally, usually within a day or two.
My website: http://brendacoulter.com
You can read long excerpts from all of my books there.
My Facebook: http://facebook.com/Author.Brenda.Coulter
Do you like flowers? I post a lot of photos of my cottage-style garden.
Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) Page 30