“This is not some sort of emotional crisis.” Shayla tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I love Nat, and he loves me.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure you do. It’s only…I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Some of the tension drained from her. “I know that, Mom. But I’m thirty years old. I know what I’m doing. We aren’t rushing into this blind. We’ve both prayed about it. We feel certain it’s what God wants.”
“All right, Shayla. I won’t say anything more.” A pause. “Here’s your father.”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I take it we’re coming to Idaho for the wedding?”
“Yes. Nat and I want an outdoor ceremony at his ranch. I told Mom I could help pay for the tickets to fly all of you over.”
“No need for that. You hang on to your money. I can afford to do this. It isn’t every day my firstborn gets married.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Yes?”
“We’re happy for you. We’re glad you’ve found the right guy. Anne says he’s terrific.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You tell him I said he’d better be good to you.”
“He is.” She laughed. “But I’ll tell him.”
“We’ll call you in a few days. Just as soon as we know everybody’s schedules.”
“Okay.”
“We love you, babe. Give Anne our love, too.”
“I will. Bye, Dad. I love you.”
Shayla hung up the telephone, feeling better after talking to her father. He might agree with her mother that Shayla was rushing into marriage, but at least he hadn’t said so.
Nat and the twins drove to Shayla’s cabin at noon. “So, what did your folks say?” he asked, immediately after kissing her.
“They were surprised, but happy for me. What about your mother?”
“Over the moon.” He nibbled on her earlobe, ignoring Angie’s and Cathy’s snickers. “She can’t wait to meet you.”
“We talked to Mommy and Daddy last night,” Cathy volunteered.
“We told Mommy we’re gonna be your flower girls,” Angie continued, “and she said we had to take lots and lots of pictures and send them to her.”
Nat tightened his arms around Shayla. “I thought we’d better go talk to Pastor Barnett, make sure he’s available to perform the ceremony on the eighth of next month.”
“We should have done that before calling our parents.”
“Minor details.”
“When are we gonna get our dresses, Shayla?” one of the twins asked.
She turned toward the girls. “Later this week we’ll drive down to Boise, you two and me and Anne.”
“Can’t I go, too?” Nat asked.
“No,” the three females answered in unison.
“Hmm. So that’s how it’s going to be. Three against one.”
Shayla slipped her arm around his waist. “Stop pouting, and let’s go see Pastor Barnett.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“Ha!” Mischief twinkled in her eyes.
“You were, Uncle Nat. We saw you.”
“I’m outnumbered,” he grumbled, trying—and failing—to hide his grin.
He wondered if it was legal for a man to be this happy.
That evening, with the twins in bed and Ty and Anne off on a date, Nat and Shayla snuggled together on the front porch swing, his arm around her back, her head resting on his shoulder. A nearly full moon bathed the valley in a blanket of white light. Crickets serenaded from the pasture, accompanied by the ribbitt, ribbitt of frogs.
“Mmm,” Shayla murmured. “What a perfect ending to a perfect day.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“We may not have many evenings like this for a while. There’s so much to be done to get ready for the wedding.”
“We should have eloped.”
She laughed. “That’s about the tenth time you’ve said that today.”
“Is it?” He kissed the top of her head. “Must be because I mean it.” His breath was warm on her hair.
Tiny shivers ran up and down her spine, and gooseflesh formed on her arms.
“Mmm,” she murmured again.
“I never expected this.”
“What?”
“You,” he answered softly. “Being in love again. I hoped it would happen, but I didn’t believe it would. I didn’t think I’d ever meet the right woman. I’ve been alone a long time.”
She shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “Tell me about Joanne.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Do you still love her?” The question slipped out before she could think better of it. Once it was spoken, the only thing she could do was hold her breath and wait for his answer.
Nat was silent for a long time, all the while staring down into her eyes.
At last he spoke, his voice low and filled with regret. “I loved Joanne. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. We were just kids when we got married, but we were happy for the most part. We were selfish in our own ways, too, like many young people who still think the universe revolves around them. We wanted different things, and neither of us knew how to compromise.”
He looked in the direction of the highway, but judging by his expression, his mind was even farther away than that.
“I don’t know what would’ve happened to our marriage if she’d lived. I don’t think we would’ve made it. Neither of us knew the Lord back then.” He paused, then shook his head. “No, we would’ve divorced. Neither one of us knew how to compromise.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yes, you should have.” His gaze returned to her. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, Shayla. No unspoken questions. We should talk about things.”
She nodded, then returned her head to his shoulder. They were silent for another long spell. A companionable silence, neither of them feeling compelled to speak, content to simply be together. He stroked her hair with the fingers of one hand. She circled her fingers on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her hand.
Finally he said, “You don’t mind that it won’t be just the two of us here after we’re married, do you?”
“You mean Cathy and Angie? No, I don’t mind.” She closed her eyes. “You’re a wonderful uncle. At least, now that you’re over that rocky start.”
“I’ve always sort of hoped for kids of my own.” There was an unspoken question in his words.
Shayla didn’t know what to say. A few months ago—a few weeks ago—she hadn’t known where children would fit in with her new purpose. But now? She wasn’t sure. What would it be like to carry Nat’s baby?
“I love you,” he whispered.
And what she thought he might be saying was, It’s okay. We don’t have to decide about children now. We have time. We have the rest of our lives.
Half an hour later, Nat watched the taillights of Shayla’s car grow dimmer as she drove away from the house. When he knew she’d safely reached the highway, he turned and went inside. Once upstairs, he checked on the girls. They were sound asleep.
He stood at the side of the double bed, soft light from the hallway illuminating their faces. Angie’s bandage was gone now, and it took him a moment to be sure who was who. He was kind of proud of himself that he was beginning to see the slight differences in their faces. Shayla had noticed them right off, but it had taken him a bit longer.
He remembered that first twenty-four-hour period with these two little girls. He’d dubbed them the twin terrors. They’d scared him half to death with their tantrums and their tears. But they hadn’t scared Shayla. She’d seen right through them. She’d known the exact mix of love and discipline that was needed.
She would make a wonderful mother.
He recalled the tension he’d felt in her tonight when he told her he wanted kids of his ow
n. She hadn’t looked up at him, but her fingers had grown still.
It hurt him a little, knowing she didn’t yet trust him not to crush her hopes and dreams, but he could understand it, too.
He drew the sheet over the twins, then left the room, wandering into the studio.
Even after all these years, the faint scent of oil paints and turpentine lingered in the air. He wondered if the odor would disappear once the room held a desk, computer and printer, once the walls were lined with books instead of canvasses.
“Do you still love her?”
Remembering Shayla’s question, Nat shook his head. He wished he could explain it better. At one time he’d loved Joanne with all his heart, but that had been long ago. Things had been different then. He had been different then. While he could remember that he once loved Joanne, he didn’t feel the emotion.
Now when he thought of love, he thought of Shayla—of her laughter, of the way she talked to herself, of the sweet taste of her mouth and the perfect way she fit within his arms. She filled his thoughts—morning, noon and night. There was no room in his mind or his heart for another woman, whether real or a memory.
His gaze moved around the room, over the things that had been Joanne’s.
“I won’t make the same mistakes again,” he pledged to the silence around him. “I won’t crush your dreams, Shayla. I won’t insist on my own way. Whatever it takes, this marriage is for a lifetime.”
He flicked off the lights and headed for his room.
Once again, Shayla couldn’t sleep. So many things kept racing through her mind, and her heart was torn with conflicting emotions. She hadn’t known love was like this, a sweet torment. Joys were greater. Fears were deeper.
She loved Nat with her entire being. She didn’t doubt that for an instant. Nat loved her just as deeply. He seemed to understand her as no one else ever had. And still…
She remembered Nat telling her, weeks ago, not to let anything or anyone get in the way of her dreams. Was she doing that? Once they were married, would her own desire to please him get in the way?
With a groan, she tossed off the blankets and got out of bed. Her head ached with all her whirling thoughts and questions, but she was unable to shut them off.
She didn’t turn on the light. A full moon provided enough illumination for her to see her way out to the living room.
Silently she walked to her desk, drawn there like metal to a magnet. She lifted her manuscript from the stationery box. What she held in her hands represented many weeks of work. Hard work. Hopefully, good work.
But how did she know if it was really good?
Oh, Lord. I want this. I want this so much. But how does writing fit with marriage and a home and a family?
She closed her eyes, holding the manuscript pages against her chest, waiting for an answer to her prayer, hoping to hear that small voice of assurance in her heart. All she heard was the silence of the cabin.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked at the manuscript a second time. There was only one way she knew to find out if her book was good enough to be published. She had to show it to someone who could tell her the truth. Up to this point, Chet Morrison and True Barry and all the other characters of Eden Valley belonged only to her. It was time to learn if someone else might like them, too.
She took another breath—a long, deep one this time—let it out, then laid the manuscript back in its box, her decision made.
CHAPTER 17
Shayla tried not to let her uncertainties color her joy. This was supposed to be the happiest time of a woman’s life, and she was determined it would be so for her.
On Tuesday, she and Anne drove to the ranch early in the morning to pick up the twins. Then the four of them headed down the highway toward Boise. It didn’t take them long to start singing camp songs. Cathy and Angie quickly learned the words to those they hadn’t heard before. All mistakes were followed by riotous laughter. More than they deserved.
An hour into their journey, they saw a doe and her fawn along the river’s edge. Shayla slowed so they could get a better look. The doe, ever alert for danger to her baby, lifted her head and watched the car go by, ready to dart away if necessary. Another fifteen minutes down the road, they stopped to watch a helicopter as it hauled a log out of the forest, the chopper following the river’s winding path for a while, then disappearing over a ridge.
As they got closer to Boise, the temperature began to rise. The sun glared down from a cloudless blue sky, and the air conditioner in the compact car couldn’t spit out enough cold air to keep the inhabitants comfortable.
It was nearly eleven o’clock before they arrived at their destination. The bridal shop had been recommended by Geneve Barnett, the pastor’s wife. Shayla prayed it would be the only stop they would have to make. She hated clothes shopping almost as much as going to the dentist.
“You start looking at bridal gowns,” Anne suggested as they walked toward the shop’s door, “and the girls and I will check out the bridesmaid and flower girl dresses. That way we can be done in half the time.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Half an hour later, Shayla stood in a fitting room with an overly cheerful saleswoman and a selection of gowns. As soon as the first one—hooped skirt, huge puffy sleeves, and all—was zipped up the back, she knew why she hated shopping so much.
“I thought all brides were supposed to be beautiful,” she muttered at her reflection. “I look like a cream puff about to explode.”
Anne—beautiful, model-like Anne, who looked gorgeous in anything—chose that precise moment to poke her head through the curtains.
“Shayla, I think we found the perfect—” She stopped and stared. “Oh, it’s definitely not you, my dear, sweet sister.” She entered the fitting room and began to poke through the other gowns. When she was done, she rolled her eyes at Shayla. “You are hopeless. None of these are right for you.”
‘Tell me about it. Maybe I should get married in shorts and a T-shirt. It’s more my style.”
Anne grinned. “I don’t think you have to resort to that. I saw something I think would be perfect. Get out of that Scarlett O’Hara thing. I’ll be right back.” Without a word, the saleswoman stepped toward Shayla and unzipped the back of the gown, then helped her out of the yards of satin, beads and lace and the voluminous underskirt beneath it all. Anne returned a moment later.
“Don’t look until it’s on.” Glancing at the saleswoman, Anne said, “Would you mind helping the flower girls with their dresses? They’re anxious to try them on. I left them in the next room over.”
A look of horror crossed the woman’s face, obviously realizing what havoc two unchaperoned six-year-old girls could create in her shop. She hurried out of the fitting room.
“Anne, really,” Shayla whispered, fighting a smile.
Her sister chuckled. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound the least bit repentant. ‘Turn around and lift your arms over your head. And remember. Don’t look until I say so.”
“Yes, sir, General, sir.”
They laughed together.
But Anne quickly sobered. “Shayla, I’ve been meaning to say something to you for days, and I can’t wait another minute. I want you to know how blessed I am to have you for my big sister. I know I haven’t shown it often, but you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. Just like letting me come to stay with you for a while. I know I’m in the way—”
“Oh, Anne. That’s not true. I never thought—”
“It is true. I took advantage of your generous spirit. I knew you wouldn’t turn me down.”
Shayla shook her head.
“There’s something else. I have a confession to make.” Anne dropped her gaze. “I read your manuscript while you were gone the other day.”
What did you think? Did you like it? The questions echoed in her heart, but she was too afraid to speak them aloud.
Anne looked up again. “It’s wonderful. Truly, it is. I love the mystery and the chara
cters. But most of all, I love the way Chet lives his faith and shares it with True. It made me…it made me wonder a little about my own faith. It made me hope I can have that same kind of trust in God, no matter what happens in my life.”
Joyful tears threatened in Shayla’s eyes.
“I’m so proud of you. The Lord’s truly given you a gift” Anne gave her sister a tight hug, then turned her toward the mirror. “Now, take a look.”
Shayla sucked in a breath of surprise. “Oh, Anne. Is that me?”
“It’s you. You look beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”
The gown of silk and tulle was understated with simple, flowing lines. It had an old-fashioned look that made it perfect for the outdoor ceremony she and Nat planned.
“I can’t believe it’s me. Nat won’t recognize me.”
“How can you say that? He thinks you’re beautiful all the time.”
She met her sister’s gaze in the mirror. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do.”
“His first wife was gorgeous,” she said, more to herself than to Anne. “You know. You saw her photograph.”
“But he loves you, Shayla.”
“I know. I know he does. And I love him. More than I thought possible.” She turned to face her sister. “What if I’m not the sort of wife he needs? What if I make him unhappy? We’re so different, he and I.”
Anne shook her head. “Not as different as you think.”
“But I’m serious. What if I—”
“I know you’re serious. You are also suffering from a raging case of pre-wedding jitters. That’s normal. Get over it. You two are perfect for each other.”
“But what if—”
“Miss Vincent?” the saleswoman called from the next room.
“Yes,” Shayla and Anne answered in unison. As they looked at each other, they laughed and the tension was broken.
“Could you come here a moment?”
Anne went to see what the saleswoman needed, and Shayla turned back to the mirror.
Please, God. Let Anne be right.
“Wait till you see ’em, Uncle Nat,” Cathy said as she tumbled out of Shayla’s car.
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