Black Ember

by Ruby Laska

  “Deneen wants Ashley to leave her son alone at the hospital just so the wedding will look right?” Zane demanded. The outrage in his voice made Caryn’s girl parts shiver. More, they demanded silently. She squeezed her legs together to silence the little voice, which wasn’t very effective.

  “I wouldn’t put it past her, but no, she says I either have to cut one of the groomsmen or find another bridesmaid.”

  “I volunteer,” Zane said. “You can cut me. No hard feelings.”

  “No way,” Jayne said. “You’re not getting out of it, not after we got you a tux and a boutonniere and all that other crap. We could have bought a new drill press with all that money.”

  “I can’t believe you and Deneen are related,” Zane said, shaking his head. “If I were you, I’d demand she get a blood test.”

  Caryn couldn’t help smiling. The two sisters were quite different—Jayne was sensible and practical, whereas Deneen was frilly and girly—but it was clear that they were very close.

  “Great idea, Zane, but it doesn’t help me now. With my wedding just hours away and all. And while I would have been just as happy to get hitched at City Hall and celebrate with a bucket of wings, I’m not going to be the one to mess up my sister’s big production.” She reached for an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table and took a huge bite. “She scares me,” she added while chewing.

  “Are you going to take a break from eating during the ceremony, or do you plan to stuff a few Oreos in your cleavage just in case?” Zane asked.

  “I’m eating for two,” Jayne said primly. “So anyway, Carrie, I was thinking, you and Ashley are built exactly alike. Even though she’s had three kids, that bitch. I hate her. I hate you too, come to think of it, with that figure of yours, but I’m willing to put that aside if you’ll just agree to put on the dress and wear it for a few hours.”

  “But—” Caryn was aghast. “You can’t put me in the wedding party. I mean, you’ll have those photos forever, you don’t want a total stranger in them!”

  “You’re not a stranger,” Jayne said, through another bite. She was demolishing the apple at an alarming pace. “I like you. I hope we’ll stay friends. Besides, after a few years everyone’s got people they wish weren’t in their pictures—their sister gets divorced from the guy who was a groomsman, they quit speaking to their aunt who did a reading, you know how it goes. Life’s messy. Why not have people I actually like in my wedding party?”

  Caryn couldn’t come up with a response. It was true: her mother had lost touch with several of the bridesmaids from her wedding to Randall, and he no longer spoke to his brothers, who didn’t approve of him marrying Cleo after divorcing Georgia. Caryn herself had designed bridal jewelry for marriages that didn’t last a year.

  “A beautiful wedding doesn’t ensure happiness,” she said slowly.

  “Well, I’ve got the happiness part covered,” Jayne said. “Matthew is absolutely the man for me. My only problem is getting through tomorrow with Deneen still speaking to me.”

  “You could still elope,” Zane suggested. “Run, now. I’ll make your excuses.”

  “Nice try, but you’re still not getting out of it. Don’t you think Carrie will make a pretty bridesmaid?”

  Zane didn’t give her so much as a glance. “I guess,” he said, staring at the apple bowl.

  Caryn could feel herself blushing, but she too kept her gaze fixed firmly on nothing. Her body had betrayed her enough; she wasn’t going to do anything else to make Zane aware that he was having such an effect on her.

  Jayne looked from her to Zane and back. “Interesting,” she said slowly, one eyebrow raised. “And this works out so well, because Ashley was going to walk with you, Zane. Now you and Carrie will be paired up, and you can introduce her to everyone.”

  Nobody spoke, but Jayne looked very smug as she finished her apple and tossed the core in the garbage. “Looks like my work here is done. Get some sleep, people, tomorrow’s a big day. Carrie, hair and makeup’s after breakfast. Zane…I have no idea what the men are doing, but I’m sure you can consult with Captain Chaos, aka my sister, to get your marching orders.”

  “Good night,” Caryn called as Jayne padded back to her bedroom. After a moment, she added, “Did I really just become a bridesmaid for a woman I’ve known for twenty-four hours?”

  Zane smirked at her, his gray eyes full of amusement and something else, an uneasiness that mirrored Caryn’s own emotional state. “Good thing we practiced,” he said. “But I’m going to do what she said. Get my beauty sleep and all.”

  He paused in the hallway as Caryn concentrated on sipping her tea and pretending that she didn’t mind him brushing her off exactly the same way she’d been intending to brush him off. She should have done what she’d intended when she bolted from the truck, which was to head straight for the couch and be under the old quilts by the time he came into the house, either asleep or pretending to be. That would send the message loud and clear—that what happened earlier tonight was already almost forgotten.

  Instead, she’d made tea. Not because she was thirsty. Not because she was especially fond of chamomile. No, she’d stood there in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil and hoping that Zane would come in and talk to her. Which was ridiculous. Because that’s exactly what he’d done, and now Caryn was committed to standing up in her twentieth wedding, just six months after she should have been standing up in her own.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Hey, pal,” a voice called through the farmhouse door the next morning, as Zane delivered an extra-forceful blow to a nail in the drywall. Zane and the other guys had been helping Matthew out whenever they had time, trying to ready the old house for the newlyweds to settle into by the time the baby came. But only Zane was there today, since Jimmy had gone with Cal to pick up the flowers, and Chase was picking up his girlfriend Regina at the airport. “Thought I might find you here.”

  “Yeah, well.” Zane tried to keep his voice upbeat, but the truth was that pounding nails had done little to improve his mood. After a night of tossing and turning, knowing that Carrie was just down the hall but unable to touch her, the last thing he felt like doing was bridal duties. “I was afraid Deneen would have me hemming skirts or something.”

  Matthew laughed. “Nah, I think it’s just the hair and stuff today. Man, I’m so glad I’m not a chick. Five minutes in the shower and I’m ready to go.”

  Zane considered his friend. It was true; Matthew looked about the same as he did every morning, with a stubble of beard and his hair sticking up from the shower. “You going to shave? I mean, I think you look hot just the way you are, but…”

  “I guess. I’ll see what Captain Chaos says.” The nickname Jayne had coined had apparently stuck. “Speaking of which…I hear she railroaded Carrie into being a bridesmaid. Sorry about that, Zane.”

  Zane picked up another nail and set it in place in the drywall with a tap. “Makes no difference to me.”

  “Yeah? Because I kind of thought…it looked like you two were getting along pretty well. And then when you stayed out all night with her, well, I put two and two together and—”

  “It wasn’t all night,” Zane snapped, pounding the nail all the way in. “We were back by…it was still night, anyway.”

  “Huh.”

  Zane concentrated on hammering for a few more minutes until it was obvious that Matthew wasn’t planning to leave. Well, it was the guy’s wedding day; Zane probably ought to be a little nicer to him. He set down the hammer and wiped his hands on his cargo shorts.

  “So. You’re getting married.”

  “You don’t have to look so broken up about it. I thought you were on board with the whole idea. Getting us out of the house before we have a kid squalling all the time and so forth.”

  “No, that’s cool. Really. I am happy for you, I wish you many years of marital bliss, blah blah blah…oh, hell. Sorry, man, I’m just in a, I mean, I’m sorry to be such a jerk on the big day. I’ll be fi
ne by the time the, uh, you know, the thing starts.”

  “Wow. You can’t even say the word.” Matthew grinned, but he looked a little worried.

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Wedding. You can’t say the word wedding.”

  “Wedding!” Zane practically spat it out. “The thing people do when they, you know, can’t think of any better way to spend the next fifty years than chained together. Okay, you happy now?”

  “That—that was beautiful, man,” Matthew said with faux reverence, placing a hand over his heart. “I just hope you can remember that for when you make the toast tonight.”

  Zane kicked an empty paint bucket and cursed. “I really need a drink or something. Only it’s not even noon and I don’t feel like getting loaded. I feel like...I don’t even know.”

  “No, no, this is good,” Matthew said. “Tell you what, come on in the kitchen. I think I left a couple of root beers in there. We can try out the new ice maker.”

  “You’re not a therapist,” Zane said glumly. “And even if you were, I don’t need one. You’ve been watching daytime television for too long, you think you’re Dr. Phil or something.”

  But he followed his friend anyway. He had known Matthew since they were eight years old and in the same Cub Scout troop. The first heart to heart they’d had was over whether Batman would beat the crap out of Spiderman or the other way around. Matthew had coached Zane through many of the crises that he would have preferred to forget, including the mess he’d made of his first major at college, his father’s illness, his decision to quit the law firm. Matthew had waited to give his opinion until he was asked, and when Zane ignored his advice and did his usual thing—running away—Matthew never judged him.

  Maybe that was why Zane accepted the cold bottle of root beer from the new stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen that was still under construction, the kitchen where his friends would raise their family. For some reason, that thought made him feel even more glum.

  “Ice maker works,” Matthew said conversationally, tossing a few cubes in the sink before joining Zane on a couple of plastic outdoor chairs they’d dragged inside the unfinished room. “But I guess I still prefer it out of the bottle.”

  “Here’s to you and Jayne,” Zane said, clinking his bottle with Matthew’s. The two of them drank.

  Matthew waited a few minutes before saying, “So when are you going to admit this girl’s got under your skin?”

  “Who?” Zane said, trying to look innocent. When Matthew just chuckled, he dropped the act; he’d never had much of a poker face even in the courtroom. “It’s not so much that she’s under my skin, she’s just—she’s not like any other woman I’ve ever met, you know?”

  “Uh, not really. I mean, I’ve spent a total of three or four hours with her, and most of that time, Captain Chaos has been driving the boat.”

  Zane frowned ruefully. He’d spent little more time than that—he’d met her two nights ago and they’d had one kiss in a parking lot, one in a dive bar, and one ill-advised, all-consuming night of passion in the middle of a rainstorm. And despite the fact that her body was emblazoned on his memory and her smile on his heart, he was pretty sure he didn’t know the first thing about her.

  “Okay. She dresses like a Britney Spears backup singer who went shopping at a Kmart Blue Light Special. Her hair looks like it was done by a beauty school dropout on a serious bender. And yet…” His voice trailed off uncertainly.

  “And yet she’s pretty hot?’ Matthew suggested helpfully.

  “Well yeah, that, obviously,” Zane said. “I mean, cripes. That face?...That smile, and those eyes, and that—” He swallowed hard, remembering the feel of her ass underneath his hands, the contrast between her softness and his raging need, the taste of her skin on his tongue. “All of it. She’s, like, flawless. I mean, other than her terrible taste and—but that’s not even what I’m talking about.”

  Matthew was regarding him thoughtfully, his smile growing ever more smug. “Come on, Zane. You used to make a living talking. You can do this.”

  “It’s just—there’s more to that woman than she’s letting on. I’m sure of it. I mean, she used the word ‘inveterate’ yesterday. Who does that? In casual conversation? And she set the table!” He slammed his root beer bottle on the arm of his chair for emphasis.

  “Uh, dude, my six-year-old nephew can set the table,” Matthew said. “I mean, I’m trying to follow you here, but you got to give me a little more than that.”

  “No. I mean, she set the table for your rehearsal dinner last night. With like eleven pieces of silverware per place setting, and something called a berry spoon—her words, not mine. Seriously, a spoon just for berries. And you can’t tell me that she learned that in detention.”

  “So what are you saying, you think she’s a closet debutante? Slumming in the boomtown, trying for a walk on the wild side before she returns to the other side of the tracks?” Matthew was shaking his head, and Zane had to admit that when he said it that way, it sounded pretty stupid. “Look, my friend, when rich girls want to see how the other half lives, they go downtown…downtown Manhattan, that is, or Miami or Los Angeles. They don’t go to the boonies. I mean, come on, the most outrageous thing that’s happened here this year was when the Minot high school kids painted their mascot on the water tower before State Finals. Or when that guy was in the paper for that thirty-two pound zucchini he grew. Conway’s not exactly a happening place, see what I’m saying? I think it’s safe to say your girlfriend isn’t undercover royalty or a trust fund baby on the run.”

  “It’s not that,” Zane said, feeling pretty stupid. “I was thinking…I mean, what if she did something? Something she doesn’t want anyone to know about?”

  “Hmm,” Matthew said. “Well, that’s more interesting, for sure. What does Cal think?”

  “Cal’s been a police officer for all of six months. No offense, but I’m not going to go ask him to profile a girl I barely know.”

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Zane was aware of Matthew watching him carefully, and wished he’d never even brought up the subject. It was ridiculous—Carrie herself had said she was only here for a few days. Whatever her record—whether she was a shoplifter or a gangster or just a pretty girl with a case of wanderlust—he wasn’t going to find out. They’d had some fun together, and that was that—soon she’d be gone, which was exactly what he wanted in the first place. Mr. Teflon, allergic to commitment, a man of the open road.

  Though right now he was feeling less sure of himself than ever before.

  “So listen,” Matthew finally said, after Zane had figured the conversation was over. “Remember back around the holidays, when Deneen first showed up here and Jayne and I had just found out we were going to have a baby?”

  “How could I forget? You scared the shit out of us getting in the car accident—”

  “—and Jimmy took a swing at me and couldn’t stop apologizing, yeah, that was a crazy time. But what I was thinking was…everybody was hooking up that week. Chase was down in Nashville with Regina, Cal and Roan hardly came up for air when he could get time off, and Deneen was making a man out of our boy Jimmy. Everyone was getting some except you. You were, no offense, kind of a sad sack.”

  “I’d just come off a brutal hitch,” Zane said defensively. “We got snowed in and spent two solid days on the job site. All I wanted was to sleep.”

  “Hey, I know,” Matthew said—in the same even tone he’d used all those years ago when he’d forgiven Zane for quitting the baseball team after he’d struck out three times in a row. “I’m not blaming you. All I meant was…how long have I known you, anyway?”

  “Twenty-two years,” Zane said, and he didn’t even have to think about it, because while he might not have ever voiced it out loud, Matthew was the best friend he’d ever had and the day they met, on the jungle gym on their elementary school playground, was one of the most important of his life.


  “Yeah, and in all that time, you’ve been the guy with no roots. The original ramblin’ man, always with somewhere else to be. The only reason you were here at Christmas—”

  “Was because I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Zane said ruefully. “Cassie and Jim took the kids to Florida, and with Mom and Dad gone now, it’s not like I was going to go back to Red Fork. You guys are my family, man.”

  There was a lump in his throat that he didn’t try to hide. He’d made his peace with his sister, but Cassie had a growing family, and he barely knew his distant cousins down south. For better or worse, the four men he’d come to North Dakota with were the closest ties he’d ever made.

  “I know that.” Matthew grinned. “You’re already one of Junior’s favorite uncles, and he isn’t even born yet. And I’ll be proud to have you standing up for me today. But that’s not where I was going with this.”

  “Uh…yeah?” Zane felt a sense of trepidation.

  “No. What I was going to say was, you were different this year. You weren’t running from anything.”

  There wasn’t anything to say to that. Count on Matthew to nail it in one, with no hemming or hawing.

  “Everyone else was hooking up, and I feel like, in the past, you would have found someone to pass the time with, someone to take your mind off things. Something new to keep you interested for a day or two. But this year you just—you were here hanging out with us the whole time.”

  “Jimmy’s stupid cake,” Zane remembered. “And Deneen running around like a little magpie, stealing everyone’s stuff to make presents out of. And then almost freezing to death when she thought Jimmy was lost in the storm…”

  “But on Christmas day, once Jayne and I finally got out of the hospital, it was all of us at the table. Remember? Like…family. And it was really kind of nice, just being together. And you didn’t fight it. Like you usually do. I think it was the first time in my life where I saw you just…be, without looking for your next move.”