Springwater Wedding

by Linda Lael Miller

  Since disarming Odell Hough that day at the Jupiter and Zeus, and thus preventing further carnage, Purvis had been a hero in Springwater and the surrounding county. Although there were still three weeks to go until the actual voting, Purvis was indeed the projected winner. The town council had tried to draft J.T. for the marshal’s job, but he’d refused. He was a rancher, he declared, not a cop. A headhunting firm had been hired to find a replacement for Purvis, and they were having a hard time.

  “So,” Daphne said, “everybody got a happy ending.” She paused, blinked. “Some were just happier than others, that’s all.”

  “Oh, Daph,” Maggie whispered.

  “It’s all right,” Daphne insisted. “Together, Tiffany and I make a family. If a knight in shining armor happens to come along someday, even better. But I can be happy on my own, Mags. I am happy, because I’ve got my daughter, and you, and all my beloved friends.”

  “You’ve got the whole town of Springwater,” Kathleen added. And then they all hugged, and laughed, and cried together.

  “You look real spiffy there, Purvis,” J.T. remarked, taking in his friend’s new black western suit, white shirt, and string tie. He even sported a white boutonniere on his lapel.

  Purvis gave J.T.’s rented tux a once-over and smiled. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” he remarked. The strains of organ music poured in from the sanctuary and, according to Reece McCaffrey, who’d sneaked in earlier to reassure J.T. that Maggie was indeed on the premises, dressed for the occasion in a white dress and veil worn by a great many Springwater brides before her, they were playing to a sold-out house.

  “Thanks,” J.T. said, straightening his cuffs. Quinn burst in just then, wearing a miniature penguin suit himself, his hair slicked down and his eyes bright. He’d made the choice to stay on in Springwater for the school year, rather than join Annie and Brad in Caracas, and though he missed his mother, the arrangement seemed to be working out.

  “You look nervous, Dad,” Quinn said. “Are you scared?”

  J.T. grinned. “No,” he said. “I’m not scared. I’ve got you to lean on and my old buddy Purvis, here, soon to be sheriff.”

  “Grandma’s out there, too,” Quinn announced. “Your mom,” he elaborated, at J.T.’s blank expression. “She’s got a guy with her. His name is Buck.”

  J.T. sighed, shook his head. “Great,” he said. He hadn’t been sure Becky would show up at all, or bring her main squeeze, but it was nice to know she cared enough to make the trip. No doubt McCaffrey was right—again—and he ought to try—yet again—to mend some fences in that quarter.

  The minister appeared in the doorway leading into the small sanctuary. “Time to take our places,” he said. He was an older man, cheerful and apparently fond of his job.

  J.T. followed the reverend out into the church and Quinn, his best man, came to stand beside him. Purvis slipped into a pew beside Nelly, who’d been saving him a place.

  The organist cranked up, and Daphne came down the aisle, wearing a simple blue suit and carrying a bouquet of daisies. She winked at J.T. and waited while Cindy Raynor made the same progress, from the back of the church to the front. Her earnest young husband looked on proudly, their baby boy, Sam, bundled in his arms. Billy had made a good recovery, though he was still working only part time, and he and his little family were happy in the small house J.T. had built for them on the ranch. He was the official foreman, and people called him “Mr. Raynor.”

  Before J.T. was quite prepared, Maggie was there in the doorway, wearing that amazing dress, with Reece standing at her side. She held her father’s arm, drew a deep breath, visible in the nearly imperceptible rise of her bodice. The organ played more loudly, with jubilant good cheer, and then she was coming toward him, toward their life together.

  Standing there, waiting to make Maggie his wife, J.T. couldn’t help recalling another wedding ten years before, in the McCaffreys’ back yard. He’d thought his life was over for good that day, that he’d never be happy again, but here he was. He had a ranch, a wonderful son, a town full of friends, and he was about to marry the woman he loved. It doesn’t get any better than this, he thought, but in the next instant, he knew he was wrong.

  Everything would get better, in the hours, days, weeks, months, and years to come, and then better still.

  He smiled, his heart warm in his chest, as Maggie reached his side, looked up at him. “Hey, Wainwright,” she whispered, from behind the delicate, gossamer veil.

  “Hey, McCaffrey,” he whispered back.

  “Dearly beloved,” began the preacher, “We are gathered here—”

  “We are gathered here—”

  The lovely old words echoed in Maggie’s heart. Indeed, they were gathered, herself and J.T., their families and friends, and probably a few people who had invited themselves. Everyone was welcome.

  Maggie gave her vows when prompted, and J.T. responded with his own. They exchanged rings, and the minister pronounced them man and wife. Then J.T. took Maggie in his arms and kissed her soundly, and the members of the congregation laughed warmly and cheered. Kathleen was crying and beaming, both at once, and Reece looked proud and solemn. Maggie’s brothers, Simon and Wes, stood at the back with the other ushers, wearing wide grins.

  Arm in arm, J.T. and Maggie, now Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright, came back down the aisle and, outside in the crisp fall afternoon their wedding guests showered them with birdseed and good wishes.

  The reception was to be held at the Station, and as the wedding party headed in that direction, in one festive, joyous mass, Maggie marveled that it was possible to be so happy and still live. Surely, she thought, her heart would burst at any moment.

  Kathleen, Daphne, Nelly, and Cindy, among others, had decorated the Station with balloons, flowers, and streamers, and a beautiful cake awaited cutting. Gifts were stacked on every surface.

  Photos were taken, and the tables had been moved back against the walls so that everyone could dance. It was a dream come true for Maggie, and as she whirled in J.T.’s arms, tears of joy filled her eyes.

  “What’s this?” J.T. whispered against her temple. “Crying? On our wedding day?”

  “I can’t help it,” Maggie sniffed. “I’m so happy. Everything is so perfect.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Especially the bride.”

  “Flatterer.”

  He laughed, and they went on dancing. “You think I’m trying to seduce you?”

  She smiled up at him. “You don’t have to try, and you know it,” she said saucily. “I’m all yours.”

  “Just wait,” he teased, and bent her over in a graceful dip, much to the delight of the onlookers, and kissed her thoroughly before letting her up again.

  She was flushed with happiness, grateful to be with that man, in that place, among these dear people. So many had loved and laughed, danced and married, celebrated and mourned in that lovely old landmark of a building, and Maggie was sure they were all there with them now, June-bug and Jacob, Olivia and Will, Scully and Evangeline, and all the rest, sharing in the celebration.

  Epilogue

  Maggie clung to J.T.’s hand.

  “Breathe,” he told her. “Come on, McCaffrey. You can do this.”

  Maggie had been in labor for several hours, and she’d already given birth to the first of their twins, a boy they planned to call Jack, after J.T.’s father. The other baby was apparently reluctant to make his or her appearance. “That’s easy for you to say, Wainwright,” she gasped, and then gave a long, anguished cry as her uterus contracted. “You’re doing the easy part!”

  He chuckled, kissed her forehead, touched her mouth with a cool cloth. “We’re going to need another name,” he said, to distract her.

  Fat chance. She felt as if someone was opening her pelvis with the jaws of life. “This is it, J.T.,” she groaned, arching her back. “We stop right here. Three kids is enough for anybody.” The fact that they were having twins had come as a surprise, since only one baby had shown up
on the sonogram taken weeks before, and the doctors had picked up a single heartbeat.

  “Whatever you say, darling,” he crooned, and his eyes, warm with love, were dancing. He exchanged a look with the obstetrician standing at the business end of the delivery table, who nodded. “Okay, McCaffrey, one more push.”

  Maggie pushed, raising her shoulders up off the table and making an animal noise as she strained. She felt the child slip out of her body, heard a tremulous cry, and saw tears of happiness glittering in J.T.’s eyes.

  “We have a daughter,” he said.

  A sound escaped Maggie, part sob, part shout of triumph. She was through, she was empty. She was a mother.

  J.T. let his forehead rest on hers. “You did good, McCaffrey,” he said.

  She slipped her arms around his neck. “Thanks, handsome,” she replied, and kissed him.

  Nurses, approaching from either side, laid the freshly washed and bundled babies in Maggie’s arms, and she looked from one to the other, and then at their father. “They look like you,” she said.

  He laughed. “Darn good thing,” he teased. “What are we going to call our daughter?”

  “You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?” Maggie asked, grinning. She felt as though she could sleep for a month, and she was still in pain, but she was also gloriously happy. “How about Olivia?”

  “I like it,” J.T. said. He kissed Olivia’s tiny, tender head, and then Jack’s, and then looked into Maggie’s eyes, not even trying to hide the fact that he was crying. “How soon can we start another one?”

  Maggie gave a long-suffering sigh, then glanced pointedly at the clock on the delivery room wall and screwed up her face, calculating.

  J.T. laughed. “I love you,” he said.

  Maggie smiled up at him. “Kiss me, Cowboy.”