by Mary Leo
He really needed that first cup of strong black tea and a dose of his drugs to ease the pain that still racked his body.
He’d stopped taking heavy pain meds about a month ago, replacing them with over-the-counter types that at least allowed him to move around freely. He wondered if he could find something on the drugstore shelves to help ease his broken heart...or was it more his broken ego? Nothing made much sense anymore. It was almost as if his emotions had somehow gotten tangled up with his physical discomfort and he could no longer tell which was hurting more.
The doorbell rang before he could get to the kitchen and instead of answering it he proceeded to his destination, put the teakettle on, poured a glass of orange juice and dumped out his pills on the cluttered counter. He wasn’t much for keeping things tidy and had hired a cleaning service to come in once a week to manage the place, which seemed to make him only more careless.
Ding-dong.
He figured either it had to be another wedding present being delivered by an energetic UPS driver, or it might be Sal Hastings ringing his doorbell. Sal was his eighty-two-year-old neighbor who liked to drop by to remind him they needed to clear the fresh snow from the sidewalks and walkways out front. Whenever even one snowflake fell, Sal revved up the old snowblower and proceeded to clear off the entire block. Carson had no choice but to help him. If Sal collapsed blowing snow off his walkway, Carson would never forgive himself. Besides, Sal had been a rock to him while he’d been recuperating. He hoped it wasn’t more snow; he couldn’t be loopy while handling machinery with a senior citizen in tow. He’d tried it once and nearly ran over Sal’s right foot.
Ding-dong.
“I’ll be right there,” he yelled at the closed door. He glanced out through the sheer curtains on the front windows and didn’t see the familiar brown UPS truck, which meant that Sal was ringing the bell. Problem was, he really didn’t want to deal with Sal this morning. He needed time to brood and feel sorry for himself. The thought of conversing with another human being was like a heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders. He hoped Sal would somehow get the telepathic message, lose interest and go away.
Unfortunately, Sal, being a determined, persnickety senior, was now knocking on Carson’s door. Quick little jabs of noise sparked through his already-aching head, causing him more pain than he wanted to suffer.
So much for Sal’s foot.
He downed his medication and the juice, pulled in a deep breath and headed for the front door, hoping Sal would be scared off by his disheveled look and ornery disposition. The snow could wait this morning, at least until he’d had his tea.
He yanked open the door ready to tell Sal he wasn’t in the mood to clean sidewalks, but standing in front of him, with two feet of snow piled up on the walkway behind her, flashing those innocent, pure brown doe eyes of hers, was Zoe Smart, his wedding planner. She looked all warm and cozy wearing a white knit hat over long fire-colored waves that cascaded down the front of a tan quilted jacket. Her tight jeans clung to every curve, while high chunky gray boots warded off the cold and snow.
He wished now he’d never opened the door. Granted, she was pleasant to look at on this dark and gloomy morning; however, this cowboy wanted nothing to do with her, and especially her wedding plans.
She gave him a once-over, an eyebrow went up, and he could tell she wasn’t happy with his appearance, but then he wasn’t too happy with hers, either. What was she doing knocking on his door so early in the morning looking so perky and organized and, well, cute as a button?
“We had an appointment at ten o’clock today,” she said, sounding much too chipper for his dour disposition. “Your fiancée made it about two months ago. I confirmed it with her last week. We were supposed to go over the final details of your wedding. If this is a bad time, I can—”
“Wait. What time is it? Are you early or am I late? And why didn’t anyone tell me the meeting would be at my house?”
He’d last seen Zoe Smart when she’d been waiting for his sister Kayla in front of St. Paul’s. He had driven his sister to the church, as he’d promised Zoe the night before at the rehearsal dinner, but when it came time for Kayla to get out of his SUV, she wouldn’t budge. The whole way to the church, he’d tried to convince her that Jimmy Bartley was her soul mate, but Kayla would have none of it. He’d learned long ago that once his baby sister made up her mind, nothing short of divine intervention was going to change it.
He clearly remembered Zoe’s stunned expression when he’d driven away that morning with the bride still sitting in the backseat of his SUV, sobbing uncontrollably. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop watching the wedding planner in his rearview mirror, noticing her shoulders slump, and her head moving from side to side in disbelief. It was almost as if their gazes were one in that frozen moment. Suddenly he wasn’t sure whom he felt worse for, his confused sister, Jimmy Bartley—patiently waiting at the altar inside the church for his beautiful bride—or their wedding planner. He knew Kayla had put Zoe Smart through hell changing her mind at least five times about every little detail.
Since that horrible day, he had deliberately steered clear of Zoe and made up excuses to his fiancée as to why he couldn’t attend any of the meetings about their wedding. If he’d known about the meeting today, he would have done something to get out of it. Yet here he was, staring at Zoe Smart standing in his doorway.
Whatever Marilyn Rose and Zoe planned for the wedding had always been fine with him. Carson had simply nodded and agreed whenever he was asked a question. The wedding details were his fiancée’s responsibility. His job was planning the honeymoon.
Damn. He’d made the final payment and confirmed their two-week Hawaiian trip just last week.
“In order,” Zoe began, “it’s now past noon, so you’re extremely late and in the realm of standing me up. I don’t usually make house calls unless I’m invited, which I was not. However, I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. Also, I couldn’t leave a message, because you’ve reached your limit on your cell phone. You should really take care of that. It’s annoying to your callers. I tried texting, and again no reply. You left me no alternative. You and your fiancée have to decide on your flowers for the church today or you might not be able to get what you want.” She paused a moment as if considering his appearance and foul mood. “But again, if this is inconvenient for you, I can try to hold the florist off for another day or so.”
He stared at Zoe and smiled as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to make some sense out of his mixed-up life. Normally, he would invite her inside where it was relatively warm. Unfortunately, there was nothing normal about this situation, so Carson decided to ignore his good manners and left her out on the front stoop, a condition she should be somewhat used to from their last encounter.
“No, this is, um, convenient,” he told her, lying. It was a horrible time. The absolute worst time. There couldn’t be a more pitiful moment for his wedding planner to show up asking him to decide on flowers for the church. There would be no church. No flowers. No wedding. No bride. Just a pathetic, broken-down cowboy wondering what had happened to his promising life.
Carson absentmindedly let out a sigh, then caught himself before he told her the truth of the matter. He wasn’t about to blurt out that his fiancée had dumped him, so the entire town would know that not only was he still home licking his physical wounds from his last competition, but the one woman he thought he’d lassoed for life had discarded him like a pair of old boots. He could only imagine all the sympathy meals and phone calls he’d get for that one. Besides, there was no way he was ready to face his family with the news, even though they’d probably be delighted. Marilyn Rose’s dour personality never did sit well with his easygoing folks and siblings.
Nope, before he told Zoe Smart the wedding had been called off, he needed a shower, a cup of tea and a little snow blowing with Sal.
“Let’s meet in your office in, say, three hours. Will that work?” he asked, trying to sound as positive as his muddled brain could muster.
“That’s perfect. It will give me time to set up everything I want to show you and Marilyn Rose.”
He started to tell her that his fiancée wouldn’t be there, but instantly changed his mind. They said their goodbyes, and as he closed the door, he hoped three hours was enough time to pull his thoughts together and prepare for the onslaught of questions he would no doubt have to find answers for during the next few weeks, leading up to Christmas Day. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t announced to the entire town last Christmas that he and Marilyn Rose were engaged and planned to get married on Christmas Day the following year.
Her idea, not his.
Most definitely not his.
But now she’d called it off on the exact day he’d proposed a year ago. Dang, he would try to keep that little detail to himself.
* * *
“SOUNDS TO ME like you done fell into a barrel of shucks and can’t get yer’self out of the bottom of that there barrel,” Sal offered as he and Carson shuffled along behind the noisy snowblower. Carson held on to the handle and Sal directed their movement up the walkways and driveways. “You gotta start thinkin’ of how to break free of all them shucks. They’ll suffocate ya after too long.”
The snowblower sputtered and Sal hit it with a long stick he kept handy. They methodically moved forward, pure white snow piling up along the outer edges of the sidewalk. The streets were empty, but plowed clean. Most of the cars were tucked away in garages or pulled up into the driveways so the plows had an easy time of it. Ever since Carson had moved back to town, he’d learned the rhythm of its people and tried to comply. He no longer parked his SUV on the street, pulled his garbage cans in after the trucks emptied them and had learned to be friendly to his neighbors, Sal being the result of that friendliness.
“I wanted to work it out, but she didn’t want to hear it,” Carson said as he pushed the blower along his other neighbor’s front walkway. They’d already cleared both their own and now they were onto the rest of the block. There were ten houses on their block and it usually took them about an hour and a half to get through them all. He had a feeling today’s cleanup might take longer, but he didn’t mind. Talking to Sal was already helping his sour mood.
“Workin’ it out with a woman who already moved on ain’t reasonable. It’s like tryin’ to convince the wind not to blow in a hurricane. Ain’t no negotiatin’ with somethin’ that already is.”
Sal had a way of putting everything into perspective. “But I’m still in love with her.” The words came out more as a defense rather than an expression of his true emotions.
“Is that a fact?”
“Of course it is,” Carson insisted, even though he wasn’t sure about anything anymore, including his feelings for his now ex-fiancée.
They walked in silence for a while, the roar of the blower drowning out any other sound. Carson favored his left leg and Sal shuffled his feet as the two men made their way up the sidewalk. They were quite the pair.
Then Sal shook his head as if he was giving his thoughts a jump start. “Seems to me not too long ago you was tellin’ me how your feelin’s for her was slippin’ away. Now that she don’t want you no more, that love done returned? Better think what love is, son, ’cause it don’t sound as if it’s sittin’ in your heart the way it should.”
Carson knew he hadn’t felt the same for Marilyn Rose for a long time, but he’d made excuses for it. Nothing seemed right since he’d had to step away from rodeo life. Not only had he been busy second-guessing his relationship with his fiancée, but he’d speculated on what life would be like if he never went back into an arena, never went back to rodeo. If he worked the family ranch instead. Maybe he’d had enough of saddle bronc riding, of torturing his body, of never being home more than a few weeks at a time. Maybe he needed a change. That simple thought had sent his ego spiraling downward.
If he wasn’t a bronc rider, who was he?
“My heart’s heavy right now, Sal. I don’t know what I want or who I love.”
“Only one person you gotta love. It’s the only way you can pull yourself outta that there barrel.”
The blower sputtered again and Sal banged on it several times. This time, it hesitated, coughed and blew out a red bow from one of the many Christmas decorations on the front lawns and lining some of the walkways. The Christmas season had arrived on Howdy Street and everyone had taken the time to string lights, put up trees and wreaths, and with so much snow had created elaborate snowmen on their front lawns... Everyone except Carson. Now the chances of him celebrating the holiday with even one holly twig seemed remote.
“I already love you, Sal. Heck, I don’t need to love anyone else,” he teased as he draped his good arm around Sal’s shoulders and pulled him in closer for a moment, almost knocking both of them to the ground. Despite Sal’s height, at least six feet, he was as fragile as a bird and couldn’t weigh more than a grasshopper. His winter clothes engulfed him as if he’d shrunk down a few sizes, and his rubber boots rode his spindly legs like hoops around a stick.
“Thanks, but I’m not talkin’ about you lovin’ me. I got a whole brood of family who love me more than I can keep track of. I’m talkin’ about you lovin’ yer’self, son. Seems you forgot how. I know it’s not somthin’ a cowboy thinks about, but it’s somthin’ that either comes naturally or it’s somethin’ you gotta wrangle. You remind me of a sapling. Time to tie you to a stick to keep you upright or you’re gonna fall over and die.”
Carson chuckled at the old man’s analogy. He knew dang well that men from Sal’s generation acted mostly on reason, grit and lust. Where Sal got this whole notion of loving himself was beyond what Carson could grasp. It seemed almost as if Sal’s open-minded tolerance was tangled up in an older person’s body, and his thoughts poured out in a cowboy dialect that reminded Carson of all the old-timers he’d met on the road.
“I’ll take that under advisement, Sal. Thanks for the kick.”
“Whatever I can do,” he said, then he whacked the snowblower with his stick a couple times as they continued up the sidewalk.
* * *
EVENTUALLY CARSON GRANT showed up in Zoe’s small office located inside All About A Bride, a bridal shop owned by Greta Green, distant cousin to Milo Gump, who owned Spud Drive-In, and Belly Up Tavern. He looked like his normal self—incredibly handsome and ready to win his next buckle...kind of. So maybe he still had a limp, used a cane and couldn’t seem to lift his left arm without wincing. Zoe was sure the man was itching to get back in that bronc saddle and make the people of Briggs, Idaho, proud.
“I thought your fiancée would be with you today,” Zoe commented as he took a seat in the empty black chair next to her. He wore a dark blue shirt, a black tie, a dark blue suit coat, jeans and black Western boots. By his somewhat formal attire, Zoe concluded he took wedding planning seriously. It wasn’t what she expected, given he’d been absent for the majority of previous meetings.
They sat in front of a round glass coffee table loaded down with binders that contained swatches of fabric, vendor business cards and photos of past weddings. Her laptop was open to Carson’s account with a depiction of what he and his fiancée had already agreed upon. They wanted a country wedding, complete with a country DJ who would play some of the older hits.
“Something came up,” he said, shifting his eyes away from hers just as Piper walked into the room. Though Piper was Zoe’s opposite in almost every aspect, when it came to the love of a beautiful wedding and business acumen, they were in total agreement. Everything else about Piper, Zoe had learned to accept. Well, everything except Piper’s lack of any kind of thought filter. If something bounced around in her head, she usually had no qualms with dumping it on anyone who happened to
be within earshot. Zoe had asked her a thousand times to please lock those thoughts away until a more agreeable moment, but most often Piper simply couldn’t control herself.
“I heard Marilyn Rose was in town last night but left in a hurry,” Piper said, causing Zoe to cringe. Apparently, this was one of those uncontrollable times. “Everything okay with you and your sweetie pie?” Piper asked as she took the seat next to Carson, the seat that was designated for his fiancée.
Except for her cowgirl black boots, Piper was dressed entirely in black Goth today, complete with lacy long sleeves on her silky blouse, which she wore under her black lace-up corset. “Zoe and I don’t want to be putting out all this effort, and spending all your hard-earned money, if you two are on the skids. When I was buying my morning muffin and coffee over at Holy Rollers, Amanda Gump told me she saw you storm out of Sammy’s Smokehouse last night well before your fiancée. She said you walked home in the snow, alone. Is there anything to that lonely, cold walk you want to share with us?”
Zoe held her breath and waited for Carson’s answer, her heart beating madly. If he cancelled now, Zoe wouldn’t be able to pay the rent on their office. Greta was already charging them half of what the space was worth, but she’d certainly draw the line if they stopped paying altogether, especially right before Christmas. Then there was always the storage facility they kept outside of town that held all their merchandise and supplies like folding chairs and tables, silk flowers, various types of vases, paper umbrellas and a myriad of decorations their clients could rent for a fraction of the cost of buying from local retailers.
“I’m sure Carson wouldn’t be sitting here if something that unfortunate had happened. He would’ve told me straight-out when I knocked on his door earlier to remind him of our meeting.” Zoe felt hopeful. Logic told her she was right and everyone else was merely jumping to their usual negative conclusions.