Blessed Bouquets: Wed By A PrayerThe Dream ManSmall-Town Wedding

by Lyn Cote

  In a matter of seconds, the knob turned and the door swung open. To her surprise and horror, none other than Griff stood before her. He looked as surprised to see her standing there as she felt.

  “Hi, there,” he said, recovering first.

  In spite of herself, Hannah wondered if her hair was straggling around her face and if she still had on any lipstick. Then, realizing the turn of her thoughts, she felt her anger rise.

  “Hello.” She tried to step past him toward the door, but he moved the slightest bit, blocking her.

  “How are Lane and Kim doing? They haven’t had an appointment in a couple of weeks.”

  Hannah stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. He really did expect her to act as if there were no bad blood between them. Unfortunately, as much as she knew she should make the effort, she was unable. Without answering, she took another sideways step and tried to brush past him, but before she realized his intent, she found herself once again against the wall. This time it was Griff’s hands that held her, though not so hard as to cause pain. She wasn’t sure, but thought she gasped in surprise. Blood pounded in her ears as she stared at the angular, masculine face so close to hers.

  “For the life of me, sometimes I’m not sure why I bother,” he murmured, his brooding blue gaze boring into hers.

  “Then why do you?” she asked, her voice sounding breathless, reedy.

  “Maybe because we all want to be liked and accepted.”

  “Liked?” she echoed. “I can’t believe you expect me just to forget what happened the way you have and like you.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten. As much as I might like to, I’ll never forget anything that happened between me and Johnny. Or between me and you.”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. As clearly as if it had happened yesterday, the memory of the day he’d kissed her rose up between them.

  “You remember, too.”

  Unable to face the demand she saw in his eyes, she closed hers and shook her head.

  “Of course you do. I even think you liked it. I know I did. I liked it too much.”

  The admission that he’d been as moved by that kiss as she had been robbed her of breath. She opened her eyes, needing to see the verification in his.

  He released his hold on her and smiled, a crooked, derisive smile. Though she was free, she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.

  “Does that surprise you, Hannah? Why? You were a beautiful girl, and you’re even more beautiful as a full-grown woman, with that thick dark hair and those big brown eyes…”

  “No…” She shook her head, uncertain if it was because she didn’t believe him or because she didn’t want to know.

  “So now you know the truth…or at least part of it.”

  “What do you mean, part of it?”

  “You told me that day at the grocery store that you knew what happened the night Johnny was killed, and you were right, as far as you went. If the day ever comes when you’re ready to take Johnny off his pedestal and want to know the whole truth, give me a call. The truth will set you free, you know.”

  “How dare you—”

  “What?” he interrupted. “Speak evil of the dead? Slander Johnny when he isn’t here to take up for himself? He was my brother, and I loved him as much as you did. But he was just a man, Hannah, with weaknesses and faults and sins…just like you and me. It just seems like a crying shame that another life had to end when he died.”

  Hannah didn’t have to ask what he meant. She knew. Neither of them spoke for long seconds. Then, Griff’s mood seemed to mutate, the expression of sorrow and helplessness in his eyes fading. He smiled again, another bittersweet, lopsided smile.

  “At least I’ve had the memory of that one kiss to hold on to all these years. I’ve thought about it thousands of times, and every time I do, I wonder if it could really have been all I remember, or if I’ve built it up in my mind.”

  He raised his hands and placed them against the wall on either side of her face. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Before she could object, before she could move, she felt his lips on hers, warm, mobile, softly persuasive.

  Like Griff, she’d spent far too much time thinking about their other kiss, even when she was dating Johnny. Like Griff, she’d wondered through the years if she’d made it something more than what it was. She felt herself responding to the pressure of his lips and had actually started to reach out and touch his cheek when he pushed away from her.

  Confused, trembling, she stood staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes, her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. There was no smile on his face now. He looked solemn, almost sad.

  “Well, now we know, don’t we,” he said. And without another word, he turned and left her standing there.

  Yes. Now she knew. The kiss had been everything she remembered. And more. She watched him go, her heart beating with uncertainty, filled with a curious sorrow and an aching regret she didn’t understand.

  Chapter Five

  “What happened to you?” Jo asked when Hannah returned to the table and saw that the waitress had brought their meal while she was away.

  “Long line,” she said, following the fib with a silent prayer that begged forgiveness. When Griff had left her, she’d gone into the rest room and held a wet paper towel to her hot cheeks while she tried to rationalize her response to his kiss and let her heart settle into a more sedate rhythm. A quick glance at her friends told her she wasn’t fooling them, even though their spouses might have fallen for her story.

  Hannah ignored the considering gleam in Jo’s eyes and the question in Elizabeth’s steady gaze. “I hope your food didn’t get cold while you were waiting on me.”

  “They just brought it,” Jake told her. “You timed it just right.”

  “Good.” She took a bite of her meat loaf, thankful for the reprieve. The meal passed pleasantly, and the conversation was easy, even though Hannah intercepted a couple of considering glances that passed between Jo and Elizabeth. When they’d all finished their dessert, Hannah said her goodbyes and left, hoping she wouldn’t have to see Griff again, eager to get home and escape…at least for the moment.

  As luck would have it, Elizabeth scheduled a last-minute appointment the next morning and was unable to drive out to check on Griff’s parents. Once again, Hannah was the one she called to take up the slack.

  “I hate to ask you,” Elizabeth said. “I know you’re as busy—if not busier—as anyone in town, especially with Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

  “I’m not cooking for tomorrow, remember?” Hannah said. “But I can’t go out to the Harrisons’ until after lunch. I have several people coming by to pick up their Thanksgiving pies and things this morning, but I should be free by eleven-thirty, and the next batch won’t be picked up until after five.”

  “If it’s too much for you, we can just call Miss Margaret to check on her.”

  “If I phone her, she’ll say she’s all right. If I drive out, I can look her in the eye and see for myself.”

  “Good point,” Elizabeth said. “And Hannah, I really appreciate this. You’re an angel.”

  “Right.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said, the tone of her voice muting slightly. “I wanted to ask what happened between you and Griff when you went to the rest room yesterday.”

  How on earth had Elizabeth come to the conclusion that Griff had been anywhere in the vicinity? Hannah wondered. She voiced the question aloud, not even bothering to deny it.

  “Elementary, my dear Hannah,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “At first I couldn’t figure it out, but you were definitely flustered, and when Jo and I started kicking around theories, that’s what we came up with. Are we good or what?”

  “Too good,” Hannah said. “And you obviously know me too well.”

  “So what happened to make you all flitterpated?”

  “The man upsets me,” Hannah snapped, avoiding t
he question.

  “Well, duh. What happened?”

  “He told me that when I wanted to know what happened the night Johnny died to give him a call.”

  “We know what happened,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well, according to Griff I don’t know the whole story, and he doesn’t think I’m ready to hear it.”

  “I can’t imagine…” Elizabeth said, letting her voice trail away. “Do you think you could get it out of Miss Margaret?”

  “Maybe, if she knows. But I wouldn’t dare bring it up under the circumstances. The last thing she needs with Harold under the weather is to unearth all that old pain.”

  “You’re right,” Elizabeth agreed. “So, is that all?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Not if something else happened,” Elizabeth said.

  Hannah sighed.

  “Aha! I knew there was something else.”

  “All right! All right! He—” Hannah drew a deep breath “—admitted that he thought I was pretty and that he was sort of interested in me back in high school.” Saying the words out loud to her friend didn’t make them any easier to believe. In fact, Griff’s confession sounded even more absurd coming from her own lips.

  “What!” Elizabeth cried. “Griff was smitten with you back then, and you didn’t know it?”

  “Well,” Hannah said, “I…he…had been flirty with me once.”

  “You never told me about it. Jo, either.”

  Hannah gave a snort of exasperation. “Where is it written that I have to tell the two of you everything that goes on in my life?”

  “Nowhere, I suppose,” Elizabeth said. “But we’ve always told you everything.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Come on, Hannah. Tell me about the flirting.”

  Hannah knew Elizabeth well enough to know she might as well ’fess up. She’d know no peace until she did. “It was one day when I was at the station. Dad had gone to the bank, I think. Griff stopped by to see him about some tires. We started talking, and I admit that I…I might have flirted a bit myself.”

  “You? Miss Prim and Proper?”

  “Just hush and listen,” Hannah said in exasperation.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Anyway, somewhere along the way he kissed me.”

  “No!” The denial dripped disbelief.

  “Yeah. And it was scary, Lizzie.” Even now, Hannah recalled exactly the way the kiss made her feel. The way yesterday’s kiss made her feel…

  “Scary?” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “A kiss from the hottest guy in town?”

  “Yes, scary. He made me feel things I’d never felt before, things I knew were dangerous…and wrong.”

  “Oh, Hannah!”

  “If he hadn’t broken off the kiss, I’m not sure I could have. Then he had the gall to tell me I was the dangerous one.”

  “Which means, Ms. Naïveté, that he felt the same things you felt and knew he was on dangerous ground.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Hannah said.

  “The man admitted to being interested. You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “For what?”

  “Anything,” Elizabeth said. “Look, I gotta go. Give me a call and let me know about Miss Margaret and Mr. Harold.”

  “I will.” Hannah hung up and stared out the window at the chill November day. The thought that she could ever make a man like Griff experience the dangerous emotions he’d ignited in her was too farfetched. Still, he had kissed her.

  In spite of herself, hating herself for harboring any thoughts about the man who was her enemy, Hannah wondered what—if anything—Griff felt for her now…and what he could possibly tell her about the night Johnny died she didn’t already know.

  All the pies and ready-to-pop-in-the-oven pans of Hannah’s special cornbread dressing and sweet potato casseroles had been picked up by eleven-thirty as expected. Freshening her makeup and donning an emerald-green sweater, she carried the casserole and bread she’d baked for the Harrisons to the van and drove to the country.

  She pulled to a stop in front of the white frame house fifteen minutes later and got out with her gifts in hand. She knocked on the front door and, within a matter of seconds, it swung open. Hannah was surprised to see a dark-haired, adolescent girl with vivid cobalt-blue eyes standing in the doorway. She had no idea who the child was, but there was something familiar about her.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at the child. “Is Miss Margaret here?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said. “Come on in.” Closing the door behind Hannah, she yelled, “Grandma! You have a visitor.”

  Margaret emerged from the kitchen, a finger to her lips. “Shush, child. You’ll wake the dead. Or worse, your grandfather.”

  Grandma. Grandfather. Hannah’s mind came to the only possible conclusion. This pretty child was Griff’s daughter. Griff and Josie’s daughter. That’s why she looked so familiar. She had the Harrisons’dark-haired, blue-eyed good looks. She looked like Griff.

  “Hello, Hannah,” Margaret said, pulling Hannah’s thoughts away from the proof of Griff’s misspent youth.

  “Hello, Margaret.” Hannah held out her offerings. “I wanted to bring you a casserole and a loaf of fresh bread and see how you’re doing.”

  Griff’s mother took the proffered gift. “Why thank you, child. You didn’t have to bake for me. You have enough on you, cooking for half the town.”

  “I know I didn’t have to,” Hannah said, pulling the scarf from around her neck. “I wanted to, and I thought it might help with your dinner tomorrow. How are you? Really?”

  “Doing as well as can be expected,” Margaret said. She turned to her granddaughter. “Callie, take Hannah’s coat and hang it on the hall tree, please.”

  “Oh, I can’t stay,” Hannah objected.

  “Nonsense. It’s lunch time, and I have a nice pot of vegetable soup on the stove. Even you have to eat. And rest.”

  Hannah realized that she was hungry. And tired. She was caught up with her cooking. There was no reason she couldn’t stay long enough to have some soup. Even as a teenager, she’d always enjoyed Margaret Harrison’s company. “Thank you, Miss Margaret. Soup sounds delicious.”

  “That’s settled, then. Callie, you can set the table after you’ve hung up Hannah’s coat.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Margaret looked from one to the other. “Did you two meet?”

  “No ma’am,” Callie Harrison said.

  “Callie, this is Hannah West, an old friend. She used to date my Johnny, back a long time ago. Hannah, this is Callie, my granddaughter. She and her mother have come from Dallas to be with her family for Thanksgiving, and they’re letting Callie spend some time with me and Griff while they’re in town.”

  The young girl held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. West,” she said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Callie,” Hannah said, shaking the girl’s hand, impressed with her manners and wondering how Griff could bear being away from her.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” Caroline said. “We’ll eat in there.”

  Hannah followed Caroline. “Callie looks like her dad,” she said to her hostess’s back.

  Margaret paused for the briefest second, mid-stride. “Yes,” she said, continuing through the doorway, “she does.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Hannah asked.

  “Just keep me company while the corn bread finishes baking. Callie, you can set the table for us.”

  “Sure.” Callie smiled, a smile so like Johnny’s, Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. Of course, the smile was like Johnny’s. Callie was a Harrison.

  “Is it okay if I go watch TV until lunch is ready?” Callie asked, when the table was set to her grandmother’s satisfaction.

  “You may,” Margaret said. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

  Hannah sighed as the eleven-year-old left the room. If things had been different, if Johnny had lived, t
hey might have had a child by now, maybe even one as old as Callie. Hannah fought back the sudden sting of tears for all she’d been denied by that senseless accident.

  “What is it, child?” Caroline asked.

  Hannah’s voice was thick with unshed tears when she spoke. “I was thinking that if Johnny hadn’t died, we’d have had children by now.”

  “Maybe. And maybe you’d have gone your separate ways and married someone else, too.”

  Hannah stared at her hostess, surprise in her eyes. “Why would you say that? I loved Johnny.”

  “I know you did, but it was a young girl’s love, and sometimes young love doesn’t last.” Margaret shrugged. “Who knows? You might have gone off to college and found someone else.” For just an instant there was a faraway look in her eyes. “Or…Johnny might have.” She smiled, but it looked forced. “A lot of things might have happened.”

  Hannah’s intellect told her Margaret was right, but her heart didn’t want to believe it. No, right or wrong, her heart would rather cling to her conviction that her life had been ruined by Griff’s actions that night. After all, that philosophy was all she had to live for. That, and the anger that still consumed her when she contemplated her loss.

  “You’re right,” she said, nodding, meeting Margaret Harrison’s steady gaze. “I know that, but it’s so hard. Johnny was so good, so perfect. We were so perfect together.”

  “No relationship, no marriage, no person is perfect, Hannah. You know that. Johnny was a good boy, a good son, but far from perfect, as you’d have found out.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Hannah admitted, albeit reluctantly.

  “I know I am. And while we’re on the subject of Johnny, I want to say that I know you still blame Griff for what happened.” “I—”

  Margaret held up her hand to stay whatever Hannah was about to say. “No. I need to say this, and you need to hear it.” Hannah nodded. “For all his wild ways, deep down, Griff was a good boy, too. Oh, I know he drank and I know there were…girls. I’m not condoning what he did. It was wrong, and he knows that. Knew it even back then. Harold and I were always thankful he never got into drugs.”