The Bridge Between

by Lindsey Brackett

  “You’re saying, let it be a job. And those are far easier to come by than this.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  David brought her lips to his and kissed her without hesitation or regret or fear. Not the gentle caress of a hopeful lover but the exaction of her husband taking what he needed—what he wanted. Urging her closer, deeper, he offered more than an invitation to more than a kiss. This was a commitment, not a second attempt.

  His arms grasped her waist and tugged. She moved into his lap, making out at the kitchen table like they were college students again. Her only thought how he made her feel alive and warm. Her tears rinsed both their faces like the creeks washed away unwanted sediment clouding fresh water.

  He broke from her mouth only to trail kisses down her jaw to her collarbone, and there he paused, his nose against her skin, breathing heavy as she trailed her fingers through his hair.

  “You’ve lost weight.” He whispered the words against her shoulder.

  She leaned her head back to give him access to the hollow of her throat where he’d always plant a kiss after—

  And he paused. “I need you to decide real quick, Lou. Church or courthouse this time?”

  She set her palms against his cheeks, pulled his gaze to hers. “I think I can only handle one church wedding at a time.”

  “Good thing, because we’re going to have our hands full housebreaking Russell and Ravenel.”

  In the corner of her kitchen, the pups tumbled over one another, trying to make the bed cushion soft as their mama’s belly, no doubt. A lump rose in her throat. Shoulders quaking, she let her head fall against his shoulder.

  His hands stroked up and down her back. “Shhh … I promise, this time, it’s really going to be okay. I can make that roast in the Crockpot. Easy.”

  Lou sat up, still laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You said Ravenel.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. “The right way.”

  Epilogue: The Wedding

  In her mother’s old room at the farmhouse, in front of the full-length mirror, Lou set Cora Anne’s veil in place. She pushed in the last pin and folds of lace-edged tulle cascaded down her daughter’s back. Her girl stared at herself. Likely marveling how one white dress could change a life.

  With an embroidered handkerchief that had belonged to her mother, Lou dabbed the corner of her eyes.

  “Crying already, Mama?” Cora Anne looked like a dream in a strapless gown, overlaid with more lace that grazed the floor. Into her crown of hair, Grace had woven small white flowers, all twisted and curled and tumbling across her shoulders in dark waves.

  Lou stroked one of those curls, tucking the flower more securely. “I believe I’m entitled to a few tears.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Mama?”

  “Y’all can come in.”

  The triplets staggered inside. Mac’s shirttail untucked, Cole’s tie hung loose, and J.D.’s coat thrown over his shoulder like a debonair gentleman out of a movie. Lou raised brows at her daughter, and Cora Anne lifted her bouquet in front of her face so they couldn’t see her laughing.

  Definitely not a dream.

  Hannah and Carolina gasped and flurried about fixing the boys. Lou let them. Today she only looked after her daughter.

  “How did you know?” Cora Anne wet her lips, shimmery pink with Hannah’s administrations of makeup, and made a face at the taste.

  Lou smiled and passed her a bottle of water. “How did I know what?”

  “That Daddy was the one.”

  As if she had spoken him into being, David appeared in the doorway. He wore a blue suit and a paisley tie Cora Anne had bought from a men’s shop on King Street. Last week he’d gotten what he called his wedding haircut and now a few days later, the shock of the crop had worn off and softened along his ears. The silver edging his temples stood out more these days, but when he beamed at her, all she saw was the man she’d married all those years ago. Young, eager, content to spend a lifetime making her happy.

  He’d looked at her the same way, in the judge’s chambers of the Charleston County courthouse last month.

  “Y’all doing this traditional, I assume?” The judge fixed his glasses on his nose.

  Lou rolled her lips so she wouldn’t laugh, but David, completely straight faced, said, “Yes, sir. We’re pretty traditional.”

  When they’d repeated the vows following the judge’s drawl, Lou felt certain she had never understood them before.

  “Do you, David James Halloway, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  “I do.”

  He linked his fingers through Lou’s. From the corner of her eye, she saw the triplets all shift their gazes elsewhere. They were excited, but in the words of Mac, “Don’t let us see you kissing, okay?”

  “Do you, Louisa Coultrie Halloway—” The judge’s gray brows wrinkled together. Lou couldn’t help it this time. She giggled. “Did I miss something?” The poor man readjusted his glasses.

  “Second time’s the charm, right, sir?” David urged her closer, and she complied, their bodies a mere breath apart.

  “Let us hope so.” The judge meandered on. “Do you, Louisa Coultrie Halloway, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “I do.”

  They repeated the other sacred words—to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for better or for worse—and then, on “till death do us part” their eyes had never wavered from the other. This time, Lou had understood what that meant.

  Now, she embraced her daughter. “How’d I know?” Lou drew back and looked straight into Cora Anne’s blue eyes, mirrors of her own. “I knew because I could live without him.” Her smile came so easily. “But why would I want to?”

  As she stepped back so David could get a good look at their daughter, Cora Anne twirled and beamed. “What do you think, Daddy?”

  David stared. Then he crossed the room in two strides. “I think,” and he pulled her close, “Tennessee Watson is the second luckiest man alive.”

  “Really? Who’s first?”

  “Me.” He let her go and reached for Lou. She stepped into the circle of his arms, and he pressed a kiss on her cheek, close to her hairline, lingering a bit to inhale the White Shoulders she’d dabbed at her throat. “Hey, there, Mrs. Halloway.”

  His hand slipped into hers, fingering the gold band he’d put there again.

  ~~~

  The reception at The Hideaway promised to last long into the night, though David suspected Tennessee was ready to whisk his bride away. Not a thought he wanted to have.

  He fixed a cup of coffee and rejoined the boys at their reserved table. The pillar candle’s flame sputtered and shook as Cole tried to use his good fingers to snuff it out. Still a daredevil, though David would do his best to break that tendency. He thumped his son’s hand as if he were two again.

  “Don’t you like at least having the ability to zip your own pants?” Cole’s second surgery had been successful. David had never seen someone so proud to wiggle his fingers.

  Cole grinned, sheepish, as his brothers chortled. “Sorry, Dad.”

  “Go get me some more cake, would you?” He passed over the delicate china plate. This party was every bit as refined as Charlotte’s. Except for the country music. Cora Anne was on the dance floor now with her wedding party and Garth Brooks.

  Across The Hideaway’s porch, Lou tilted her glass toward him. He lifted his cup in acknowledgement. They’d done it. Passed over their girl and become family, finally, with Charlotte Ravenel Cooper Watson. Judging from the way Charlotte had Lou’s ear bent to hers right now, she would no doubt be assuming a matriarchal role with them all.

  A wind from the creek made the candle’s flame flutter again. The candles in the church had done that too, the whole ceremony. He and Lou had lit ones for their parents, while Tennessee and Grace lit one for Patrick. But those flames hadn’t glowed strong and full; they’d all waved as if
wisps of wind floated about.

  Of course down here, folks would tell him that was the spirits walking. If that was the case, he figured they were all pretty happy to see the Coopers and the Jenkins family finally making the match that was meant to be. When he’d walked Cor down that aisle, Tennessee’s grin had spread wide and crinkled his eyes.

  David felt the same look on his face every time he looked at his wife. A marveling at how things work themselves out.

  J.D. slid his cake across the table as Cora Anne called, “C’mon, boys. Nobody around here gets this song.” Alan Jackson’s “Chattahoochee.” David chuckled and ate his cake. His kids may have the blue blood of the Lowcountry, but they had a little rural Georgia too.

  “May I?” Grace dropped into a vacant chair. She was stunning in sea glass green, vintage hair combs sweeping back her blond curls.

  “I hope someone told you how beautiful you are tonight.”

  “Now David.” She leaned into his shoulder, teasing. “You’re a married man.”

  “Miraculous, isn’t it?” He searched the room again for Lou, and found her, still talking to Charlotte and standing in the soft glow of the outdoor lights. She turned her head as if sensing his gaze, and he caught his breath at the way her hair grazed her shoulders and her lips pursed in anticipation of a promise meant only for him.

  Beside him Grace laughed, softly. “I hope you told her how lovely she is tonight.”

  “Only about a thousand times.”

  “We never get tired of hearing it.”

  He sat back and surveyed the room. “Where’s Dr. Whiting? Didn’t I see you dancing earlier?”

  Grace ducked her head, and David chuckled. He hadn’t realized, but now it made perfect sense why Liam hadn’t put up more of a fight.

  “There’s never really been anyone since Pat …” She fingered the ring he’d never seen her take off. “But maybe it’s time for a new beginning.”

  The music shifted. Definitely time. He kissed Grace’s cheek like a brother. “You deserve one as much as anyone else.” Standing, he looked again for Lou but the crowd had swelled and he could no longer see her.

  “May I have this dance?” Liam appeared at Grace’s shoulder. “Hello, David. Congratulations.”

  Distracted, he shook Liam’s hand, but then the crowd parted and he saw her, weaving her way toward him. “Excuse me, y’all. I’ve got to go dance with my wife.”

  Never would he get tired of that expression.

  He caught her on the dance floor and pulled her close, his hand splayed across the small of her back, hers tucked around his shoulder. “I missed you.”

  “I was gone ten minutes.”

  “Fifteen at least.”

  “Well, Charlotte does like to talk.”

  She set her cheek against his and he breathed deep again. Her perfume, the salty breeze off the creek, the sweetness of a day well lived settling over them all.

  “What did you talk about?”

  “My mother.” Lou leaned her head back. “Did you know she was valedictorian of her high school?”

  “Why would I have known that?”

  Sighing, she dropped her chin. “So many things I didn’t know.”

  “We’ll find them out. You’ve got a house full of boxes with secrets.” He thought of the shoebox of letters she’d only recently begun to share with him.

  Dear Mama, one he’d read last night ran. David is so kind and funny. There’s no way I could deserve someone as easygoing as him.

  Cheers erupted all around. Tennessee had dipped Cora Anne for a kiss that delighted their friends but made her father look away.

  Lou laughed. “Guess you don’t want to see too much of that.”

  “Not at all. Can’t watch them when I’m kissing you.” He pressed his lips to hers, savoring how she softened and responded.

  Cheers again. And gags from the triplets. But the music played and the song’s words rang true.

  Some things are meant to be.

  Dear Reader,

  Edisto Island, South Carolina is a very real destination for those seeking a slower pace of life, and I’m proud to have family roots—and three stories—set in this magical place. To learn more about Edisto (and plan your own vacation) check out ExploreEdisto.com.

  If you enjoyed this story, might I suggest you’ll also enjoy Magnolia Mistletoe? This Christmas novella featuring Hannah and Ben is FREE when you sign up for my newsletter.

  And what’s in that newsletter? It’s full of things I only want my subscribers to know—early book news, my favorite monthly reads, and how I really feel about turning 40 and trading my teaching career for a writing one.

  If you missed Still Waters, my award-winning debut, I hope you’ll choose Cora Anne’s journey to forgiveness as your next read.

  Want to connect in real life or online? Check out my website at lindseypbrackett.com for author events or follow me on Facebook or Instagram: @lindseypbrackett.

  Please—tell me what you’ll be reading next!

  Lindsey

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