Still the One

by Susan May Warren

  She stilled. “I’m so sorry. He’s gone.”

  Gone. His grandfather was gone? No. He’d expected to have more time to wrestle with forgiveness. To feel ready for it. The overwhelming sense that he was too late poured over him. He put a hand on the doorframe and blinked back the moisture in his eyes. “When did he pass?”

  Her brows raised and she sucked in a gasp. “Goodness, no, he didn’t die.”

  Cole stood, faced her. “I don’t understand. Where is he then?”

  “Our understanding had been that you were going to pay your grandfather’s bill before our next medical transport to Duluth. That’s why we tried to call you on Friday. We couldn’t get through.”

  Friday. When he was on his way to the tournament. “I did pay it—dropped it off Thursday afternoon.” They’d moved him. Cole could imagine how confused the already jumbled mind of his grandpa must be.

  “I don’t have record of it in the books.” She scanned the documents in her clipboard.

  “Where’s my grandfather?”

  She shook her head. “I’m—I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

  “He was on the transport list—but now, I’m not seeing his name on the final roster.” She pursed her lips together.

  “How do you lose a patient?”

  She grew flushed. “I don’t mean he’s lost. I just don’t know where he is right now. I’m wearing a few different hats right now—”

  “That sounds an awful lot like lost to me.”

  “I’ll find him.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and pressed the call button on the wall. “Jeannie, can you tell me where Mr. Barrett is? His room is stripped down and he isn’t on the final transport roster.”

  A voice came over the speaker. “He’s currently in a physical therapy session. His room was moved to 110 because of a plumbing issue in 73.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to Cole. “See, he’s fine.”

  Cole’s mouth tightened.

  “Okay, now that we’ve located him, I’m going to go look into the payment issue. His therapy session will probably be running another fifteen minutes. You’re welcome to watch from the observation window outside the therapy room.”

  She pointed down the corridor and Cole stopped in front of the interior window. Several patients worked with staff in the large, rubber-matted room. His grandfather walked slowly between two parallel bars as the therapist stood behind him holding on to a support band around his waist.

  “Are you Mr. Barrett’s grandson?” A male nurse approached from the main corridor. A big man, sporting a dark beard and tattoos.

  Cole nodded.

  “When we were preparing to move him for transport, we found this box of personal effects.” The man handed a shoebox to Cole. “Ms. Chase asked me to give it to you.”

  The man gave him a nod and disappeared, leaving Cole alone in the long hallway. He remained at the window, watching his grandfather.

  So frail. So lost. Restore us. Cole placed a hand against the window pane.

  Forgiveness is worth it.

  Oh, God. He’d clung to his anger. Fed it for so many years. Because that was what kept him safe. Or so he thought. But now? Now, he couldn’t escape the sense that he’d made a mess of it all.

  His grandfather stumbled forward and Cole’s breath snagged. The therapist held the waistband firm. Kept him from falling.

  And inside, something began to shake free. Anger maybe. Or the sense of betrayal.

  The therapist eased his grandfather down into the wheelchair at the end of the parallel bars. The old man shook, but settled in, exhausted.

  Were those…tears?

  He swallowed the thick emotion caught in his throat. His grandfather hadn’t even cried when Cole’s parents died.

  God does not waste our suffering.

  Cole leaned his head against the cool glass. Somewhere, buried inside the shell of a man, was the one he once loved. Trusted. He let his whisper fill the empty space. “I forgive you.” He took a breath, undone suddenly. But maybe, right now, he could find his way back, and he repeated the words. “I forgive you, Grandpa.”

  And he let that soak into him, uncertain what it could mean to him to not carry the burden anymore.

  He walked back down the corridor, carrying the box with him.

  The clerk at the reception desk looked up. “Mr. Barrett, I spoke with Ms. Chase and she wanted me to let you know that they had found the missing payment and that’s why the transport roster had been changed. The paperwork just hadn’t been entered into the system. Everything is good to go now. We’re very sorry for the mix-up.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded, ignored the scrape in his voice, and kept walking, straight out the door. Let the full force of the cool air wash over him.

  He climbed into his Jeep. Stared at the box in his hands and lifted off the lid. Inside, he found assorted notes. Random shopping lists, paperclips, a broken pencil, voided checks. The strangest, most useless pile of trash for a man to pack around with him.

  He lifted one of the notes and took a closer look. Milk. Bread. Spaghetti sauce… Cole sucked in a breath. Blinked back the moisture in his eyes and dug through the rest of the items. It wasn’t a box of junk.

  Oh, Grandpa.

  The realization hollowed him out. Each note was written in Grandma’s delicate cursive. Her shopping lists. Her honey-do lists. Cole lifted the broken pencil from the box. It was covered in telltale teeth marks.

  I see you chew your pencils too. Your dad used to drive me bananas when he was younger, chewing up all my pencils.

  Cole had laughed at the time and apparently left it behind. Maybe one summer. Maybe before he left town.

  And Grandpa had held on to it in the same box as his treasured reminders of everyday life with his wife, the one he’d still called his bride after decades of marriage. The love his ravaged mind didn’t even remember anymore.

  Oh, shoot. Cole sniffed, wiped his nose. These were the reminders Grandpa had packed up. Carried with him, in hopes he wouldn’t forget.

  He dug deeper into the loose paper, and his fingers snagged the corner of an envelope. He lifted it out of the box and stared at the address.

  The sealed envelope was addressed to Cole in care of one of his foster homes with an Undeliverable return stamp from the postal service.

  Are you going to quit letting anger fuel your decisions?

  Yeah. Maybe. Cole slid his finger under the edge of the flap, tearing it open and lifting the pages.

  He thought he was ready. Ready for excuses. Ready for an explanation. Instead, the words broke through his protective wall, brick by brick.

  Dear Cole,

  I’ve stopped drinking with the help of a veterans’ group. They talk straight with people like me. Don’t let me get away with anything. Hold me accountable. It’s good for me. Good for my relationship with God.

  I have many regrets. The parts I remember. The parts I don’t. I know there’s a lot that only you know. That’s more than anyone should have to bear. I’m sorry.

  I hope to be a better man every single day. If you ever want to come back home, I want you to know that.

  Love, Grandpa

  If. If he ever wanted to come back home. If he could win her back. If he hadn’t destroyed every piece of the relationship they’d built.

  By the time Cole returned to the VFW, Kyle and Seb were paying their tab and the others were standing to leave. All eyes turned to him when he approached the table.

  He took a breath and then executed his op. “I’m looking for a team to help me pull off a rescue. Who’s in?”

  The dark clouds in the east were backlit with bright sunshine and Megan couldn’t help but hope it was God’s sign. He heard her. He saw her. She mattered.

  And He’d do his part and hold off the storm.

  Trust God.

  Cole. It seemed he was using every Ranger skill he possessed for covert operations to avoid her. She hadn’
t actually seen him since he’d returned, despite every attempt to catch sight of him coming or going from the house.

  She knew he’d been by. But, oh, the Sold sign in the yard said all there was to say, and when she called Nathan about a rental, he had one just coming on the market.

  Perfect. As perfect of an ending as she could have. And that was okay-ish. But see, God could fix this.

  Even if it wasn’t how she’d hoped.

  She finished setting up wedding number one for the day at the Art Colony. Helpers had come out of the woodwork. Even Kyle had stopped by to see if there was anything he could do to help, and she’d never had Mayor Seb Brewster stop in to unload floral arrangements before.

  Ivy and Darek had gone to the Atwoods’ Pine Acres Resort to get things set up, and Casper was keeping Josh busy with some project at Evergreen Lodge.

  The last thing Megan wanted was a pity party. She tried to send them away, but every one of them refused and assured her they wanted to help.

  They were probably all hoping for a sneak peek at Cameron Crawford or one of the many other Blue Ox players who’d arrived in town. She didn’t really blame them. Having celebrities wandering around town had everyone on alert, and if she could convince any of the other eligible bachelors on the team to come to town for their nuptials, all the better.

  “All set?” Megan took a peek at her bride. Hannah Swanson stood in the makeshift dressing room, elegant and vibrant, her graying hair swept into a twist.

  “I can’t believe I’m finally marrying Erik.”

  Megan smiled. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

  Hannah nodded. “I thought we’d have married at eighteen but, you know, life took us in different directions. Careers. Marriage. Illness. Being widowed.” She turned to Megan, her blue eyes bright and clear. “I wouldn’t trade my life for anything, though. I wouldn’t be who I am.”

  Megan let the words fill her, pressed away the pang of sadness.

  Hannah placed a hand on Megan’s arm. “Sometimes life surprises you. God surprises you.”

  Raina slipped through the door, charged with excitement. “I forgot how much I enjoy weddings,” she said. “I’ve got this, Megan. You can head up to the lake.”

  Megan turned to her bride. “You’re all set, Hannah?”

  “I am.” She smoothed her hands over her simple satin gown.

  “You met my assistant, Raina, last night at the rehearsal. She’s is going to take things from here, like we planned.”

  Megan picked up the uncomplicated bouquet of pink peonies tied with a deep purple ribbon and placed it into Hannah’s hands.

  “Perfect. Thank you.” She leaned in and gave Megan a squeeze. “You’re the best.”

  Megan did a final walk-through on her way out. The string quartet played in the main hall while the family and friends took their seats.

  She blew out a breath. She still wasn’t sure she’d done enough to win Mariah’s favor when it came to the North Woods Premier Wedding Planners list despite the hours she’d spent working on it with Cole.

  Oh, Cole.

  She pressed away thoughts of him. Avoided the tangle of memories that couldn’t be unraveled. Nope. She had to stay focused today.

  By the time Megan arrived at Pine Acres, Ivy and Claire already had everything set for the ceremony.

  Ivy greeted her at the door. “Mariah should be ready for you to help her finish dressing.”

  It was hard to believe that three weeks ago, there’d still been flooring, sawdust, and plastic across the floor.

  It hurt a little to admit what an incredible job Cole had done with the vintage carnival theme. Truly Pinterest worthy and executed to perfection.

  Red-and-white striped canvas covered each chair, reminiscent of carnival tents. The twinkle lights had been arranged in a canopy over the room. Megan peeked in the kitchen at the caramel apples, doughy pretzels, and—was that a rearing elephant ice sculpture?

  Ivy nudged her. “Amazing,” she whispered. “Did you see the High Striker outside?”

  “High Striker?”

  “You know, the ring-the-bell carnival game with the big hammer? I can’t wait to see all the players take a go at it. They had to clear the snow to set it in place.” She squeezed Megan’s arm. “Looks like a happy ending to me. Someone’s getting everything they wanted.”

  Right. She remembered Cole telling her he’d find one of those. Megan wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Almost a happy ending. It’s enough, though. I’ll have the Black Spruce after this.” And Cole would have the career he wanted.

  Everything ending how it was supposed to end. Yep. Almost a happy ending.

  Ivy gave her a look, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Don’t ever give up on a happy ending or what God might do in your life, Megan. You just don’t know how God can surprise you in unexpected ways.”

  “You’re the second person today to say that to me.”

  “Huh. That’s funny. Must be a sign.”

  The only sign she’d seen was the one Nathan had parked right outside her apartment door. She blew out a long breath. She’d have to trust that God had a plan for her. One she couldn’t earn.

  Claire approached. “I’ve never seen this kind of planning for a wedding before.”

  “The carnival?”

  Claire turned her tablet. “Yes, but I specifically meant these files you sent me. How did you create all this? It’s incredible. Made it so easy for Ivy and me to get everyone and everything organized. And it’s been a lot.”

  “I didn’t.” Megan frowned, stared at the spreadsheet. “Cole did.” Before the end of the world as she knew it. A detailed operational mission executed with military precision. Tabs across the bottom organized all the vendors, their contact information, the day-of schedule. A backup plan. All the display layouts.

  Claire gave her a half smile. “Well, it’s great. We’ve been able to focus on making sure everyone is ready. Mariah’s in the master bedroom finishing getting dressed. Here’s her bouquet.”

  Megan took the bouquet of roses—white on the bottom of each petal with deep red on the inside. “Wow.”

  “Those are one of my favorites.” Claire picked up three smaller bouquets. “I’m going to take these to the bridesmaids. Pictures are scheduled to start in ten minutes.”

  Megan carried the bridal flowers down the hall and knocked on the door. “Mariah? It’s Megan.”

  “Come in.”

  She pushed open the door and Mariah sat in a chair with the stylists finishing her hair and makeup. She wore long, false lashes and her smile beneath the pale pink lipstick was photo-white. Her platinum hair was woven into an intricate twist.

  “All set? I have your bouquet.”

  “Yes. I’m ready for the dress.”

  Megan perused the spreadsheet. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to get the ice cream truck.”

  “You still couldn’t?” Disappointment filled her voice. “It’s just…just…I know it’s silly, but the first thing he bought me was a two-scoop cone.” Her smile relaxed with the memory. “It felt so normal. Here was this big hockey player who could buy anything he wanted and go anywhere he pleased… And he chose a small-town celebration. And ice cream.”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “I know.” The words rang with dismissal.

  Megan cringed. She hadn’t delivered everything her bride had desired. And it looked like she might actually lose her Premier Wedding Planners slot because of two scoops of ice cream. Despite peanuts, popcorn, ice elephants, and…twinkle lights.

  Trust God.

  Somehow, over the past day, she’d started to believe Ivy’s words. God could fix this. Somehow. She just had to stop trying to fix everything herself and trust Him, right? She’d even stood in her kitchen this morning and said the words. God, please fix this. I’m choosing to trust You. I’m choosing to believe that You love me.

  She’d live without the registry—it would just mean a harder grind to market the B
lack Spruce as part of her wedding business.

  Mariah reached out and took her hand for balance. Then she stepped into her gown and Megan zipped it up.

  The Vera Wang gown was cut in an A-line with a lace-and-crystal overlay across the bodice and extending in ornate swirls down onto the lower skirt. Elegant. Her hair had been topped with a tiara, and diamonds—Megan was pretty sure they were the real thing—sparkled from her ears and around her neck. She looked like she was ready for a Brides Today magazine photoshoot.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.”

  The door opened and three more bridal party members came in. The women, all wearing deep red gowns, carried their bouquets.

  Ivy leaned in the door behind them. “They’re ready for pictures.”

  Megan looked at her watch. “Okay, we’ve got one hour and fifteen minutes for photos, then we’ll bring you all back here before guests begin arriving.” She handed off the bridal bouquet and let the ladies out to the great room where the men were already waiting.

  Cameron wore a black tuxedo, his long, dark hair in slightly wild waves. The Blue Ox center was even more imposing in person. He stood near the tall windows, his blue eyes watching for his bride’s entrance.

  One would think Megan would have shaken out all her fangirl jitters during rehearsal the day before. But, nope. They resurged when she saw Wyatt Marshall, the team’s goaltender, standing nearby with his wife, Coco, on his arm.

  Coco’s gray-green eyes connected with Megan’s, and she gave Megan a supportive smile.

  Megan stepped aside and watched for that magical look the groom always gave the bride when he saw her for the first time, when he stood breathless and a little goofy faced.

  Yeah, that look got her every time.

  The photographer set about posing them, and Megan turned her attention to helping Claire and Ivy with the finishing touches.

  By the time Megan returned to the main living space, the chairs had filled with guests and Ivy had tucked Mariah away with her bridesmaids. Even though she’d seen the guest list, she was still a little starstruck too. She recognized two of the Christiansen sisters, Grace and Eden, sitting with their hockey-player husbands among the guests.