by J. Kenner
"Do you now? What is that, some sort of super power?"
"Maybe. Yeah, it is. It makes me a great country song writer." Ansley poked him in the chest again. His very firm chest. "Here's my question. What gives you the right to barge in here and demand Tyler abandon his fiancee? This is their wedding, their decision, their lives."
Drew snatched her hand, holding it tight, his body inches from hers. "I'm his brother. If I don't speak the truth to him, who will?"
"You should've spoken your piece before the wedding weekend."
"In a perfect world, yes." He released her. Her hand tingled where his had been. "But I didn't know about the ceremony until two days ago. He didn't tell me because he knew what I would say. What does that tell you, Ansley?"
"That he's a smart guy."
"You don't know what you're talking about. This ... this whole wedding isn't about love, it's about ... lust ... or some fantasy."
"Oh, you're some sort of expert, are you?"
"Let's say I've had a few experiences."
"The kind that makes you bitter? Envious of other people? The kind that make you fly thousands of miles to break up a wedding? By the way, what kind of businessman doesn't have a cellphone?"
A red hue ran under his high cheeks. "You shouldn't talk about stuff of which you know nothing." He walked toward the door, his back straight and stiff, the edges of his hair curling at the top of his neck. "Have a good day, Ansley."
She paused in front of him as she exited the room, shaking her hand, trying to release the feel of his touch. Of the overwhelming sensation that with Drew Callahan, she'd be safe. "Stay out of their way, Drew."
"Sure, and you stay out of mine, Ansley."
He thought of her all day. He should be irritated, but the girl with the hazel eyes and determined soul drove him to distraction.
Heading to the beach for a run, he passed the rehearsal ballroom, pausing as a soft melody slipped around the open door, the singer's smooth, raspy voice capturing him.
"Sometimes you have to let go and trust your heart."
Peering around the door, he saw Ansley on stage with her guitar, eyes closed, singing as if she were the only troubadour in the universe.
He swallowed hard, quelling his pounding heart. Her melody, her posture, made him want to hold her, kiss her, and say things to her he'd not said to a woman in a long time--if ever.
When the last chord rang out, Drew slipped away. He didn't want to be moved. Or soften to love. He wanted his brother to come to his senses.
He'd spent the afternoon trying to reason with Tyler. But the more his brother talked, the more Drew felt his argument weakening.
By the time the sun was about to set, he'd been argued out and needed the run to clear his mind. He told Ty not to expect him at the rehearsal.
"You're just projecting your broken heart on me. I won't let you, Drew."
Ty's words reverberated through Drew as he ducked through the lobby for the beachside exit.
"I saw you. Listening."
He turned to see Ansley coming his way. "I wasn't necessarily hiding. Nice song by the way."
"I wrote it for Ty and Noel. Going to cut it on my next album. Maybe they'll have a hit song dedicated to their love."
"Or divorce." He pressed through the door onto the boardwalk, stretching.
She followed, laughing. "Wow, you are cynical. What did she do to you? And rehearsal is that way." She pointed toward the door. "In the ballroom. And you're going to be there."
He snorted. "You're going to bully me into going? Send a henchman in to break my arm?"
She knocked on his forehead. "Why are all the pretty ones so clueless? Drew, he's getting married with or without you. You abandon him now, you'll create a wedge that will take forever to fix. But if you go in there as his best man, you'll be his hero. What if, God forbid, your dire prediction comes true and something does go wrong in their marriage? Don't you want to be the first one he calls? I don't know what happened to create this bitterness in you, but don't paint it all over your brother."
Her bold truth cut through his weakening resolve. Losing his relationship with Ty would kill him. "But they've only known each other a few months." Even to his ears, his argument sounded weak and tired. Joyless.
"So? They love each other. Is that so hard to believe, Callahan?"
He glanced toward the beach with a long exhale.
"Sometimes you have to let go and trust your heart."
"For ten years, I worked in San Francisco buying and selling businesses. Made my first million at twenty-eight. I slept with my cellphone in my hand. I had a drop-dead gorgeous fiancee, Louise. A socialite. Daughter of a hotel mogul. I had a staff of twenty and had the proverbial tiger by the tail. No, I owned the tiger. Then, four years ago, I had not one but two near heart attacks. Stress was literally killing me."
"Ah, I'm sorry. I guess that explains the anti-technology. But why the anti-love?"
"Wanting my brother to marry with his eyes wide open doesn't make me anti-love."
"But you are, aren't you?"
"I prefer cautious." He didn't like the way she read him, saw through to his core.
"What happened to Louise?"
"She left me at the altar while five hundred of our closest friends and family looked on. By left, I mean she flew to Bora Bora the night before with her maid of honor's brother. I heard they got married last year."
Ansley whistled low, soft and her quick touch on his arm sent a flame to his heart. "Okay, I get why you're cautious. But trust me, Noel would never do that to Ty."
"No one thought Louise would do such a thing to me. And I'm not just concerned about Ty. Noel's getting in the ring with a guy who's tapped out once before."
"So maybe he knows his own heart and mind this time. Drew, your story doesn't change the fact that you need to be there tonight. And for the wedding. Be there for Ty. Your hurt doesn't give you a pass."
Drew regarded her for a long moment, his breath hot in his lungs. She disturbed him. Challenged him. Caught the kindling of his heart on fire. "Fine. You want me there?" He leaned into her, an idea forming. One that would get him out of this and away from her. "Then you have to go as my date."
She recoiled, just as he'd hoped. "Your date?"
"Yeah, my date." If she'd declined, he'd be free to skip the evening. Carry on with his plan to bring Ty to his senses. With his plan to never fall in love again. "Every best man needs a date, right? No date. No best man." When Ansley hesitated another second, he turned for the beach. "Just as I thought. All talk. No action. You call me anti-love, but I have a gut feeling you're not very high on the stuff either."
"Deal." The bold sound of her voice arrested him. "You're on. But I'm not agreeing to this scheme for you. This is for Noel and Ty."
"Same here." He slipped his hand into hers and for one Mississippi, two Mississippi, their hands remained locked, fueling the building fire in him.
He broke free and started inside, the melody of her song swirled around him.
"Sometimes you have to let go and trust your heart."
Be his date ... the nerve of him. Drew Callahan walked a thin line. But she'd endure his stupid condition to get him to show up. Anything for Noel's happiness. Lord knows she'd pulled some odd favors for Ansley the past few years.
Ansley's surveyed the room, her pulse thick in her veins. Drew was late. Surely he'd not renege. Coward ...
Then he appeared, wearing tan board shorts and a blue shirt that captured the hue in his eyes.
Ansley steadied herself, reaching for the nearest chair, biting back her smile, annoyed by the flutter in her middle.
"You came."
"I told you I would."
"Y-you look nice," she said, holding down her smile, glancing casually about the room, ignoring the way he made her want to lean against him.
"I had to press my shorts."
She peeked up at him. "You ironed for your brother? Finally a check in your pro column."
<
br /> He made a face. "You're keeping a pro-con list?"
"Maybe."
His laugh came from a deep, free space in his chest, a sound and sensation she could not escape the rest of the night.
The rehearsal went quickly, and by the time everyone moved to the next ballroom for a catered dinner, the DJ was already playing music.
Rod Steward crooned "They Way You Look Tonight."
"I believe Rod's singing our song." Drew took her by the hand, led her to the dance floor, pulled her close, and moved them to the rhythm of the music.
"Thank you for coming," she said, keeping a stiff distance, trying not to let go. But everything about him beckoned. His fragrance, his teasing blue eyes, his tender tone. And maybe, just a little, the sculpted pump of his chest.
"You look beautiful."
"Don't ... Drew." Ansley glanced away. "I'm not your real date. This is for show, for Noel and Tyler."
"I'm not pretending, Ansley." He wrapped her tighter, slipping his hand around her hip. When she breathed in, her senses were filled with his scent--like the sun and the sea. "I thought about what you said. Then I watched them tonight. I saw the way that Ty looks at Noel--and the way she looks back. The love that was in that room was palpable."
"They're lucky. We should be jealous of what they have."
"Or maybe glad we found it ourselves." He held her close, slipping his arm about her back, leaning his lips to her ear. "Come with me."
Drew led her to the beach, holding her hand as she slipped off her heels.
"What's going on, Drew?" The wind caught Ansley's nervous laugh. "Where's my friend, the cynical romantic?"
She clung to his arm as they passed into the shadows beyond the hotel's light, her feet sinking into the cool, damp sand.
"Maybe he's had a change of heart." He gripped her hand a little tighter. "What about you, Ansley? Love is good for others but not you?"
"No." She sighed, pulling her hand free to walk along the water's edge. "His name was Hank and, after three years, he decided he didn't want to be married to a country music artist."
"You were married?"
"Engaged."
"So we're both nursing broken hearts." He reached for her, wrapping her in his arms. "Ever think it was providence we met in a very crowded airport restaurant? That our seats were together on the plane?"
"That your brother was marrying my best friend?"
"Or maybe God crashed the airline's computer for us?"
"Wow ..." She laughed with a shiver, the excitement of love seeping in. "That's an intimidating notion."
"What would you say if I found out I had some business in Nashville?"
"Drew, listen to what you're saying. Think--" The wind caught her hair as she stepped away from him.
"Now you sound like me. Skeptical and scared. I am listening. I am thinking. Let me take you to dinner. Don't say no, Ansley." He brushed her hair from her eyes and raised her chin. In the thin light drifting along the beach from bungalows and hotels, she saw love in his eyes. "Live the lyrics you wrote for Ty and Noel. Let go and trust your heart. I'm trusting mine."
When his lips touched hers, his passion was raw and real. Ansley roped her arms around his neck and let go.
Because love, no matter how new and tentative, truly conquered all fear.
When Drew pulled away, he tapped his forehead to hers. "I'm going to marry you, Ansley Moore. Mark my words."
"I might just let you, Drew Callahan," she said, her lips burning from the fire of his kiss. "I might just let you."
Rachel Hauck is an award-winning, New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal best-selling author. Her book The Wedding Dress was named Inspirational Novel of the Year by RT BookReviews. She is a double RITA finalist, a Christy and a Carol winner. A graduate of Ohio State University with a degree in Journalism, Rachel is a devoted Ohio State football fan. She lives in sunny central Florida with her husband and ornery cat.
I CAME TO SCOTLAND because I had nowhere else to look.
Standing in Edinburgh Airport, exhausted and alone, I clutched the piece of paper I hoped would give me what I needed. On it was a name and address: Eleanor Brightwell, 267 Aubergine Way, Edinburgh.
I'd found Eleanor a month ago. She worked for the National Records of Scotland, but more important, she was an expert in genealogy. I wrote her my story, and a few weeks later, I got a phone call.
"Come to Scotland," she offered, her accent so lush and unfamiliar it took me a moment to process the words. "There are plenty of records in Edinburgh, but they aren't digitized and will be impossible to access from Texas. You can even stay with me. Make the trip."
So I did. Out of leads, I took leave from my job for three months and booked a flight to Edinburgh. It was easy as a traveling nurse who had no place to return between assignments except a silent and empty house.
As deplaned travelers eddied around me, I shifted my travel bag to steady my shaking hands. Eleanor Brightwell was not on any limb of my family tree, but rather a bird that had alighted on a branch.
What if this was all for nothing? What if she was a bird that flew away?
A FAMILY TREE IS a glorious set of blueprints. Like a plan for a home, it illustrates every detail and turn through the doorways that make up life until the present moment: Who was born. Who fell in love and had children. Who lived long, and who died young. The branches stretch out like rooms, each one housing a life and its story. When you flip through the pages, you should feel a sense of completeness, of place. This is the house of my life, a good family tree says. This is where I belong.
Only I didn't belong anywhere anymore.
Instead of a well-organized tree with branches telling every story, I had a diagram full of starts and stops, jagged and incomplete lines, some branches stretching into nothing at all.
But when I walked through Eleanor Brightwell's door that frigid February evening, I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time: home.
Her walls were painted lemony yellow, and gilt-framed photos hung in a cluster near the entryway: a sepia wedding couple, a dark-haired family poised at the base of an ancient castle, a handsome young man in graduation regalia smiling with the sun behind him.
In the corner of the room, a log popped in a fireplace next to overstuffed floral chairs and couches, a spot where people obviously gathered. Indistinct jazz played from an unknown location and mixed with the sounds of clinking dishes and two teenagers--a boy and a girl--who shouted and chased each other around the room. Despite the cold outside, this sight warmed me, and I stood transfixed at the threshold, absorbing all the color, life, and energy of this Scottish family home.
"Children!" I jumped at the firm voice next to me. So mesmerized by the scene, I hadn't noticed the figure to my right. "Brian! Ansley! Please don't try to kill each other just yet. We have company." He turned to me, and I felt the open space of the room narrow.
The man was tall with a powerful build. He either worked labor or worked out, as evidenced by firm biceps under his navy tee. Thick black hair fell without direction across his forehead into his eyes, which were a hard-to-miss sapphire, as blue as the Texas sky before sunrise. Those eyes immediately reminded me of the past, and I felt a pain blossom in my chest.
"You came at a fine time. My wee brother and sister have decided to kill each other right before dinner, a usual occurrence in this zoo." The tenor of his voice and roll of R's sent a current down my spine. He must have been a few years older than me, maybe thirty-seven or thirty-eight, because then he chuckled, and little furrows of laugh lines appeared around those penetrating eyes.
Oh, my.
He was altogether charming, and a rush of blood colored my cheeks.
He shuffled barefoot around me to shut the front door, and I realized a little girl was wrapped around his leg. Blue eyes, but these the shade of cornflower, popped beneath a knitted pink cap. She smiled at me, dimples puckering her cheeks. She must be his daughter, I thought, and my disappointment
surprised me.
"Cairn!" the teenage girl yelled from across the room, yanking me from my thoughts. "The only reason this is a zoo is because your wee brother makes it his purpose in life to drive me nuts!" She started to taunt the boy again, but a movement from the doorway interrupted her.
"Brian. Ansley. For the love of everything holy, the two of you must get yourselves under control or I will make it my purpose in life to drive you nuts." The two teenagers deflated, and Eleanor Brightwell, a woman who had to be in her mid-fifties but seemed younger, wrapped her soft, sugar-scented arms around me.
"Bea, you made it!" Her smile was broad. With her large, blue eyes, feathery brown hair, and round cheeks, she reminded me a little of my mother. I absently rubbed my chest where the old pain flared again.
"Welcome to my home. You have met the twins, my two middle children, Brian and Ansley. The onset of hormones," she sighed. "My favorite part of motherhood. And this is my oldest son, Cairn." She gestured to the man now standing to my left, his hands on his hips, unfazed by the child still clutching him like a monkey. I smiled nervously, and he raised a dark eyebrow in return. "And this is my youngest daughter, Lizzie. Lizzie, say hello to our visitor."
"Hallo!" Lizzie chirped.
"Hello," I laughed. As I glanced from Lizzie to Cairn and then to the teenagers, Eleanor caught my questioning expression.
"We have a range of ages in this house, don't we? When I was sixteen, I never would have imagined how far apart I'd have my children." She shook her head as she smiled. "The twins came with the empty nest when he was away at university." Eleanor jabbed her thumb at Cairn. "And then this one," Eleanor swooped to tickle Lizzie, who exploded in a fit of shrill laughter, "we adopted two years ago."
"It seems like a lot of gifts to me," I said.
Eleanor's features gentled. "Yes. A lot of gifts. That's a wonderful way of putting it. Right, Lizzie?"
Lizzie grinned and released her brother's leg, and Eleanor pulled her into a little dance, humming and maneuvering her around the room toward the kitchen. Only when her back was turned did I realize no hair peeked from beneath the bright pink cap.
"Bea, while I finish up dinner, Cairn will get you settled."
I had almost forgotten the man next to me.