Jeremiah's Bogus Bride

by Liz Isaacson

  And hopefully, talk to Jeremiah for a few minutes.

  She kept a close eye on her phone, seemingly checking every few minutes. Then every minute. She swore she even checked once before the numbers had rolled over.

  Jeremiah hadn’t called.

  “He’s busy,” she reminded herself. He hadn’t said he could call right at eleven, and her stomach growled a few minutes past noon, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten yet that day. She’d finish the picture on the screen in front of her, and then she’d decide what to do.

  Sunlight spilled through the windows in front of her, and Whitney got up to close the plantation shutters. She loved editing in the natural light, just like she only shot the photos in an outdoor environment. She’d been taking classes in the art of lighting, and she’d done a few shoots in the hills south of Three Rivers.

  But her favorite light came right from the sun as it rose or as it sank, and she focused on the pretty girl on the screen. Jean Jenkins probably wouldn’t be categorized as the most beautiful girl in her class, but Whitney had posed her just right. Jean had even said, “Thank you for making me feel pretty,” as the shoot had concluded.

  Whitney loved taking ordinary people and bringing out the extraordinary in them. Photography had provided her with a way to do that, and she couldn’t imagine working more than the few hours she did at the family grocer or farm.

  The sore shoulders and cramped back, all the aches and pains of getting the just-right shot, were worth it when she got the appreciation for delivering flawless photographs.

  Her love of producing something artistic and beautiful had transferred to her pseudonym, and she hoped her new poster at the store would yield another handful of newborns she could place on her garden table.

  After all, the bluebonnets would be in bloom for another month, and there was nothing better than bluebonnets layered with carrots that still had their greenery and sugar snap peas—the whole plant if she could sneak one away from Johnny, her brother who ran and worked the family farm for fifty hours a week.

  The last time he’d caught her taking the beets, Whitney had bought him the fanciest steak from Muscadine’s. The dish’s price wasn’t listed on the menu. Instead, it said “Market price,” and Whitney’s price for the beets had been a sixty-dollar steak dinner for John.

  But out of her three siblings, Whitney got along with John the best. He didn’t constantly ask her to help out with her nephew, not that she minded spending time with Dalton. But John didn’t simply want her to get the job done. He didn’t care if she was married or not. And he didn’t have any expectations for her whatsoever.

  Her father’s expectations had lessened the closer to full retirement he got, but her mother would probably never stop lecturing Whitney about getting married.

  And her blasted phone still hadn’t rung.

  Reaching for it, she felt a bit outside of her head. She didn’t normally call men. Even with Blake, while she’d been desperate to be with him, he’d always called and texted her. He set up dinners and hikes and dates. Maybe according to his own pleasures and whims and schedule, but at least he called and invited her.

  She pulled up Jeremiah’s number and hit the green phone icon, her nerves shaking with the force that would register on the Richter scale. The line rang and rang, and Jeremiah didn’t pick up.

  She ended the call, a pinch starting behind her lungs and expanding outward quickly. Wow, what an unending pain. Whitney swallowed, trying to get the feeling to go down into her stomach, but it didn’t settle any better there.

  If this was how he’d felt when he’d called her and she hadn’t answered, she had some serious repenting to do. She wouldn’t want to inflict this kind of agony on anyone, least of all the man she hadn’t been able to get out of her head for ten months now.

  Ten, long months.

  They’d gone on one date, and held hands a few times, and still, he’d been a better boyfriend for her than Blake.

  And Jeremiah could hardly be considered her boyfriend. He probably didn’t even want to be.

  To distract herself, she pulled up another picture of Jean, but her focus had fled. She’d only have to redo any work she did, so she abandoned her spot in front of the computer, picked up her keys, and headed out to her grandfather’s truck.

  She loved the old rust bucket, though it wouldn’t get her out to Seven Sons Ranch very fast. Didn’t matter. Then she’d have plenty of time to talk herself out of going. Of talking to Jeremiah while he kept his focus on his work instead of her. In the past, she’d liked that, because it meant he had feelings for her he didn’t want her to see.

  But now, she was sure those feelings would be borne of anger, not attraction. And she didn’t want to be beside an angry Jeremiah. She pulled over to the side of the road and sighed. Maybe the sound was more of a huff. She wasn’t sure.

  “What should I do?” she asked, reaching up and rubbing the back of her neck. She rolled her shoulders out and checked her lipstick before she got back on the road. She wasn’t sure if God was giving her an extra push, or if her granddad’s voice was the one that told her to keep going.

  The whisper that ran through her mind often sounded like his aged, raspy voice, and a keen sense of missing him hit her in the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it away too, but it didn’t even go down. So Whitney let herself remember the man who’d always loved her, who’d learned how to text so he could ask to see pictures of any newborn pictures she’d done lately.

  Granddad had been alone for a decade after Gran’s death, and Whitney had gone to see him at least four times a week. They shared lunch together, sweet tea on the back porch, a walk around the block with Granddad’s new dogs. The old ones too.

  He always asked her what she was doing to make a good life for herself, and Whitney gripped the steering wheel with both hands, hard. “I’m trying, Granddad,” she said. “I’m taking lighting classes for my photography, and I’m going to see this man I really like. Maybe, if you’re close by, you could put in a good word with the Good Lord about us? I sure could use it about now to help Jeremiah forgive me.”

  Whitney knew that was what she needed. Forgiveness. And Jeremiah wouldn’t give it easily.

  She turned onto the packed dirt road that led to Seven Sons and the Shining Star Ranches. The first ranch that came into view was her goal, and she drove through the open gate with all the stars on it. Her eyes lingered on Jeremiah’s name, enjoying how very Texan the Walker brothers were.

  After parking in front of the house, she couldn’t get herself to get out of the truck. If Jeremiah had come into the homestead for lunch, he hadn’t come out to greet her. Maybe she’d never get the forgiveness she sought.

  On wooden legs, she climbed the front steps to the door, and knocked. No one came to the door, even when Whitney rang the doorbell once, twice, three times.

  Another huff, this one mixed with a scoff, and she turned back to the ranch. Jeremiah probably wouldn’t like her trespassing, even if it was to beg him to talk to her. Thankfully, she caught sight of a cowboy walking on the pristine path between the backyard and the first ranch buildings, and she raised her hand and called, “Ho, there!”

  Orion Roundy turned toward her, surprise etched on his face she could see from ten yards away. “Whitney,” he said, a smile blooming on his face. “What are you doin’ here?”

  Whitney pressed her lips together to ensure they’d be as red as possible, though she wasn’t trying to impress Orion. The cowboy had asked her out once or twice in the distant past, but they’d never actually shared a meal together.

  “I’m looking for Jeremiah Walker,” she said, though his last name wasn’t needed.

  “Oh, he’s in town on Tuesday mornings,” Orion said easily.

  “Town?” Whitney looked over her shoulder as if she could see Three Rivers from here. Of course, she couldn’t. “What’s he doing there?”

  “He’ll have to tell you that,” Orion said, and Whitney’s curiosity i
ncreased. “He’s usually back around one, and he brings food.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked it. “I haven’t heard from him today, though.”

  “I called him, and he didn’t answer.” Whitney dug her own phone out of her pocket. “Should I try him again?”

  Orion wore an unreadable expression. “I’m sure he’ll call you back when he’s…when he can.”

  Only twenty-five minutes needed to pass before one o’clock, and Whitney pointed to the house. “Could I wait on the porch?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Orion said. “Try to find out if there will be lunch or not.” He touched the brim of his hat and continued down the path. Whitney returned to the front porch and sat in the shade on the top step.

  She loved this ranch, and she’d only been here twice. A sense of peace and tranquility existed on the land, as if God himself had touched it with the tip of his finger. She felt like she could be exactly who she was here, and it would be good enough. She would be good enough. Unmarried. Childless. Just a produce stocker for Wilde & Organic.

  When the clock struck one, and Jeremiah hadn’t come, Whitney called him again.

  “Hey,” he said after the second ring. Relief flooded her. He’d answered, and this new feeling of acceptance was a thousand times better than his silence. The rejection she’d tried to push away.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Sitting on your front porch,” she said, smiling like a fool. “Where are you?”

  He started laughing, and the sound would be so much better in person. “Well, we have a problem, don’t we?”

  “We do?”

  “I’m standing on your front porch.”

  Chapter Five

  Jeremiah reveled in the sound of Whitney’s laugher, even if it was through the phone line. “How did you even figure out where I live?” she asked.

  “Oh, well, that was easy,” he said. “I called your mother.”

  “Tell me you didn’t.” She sounded horrified.

  “I just told her I had a question about photography and I was in town, and where might I be able to find you?” He chuckled, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset. “She rattled off the address easily. You know, I think she likes me.”

  “Of course she does,” Whitney said. “You’re handsome and rich and you buy groceries from our store.”

  Jeremiah shook his head, smiling at Whitney’s landscaping. “A lot of people do that. And I doubt your mother cares about how handsome I am.” Still, it sure did feel nice to have Whitney say such a thing. She clearly spent time in the yard, or paid someone to, if the perfectly trimmed rose bushes and green clipped lawn were any indication. A cluster of trees stood in the corner, with a flowerbed bare and ready to be planted.

  “Oh, she might not care for herself,” Whitney said. “But she lectured me for a solid hour the other day about getting married. She has no idea what I’m waiting for, you know?”

  Jeremiah’s throat closed at the mention of getting married. His therapy session that morning had centered on his last, failed attempt at marriage, and Dr. Wagstaff had asked him what he needed to do in order to take that step again.

  Jeremiah had originally said he would never take that step again. But that Dr. Wagstaff was a tricky fellow, and he’d started asking Jeremiah questions about who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Who would be there with him when he left this world. What he’d have to show for his time on Earth.

  And Jeremiah could admit that he didn’t want to live at Seven Sons alone. And the ranch would just be passed to someone else. Land was just land. Money was just money. He couldn’t take any of it with him.

  His thoughts had been revolving around Whitney since—and maybe even before that. Maybe way back in January when Wyatt had called him broken, Jeremiah had had the insane thought of finding someone who would marry him just to prove to his brothers that he was the opposite of broken.

  And the woman on the other end of the line was the only one he’d been thinking about since.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And no. I’m on my way to you now.”

  “Orion wanted to know if there would be food.”

  “I’ll drive through and get burgers and fries. Don’t leave, okay?”

  “I’ll be right here,” Whitney promised, and Jeremiah’s pulse pounded out of control. Every moment of the next twenty-five minutes seemed to take an eternity to pass, but he finally pulled into the garage at the homestead, the sight of Whitney and those bright, kissable, red lips made him chuckle to himself as he parked.

  “Pull it together,” he told himself under his breath as he turned off his truck and gathered the brown bags of food. He didn’t need to go broadcasting how he felt about Whitney. He wasn’t going to ask her to marry him today, but he did wonder if he could get to that point with her in the future.

  Instead of pure fear, something akin to joy moved through him. For the first time in almost four years, Jeremiah could see himself with a woman again. Taking risks. Learning to love all over again. Becoming vulnerable.

  “Hey,” Whitney said, and he handed her a bag of food. “Bless you. I’m starving.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Guess we should’ve planned better.”

  “I called you earlier,” she said. “Before I drove out here.”

  Jeremiah didn’t get calls while he was in counseling, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal where he’d been quite yet. “Hmm, I didn’t get that call.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Where were you? Inside a cave or something?”

  He liked it when she teased him, and he simply passed her a drink carrier with four colas in it. Thankfully, Orion opened the door and said, “Thank the Texas stars. Dicky was about to chew on my arm.”

  Jeremiah met Whitney’s eyes for a moment and then focused on his ranch hand. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He went up the steps and into the mudroom, Whitney right on his heels. He introduced her around to the boys, adding, “Orion, Dicky, Wallace, Simon. How’d everything go with Oprah?”

  “Oh, she’s still pregnant,” Orion said.

  Noticing Whitney’s confused look, Jeremiah handed her a cheeseburger. “Oprah’s our pregnant mare. She’s bein’ stubborn about lettin’ that foal come out.”

  “You named a horse Oprah?” she asked, giggling immediately afterward. Jeremiah wondered what would happen to his pulse if she giggled like that after he’d kissed her. Surprise darted through him, as did that healthy dose of fear he was used to when it came to having a real relationship with a woman. He’d only really talked to the Foster sisters in the four years he’d lived here, and he’d never once thought about kissing any of them.

  “Well, Dicky did,” Jeremiah said, indicating the other cowboy. “He has a soft spot for afternoon television.”

  “That Dr. Phil is wise,” Dicky said, lifting his hamburger to his lips.

  Jeremiah just shook his head and dumped his fries onto a plate. He took two cheeseburgers and headed over to the table to eat with everyone. Thankfully, Whitney joined him without any awkwardness, and lunch commenced.

  “I’ll go check on her this afternoon,” Jeremiah said. “I need everyone on the fields this afternoon.”

  No one argued, though checking on their newly planted crops wasn’t an exciting job. They needed to make sure their watering systems worked, and things were growing properly, and that the planting had gone as planned.

  “Just a couple more days,” he said. “Then we’ll be back to regular chores.” He glanced at Whitney, who simply gazed at him like he was solving the world’s hunger problems one corn field at a time. He wasn’t, but in that moment, Jeremiah felt like he could conquer the world.

  He looked away, and Wallace ate like he hadn’t eaten in days, so he was finished. “I’m going now,” he said. “Remember I have that thing tonight?” He met Jeremiah’s eyes, who nodded.

  “Thing?” Orion asked. “That’s so sp
ecific.”

  “We all have things,” Jeremiah said, switching his gaze to his foreman. He was the only one who knew where Jeremiah went on Tuesday mornings, and he wondered what Orion had told Whitney. He trusted the blond cowboy who’d been at Seven Sons for almost a decade, and he had no reason to suspect that Orion had said Jeremiah goes into town for therapy sessions every week. He’d asked Jeremiah about them once, and he’d simply said, “They’re really helping.”

  And they were.

  “It’s a date,” Dicky said, ribbing Wallace. “With Molly Schuyler.”

  “No,” Orion said, his voice awed. “Is that true?” He looked at Wallace.

  “I mean, maybe.” Wallace grinned, so his secret was definitely out.

  “Wow,” Orion said, looking around at the other cowboys. “I’m impressed. She doesn’t go out with anyone.”

  “No,” Wallace said. “She didn’t want to go out with you.”

  “Oh-ho,” Dicky said, laughing loudly. All the cowboys did, even Simon, who was a little more reserved than the other boys, and Jeremiah joined in as well. Lunch broke up then, though he’d only eaten one of his cheeseburgers. He watched the boys go out the back door, leaving him and Whitney alone.

  “They’re fun,” she said.

  “Are they?” Jeremiah unwrapped his burger, wondering what her definition of fun was. Sitting around while a few cowboys joked and teased each other didn’t really seem like his version of fun, but he had enjoyed eating lunch with them on Tuesdays for the past few months. Anything where he got to have real adult interactions with other human beings was good for Jeremiah’s soul, and once again toyed with the idea of going to the summer dances when they started up at the end of the month.

  One glance at Whitney, and that idea was out. Completely.

  “I like them,” she said.

  “You like everyone and everything that’s a bit special,” he said.

  Her expression grew serious. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you have a good heart,” he said, a measure of embarrassment slipping through him. “And you don’t mind the oddballs.”