A Wedding in Apple Grove (30 page)

They all looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “What? There must be a Legion Hall or something like that. It's too cold to have the wedding or reception outside.”

Meg was waiting for him to look at her, when he did, she said, “Pop's got heat in the barn.”

He looked from one expectant face to the other. “You want to get married in the barn?”

“It's tradition,” Grace told him.

“Our great-grandparents renewed their vows in the barn,” Caitlin said.

“My parents got married there,” Joe told him.

“And so did our mom and pop,” Meg said, laying a hand on her father's arm.

Dan knew then that he'd move heaven and Earth to keep that smile on Meg's face; he hated to see her sad. “I don't want to wait to get married. How about the weekend after Thanksgiving?”

She catapulted up out of her chair and into his arms. “Yes!”

He pulled her onto his lap, so he felt when she stiffened. “What's wrong?”

“Where are we going to get daisies and wild roses this time of year?”

“Is it important?”

“I guess not.”

Her father chuckled. “That's Meg-speak for yes.”

“Gee thanks, Pop,” Meg grumbled. “My own family throwing me under the bus.”

“If you don't tell me,” Dan said quietly, “I won't know. Promise me to always tell me what's in your heart and on your mind.”

Meg cleared her throat. “As long as you do the same.”

He drew her close and pressed his lips to hers.

“Wow,” Grace sighed. “Do you have any younger brothers?”

Dan chuckled, but before he could answer, Caitlin nudged Meg. “Let Grace and I worry about the flowers, OK?”

Meg sighed. “OK.”

Drawing her back against him, Dan asked, “Do you think we can get everything together in two and a half weeks?”

Meg smiled. “Once a Mulcahy makes up her mind, there's no changing it.”

Dan grinned. “Then you're in luck, because once an Eagan gives his word, you can count on him to keep it.”

Meg turned around to face her sisters and her best friend, Honey B. “Do I look all right?” Her mother's dress swirled around her and settled back to fall in soft drapes around her slender form, hugging her curves, accentuating them. Meg couldn't believe that her father had kept it all these years in her mother's cedar chest, hoping Meg would wear it.

“You really should wear dresses more often, Meg,” Honey B. told her.

Her sisters laughed and placed a wreath of English Ivy and Baby's Breath on her head. “Now you look perfect,” Grace said.

“Dan's eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees how beautiful you are,” Caitlin told her.

The knock on the door had them all going quiet.

“It's Pop, Meg. May I come in?”

“Of course.”

The door opened and her father's eyes widened and then he slowly smiled. “You look just like she did the day I married her.”

He held out his hand to her. Suspended from his fingers was a Celtic cross dangling from a thin gold chain. “You mother wore this the day we got married. When she was in the hospital—” He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “She took it off and asked me to keep it for you and your sisters to wear on your wedding day.”

Meg blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “Thanks, Pop.”

He put the chain around her neck. “Hold your hair out of the way while I fasten it.”

Meg lifted her hair off her neck. The physical weight of the chain was slight, but the emotional weight of it felt like a hug from her mother.

“Today, Dan is the luckiest man in Apple Grove.” He squeezed her hand. “Are you ready, Meg?”

“Don't I look ready?”

“You look perfect.”

“Then I'm ready. Let's not keep him waiting any longer.”

She followed her sisters and her friend downstairs.

The sun was shining as they walked down the back porch steps. There was a brisk breeze, but she ignored the crisp cold, knowing it would be warm in the barn. Her family and friends had strung white fairy lights entwined with ivy along the roofline. Even in the sunlight the lights twinkled amid the dark green of the ivy.

The doors were flung open and more ivy and lights were draped around the opening, but what caught her eye and held her attention was the bright white satin runner leading from the bottom of the steps to the barn.

“Careful, ladies,” her father warned.

“Pop, wait.” Meg tugged on his arm to get him to stop.

“What's wrong?”

“I think I have to pee.”

He nodded. “Too late now. Besides, it's probably just nerves.”

She nodded and the feeling disappeared. “You're right… it's nerves.” They reached the back of the barn and her heart started beating faster. “I love him.”

“I wouldn't let you marry him if I didn't think you did.”

“He loves me too.”

“Smart man, that Dan Eagan.”

She grinned up at her father. “I love you, Pop.”

“I love you back,” he rasped.

More lights were twinkling inside the barn, draped from the rafters and hanging amidst garlands of ivy. “It's perfect.”

And then she saw Dan, waiting beneath an arbor festooned with ivy and white roses, and her breath snagged in her lungs. He was looking at her as if his next breath depended on her reaching his side. She tugged on her dad's arm and practically ran toward him.

“You're here,” Dan whispered.

“Where else would I be?”

He shook his head. “Nightmare. Glad it didn't come true.”

Her father put her hand in Dan's. “Always remember the gift I'm giving you today,” he told her husband-to-be.

Dan's hand was warm. She shivered at his touch. “Thank you, sir,” Dan replied.

Her father chuckled. “Joe will do.”

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Smith began.

Dan swore to love, honor, and cherish her. Meg echoed his words, lifting her gaze to meet his. She'd never thought to find love, yet here they stood, before the people that mattered to her most—her neighbors, her friends, and most importantly, her family.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Dan bent his head and claimed her lips. Meg felt the wonder of their first kiss as husband and wife and knew that it was fate—maybe her mother—that had nudged her off the top of that fence and into Dan Eagan's arms.

She whispered a silent prayer of thanks as she kissed him back with all of the love in her heart.

A taste of home-cooking from Apple Grove!

4 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/2 stick)

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour (Hecker's unbleached)

1/4 teaspoon salt

5 1/2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons cream of tartar

2 eggs

1/3 cup heavy cream

Using a pastry blender, cut the butter into the flour and salt. Mix until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Add the sugar, baking soda, and cream of tartar. Mix well.

Beat the eggs with the cream and add to flour mixture, using a wooden spoon to make a spongy mixture. Place the dough on a well-floured bread board or countertop and pat to ½ inch thickness. Cut the dough into rounds with a biscuit cutter (or large cookie cutter). Flour your hands and place the cut out scones on a nonstick cookie sheet; leave for ten minutes to settle.

Bake in preheated oven at 450 degrees for eight minutes, or until golden brown.

Serve with jam, preserves, or whipped (or clotted) cream.

© 2002 C.H. Admirand

A special thank-you to Kim Rocha for dropping everything to read
AWIAG
. You were right; Jimmy did need to meet Dan and fight over Meg! You are THE BEST!

When Deb asked if I would be interested in writing a small-town USA series, I jumped at the opportunity to spread my writing wings. I missed writing about the small towns in my Irish Western series and welcomed the chance to recreate a part of my past and who I am in a contemporary setting.

Growing up on Cedar Hill—a tiny corner of Wayne, New Jersey—our neighborhood was like living in a small town. There were twenty-five homes in our little hamlet of dead-end streets. Unless you lived off Circle Drive, there wasn't any reason to go to Cedar Hill. Tucked away from the rest of the world, we lived in idyllic surroundings—we could run or ride our bikes to our friend's house and still hear when mom rang the dinner bell—a cowbell my dad found when he was a kid living in Colorado, not to be mistaken from the ship's bell suspended between two trees that called our neighbor home—his dad had been in the navy.

My great-aunt and uncle lived right next door and my great-aunt always kept molasses windmill-shaped cookies with the almonds on top in the cookie jar on the end of the counter, right inside the back door. It was always full. She read pirate stories and poems to us on their screen porch on summer nights. I remember waking up to the sound of my great-uncle whistling—he had this six-note call that I'd hear in my sleep. I'd climb out of bed and get dressed but was young enough that I couldn't tie my red plaid sneakers, but I'd put them on—careful not to trip on the stairs, knowing that he'd be waiting to tie them for me.

My grandparents were two houses away, which made it seem like we had three homes instead of just one. My grandmother was a
cheese
and
crackers
grandma… not the typical
milk
and
cookies
kind. I'd run up to her house after my homework was done and set their dinner table, nibble on crackers and cheese, watching Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas and the four thirty movie before it was time to go home and set our table and help get dinner ready.

For the last thirty years, we've lived in a small lake community. My husband grew up in one, and from the stories of his childhood, I knew that was the atmosphere we wanted for our kids. It was a mixed community with residents who'd lived there for forty years and those of us who'd just moved in. Five of us were pregnant at the same time and forged a bond that carried over to our kids. They played together, attended preschool together, and graduated from high school together.

One element of both neighborhoods was the core group of women responsible for keeping tabs on everyone and making sure to spread the word, both good and bad; it was like having a town crier.

On Cedar Hill, it was my grandmother, my great-aunt, and both Mrs. Johnsons who kept everyone abreast of the neighborhood goings-on. In Lindy's Lake, it was Honey Baker, Marty Walsh, Ann Ahrens, and Millie Salisbury.

In the fictionalized town of Apple Grove, Ohio, it is Mrs. Winter, Miss Philo, and Honey B. Harrington who are the glue that keeps the town together and in the know.

So brew a cup of tea or grab a cup of coffee, put your feet up and relax, and spend some time getting to know the good people of Apple Grove.

C.H. Admirand is an award-winning, multipublished author with novels in mass-market paperback, hardcover, trade paperback, magazine, e-book, and coming soon digital comic and audio book format.

Fate, destiny, and love at first sight will always play a large part in C.H.'s stories because they played a major role in her life. When she saw her husband for the first time, she knew he was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Each and every hero C.H. writes about has a few of Dave's best qualities: his honesty, his integrity, his compassion for those in need, and his killer broad shoulders. She lives with her husband and two of their grown children in the wilds of northern New Jersey and recently welcomed their first grandbaby into the family.

C.H. always uses family names in her books, but this time something truly karmic occurred while she was writing the first book in her new small-town USA series; while tracing her Irish ancestors, she uncovered something wonderful—her great-grandfather was already listed on Ancestry.com with the same picture that sits on her mantelpiece. She had discovered a link to the Mulcahy side of the family; her grandfather's younger sister married a Mulcahy. After sending an email, she was delighted when she received a reply, and even more so when she learned that her connection and her sisters were delighted to be heroines in C.H.'s new series.

She loves to hear from readers! Stop by her website at
www.chadmirand.com
to catch up on the latest news, excerpts, reviews, blog posts, and links to Facebook and Twitter.