Branching Out (3 page)

The mother-of-the-bride picked up her shoes in one hand, looked straight ahead, and led her gentleman friend to their seats. No one muttered a word or dared to clear their throat. They wore bewildered expressions and even the children sat silently with their mouths agape.

Then, during that moment of uncomfortable silence, just as Jackie and her escort were about to take their seats in the front row, a low-flying seagull passed overhead. It flew alone. Its white wings were fanned out wide, and its head was held high. It didn't make a sound until it approached the wedding in a descending glide, swooped down low, and opened its beak to let out a piercing screech. Jackie looked up. In that instant, the gull released an airborne glob of white excrement. Before Jackie could duck, it landed squarely between her brows and dripped down the bridge of her powdered nose while she shrieked in a high pitch that matched that of the triumphant, departing gull.

An audible gasp rippled across the lawn, which triggered muffled chuckles by some and uncontrolled giggles by others. Jackie threw her shoes into the grass and ran barefoot, past Ryan at the altar, and all the way to the Meyerses' farmhouse, with her companion chasing after her.

Ryan turned away from the spectacle and looked toward the barn once again. This time, he caught a glimpse of Ginny and Shelby pulling back the curtain and standing just within the barn doors. As the musicians in the string quartet picked up their bows once again, his bride and her grandmother fell into each other's arms, unable to contain their laughter.

C
HAPTER
3

A
fter the front door of the Meyerses' home slammed shut behind Jackie and her companion, Ryan was still looking curiously in their direction when the musicians cued their instruments again and he felt Brad give him a sideways nudge.

“Wow, Ryan,” Brad whispered. “She looks
stunning
.”

Ryan looked up as his bride and her grandmother walked out of the barn arm in arm. They made their way down the grassy aisle, causing a shuffle on the lawn as everyone in attendance stood and turned to welcome the bride. Without seeing the guests' faces, Ryan knew they were as transfixed by Shelby as he was. Her grace and beauty left him breathless.

When Shelby's eyes fixed on Ryan's, the world seemed to drop away. Everyone and everything seemed to disappear—their guests, their surroundings, the sound of string instruments—it all faded away.

Emotion took him by surprise. He didn't think it would, but there he was, his eyes welling and a powerful wave of pride and love rolling through him. There were no words. She was radiant and lovelier than ever. She was the woman with whom he would grow old, start a family, make a life. In Shelby, his image of wife and life partner was right there, walking toward him. She had said yes.

They embraced at the altar and Ginny whispered into Shelby's ear, which brought a smile to her face. Then Ginny touched Shelby's cheek, gave Ryan an approving nod, and walked to her seat beside the empty chair where Jackie would have been.

Shelby accepted Ryan's outstretched hand and everything felt right. They vowed to live well and with open hearts, forgive each other's failures, and strive to find joy amidst the hardships. And with an exchange of rings, they promised to love each other for a lifetime.

He looked into her eyes, brimming with adoration and full of wonder. Ryan wrapped his arms gently around her waist and held her close, for she had chosen him; they were family. The enormity of their commitment filled him with overwhelming pride and love.

With his lips a whisper away from hers, he waited for the pastor's final words: “You may kiss the bride.”

She was his wife.
My wife!
With a mischievous grin and one graceful move, Ryan turned Shelby in his arms and dipped her ever so slightly. She piqued all of his senses. The sight of her. The floral hint of her perfume. The feel of lace and tulle in his hands and bouquet petals against the back of his neck as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. And the taste of her lips. He was whole with her and lost in her. He barely heard the pastor announce, “It is my honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers,” to the applause of their guests.

Without warning, a flash of a tragic memory cut through the moment like a knife plunging into a wedding cake and Ryan's heart skipped a beat in his chest. He eased Shelby out of the dip and then stepped back to loosen his tie and fumble with the top button of his dress shirt. His fingers were weak, trembling. He forced a smile—
everything's wonderful
—while inside, he was terrified.

“Ryan?” Shelby whispered with concern.

He knew everyone was waiting for him to escort Shelby back down the aisle and into the reception, but he couldn't move. His mind flashed back to the ice. The snowstorm. The hard, frozen surface breaking suddenly and knocking him off his feet. Shelby's grandfather, Olen Meyers, clinging to a jagged shard of ice.

“Ryan!” Olen had called out on that terrifying day on the ice, not so long ago. “Throw me that line!” The frayed end of a nylon rope was no more than eight feet from Ryan's grasp. “Ryan!” Olen had called out again. And again once more. While Ryan remained still, useless, and frozen in fear.

As much as Ryan had tried to forget what had happened that day, the memory was rising to the surface again. After Olen's death and Ryan's rescue from the ice and storm, many had called him heroic. Brave. But the truth? The truth had been swept away in snow and ice that day. The truth was—Ryan's cowardice had cost Olen his life. Nothing, not the memorial fund that Ryan had created in Olen's name, not the financial support he offered Ginny to run the orchard, and not even a vow to love and respect Olen's granddaughter for the remainder of his life—nothing could rid him of the guilt.

 

“Ryan?” This time the voice in his head wasn't Olen's but Shelby's, bringing him back to the present.

He reached for the comfort of her hand, closed his fingers tightly around hers, and took in a calming breath. He pushed away his trepidation to return to the moment. A reassuring smile. Another tender kiss. The groom was ready to escort his new bride back down the aisle.

“Shall we?” he asked, with a wink and a nod toward the barn.

As they walked down the grassy aisle, passing their guests who stood to recognize the newly married couple with applause, he swallowed hard. In marrying Olen's beloved granddaughter on the Meyers family land, Ryan knew he didn't have the blessing of Olen's spirit. And more importantly, if Shelby knew the truth about Ryan's role in her grandfather's death, Ryan knew she would never have agreed to marry him.

C
HAPTER
4

W
alking through the barn's curtained doorway was like walking through C. S. Lewis's wardrobe to Narnia. The barn was an aging structure with a high, cavernous ceiling, ribbed concrete flooring, and dusty stalls that contained farm equipment, supplies, and apple crates. On this day, however, it had been entirely transformed. And like Narnia, the barn's interior was now a dazzling spectacle as white as mystical snow.

Endless strands of miniature lights draped down from the rafters like arcs of evening stars. Temporary chandeliers made of painted iron and antique lights hung from overhead beams to illuminate long rows of dinner tables, set with white cloths, elegant table settings, flowers in vases of varying heights and widths, and candles. Everywhere there were candles. They burned brightly in hurricane flutes and Ginny's glass Mason jars that were tied up in ribbons.

After the cocktail reception, and once everyone was seated at the dining tables, Ryan stood at the head table with a glass of champagne raised in his hand. The room quieted and Ryan turned to his bride, focusing his sole attention on her—just as he had nearly two years earlier, in the same barn on a warm night such as this, when their relationship was just beginning.

“I won't say too much, because I know how you like to keep your private life private, but we're among family and friends,” Ryan continued. “Excluding Brad, of course.”

“Of course,” she concurred, reaching over to pat Brad's hand.

“When I first arrived in Bayfield two summers ago, I was looking for an escape. I said it was just a kayaking trip with the guys; a trip to see a part of the Midwest that I had read so much about, but have never seen. But it wasn't just a vacation. I was running. I had no direction or purpose. I never expected to meet anyone. Somehow, from that very moment I saw Shelby, I realized I needed a change.” Ryan paused before continuing. “From that moment forward, the direction of my life altered for the better.

“People have said that I've led a blessed life. A privileged life. I am grateful for the opportunities I've had, and I don't take those advantages lightly. But honestly, none of that comes close to the
true
blessing in my life—falling in love with a woman who encourages me to embrace all that life has to offer.

“So, please join me in a toast to my
wife,
Shelby Chambers,” Ryan said with absolute pride as the room joined him in “Cheers!” and a chorus of clinking glasses.

He took Shelby's hands in his and leaned down to kiss her. “I love you, Shel,” he said, loud enough for only her to hear.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, her eyes gleaming.

 

A short while later, Shelby heard the delicate
ting
of a knife tapping against a crystal wineglass to draw everyone's attention. This time, it was her grandmother who rose to her feet.

“Those of you who know me best know that I'm a talker. But, oddly enough, I'm a terrible public speaker. Nonetheless, I'm the head of the Meyers family now and you're all guests in my home, so I'd like to say a few words tonight—but only a few, I promise you.” Shelby could hear equal amounts of pride and nervousness in her grandmother's voice.

“Shelby, you are—and always have been—our angel. You're like the sparkle that dances on the lake. So lovely and full of life, always there to lift my spirits, and yet far too special to keep to myself. You have places to go. I am immensely proud to be your guardian for life.” Then, turning to Ryan, Ginny continued, “And Ryan, let's cut to the chase, shall we? You're going to have your hands full. Your wife is as determined as she is beautiful, and as spirited as she is bright. There's no telling where your life will lead with Shelby at your side, but I do know it's going to be one heck of a journey.”

Ryan raised his glass with a nod to Ginny and gently rubbed Shelby's back, knowing that the most difficult aspect of living in Chicago was being apart from her grandmother.

“Now, there's just one more thing. If my husband, Olen, were with us today, he would—” Ginny paused when her voice broke, and she was unable to continue. She cast her eyes down and patted her flushed cheeks, something Shelby had seen her do countless times in the past to calm her nerves. After a quiet moment, Ginny looked up again, took a deep breath, and continued. “If Olen were here tonight, I know he wouldn't have gotten caught up in the wedding plans and small details. He would have left that to the rest of us. My husband would, however, insist on two things. First, he would offer a toast to Shelby and Ryan and give you two his heartfelt blessing.”

Shelby turned to Ryan and mouthed, “He loved you like a son.” She interpreted the pained look in Ryan's eyes as missing her grandfather as much as she did. But then, he didn't say anything to her in return.

“And second,” Ginny said, “Olen would have asked Shelby to dance.”

The guests joined Ginny in raising their glasses with “Cheers!” Ginny then set down her glass, pointed an arm in Shelby's direction, broke out in a mischievous smile, and nodded toward the open dance floor. “So, whad'ya say, kid? Should we show 'em how it's done?”

 

The cocktails were flowing, spirits were high, and there were so many people now on the makeshift dance floor that Shelby wondered if the old barn would survive the night. The vibrations of sound and celebration alone were enough to take down the structure. While decorated beautifully like a veteran performer at a late-night cabaret, signs of the building's age became more apparent as the evening wore on. Cobwebs still shrouded dark corners and the musty aroma of old apples and cider permeated the woodwork. And from the highest peaks of the barn's vaulted ceiling, specs of dust floated downward through the canopy of miniature lights with every shake of the rafters.

Shelby was standing in a small clutch of Chambers family friends, holding Ryan's hand and talking amicably to people she had only just met. It was something she was learning to perfect, attending events with Ryan and feigning interest in the opinions and stories of strangers when in fact all she really wanted to do was dash back to the security of her own home. No matter how hard she tried to fit in, she always felt more of an observer than a participant.
I'm sure that will change now that we're married,
she thought.

The voices of those around her buzzed while she smiled and waited for an opportunity to break away. At the moment, Mrs. Edith Forsyth, a jaunty woman with rouged cheeks and plum-colored lipstick that stained the perimeter of her lips but was smudged off in the center, was discussing her newly improved golf swing.

Shelby glanced over Mrs. Forsyth's shoulder and spotted a child who was sitting with Mr. Carlson, a friend of her grandparents. She remembered that the Carlsons were bringing their visiting granddaughter to the wedding. She watched Mr. Carlson head toward a refreshment table while the girl stayed seated beside a cascading flowerpot that sat atop a wooden barrel.

Shelby noticed how the girl seemed transfixed by a pair of children who were holding hands and spinning on the dance floor. The girls were dressed impeccably in periwinkle dresses made of organza with taffeta sashes and tulle-ruffled slips. It was a look that Shelby knew well. She used to be that child.

Shelby turned her attention back to the adults just as Mrs. Forsyth was rousing some interest in a foursome to play nine holes in the morning. Giving Ryan's hand a squeeze, Shelby said, “Thank you again for coming; I hope you'll stay and dance. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your planning while I check up on someone.”

Shelby walked toward the young girl, stopping at the head table just long enough to retrieve her bridal bouquet and admire the dancing girls as she crossed the dance floor. Once Shelby reached Mr. Carlson's granddaughter, she lifted the full skirt of her dress and crouched down to meet her at eye level.

Shelby began with a simple hello. “I'm Shelby.”

The girl nodded and looked at Shelby with round, beautiful brown eyes.

“You're here with your grandparents, right? The Carlsons?”

The girl nodded, and her shiny brunette hair, pulled loosely into a thick side braid, fell over her shoulder. Her hands fidgeted with the folds in her skirt.

“They're friends of
my
grandparents. Did you know that?”

A slight shake of the head, no.

“I've known them for years,” Shelby continued with a gentle voice. “Let me guess. You're spending the weekend with them?”

“Uh-huh.” The girl's voice was tender and light.

“What is your name?”

A pause. She turned to look over her shoulder, in the direction of her grandfather, who caught her eye and waved reassurance as a bartender poured two glasses of lemonade. “Kate.”

“Well, Kate, when I saw you standing here, I just had to come over and introduce myself because you are, by far, one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen,” Shelby said, and she meant it. “Your dress is gorgeous, too.”

A blush as rosy and pure as the girl's dress warmed her cheeks.

“But, hmm . . .” Shelby continued, tapping her finger to her lips in consideration. “I wonder if there's missing something.”

Kate's expression changed to curiosity as she watched Shelby pull a pale-pink rose from her bouquet.

“May I?” Shelby asked, holding the rose out toward the child's side-swept braid.

Kate nodded, her eyes on the flower in Shelby's hand.

Shelby proceeded to break away the excess stem from the flower and tuck the rose into Kate's braided hair.

“Maybe a few more?” Shelby suggested.

“Okay . . .” Kate's face lit up in a smile.

“There,” Shelby said, standing up to admire her work. Kate had a nosegay of bridal flowers tucked all along her braid, and a wide, gap-toothed smile that was even lovelier. “It's perfect.”

“Bapa!” Kate burst out joyfully when they were joined by Mr. Carlson.

“Well, Kate, don't
you
look like a princess?” her grandfather said, and handed her a glass of lemonade. “As do
you,
Shelby. Congratulations. We couldn't be happier for you and your husband.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carlson,” Shelby replied, standing up and adjusting her dress. “I'm so glad you were able to bring Kate. She's welcome here anytime.”

Shelby was happier seeing Kate's newfound smile than she had been speaking with all of the Mrs. Forsyths in the room.

“So, young lady, how 'bout you and I cool off with these drinks and then get back out there on the dance floor?” Mr. Carlson asked his granddaughter, before congratulating Shelby again and then walking away with Kate's hand held in his.

Shelby smiled to herself, remembering the similar moments she had shared in this same barn with her own grandfather. She found herself looking toward the open barn doors, imaging that at any moment, he would enter the reception and ask her to dance.

 

As the evening wore on, the dancers grew tired and one by one guests began to say good night and taper off. Those who remained in the later hours were still laughing, raising glasses, and whirling about the dance floor.

Ryan's parents continued to circulate among the guests, seeming to enjoy themselves. Ginny held center court in a clutch of her closest friends, talking animatedly with her hands while one of the women uncorked another bottle of wine to share. And after the fiasco that took place just before the ceremony, Jackie and her male friend had been polite and drew very little attention to themselves.

Ryan and Shelby embraced each other on a quiet corner of the dance floor as they swayed to the music. The music seemed to fade away. Voices hushed. In Ryan's arms, Shelby imagined it was just the two of them. One of his hands rested on the small of her back while the other clasped her right hand and held it close to his heart. Feeling the warmth of his cheek against hers, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Ryan lowered his head, kissed her lightly, and whispered, “Thank you for saying ‘yes.'”

“Thank you for asking.”

“So,
Mrs.
Chambers . . .”

“I like the sound of that,” Shelby said, running her fingers slowly across his jawline until she touched his lips. “Say it again.”

“Mrs. Chambers—I have something for you.”

“You do?”

He released her from his arms just long enough to slip his hand into the vest pocket of his suit coat and withdraw a thin, blue satin ribbon.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling in anticipation.

When Ryan extended his hand, there was a solitary key dangling back and forth from the end of the ribbon that was entwined around his fingers.

She tilted her head to the side and looked from the key to his eyes. “A key?”

Ryan slipped the ribbon from his fingers to hers.

“Is it a room key? Are we staying somewhere in town?”

“Think bigger,” he said, clearly amused.

“It's not a boat key. . . .”

“Why don't I just show you? That is, if you're ready to sneak out of here,” Ryan whispered in her ear.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

Even though they knew the right thing to do would be to walk through the reception one more time to say their goodbyes, they looked at each other like a pair of teenagers conspiring to sneak out of class. He took her hand and, without needing to say another word, led her out of the barn and into their new life.