The Wedding Chapel (41 page)

She regarded him for a long, nearly heart-stopping moment. Then she nodded. Once. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you, James Westbrook. I’ll marry you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

JACK

H
e burst through Granny’s front door. Man, Taylor had this place lit up like a Christmas tree. And she left the front door unlocked.

“Taylor? Babe?” He ran up the stairs two at a time. “Taylor?”

“Jack?” She stood in a narrow doorway, a lean set of stairs rising up behind her. “Where have you been?” She jumped into his arms, a white envelope crumpled in her hand.

He gripped her close, holding on to the one he loved. Cupping her face in his hands, he bent to kiss her. He’d never tire of her taste.

Taylor stumbled back when he released her. “J-Jack . . . what happened?” She laughed, touching his damp shirt. “Why are you all sweaty?”

“I went to Sam’s. He’s got a punching bag in his old garage.”

A dark flicker shot from her eyes. “Wow, me being pregnant made you want to hit something?”

“No, I just needed to move, think. Get some space between my head and heart. Taylor, you took me by surprise.”

“Jack, I wasn’t ready for this either. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know, I know, I’m not saying you did.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Look, I’m not perfect—”

She gasped. “Really?” She swirled her hand in the space between them. “Then this is off—”

Grinning, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her again. “Hush and listen. Sam came out and, well, we talked, and I had some God time, gained some perspective. Taylor, I’m in. I want to build a life with you. I want to get out from under the ghost of my father. I’m scared, unsure, and have a way to go to be the man you need me to be, but I’m . . .” He stepped back, sweeping his arms wide. “I’m in. I want this baby. Lord help the poor thing.”

He braced himself, searching her face, ready for the pushback. For her to remind him he had yet to overcome his father’s rejection, that he knew nothing about being a father, but either he could do all things through Christ who strengthened him or not. For the moment, he was banking on that verse being true.

“Are you sure? I mean, have you thought about this?”

“What’s to think about? You’re pregnant. The wheels are in motion. What are our options? Walking away? No, I don’t want to walk away. I won’t do that to my kid.”

“So you boxed a bag and
snap
, just like that, you’re all good?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a come-to-Jesus meeting, and while it’s not adjourned yet, I have a clear sight of what I want, where I’m going, and how to get there. Sam and I are talking again tomorrow. I texted Hops to say I’d not be back until Wednesday.”

She arched her brow. “Wow, I’ve never heard you talk like this.”

“Weird?”

“Sort of, but I like it.”

“So are you all in?”

“You said you know what you want. What is that, Jack?”

“Life with you.”

The sheen in her eyes reflected her heart. “O-okay. And what about London?”

He pulled her to him. “It’s a no unless
you
want to go.” He kissed her, feeling her, sensing her, breathing in her response, her love filling his empty emotional bank.

She caught her breath as he released her. “This is not going to be easy. We’ve been living like we’re not all in. Like if it doesn’t work out we can walk away, ‘no fuss, no muss.’ ”

“No more. We’re not walking away. Our vows on the beach count.”

She leaned against his chest and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Jack.”

The most beautiful words. Jack inhaled, peering into her eyes. “Taylor Branson, I love you. Very, very much. And God help me, I’m going to tell you every day.”

He scooped her up, swaying from side to side until their bodies truly felt as one. When he set her down, Taylor slipped her hand into his, leading him down the hall to her room.

“Taylor, I’m all sweaty,” he said.

“You’re about to be even more so.”

With a sly grin, she set the envelope in her hand on the nightstand, eased the door closed.

This girl was his life adventure and he’d never tire of her. God help him.

TAYLOR

Evening settled over Heart’s Bend as she lay in Jack’s arms, more in love with him than the night they married.

He rolled on his side, brushing his hand over her hair. “I love you.”

“So you’ve said. About a dozen times in the last hour.”

“Now that I’ve said it, I like it.” He nuzzled her neck, shoving the sheet away, and Taylor thought he might go for another round. Instead, he sat up. “Hey, listen, I want to run something by you. Sam told me I’m like a son to him. He wants to adopt me. Give me his name. Wh-what do you think about that?”

Taylor sat up. “Wow, that’s . . . amazing. He knows you’re thirty, right?”

Jack laughed. “That’s what I said.” He peered at her. “He’s been the only father I’ve ever really known. He wants to make me his son.”

“I like the name Gillingham.” She linked her fingers with his. “Do you think if you’re not a Forester you wouldn’t mind coming home to HB now and then?”

He searched her face. “I don’t know. I’m a work in progress, Tay. But yeah, it might not be so bad.”

“The baby would have two sets of grandparents.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But he’ll have that either way.”

“Guess it boils down to what you want, Jack. Do you want a new name with a new father, one who loves you? Or do you want to stay with the old name, being reminded of the man who out and out rejected you?”

He raised her chin, kissing her. “I married a smart girl.”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“Okay, what say we get some dinner.” Jack bounded out of bed, reaching for his clothes. “You were doing something when I came in. What was it?”

She pointed toward the door. “Getting up the nerve to go into the attic.”

“I thought Emma was in charge of cleaning out the house.”

“She is, but Granny left me this weird letter.” Taylor slipped out
of bed, retrieving the letter, handing it to Jack. “Something about a box and a secret.”

“A locked box apparently.” Jack held up the key. “Why do you have to get up the nerve to go into the attic?” He skimmed the letter, laughing in the right places. “I like your granny.”

“Only ’cause she said she liked you.” Taylor slipped into her shorts and top.

“Naturally . . .” Jack finished reading and folded up the letter. “What is she talking about? A secret?”

“I have no idea, but since you’re here . . . want to investigate the attic with me?”

“Why are you afraid of the attic? Can we order pizza? I’m starved.”

“Yeah, I’ll call Angelo’s.” She retrieved her phone. “And I’m terrified of the attic due to Emma and the great haunted house of 1995. By the way, our kid is never going to a haunted house.”

“Shall I lead the way, then?” Jack stepped around her, easing open the attic door. He winked and her heart fluttered. Letting go meant she could fall all the way in love.

“Have at it. Light switch is on the right. By the way, Jack, Daddy came by tonight.”

He glanced back at her. “And?”

“We talked. He didn’t have an affair, Mama did.”

Jack stopped midclimb and let out a low whistle. “You’re kidding. You’ve been angry at him all this time for nothing? ”

“Yes, and thank you for pointing that out.”

He started for the attic landing. “How’d you leave things?”

“Like we have to start over, capture our lost years. I told him he was going to be a grandpa. That made him very happy.”

Jack hit the landing and slipped his arm around Taylor. “I’m proud of you.”

She pressed her hand to her forehead and stepped over to a pile of boxes under the eave. “Well, it’s a start. We’ve a ways to go—”

“I’m proud you made it to the attic.”

“Ha, very funny. And here.” Taylor passed Jack what appeared to be an original Star Wars light saber. “For keeping the ghosts away.”

Jack tapped the boxes with the tip of the plastic saber. “So what are we doing here?”

“Look for a box in a box.” Taylor glanced around. “But once, when I was a teenager, I came over after school and found Granny up here putting something beneath the floorboards.”

Jack knocked on the boards with the saber. When one echo responded hollow, he knelt down and tested the floorboards. And found a loose one.

When he raised it and peered in, he smiled at Taylor. “Could this be it?” He held up a deep, rectangular-shaped box. “Looks like something for jewelry.”

Taylor took the box and glanced around for a place to sit. Nothing. So she reached for an old afghan and made a nest on the floor.

Jack propped open the sailor window, letting the heat out and the cool evening air in. Then he joined Taylor on the afghan.

“All right, box, show us what you got.”

Taylor inserted the key. “I’m nervous.” She peeked at Jack. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

Inside was another note and a bundle of letters bound by twine. “They’re addressed to Colette.” She flipped through the return addresses. “They’re all from Jimmy. Looks like he was on a base.”

“What’s your granny doing with them?” Jack took the pack from her and thumbed through.

“I don’t know.” She spied the edge of a photograph. Pulling it
free, she studied the black-and-white image. “That’s Daddy as a baby.” She passed it to Jack. “Does that look like a young Coach?”

“Yep.” His gaze locked with hers. “I’m starting to figure out Granny’s secret.”

“She had an affair with Coach?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Read her letter, let’s find out.”

Taylor opened the note. “It’s dated last year. Titled ‘Confession.’ ” She made a face. “Sounds like a Danielle Steele novel.”

Confession

I’ve done some wrong. Lived with the guilt my whole life. And I’m weary. I’ve secrets bottled up inside and I don’t feel I can bear them any longer.

Though I must, for the sake of my sister. We’ve carried a burden together and I intended for it to die with me.

Yet there is one secret I must confess.

I broke them up. I forged letters from Colette to Jimmy and Jimmy to Colette because I loved him. I was so jealous of Lettie I couldn’t see or think straight. If Jimmy wanted her, then I wanted Jimmy.

So when Colette told me she was pregnant—

Taylor glanced at Jack. “Not Granny, Jack. Colette.”

“The plot thickens. Go on.” He tapped the letter.

I devised a plan to get her away from him. I wrote letters, using my ability to copy handwriting. I’m full of regret, but what can I do now but say I’m sorry?

“Wait, wait, wait . . . what?” Taylor reread the line. “Granny
forged letters?” She peeked at the stack bundled with twine. “Who does that?”

“I don’t know, but I bet Granny had a reason.” Jack flipped through the box’s contents, coming up with a thin document. “Looks like a birth certificate.”

Taylor read the first line over his shoulder. “ ‘James Allen Westbrook Jr. Mother, Colette Greer. Father . . .’ ” Taylor raised her gaze to him. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Jack, Colette and Coach had a
baby
.” She slapped at his leg. “James Allen Westbrook
Jr
. This is huge.”

“So why did she leave him? Why sixty years of silence?” Jack reached for Granny’s note. “There has to be more.”

“Jack, being an unwed mother back in the day was scandalous. She probably got sent away or chose to leave.”

“He was born October 27, 1951.”

“What?” Taylor slipped the birth certificate and Granny’s note from his grasp. “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow . . . Jack, come on.”

She darted down the stairs, swinging by her room to grab her handbag, and ran out of the house, Jack trailing.

“Where we headed?”

“Daddy’s.” She jumped into the Lincoln like Batman. Jack jumped in like Robin.

“Ah, light dawns. He was born October 27, 1951?”

“Yep. Daddy is Jimmy and Colette’s son. He has to be.” She gunned the accelerator, beating the yellow light, the big car floating down the road.

When they pulled along the curb in front of Daddy and Ardell’s, Taylor cut the engine and the lights. “Let’s go.”

“Hold up, Batman.” He lightly gripped her arm. “What’s the plan?”

“Um, ask Daddy how long he’s known he was adopted.”

“You assume he knows? Didn’t Granny say she was tired of
secrets? He’s sixty-four years old, Colette. You can’t just barge in waving that birth certificate. You don’t even know the whole story.”

“Yes, we do.” She waved Granny’s note. “She forged letters to break them up.”

“But that doesn’t explain how Colette’s baby became Peg’s.” He held up his phone. “Why not give Colette a call? See if she’ll confirm anything before you go to your dad.”

“But I—” Taylor exhaled, her enthusiasm deflating. “How does it feel to be so smart?”

Jack grinned and ran his hand over her shoulder. “I’m not smart, just less emotionally invested.”

She turned to him. “So Colette gets pregnant and leaves town? And Jimmy is away in Korea and he never knows?”

“According to your granny, she wanted to break them up.”