The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (26 page)

A woman of the world would probably give a coy wink but she’d never learned to wink with only one eye and a blink would not attract a man. In movies, women had pouty lips, but
pouty
was not Hannah Jordan’s style. And flirty? No one had ever used that word to describe her, and with good reason.

No, she’d always been a take-me-as-I-am sort of person and could hardly change now. And yet, she had no idea what came next, what to do when faced with a gorgeous man in the moonlight. “I need to know something. Why do you want to spend time with me? I’m not a girlie-girl.”

For a moment, he studied her. His gaze roamed from her eyes to her mouth and stayed there.

She shivered a little.

He leaned close, then even closer until his lips were barely an inch from hers. Slowly, they descended, slowly enough that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, until they moved against hers.

For a moment she worried about that cut on the side of his mouth. She didn’t want to infect it and felt a little worry about…then she could think of nothing but his kiss and his arms and his warmth against her.

When he leaned away, still holding her against him, she said, “You are a great kisser.”

So he showed her again.

That finished, she pushed away a little, only a very tiny space, and said, “Are you attracted to me?” She asked because she’d always thought the best way to discover information was to ask a question instead of wondering.

“Didn’t I make that clear?” He shook his head. “Must be slipping. You should know that by now.”

“Are you sexually attracted to me?”

“What do you think?” He lifted her chin and kissed her again, very thoroughly.

She could barely put together a rational, coherent thought. Where had her logical brain gone?

“Oh,” she said. Scintillating replies had never been her specialty. “Really? No other man has been.”

“They weren’t paying attention.”

He kissed her again, which made any reply, much less a logical one, impossible.

“Wow,” Hannah said when he sat back. She could feel her heart thumping wildly. “I know you’re not going to like this question, but can you tell me in words why you are interested in me?”

“I always wanted to kiss an epidemiologist.”

She put her hand against his chest. “No, really.”

“Okay, I decided my life had been far too easy and I want to add a little turmoil.”

Before she could reply, Hannah’s beeper went off. She glanced at it.

“Have to go.” She stood. “On call.”

More than anything, she wanted to stay out here with Gabe, to savor the last evening of enchantment—had she
really
thought the word
enchantment
? Who had she become?

“I’ll walk you back.”

A knock on the door awakened Birdie.

She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep. Blinking into the sunlight pouring through that west window, she stretched. Well, she’d started to stretch but she couldn’t move her left arm.

She hadn’t hurt that, too, had she? How could she possibly get back to work when she had one broken arm and she couldn’t lift the other? Then she heard a rumbling from her left arm and glanced over.

That stupid Carlos the Cat lay there, head pressing down on her arm so heavily it seemed to weigh twenty pounds. What kind of weak old woman couldn’t lift a cat with one arm? And why did the creature insist on curling up next to her? The only attention he’d given her before the fall had been to bite her ankles. Ever since she got home after the surgery, he insisted on sleeping with her, following her around.

For a moment, she thought of that newspaper article she’d read about the cat in a nursing home that always entered the rooms of people he knew were dying and slept next to them. She glanced at the cat. Did Carlos know something?

Birdie shifted in the bed but the stupid cat still slept, didn’t move an inch, and she couldn’t shove him away with the other arm.

With a tremendous effort, she pulled her knees as close to her chest as an arthritic woman could, then flung them forward so her body followed her legs and she sat up. Carlos fled at her upward motion. Her physical therapist had told her that was a terrible way to sit up, that she could do a lot of damage to her back throwing herself around, but her physical therapist wasn’t being held to the bed by a two-ton cat while someone continued to pound on the front door.

“Birdie? You in there?”

She recognized the voice. The old coot stood outside her door hammering on it. Wouldn’t you know?

“Just a minute,” she shouted. Must not have heard her because she could hear him in the side yard, crunching across the flagstone path toward the back and bellowing, “Birdie? Birdie?”

She tried to answer but, with all his shouting, Farley couldn’t hear her.

“You didn’t fall, did you?” he yelled when he passed her window.

“I’m fine,” she said.

As she turned to sit on the edge of the bed, she heard Farley climb the steps to the back porch and shout, “I’ve got milk shakes.”

She’d better let him in or he’d stand out there all day with that milk shake melting down his arm and onto the porch. “Coming,” she said loudly as she left her bedroom, moved down the short hallway, and turned into the kitchen to open the back door.

“What are you doing back here?” she asked. “Give a person time to answer.”

He smiled at her, undaunted by her harsh tone. “Let me in.” He held up both hands. “I brought milk shakes.”

“I’m not letting you in.” Birdie started to fold her arms until she realized she couldn’t do that, not while she still had a sling. “What would people say if I entertained a single man alone in my house?”

He raised and lowered his thick white eyebrows several times.

Old coot. She wanted to say,
Don’t promise more than you can deliver
, but feared he’d take that as a challenge. Besides, that sounded ruder than she allowed herself to be with someone who’d brought her a milk shake.

“Birdie, nobody would care.”

“Farley, you might think a man and a woman alone in the house is acceptable, but I don’t. Now”—she pointed over her shoulder—“you to the front porch. I’ll meet you there.”

While he walked around the house, she ran into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. After seventy years, she knew she could do little to improve the way she looked, but she
could
take care of that piece of hair that stuck up from the back of her head. One-handed wasn’t easy but she wet the comb, pulled it through her hair, then flattened it with her hand.

Before she could head to the front door, Farley had begun to pound on it again. He smiled when she opened the door and came out on the porch.

“Which do you want?” He held out two cups. “I got chocolate and vanilla.”

“Vanilla.” She took the cup and waved toward the Adirondack chairs Elmer had made all those years earlier so they could sit on the porch and greet their neighbors. “Why don’t we sit down for a spell?”

Once settled, Birdie said, “We’d get along a lot better, you and me, if you’d stop calling me old girl.”

He laughed.

How nice it was to hear a man’s laughter around the place.

Gussie should’ve been prepared. She’d cleared her schedule and left work at two to head to Butternut Creek, looking forward to seeing Adam and, of course, her parents. The idea had been to sit down with the family to discuss everyone’s week. What had Hector decided about college? How did Janey feel about school being over and the long summer stretching out ahead? Had her parents made any decision about where they’d live now that she and Adam had set a date? Had Hannah survived nearly a week in San Pablo? And she and Adam needed to discuss where they’d live after the wedding.

When she pulled into a parking space in front of the parsonage, she could make out two people on the swing.

They looked like Widows.

She should have expected them. Planning a wedding with Adam wouldn’t be satisfying for them and would be frustrating for Adam. She guessed they’d staked her out for those reasons.

As she walked across the lawn, she recognized Blossom’s lovely platinum-blond coif and Winnie’s practically styled white hair.

“Hello, ladies.” Gussie walked up the steps to the porch. “Did you come by to see Adam? Isn’t he at the church?”

“No, dear, we came by to chat with you.”

Exactly what she feared, but she smiled and said, “Do you want to come inside? I’m sure Mom has some tea in the refrigerator.”

When Blossom stood, Gussie noticed a tote stuffed with, well, stuff. Gussie groaned silently. She’d hoped for a quick preliminary meeting to discuss colors and flowers but nothing more. Looked as if this might last for days.

Once inside, they settled at the dining room table. By the time Gussie returned with tea, Blossom had laid out six stacks across the surface and Winnie had her notepad open.

“We know you’ve set two dates.” Pen in hand, Winnie looked. “Have you decided yet?”

“No, we’re still checking with friends.”

She wrote something on her pad. “Have you chosen your attendants?” Winnie continued.

“My friend Clare will be my matron of honor. Hannah and Willow will be bridesmaids.”

“Will she be able to do that? Willow? With the baby?”

Gussie nodded. “We hope so.”

Winnie checked an item and added the names. “And Adam’s?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He’s talked to people but I don’t know what they’ve said.”

“I’ll turn that over to Birdie to finish up,” Winnie said with the executive tone she must have used to run the asphalt plant. “We’re trying to take the pressure off her while she recovers, but she loves to make phone calls.”

Nearly two hours later, Adam entered. Where had he been? She glared at him. His uncomfortable expression told her everything she needed to know. He’d been fully aware half of the wedding planners had staked out the parsonage. He’d stayed away.

“Dear,” she said in a voice filled with syrupy affection, “why don’t you sit down and tell us what you think about the color and length of the runner on the cake table?”

She could tell he had no idea what she was talking about but, like a good fiancé, he sat next to her and listened for the next fifteen minutes until he checked his watch. “Your mother expects us for dinner in ten minutes. Hector and Janey are already there.”

“Oh, my,” Blossom said. “I didn’t realize how long we’d gone on.” She began to stuff her files back in the tote bag. “I’ll get out of your way.” With a dainty grab, she picked up the tote and drifted out with her usual graceful tiptoeing manner.

Gussie stood. Winnie slapped her notepad shut, shoved it and her pen in her purse, nodded at the couple, and hurried after Blossom.

As they watched the screen door slam behind the two, Adam said, “Do you have the entire ceremony planned?”

“Haven’t even started that yet. They’ll expect you to be present. No, we discussed the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Blossom keeps saying, ‘Nothing fancy,’ then pulls out pictures of orchids and a menu for the reception, a sit-down dinner with lobster and all sorts of things we can’t afford and I don’t want.” She picked up her purse and took Adam’s arm before she looked around. “Is Hannah already at Sam’s old house?”

“No.” He grinned at her as if he had a great secret.

“Well, what?”

“Hannah has a date with Gabe tonight. He’s picking her up in a few minutes. She ordered me to be out of here before Gabe arrives.”

Gussie fell onto a chair.

“A little overdone, don’t you think?”

“Not nearly enough drama,” she said before demanding, “Hannah and Gabe? That’s an even more unbelievable couple than you and me.”

He pulled himself to his full height. “I resent that.”

“Okay, we’re perfect together, made for each other, but Hannah and Gabe together?” She moved toward the staircase. “I’m going to see how she’s doing before we leave.”

Hannah scrutinized herself in the mirror over the tiny sink in her infinitesimal half-bath. She didn’t look like Hannah. For her evening out—she couldn’t bring herself to say “date,” because that signified much more than she could fathom or accept—she wore a dress. This morning she’d made a special trip into Burnet to shop at the Bealls department store. What had gotten into her? Who had she become?

Fortunately, she hadn’t bought the gorgeous gold sandals with four-inch heels and bone-crushing straps. No, she’d chosen a pair of flip-flops with a little bling on the straps.

She even bought mascara and lip gloss at the H-E-B. Later in the evening, she bet the mascara would drip down her cheeks and, in the heat, the lip gloss would probably melt and spread around her mouth. She imagined herself looking like the villain of a bad horror movie.

In the department store, she’d looked good. She’d studied herself in the full-length mirror, amazed that the dress made her look as if she had a shape. The color—emerald-green—flattered her skin. She’d felt almost pretty six hours earlier.

But now she felt so unlike herself she couldn’t breathe.

Gussie tapped on the door of her attic sanctuary and called, “We’re leaving, as ordered.”

“No, come on up first,” Hannah shouted. When Gussie stood behind her, Hannah turned around and slumped. “I am so incredibly uncomfortable,” she confessed. “I don’t want to do this.”

Gussie took her by the shoulder and looked into Hannah’s eyes. “Really? You don’t want to go out with Gabe?”

Trust Gussie to call her on the problem without beating around the bush. “Oh, of course I do, but I’m scared.” Hannah gulped. “I really like him but I’m not good around men and I’m not a people person and I don’t feel a bit like myself.” She waved her hand toward her dress and her hair and the makeup. “The only part of me I recognize is my feet. The rest is someone else.”

“You look terrific but, if you’re not comfortable, why did you decide to wear a dress?”

“I want to be the person, the woman, Gabe wants.”

“Hannah, you already are or he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“Logical.” She nodded. “But I’m not me,” she whined. When had she become a whiner? “I have to fix this. Help me, please. I can’t see well enough in the mirror.”