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Snowbound With The Best Man
Allie Pleiter
Do their matchmaking daughters have the right idea?Snowed in with the best man at a wedding weekend, florist Kelly Nelson can’t help but notice that the handsome widower seems overwhelmed raising his young daughter. So Kelly is delighted when her own daughter befriends the girl.But when the little matchmakers target Kelly and Bruce with an adorable Valentine’s Day plot, will the reluctant single parents give love a second chance?


Do their matchmaking daughters have the right idea?
A Matrimony Valley novel
Snowed in with the best man at a wedding weekend, florist Kelly Nelson can’t help but notice that the handsome widower seems overwhelmed raising his young daughter. So Kelly is delighted when her own daughter befriends the girl. But when the little matchmakers target Kelly and Bruce with an adorable Valentine’s Day plot, will the reluctant single parents give love a second chance?
ALLIE PLEITER, an award-winning author and RITA® Award finalist, writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her passion for knitting shows up in many of her books and all over her life. Entirely too fond of French macarons and lemon meringue pie, Allie spends her days writing books and avoiding housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a BS in speech from Northwestern University and lives near Chicago, Illinois.
Also By Allie Pleiter (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
Love Inspired
Matrimony Valley
His Surprise Son
Snowbound with the Best Man
Blue Thorn Ranch
The Texas Rancher’s Return
Coming Home to Texas
The Texan’s Second Chance
The Bull Rider’s Homecoming
The Texas Rancher’s New Family
Lone Star Cowboy League: Boys Ranch
The Rancher’s Texas Twins
Lone Star Cowboy League
A Ranger for the Holidays
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Snowbound with the Best Man
Allie Pleiter


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08593-9
SNOWBOUND WITH THE BEST MAN
© 2018 Alyse Stanko Pleiter
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Well, what did yours look like?”
Kelly produced her valentine, handing it to Bruce matter-of-factly.
He pulled his version from his jacket pocket and handed it to her, scanning the frilly card she gave him. Even though they were essentially trading evidence of wrongdoing, it still felt peculiar to be standing with this woman exchanging valentines.
“I’m so sorry this happened.” It seemed like the right thing to say.
“It’s not your fault.” Her tone was as flustered as his. “It’s…well, it’s nothing you did. The girls just…dreamed it up, that’s all.”
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the collection of glittery hearts in his hand. “Carly’s never done anything like this before. I don’t know where they got the idea, frankly.” That sounded stupid the minute he said it. He knew exactly where Carly had gotten the idea—that was the worst part of it.
Under different circumstances, Kelly Nelson could be someone he might consider dating. She was, in fact, the first woman who even remotely struck him as someone he might want in his life. If he was ready to date.
Which he absolutely wasn’t.
Dear Reader (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675),
Comebacks are hard. Restoring hope is an uphill battle for so many of us, especially when life knocks us down. Ah, but God moves most mightily in the uphill battles, and He is a splendid restorer. Often, His restorations bring back to us even more than we had before. That certainly is true for Bruce and Kelly—and adorable Carly and Lulu—and my prayer is that it is true for you, as well.
If this is your first visit to Matrimony Valley, go back and discover His Surprise Son, where Mayor Jean has her own family restored beyond her wildest expectations. And look forward to the next book in the Matrimony Valley series, where baker Yvonne Niles finds her own recipe for happiness.
I love to hear from readers, so please connect with me on Facebook or Twitter, email me at allie@alliepleiter.com or use good old-fashioned post at P.O. Box 7026, Villa Park, IL 60181.
Blessings,
Allie
The heavens declare the glory of God;
and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
—Psalms 19:1
For Captain Kyle
Contents
Cover (#ud47a090f-e7e5-59cc-b915-e976ff89098f)
Back Cover Text (#u2db254ef-bc20-56b9-9b88-6f40ccb856c7)
About the Author (#u9ffe8f06-cf39-542d-8b0e-6f8b265dbe5e)
Booklist (#uabf81e50-24cb-5264-ab2e-3e24eb54103e)
Title Page (#uf36c9847-1996-5579-9a63-0b2645166087)
Copyright (#u5a594ed4-4ca2-54f9-8183-834abb505124)
Introduction (#uc9f15e31-08ed-52be-81ba-95f0bb5121be)
Dear Reader (#u715ea201-6cd3-5533-aa55-2e11dabfac8a)
Bible Verse (#uc86de9dd-f63f-5c28-ba80-e5eeea8463f0)
Dedication (#u42604ee7-f913-502a-90b8-0abdfc7dbabf)
Chapter One (#uf7cd2116-cd0a-55bd-8023-907c17f1f9e5)
Chapter Two (#u38b1be4a-58e9-5daa-8020-f9522e709d27)
Chapter Three (#ud560fb19-499d-56ce-b1aa-7ca4ee210883)
Chapter Four (#uff6882de-4407-54e3-b5f8-29a17887ff8d)
Chapter Five (#u39969893-e160-5e7f-b61e-9fb2ee01ce3b)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
Kelly Nelson thrust a rose into the air and waved it around like a victory flag. “Yes!” She grinned at her daughter, cutting hearts out of leftover ivy leaves on the table beside her. “We got her!”
“Got who, Mom?” Lulu said.
“That lady from the wedding magazine. Samantha Douglas. The one Mommy’s been trying to convince since Christmas. She’s covering a Valentine’s Day event in Asheville, and I got her to agree to come up here afterward. I think she should do a piece on the wedding we’re having next weekend.”
Lulu grinned. “Yeah!” She sounded so excited that Kelly wondered if she had shared a bit too much of her frustration over getting the attention of the regional bridal magazine. Lulu should never think about how hard it was to keep a business afloat. Eight-year-olds shouldn’t give a thought to how old the van was getting or how last month’s storm sprung two new roof leaks. Children ought to spend their days happy and secure, right? Lulu could certainly share in celebrating their flower shop’s successes, but Kelly felt an obligation to ensure her daughter had no sense of struggle or worry.
“She’ll love us. She’ll love everything,” Lulu added, making Kelly smile.
“Yes, she will. And our valley has lots to love, doesn’t it?” In the past year, the entire community of the newly christened Matrimony Valley had put its efforts behind reinventing itself. What once had been a small, struggling mill town had bootstrapped itself, bride by bride, into becoming a quaint Smoky Mountain wedding destination.
And it was catching on. Maybe not quite fast enough to comfortably weather the seasonal nature of the wedding industry, but as one of the leaders of the Matrimony Valley “makeover,” Kelly was determined this would be the valley’s only lean winter. The coming summer was shaping up to be a promising second “high wedding season”—Kelly had floral contracts for no less than eight weddings between April and July.
Winter, however, hadn’t been so busy. Sure, there were life’s ordinary floral occasions—birthdays, funerals, anniversaries, parties—but times were still tough. Valentine’s Day surely helped, but what would help most was the upcoming Valentine’s Day weekend wedding. Without that, it would have been a longer, colder, more worrisome winter. After all, while brides might prefer May and June, heating and water and dentist and mortgage bills showed up all year long. Things were feeling tight, and a piece praising all their town had to offer, published by Southeastern Nuptials Magazine, would go a long way toward bringing in steadier business.
“Lots of ladies get proposed to on Valentine’s Day, you know,” Kelly explained to her daughter.
“That’s on Wednesday,” Lulu said, pointing to the big red heart Kelly had drawn on the shop calendar.
“That’s right. Which means on Thursday, lots of women will be thinking about where to get married.”
“And they should get married here,” Lulu said with complete authority. Lulu’s enthusiastic promotion of her Love in Bloom flower shop always lit a mile-wide glow in Kelly’s heart. If she ever doubted she was going to make it—something she did way too much—all she had to do was look in her daughter’s eyes. Lulu had hope enough for the both of them. She always had, Kelly thought with gratitude. Even in those dark days. She’s such a blessing to me, Lord. Thank You.
Lulu’s company made Saturdays Kelly’s favorite day in the shop. Having her daughter beside her just made everything bright and sunny, even if today’s skies were gray.
Lulu was lining up the ivy hearts in little pairs, parading them down the counter in sets of botanical “couples,” while Kelly finished up estimates and made preparations for upcoming deliveries. A busy week was just what Love in Bloom needed.
What it didn’t need, however, was the ominous buzzing sound and flickering lights that came from the refrigerated cooler behind her. You can’t die on me right before Valentine’s Day, Kelly silently warned the essential appliance. You’ve got to hang on until April, you hear?
“Mom, George winked at you again,” Lulu said.
“Why shouldn’t George like Valentine’s Day, too?” Kelly had adopted Lulu’s theory that the failing cooler Lulu had somehow named George was “winking” whenever the lights flickered rather than gathering speed toward a certain death. Denial can be its own form of optimism, she told herself.
Lulu continued her ivy leaf processionals. “Valentine’s Day is one of my favorite holidays. Daddy asked you to marry him on Valentine’s Day, didn’t he?”
These questions were always such a combination of sharp and sweet. If there was one thing Kelly was most proud of, it was how she’d kept Mark’s memory alive for Lulu. Her little girl never hesitated to bring her late father into any conversation. It kept Mark with them. And while the sting in her heart at the mention of him no longer stole her breath or made her duck into another room to hide a surge of tears, questions like this still made her heart ache for the love of her life now gone. “He did. And to anyone else, it might have been an ordinary holiday.” She gave Lulu a gentle poke on the nose. “But, of course, we never had an ordinary day after that.”
Mark had been one of those rare men who could make any day extraordinary. The man could make pancakes a celebration, or a walk through the park an adventure. He’d loved his young daughter—and his wife—with a devotion and an enthusiasm few men possessed.
Mark would have loved the idea of George the winking cooler. He’d always encouraged Kelly when her flowers were just a pilot’s wife’s little side business. It gave Kelly comfort to think of him up in heaven, smiling down in the knowledge that his life insurance payout had funded the launch of Love in Bloom as a full-fledged career.
A career she would have loved more with Mark beside her. He’d given her a lifetime of memories, with just too much lifetime left without him to have to survive on memories alone.
“Gone far too soon,” everyone who knew him said. They were so very right.
“So now, with Samantha Douglas coming to watch, we’d better make this next wedding extraordinary, hadn’t we?”
“It’s the reindeer one, right?”
Kelly laughed. “Elk, honey. But that’s the one. We’re going to host the best elk wedding ever. Maybe the first elk wedding ever, huh?” This particular wedding was not only a welcome end to the January lull, but a creative challenge. The groom was one of the rangers from the local park known for its herd of elk. So much of the decor and wedding elements focused on the elk that everyone in Matrimony Valley had come to refer to the upcoming event as “the elk wedding.”
“It’s going to be special,” Lulu said as she pointed to the corkboard on the shop’s back wall. Photos and drawings from Kelly’s conversation with the bride showed a bright collection of reds, flannels, burlap and pine. “I like all the red.”
“Me, too,” Kelly replied. In fact, she’d been delighted at the event’s unique backwoods flair. The bride and each of the bridesmaids would be wearing red plaid flannel boleros over their dresses, as well as hunting boots with red lace shoelaces underneath their skirts. The bouquets and centerpieces boasted lots of pine. The whole event was going to be beautiful, inventive, casual and fun.
“It’s the perfect wedding for us to show off, that’s for sure.” Maybe it would even land them a picture on the cover. A Southeastern Nuptials Magazine cover story could highlight the valley’s commitment to making each wedding special to the couple—to a degree most larger venues couldn’t match. “All those phone calls and emails to Samantha Douglas finally paid off.” Now the shop—and the whole valley—could take some serious leaps forward. No more George the winking cooler and no more worrying if the roof and furnace would withstand the next cold snap. Kelly was bone tired of adding up bills, squeaking by on materials and saying too many prayers for God to plant them on more solid financial ground.
Lulu slid off the stool as George winked again. “Can I put the heart in the window?”
Celebrate what you have instead of fretting about what you don’t. “Absolutely, kiddo.” Kelly reached into the drawer below the cash register to pull out a big red knitted heart. Earlier this year, Matrimony Valley’s mayor and chief wedding planner—not to mention Kelly’s best friend—Jean Matrim Tyler had instituted a little ritual Lulu loved. Jean had knitted a big red heart for each business on Main Street, a large ornament of sorts that could be hung in a shop window.
Whenever any of the businesses in Matrimony Valley—from the Hailey’s Inn Love inn to the Bridal Bliss bakery to Marvin’s Sweet Hearts Ice Cream Shop or even Williams Catch Your Match fishing outfitters—had good news of any sort, they hung the heart in their window. Sure, it was a tad silly, but Jean was right. In the valley’s long, slow struggle to reinvent itself as a wedding destination after the mill closed, celebrating every victory—and sharing those victories with your friends and neighbors—was important. And scoring coverage for this special wedding was a victory indeed.
“Hang it on the special hook so everyone can see.” Kelly handed the heart to her daughter. She reminds me to be thankful, Kelly thought, as Lulu climbed into the front window and hung the heart right in front. “See any others?”
For Lulu and many of the valley’s children, hunting for the hearts was a regular pastime. Just the kind of charm Southeastern Nuptials would love to cover. Maybe she should ask Jean to knit up a souvenir heart for the magazine writer to take home.
“Ooh—there’s one in Mr. Marvin’s window!” cried Lulu. “Maybe he invented a new flavor like reindeer rainbow sherbet.”
It would be just like Marvin Jennings to whip up a reindeer-or elk-themed flavor. Of all the shops in Matrimony Valley, his Sweet Hearts Ice Cream Shop had been one of the most enthusiastic adopters of Mayor Jean’s Matrimony Valley idea. Patronizing Sweet Hearts was a Saturday tradition for her and Lulu.
“We should go investigate,” Kelly said. “Right after I send this estimate to a potential August bride.”
“Tell her we’re wonderful.”
“I will,” Kelly promised as she hit the Send button on the email.
“When does the reindeer—elk wedding bride get here?” Lulu loved meeting the brides. What little girl doesn’t love all the fuss and ruffles of a wedding—even if those ruffles are red plaid flannel?
“Miss Tina, the bride, and Mr. Darren, the groom, both come in on Thursday, the day after Valentine’s Day. That’s the same day Ms. Douglas is scheduled to arrive, too. We’ve got a big week ahead of us. But guess what?”
“What?”
“The best man is coming in early—today, in fact—to spend the week vacationing here in the valley. And Miss Hailey at the inn told me he is the father of the flower girl. So you’ll have a new flower girl to get to know for a whole week this time.”
“That’s worth two hearts. Too bad we only have one,” Lulu exclaimed.
“I’ll talk to Mayor Jean and see what I can do,” Kelly replied, delighted to see her daughter’s enthusiasm. Meeting any flower girls who came for weddings was Lulu’s greatest joy, for while Lulu had friends in the valley, she hadn’t really connected with any of the girls in that “best friend” way every mother wants for her child. Lulu’s unofficial “flower girl ambassador” role helped to fill that void, and Kelly hoped this wedding’s flower girl would be no exception. She didn’t want Lulu to feel left behind in all the wedding and Valentine tasks falling to her in the next ten days. Of all the events for Jean, the valley’s usual chief wedding planner, to be out of commission for, this one posed the biggest challenge. Jean was right, however—no hired-in planner could handle an opportunity so tailor-made for Matrimony Valley. Kelly would have to step up and serve as both florist and chief planner for this wedding. A whole week with a fun new friend could be the answer to this busy single mother’s prayer.
Lulu looked out the window at the inn across the street, where nearly all the town’s wedding guests stayed. “I wonder if she likes ice cream.”
“I think every little girl likes ice cream.” Kelly closed her laptop. “We do, so let’s go get some.” She pulled the “back in 30 min” sign from its peg on the wall and hung it on the shop door. Some day she’d have a brand-new van and more employees who could keep the store open for her while she was out. Some day she could take her daughter for ice cream on a Saturday without a hint of worry if she’d missed any business.
With Samantha Douglas covering the elk wedding for the whole region to see, perhaps that day would come soon.
* * *
Bruce Lohan watched his five-year-old daughter bounce on the hotel bed. She’d been totally unimpressed with the pile of newly purchased sticker and coloring books he’d just produced from a corner of his suitcase. He’d spent a fortune on activity books and had a stack of tourist attraction brochures as long as his arm, but Carly’s attention was captured by the mountain of flowery fabric on her bed. Flowers and ruffles. Her little-girl fascinations were growing more foreign to him all the time.
“This bed has so many ruffles, Daddy,” she said as she bounced. “Can I have one like it at home?”
“I’d never find you in all those ruffles. What would anyone do with a pilot who...lost...his own daughter?” His voice hitched just a bit on the word lost, the way it always did when the ordinary word popped up in conversation. Lost stopped being an ordinary word when Bruce “lost” his wife to cancer two years ago. The thought of losing Carly—even as a joke among a mountain of fluffy fabric ripples—was enough to make his heart momentarily ice over.
He pulled up his mental checklist of father-daughter vacation activities. “Shall we go for a walk and see how the waterfall freezes over?”
“Nope,” she declined, flopping down from the incessant bouncing to run her fingers along a pillow’s line of tassel trim. “I’m fine.”
“Well, then, let’s go exploring for animal tracks in the woods. You can wear your new boots.”
Carly rolled over onto her back. “It’s cold outside.” She wiggled her fingers up in the air. “My fingers’ll get all numbly.”
Numbly. Back in Sandy’s last days, Bruce remembered praying for numb. Pleading for God to make the pain to stop so that each breath wouldn’t feel like swallowing fire. Now, he wasn’t sure his ever-present “numbly” was any gift at all. These days, the only things he could honestly say he felt were instantaneous pangs of fear and loss. Pangs that kept poking up in his life like trip wires, driving a need to stay busy that bordered on compulsion.
Action was the only defense he had. Motion was his best protection against the niggling sensation that one of these days he’d stop feeling altogether. Except for Carly. Sweet, precious Carly. There were stretches where the fierce love he bore her felt like the only fixed thing keeping him upright. The only feeling he still possessed. And yet, even that came with the suffocating ache that his grief kept him from loving Carly well. Or right. Or enough. Losing Sandy had hollowed him out inside. Raising Carly seemed to require so much more from him than he had to give.
“Dad,” Carly moaned, her blond head surfacing from behind a tidal wave of ruffled pillows.
“What?”
“You went away again.”
How poor was a father’s lack of focus if even a five-year-old could pick up on it? No matter how he tried to hide it behind a busy day of activities, Carly still knew when his thoughts of Sandy’s absence pulled him under.
It was so much easier to hide at work. The precise demands of helicopter piloting were almost a release from the fog of daily interaction. In the air for the Forest Service, Bruce could be engrossed, analytical, responsive, almost mechanical. On the ground, where he had to be human, everything stymied him. He couldn’t hope to be happy, so he settled for busy.
But busy wasn’t happy. He had to start finding his way toward happy, or at least away from numb. This trip was supposed to help do that, but they’d been here one hour and already he felt as if he was just spinning wheels.
“Well,” he said to Carly, hoping he masked his sense of emptiness, “we can’t just sit around. You were sitting in the car all the way here.” He’d tried to make the drive an event in itself, taking Carly up North Carolina’s scenic Blue Ridge Parkway on the way to Matrimony Valley. The plan was that the route would launch the whole trip in a special way. Be more fun than slogging down the highway from their home in Kinston, right?
Wrong. He’d messed that up, as well. It had been a stupid, misguided idea to give Carly hints that there might be unicorns in the vast forest.
Carly’s unicorns. If there was anything that stymied him more than his fog, it was his daughter’s imaginary unicorns. She seemed to deal with Sandy’s loss by imagining unicorn sightings. Mom sends them, she’d explained to Bruce when he had asked, breaking the last pieces of his heart into bits.
Sandy had sent him no such signs of comfort. Or symbols that he was doing okay. In fact, an accurate description of his life would be that it was one big, messy glob of anything but okay. Maybe he’d gain some sign of approval when he did something to actually deserve it. The trouble was coming up with what that might be.
So, he’d chosen to give Carly more unicorns. He took them on the scenic mountain highway and stopped dozens of times along the way to take in the sights and allow lots of unicorns to make their appearance.
It hadn’t worked. At. All.
Instead, Carly grew increasingly disappointed that no unicorns had appeared. How had that happened? How could a little girl’s own imagination disappoint her? What did the sightings—or lack of them—mean? He had no idea, but it could hardly be a good thing that Carly had somehow chosen for her imaginary unicorns to stay in hiding today.
He’d failed her, and he couldn’t even say how. Way to be Dad of the Year—I’ve already botched the first hours of vacation. Not hard to see why Sandy never let you plan outings, is it?
And there it was, one more item for the long list of things Sandy did better than he could ever hope to. Sandy could plan one activity and make it a golden, memorable moment. Bruce could plan six and not get a single one to “stick.” How fair was it that Carly—who had already lost so much—now paid the price for his mountain of deficiencies?
“Hey,” she said, as something caught her eye. She rolled off the bed and bounded beyond him to the window, pressing her nose against the lowest pane and peering down at the row of shops along “Aisle Avenue,” the town’s main street. “Look,” she said as he walked up behind her. Carly pointed to a sign hanging from a shop across from them with a picture of a huge ice-cream cone painted on it.
“What does that sign say?” she asked coyly.
It says, “Dad, can we have ice cream?” That’s what it says. “It says Marvin’s Sweet Hearts Ice Cream Shop.”
She turned to him. “Ice cream?” Her words were as sweet as any dessert this guy Marvin could hope to serve up. “We could have some, couldn’t we?”
Bruce teased her by faking a yawn. “I don’t know. Seems like you’d rather nap in all those pillows. I know I could use a few winks.”
“Napping’s for babies,” Carly declared quickly. “You said we were gonna do lots of fun things on this vacation. So...eating ice cream is fun, right?” She returned to the window and let out a squeal. “Look! There’s a little girl like me going inside.”
As far as Bruce knew, Carly was the only girl her age invited to the wedding. Her role as flower girl was part of what would hopefully make this trip so special. Of course, Matrimony Valley was an actual town, not a resort, so it stood to reason that children and families lived here. They’d driven past a school on their way into town. And Carly was right in one respect: eating ice cream was a fun thing to do. None of his earlier suggestions lit up her face like it was now, that was certain.
“I don’t see why we can’t.” He took Carly’s hand. “Maybe all the little girls in Matrimony Valley like ice cream.”
“Everyone everywhere likes ice cream.” Carly laughed. The sound eased the tightness of Bruce’s chest. As they made their way down the staircase to the inn’s lobby, Carly chatted on about how any girl who liked ice cream must be nice. Kids made friends like that all the time, didn’t they? Sandy’s gift for friendship was so evident in Carly—every stranger was someone wonderful Carly just hadn’t met yet.
Go eat ice cream. Go be friendly, he told himself as they crossed Aisle Avenue. Shove yourself back into life this week, for Carly’s sake if for nothing else.
Chapter Two (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
No sooner had Kelly settled on a flavor than the door of Marvin’s pushed open and a little girl skipped in. Behind her came a tall and tired-looking man. He carried himself with the air of someone who did physical work, with a walk that spoke of strength and power. But his face and shoulders lacked the same energy.
He looked like the kind of man who had been striking once, but any vibrancy had been replaced by weary resignation that he tried to hide behind a practiced facade. It wasn’t hard to recognize the familiar duality of someone pretending at life, the too-wide smile and the fast-but-weary strides. Single parent, she assessed perhaps too quickly. Dad who has to try hard.
Without any ceremony whatsoever, the little girl climbed up onto the red vinyl counter stool next to Lulu and said, “Hi, I’m Carly. We just got here.”
“I’m Lulu,” Lulu replied. “I live here.”
“Lulu,” repeated Carly with admiration. “That’s a great name.”
“Thanks,” replied Lulu with a grin. “I like it.”
“She also likes strawberry ice cream. What do you like, Carly?” offered Marvin in a congenial tone. Next to Mayor Jean, Marvin was the unofficial ambassador for Matrimony Valley. Everybody loved Marvin, and not just because he served up delicious ice cream. Whenever she felt blue or insufficient or just plain tired, Marvin’s compassion and his ice cream were always ready with a spoon and a smile.
“I like chocolate and vanilla and strawberry. In stripes,” the little girl replied. “You got any spumoni?” She put an adorable effort into the difficult word.
“Carly’s mom was Italian,” the man said. Kelly noticed he said “was,” not “is,” because like most widows, she always noticed when people spoke about their spouses in the past tense. Especially someone her own age. So maybe more than just a single parent. Maybe a sole surviving parent. Her heart pinched at the unfair snap judgment she’d made upon his entrance.
“Spumoni, huh?” Marvin bunched his eyebrows as if this required deep concentration. “Can’t say I’ve got anything that fancy. How about I scoop a little bit of each into one dish and you pretend it’s spumoni?”
“Oh, I’m great at pretending.”
Weren’t all little girls? “I’m guessing you’re Bruce,” Kelly said, rising up off her stool. When his eyebrows rose, she explained. “A tiny town like this can’t hold too many unfamiliar fathers with daughters named Carly. I’m Kelly Nelson, the florist for the wedding. Tina asked me to work with you on the boutonnieres for the groomsmen while you were here.”
The slightly suspicious look on his face turned into a sort of bafflement. “Oh, yeah. She said something about that, now I remember.”
“I have to say,” Kelly went on, “you’re the first best man who I’ve ever had get assigned to pick those out.”
Bruce shrugged. “Well, this wedding’s unusual in a lot of ways if you ask me. Darren’s like a brother to me, but the guy is...weird.”
“You’re the reindeer wedding!” Lulu exclaimed to her new companions.
“Um, elk, yes,” Bruce replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“An elk-themed wedding is an especially...unique choice.” Glad she’d happened to bring her tote bag along that had her tablet inside, Kelly grabbed it and nodded toward the small table a few feet away. “Pick out a flavor from Marvin, and why don’t we get those boutonnieres picked out right now while the girls are getting friendly?”
As Bruce ordered his sundae from Marvin and made a fuss over his daughter’s improvised “spumoni,” Kelly began pulling up the photos and notes for the upcoming wedding.
“Tina certainly does believe in group efforts,” she said as Bruce sat down. “I’ve dealt with her for her bouquet, the maid of honor for the attendants’ bouquets, Darren’s mother for the church decorations and Tina’s mom for the reception centerpieces. This is ‘wedding by committee’ if ever I’ve seen it.”
“That’s a nice way to put it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’d categorize it closer to cat-herding myself. Or is that elk-herding?”
Kelly smiled. “The man clearly loves his work. And I shouldn’t laugh. It might be our first elk-themed wedding, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be the last. We get a lot of tourists up here interested in the elk herd. We owe a lot to our Forest Service guys.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “Are you one of them?” He had a ranger look about him—rugged and intense—and somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she’d heard Tina mention that all the groomsmen were Darren’s Forest Service buddies.
“North Carolina Forest Service helicopter pilot. Based in Kinston. But Carly and I are here early making a vacation out of it.”
Kelly tamped down the reaction that still came with the word pilot. It wasn’t such a tidal wave anymore, mostly just a sharp surge, a “shiver of the soul,” as Pastor Mitchell put it. “Fire service?”
“Some,” he said. “Mostly support, transportation, supply, that sort of thing. But we do our fair share of fires. Sounds like you’ve got someone in the service?”
“No,” she replied. “My husband was a commercial pilot.” Was, not is. Did he notice her use of the past tense the way she’d noticed his? It always amazed her how such ordinary words held enough weight to grow a lump in her throat. “But he had friends in the service in Georgia,” she added, feeling the past tense of that sentence stick in her throat with the same weight.
The look in his eyes and the pause before his next question told her he had indeed noticed which tense she’d used. “Retired?” He said it with the low and careful tone of someone who knew there was another possible answer.
Kelly lowered her voice. “Fatal crash. Lightning strike. A few years ago.”
He looked down at the table and dragged the next words out in a low voice. “I’m sorry. We...um...we lost Carly’s mom Christmas before last. Cancer.”
Christmas without the one you love. Was there a bigger hole in the world than trying to survive a child’s mourning at Christmastime with your heart in splinters? “I’m so sorry.” Funny how they instinctively traded those words that never, ever felt like enough to contain the mountain of pain.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They both sat up a bit as Marvin set a sizable sundae down next to the peach milkshake she’d brought over from the counter. “Enjoy,” Marvin said with his congenial smile. “Welcome to Matrimony Valley.”
“Thanks,” Bruce replied, looking up with an expertly applied smile Kelly knew all too well. The smile left as Marvin turned away, and for a moment or two Bruce swirled his spoon in the sundae’s whipped cream. “It’s hard,” he said softly, his voice catching a bit on the words. He nodded back in the direction of his daughter. “But I try, you know?”
“I do know. And then there are happy things like Darren and Tina’s wedding.” She hoped he caught the brightness in her voice. Weddings could be both lovely and excruciating from the viewpoint of a surviving spouse. Watching someone else’s heart find happiness always proved a mixed sort of joy.
“Weird, happy things,” he amended, a bit of a smile returning to his face. “Tell me you’ve got some idea for whatever it is I’m supposed to pick, because I sure don’t know. Couldn’t they have stuck me with just planning the bachelor night like a normal best man?”
“We’ll get you through this.” Kelly turned the tablet to face him. “Since the groomsmen are all wearing red plaid shirts and gray vests, I thought we’d go with pine and ferns.”
He clearly had no preferences. “Looks fine to me. Just nothing fussy.”
“Naturally. We’ll add a bit of red fabric to match your shirts and the women’s boleros.”
“Their whats?”
“Boleros,” she repeated. “The short jackets made from the same flannel as your shirts that the bridesmaids are wearing over their dresses.”
“Boleros, boutonnieres... Why can’t they just call them jackets and flowers? Come to think of it, why do the guys even need flowers anyway?”
So he was going to be one of those, was he? Someone who thought of flowers as expensive and frivolous incidentals, useless details that wilted days after the ceremony? “Every wedding should have beauty and traditions. Since the times of the Greeks and Romans, brides and grooms have worn flowers to symbolize hope and new life.”
“Fine, if you say so. I just don’t get why I’m stuck with choosing this. I mean, Carly could do a better job at this than I could.”
Grant me patience, Lord. “Well, then, let’s ask her. Carly, Lulu, come tell us what you think.”
They gushed over the images on the tablet, of course, because the designs Kelly had created for this event were unique, just like the wedding itself. Samantha Douglas would gush, too, if Kelly had her way. With the girls’ help, the boutonnieres were quickly selected.
“All that matters here is that Darren and Tina love the way the ceremony looks and feels,” Kelly explained, directing her words at Lulu and Carly since Bruce clearly couldn’t care less. “Every detail is a part of that, even the boutonnieres.” She turned off the tablet. “That’s how Matrimony Valley works. It’s why we do what we do.”
* * *
Bruce looked at the florist with a foggy sort of awe. How did this Kelly woman pull it off? Here he was, two years out from losing his wife, and he still couldn’t manage to feel like much more than the walking wounded. A man in some sort of invisible zombie state, lurching through life, looking alive but feeling half-dead and irreparably damaged every waking moment.
He did want to heal. The desire to come back to life still existed somewhere under the mountain of grief. He just didn’t know how to crawl his way out of this thing that only looked like living. The whole point of taking this time before Darren’s wedding was to find a way to snap himself out of this hamster wheel of busy emptiness.
But how? He wanted to be there, really be there for Carly, not just running through the parenting paces. He wanted to enjoy this wedding, to be happy for his friend and relish Carly’s role in it. Only, in lots of ways he could never admit, the whole thing just bugged him. It hurt. It reminded him of everything he no longer had. Made him so bristly that he took it out on innocent people like this florist, who was only trying to do her job well.
And just to make things worse, this woman seemed to sense the storm of thoughts that had pulled him away from the conversation. “Hey,” she said softly. “It gets better.”
He merely grunted in reply.
“Not right away,” Kelly went on, “and not nearly fast enough, but one day you wake up and you don’t feel quite so much like the walking wounded anymore.”
It was a shocking sort of comfort that she’d used the very same words that were in his head. “Yeah, everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” she replied. “But you do have to choose it, you know. Walk toward it. Crawl, if you have to.”
He ran a hand over his chin. “Not doing so good at that, actually.” He wasn’t so sure he liked how this woman he didn’t really know pulled such huge things out of him. She was prying open boxes. Private boxes he didn’t want to open for a very long time, if ever. She looked pushy, too, like the kind of woman who didn’t stop when she met resistance.
Kelly straightened, putting her tablet back into the tote bag with a matter-of-fact air. “So, what are your plans for while you’re here in the valley?”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot of things planned. Hikes, trips into Asheville, exploring the falls, looking for wildlife, maybe some sledding if we get any snow. I definitely plan for us to stay busy.”
“Busy,” she said. He didn’t like the way she said it.
“Hey, busy’s good. Little girls need to stay busy, right?”
“Sure,” she said, but again with a tone that he couldn’t quite call agreement. “There’s happy, too, you know.”
Happy? Come on, happy wasn’t really on the table for him at the moment. And he certainly wasn’t interested in discussing happiness or its lack in his life with this pushy florist he’d known for fifteen minutes. “Yeah, not so much, lately, if you know what I mean.” She did know what he meant, right? She’d been through it.
“So there’s nothing that makes you happy?”
My wife is dead. What do you think? “Carly.” When she leveled a look at him, he added, “Not much else.” Granted, it was a pouty answer, but Bruce wasn’t volunteering to become anyone’s healing project, not on vacation, or ever.
“Okay,” she said slowly in a “so that’s how you want to play it” tone. “What makes Carly happy?”
“Unicorns.”
Bruce was just the tiniest bit pleased to have surprised her with the answer. “Unicorns?” she asked.
“Long story I’m not going to tell you.”
“Okay,” she replied in the same tone as before. “Unicorns and...?” She whirled her hand, as if cuing a list from him.
“Well, based on our day so far, not hikes or wildlife or waterfalls or sledding or anything outdoors.” In fact, she’d shut down nearly every suggestion he’d had since they arrived. Except for going for ice cream, and look where that had gotten him.
“So what does Carly like?”
She enunciated the words as if he hadn’t heard the question the first time. His urge to up and leave was squelched only by the gleeful conversation Carly was having over at the counter with Lulu. He couldn’t afford to annoy Lulu’s mom if Carly was having so much fun with her daughter, could he? “Pink,” he replied, tamping down his irritation. “Spumoni ice cream. Stickers and coloring books. Kittens. Artsy stuff like beads and those rubber loopy bracelet things.”
Kelly actually nodded after each of those, so maybe Carly’s favorite things were normal despite how foreign girlie arts and crafts felt to him. “And hopscotch,” he went on. It was a wonder he hadn’t listed hopscotch first—the game had saved his life so many dreary afternoons. It was mindless motion. You didn’t have to think or talk playing hopscotch. Bruce had a roll of painter’s tape in his suitcase just so they could put a hopscotch outline on their hotel room carpet if they felt like it.
“Mom?” Kelly’s daughter called from the counter.
“Yes, honey?”
“Can Carly come over and play tomorrow after church?”
Kelly actually smiled as if she’d seen that coming a mile off when it had never occurred to him until this moment that Carly could have playdates while on vacation. “Hey, Lulu,” Kelly said, raising one knowing eyebrow to him, “you know how to play hopscotch, don’t you?”
Lulu spun around on the stool and rolled her eyes. “Of course. Everybody knows how to play hopscotch.”
“I love hopscotch,” Carly gushed. He was cornered now, and he could tell Kelly knew it.
“Pleeeeaaassseee?” both girls pleaded in a singsong chorus Bruce knew wouldn’t let up until he agreed.
“I’d never hear the end of it if I said no,” he admitted. “So sure, why not?”
“Hey, can Carly and her dad come to church with us? We’re frosting Valentine’s cookies at activity time. Miss Yvonne told me.”
“Sometimes being friends with the town baker gets you inside information,” Kelly remarked with a grin. “Are you and Carly a churchgoing family?”
Though he found the question a bit intrusive, Bruce appreciated that she referred to Carly and him as a family. They still were, if barely, but he’d noticed that people stopped using the noun once Sandy had passed, and that always bugged him. “We used to be.”
She didn’t reply, but gave him the politely disappointed look he’d gotten from far too many members of the church he and Sandy used to attend. This woman was clearly pushy about more than just flowers.
“Do you always evangelize people who’ve been in town less than half a day?” It came out sharper than it ought to have, but making peace with the God who’d let Sandy die was a mighty sore subject. People back in Kinston were so cloying about the way they tried to coax him back to church. Rather than supportive, Bruce found the sad sympathy and the trite assurances that Sandy was in “a better place” to be suffocating.
“Hey,” she countered, “my daughter’s just inviting your daughter to something she thinks is fun. No agenda, no pressure. Just cookies.”
Bruce put a hand up. “I admit, I’m a bit...defensive on the subject.”
She cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He dug into his sundae for a moment, not sure how to smooth over the moment or even sure he wanted to.
“I get it,” she said after a moment. “Everyone’s got an opinion on how you should behave, how you should heal, all that. Most people are trying to be helpful, but not always succeeding.”
“No, not always.” Hardly ever.
Kelly finished her milkshake with a long slurp. “Well, the offer stands. Church is at ten, just down that way.” She pointed down the street, and he could see a quaint white steeple sticking up from a line of trees. “Hopscotch begins at...let’s say one o’clock. Meet us at the flower shop just next door and we’ll walk to my house.” She looked up at the sky. “Tina and Darren wanted snow for the wedding. I think they’re going to get some.”
Bruce had seen the forecast for the coming weekend. “Maybe more than some, huh?”
Kelly’s face dropped. “Let’s hope not. Three or four inches of pretty fluffy snow is great—this place looks like a wonderland in a fresh snowfall. But a big storm...” She sighed, peering at the sky again. “Right now they’re saying the storm will stay west of us. But I expect I don’t need to tell a pilot that a million things could happen between now and Thursday when everyone’s arriving.” She stood and collected her bag. “You may be grateful you came in so early.”
“Surely you all are used to substantial snowfalls. I mean, there’s a ski resort two towns over.” It shouldn’t be like his friends in Atlanta who could be blindsided by a snowstorm because they lacked the experience and equipment to deal with the snow-slicked roads and poor visibility.
“We know what to do with snow,” she defended. “But when you add planes, deliveries, rental cars, travelers and nervous brides into the mix, you can imagine it gets a bit trickier. Your friend’s happiness aside, the valley’s got a lot riding on this wedding. I’d rather not have to pull it off in crisis-management mode.”
Tina had said something about this place being relatively new at the wedding thing, but Bruce got the sense her tension came from a bit more than that. Her desire to make sure things went well stretched beyond integrity into something that smacked of seriously high stakes. There seemed to be more to this wedding than just a bride and groom saying “I do.”
Chapter Three (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
Jean Tyler clutched her ginger ale and gaped at Kelly. “Really? He used the word evangelize?”
Kelly recalled Bruce’s sharp look. “Clearly I struck a nerve. I mean, I wouldn’t have extended the invitation for them to come to church, but it was Lulu inviting Carly. The two girls hit it off instantly.” Back when both women were single moms, coffee before church was a Sunday tradition for Kelly and Jean. Kelly resurrected the tradition before today’s service to talk over yesterday’s baffling events with the best man and his daughter the flower girl.
“I wish I could be there to see if he shows.” Matrimony Valley’s pale mayor leaned back in her chair. “I wish I could be anywhere without feeling like I need an airsickness bag in my pocket.” She looked down at her bandaged ankle propped up on an ottoman. “I never thought I’d be thankful for a sprained ankle or miss being able to take painkillers so much.”
“So no one has figured out the real reason why you fainted on the town hall steps?” Kelly asked.
“I think Yvonne suspects. But you’re the only one who knows I’m pregnant. It’s far too early to make it public. But I was never this sick with Jonah. Well, not with morning sickness.” Jean’s young son, Jonah, was deaf as a result of a severe fever Jean had contracted while pregnant. Kelly understood why it made her friend skittish about this new baby on the way, despite how blissfully happy Jean was now that she’d reconciled with and married Josh—Jonah’s father. “How’s the wedding going? I’m thrilled you got Samantha Douglas. Coverage from Southeastern Nuptials could make a huge difference for us.”
“I sure hope so. George is threatening to go on the fritz again, and I hate having to say a prayer every time I turn ignition on the van.” Kelly looked up at this morning’s sunnier skies. “The spring brides can’t get here soon enough. The snow, on the other hand, can take its sweet time.”
“Oh, I know. Josh has been watching the weather reports, too. He’s trying to get out to San Jose and back one more time next week.” Josh and a partner ran a successful software company on the West Coast. While he’d arranged to live here most of the time, work still involved many trips to California. “The last thing I need is for him to be snowbound somewhere in Tennessee with me like this.” She put one hand on her belly and gingerly wiggled the toes that poked out from the bandage.
Kelly squeezed Jean’s hand. “Come on, you know Josh. He’d buy a snowmobile and plow his way over the mountains to get to your side if you needed him.” She returned her gaze upward. There was almost a whole week until the wedding, and mountain weather was nothing if not changeable. Today’s sunshine could easily flee and be replaced by clouds dumping a load of snow into Matrimony Valley. “I’d hate for weather to complicate things for the wedding, that’s for sure.”
“There is always that for winter weddings, isn’t there?” Jean patted her stomach. “The upcoming attraction here and I picked the wrong wedding to stick you with.”
Kelly didn’t want her friend worrying like that. “Hey, every wedding is complicated in its own way. Believe it or not, this couple seems very easygoing. Well, except for the best man, that is.”
“You’re right—he doesn’t sound easygoing at all,” Jean agreed.
“The challenges are all logistical. And those are always easier than the emotional ones, you know that.” She dunked the doughnut from Yvonne Niles’s Bliss Bakery into the steaming cup of coffee Josh had offered her when she’d arrived. They used to do these gatherings outside so that Jonah and Lulu could play before church, but now Josh could be outside with the children while she sat warm and cozy in Jean’s living room.
Jean set down her ginger ale. “So, how many contingency plans do you have?”
“Two,” Kelly replied, gaining a suspicious look from the friend who knew her too well. “Well, okay, maybe four.”
Jean settled back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, let’s hear ’em.” While Jean had often chided Kelly for her controlling tendencies, it had always been a warmhearted, good-natured teasing rather than any kind of reproach. And she was always willing to listen to Kelly’s ideas and plans—the ones that let her feel a little more control over all the potential problems in her path.
“If a storm socks in the Asheville airport, Tina and her parents can divert to Charlotte and we can send someone with a truck to pick them up. Hailey’s got a ‘snowbound special’ all set up to let guests have extra nights at the inn for a discounted price so they won’t feel compelled to leave right away if the roads are bad. Rob Folston’s stocked up on supplies at the hardware store, and Bill Williams said he’d lend out skates and flood the yard in the back of the store to make an impromptu ice rink to entertain stranded guests.”
“All very clever,” Jean said.
“And I convinced Samantha Douglas to come up for a set of exclusive interviews on Thursday so she’ll already be here before the worst of the storm is scheduled to hit—if it hits at all.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Jean. “What interviews?”
“Well,” Kelly admitted, “I don’t exactly have those arranged yet. Both Darren and Tina are supposed to arrive that day, so I’m planning both of them if they’d be willing. And...I was hoping a certain mayor would consent to one.”
“Gladly.” Jean smiled. “But it’ll need to be a house call.” She wiggled her toes again, then winced. “Ouch. I really do miss those pain meds. Between my ankle and my stomach, this baby’s going to owe me.”
Kelly opted to shift the conversation away from wedding contingency plans. The last thing Jean needed was additional stress. “Any chance you can make it to the church’s Valentine’s Day party?”
“I hope so.” Jean shifted in her seat. “I can’t just disappear—I’ve got to show up a few places around town. I’ll just be munching on soda crackers rather than any chocolate and cookies.” The mother-to-be sighed. “I miss real food. I’ve been living on crackers, soup, ginger ale and toast. I’m jealous of your doughnut,” she whined. “I’m jealous of Jonah’s peanut butter and jelly, and I don’t even like peanut butter.”
Kelly checked her watch; it was nice to catch up with her friend, but she needed to get going. She ought to be at church early on the off chance prickly Bruce Lohan actually did accept Lulu’s invitation. “Hang in there, Jean. This can’t last long. And just think how thrilled everyone will be when you can announce the baby. Josh looks over the moon as it is—I don’t think this will stay secret for long.”
“My head knows that. My stomach, not so much.” Jean managed a pale smile as she shifted in her seat. “Just keep us in your prayers, okay?”
“You know I will. You sit tight and try not to worry. I’ve got everything for this wedding under control.” Kelly gently hugged her friend. “Tina and Darren will have a terrific event, and Samantha Douglas will run out of superlatives to use in her article. We’ll have next winter booked solid with weddings before the Fourth of July.”
As she and Lulu walked the few blocks toward church with Jonah and Josh, Kelly took stock of all the businesses along the avenue. Bill Williams, who ran the Catch Your Match Outfitters with his wife, Rose, could handle the slow winters. They ran full tilt during the summer not only with wedding guests but with locals who needed to stock up on gear for fishing trips. Wanda and Wayne Watson’s diner never really ebbed or flowed with wedding traffic, but they had seen an uptick in business despite Wanda’s rampant skepticism at the Matrimony Valley idea at first. The diner had been and would always be the place where locals ate—that would never change. Yvonne Niles’s bakery, like Kelly’s flower shop, had the most to gain from weddings. And both women were eager to see their businesses expand.
A fully booked year—think of what that could do for the valley! Weddings were a months-ahead kind of business. A fully booked year would take away so much of the guessing and doubts of her life. With the exception of a few reliable holidays like Valentine’s Day, Easter, Christmas and such, flowers were mostly an impulse purchase, or bought for occasions such as birthdays or anniversaries that were significant only to a single couple—making a single purchase—at a time. A steadily predictable wedding income could mean the world to her and Lulu.
Kelly looked up at the clear winter sky and its assortment of fluffy clouds. You’ve taken enough from me, Mother Nature, she chided silently. Time to cut me a break and just send a pretty dusting of snow. No storm, you hear? The elk wedding needs to be perfect.
* * *
Bruce tried again. “I bet the woods look beautiful this morning. Chock-full of unicorns. Waffles, and then a walk—what do you say?”
Carly flopped over on her bed like a five-year-old heap of drama. “I wanna go to Lulu’s church and make Valentine’s cookies.”
The Almighty wasn’t fighting fair, bringing frosting into this. “You have to sit still a lot during church. Do you remember?” The fact that he had to ask pinched at his conscience.
“I can sit still just fine. I wanna go. Lulu says it’s lots of fun.”
For you, maybe, he thought, trying to envision himself sitting in a church pew again.
“We won’t know anybody there except Kelly and Lulu.” Even as the words left his mouth, they felt like a weak argument. Besides, if almost no one knew him, then maybe no one could do that super-supportive “we want to be here for you” thing that made him cringe.
He looked at Carly’s pleading eyes, aware he was losing this argument. Bruce Lohan had delivered firefighters into blazing mountainsides and pulled rescue victims from raging waters, but evidently he was no match for his daughter’s pout, or God wielding cookies.
And so it wasn’t that much of a surprise that at 9:50 a.m. Bruce found himself standing at the door of Matrimony Valley Community Church, dragging his feet up the steps behind Carly’s insistent pulling.
“Carly!” Lulu greeted happily as they hung their coats on the set of racks just inside the door. “Come sit with us!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kelly said, clearly giving Bruce an out if he wanted one.
Bruce actually couldn’t decide which was worse—sitting with Kelly and Lulu or enduring the church service alone. He’d gone to a handful of services after Sandy’s passing, and once Carly skipped off to children’s church he’d felt excruciatingly solitary sitting in the pew alone.
Carly decided for him. “I do. C’mon, Dad.” And with that, she trotted off into the sanctuary holding hands with Lulu as if it were the easiest thing in the world. His daughter had no idea that just walking into the space set a lump of ice into Bruce’s gut that threatened to send him running for the door.
“We don’t bite,” Kelly said. “Well, except maybe cookies.”
“Ha,” he said drily, too tense to appreciate the attempt at humor.
“Consider it a test run for the wedding, then,” she said, starting to follow the girls to a pew that was way too close to the front for his taste. He’d have preferred the far corner of the last pew, but it wasn’t going to happen. “This way, the ceremony won’t be your first time in here. Familiar spaces are always easier, and the day will be tough enough already.”
At least Kelly got how hard this wedding was going to be for him. Other people got it, sort of, but Bruce knew they couldn’t really understand the painful happiness Tina and Darren’s wedding represented for him. Everyone else was caught up—and rightly so—in the happiness that weddings ought to be. He’d been ecstatic on his wedding day, still a tiny bit unbelieving that he’d landed this beauty who seemed so far out of his league. Stunned that the woman who’d left him dumbstruck at their first meeting had actually fallen for the likes of him, just a normal guy.
A normal guy. Funny how “normal” looked so appealing. Something still beyond his reach. And yet, without the weight of his history driving people to smother him with concern, he could almost feel something close to normal here.
Why? Because it was different? Free from the soaking of memory that usually caught him up short? He’d tried to return to church back in Kinston, he really had. But the place just could never be anything but where they held Sandy’s funeral. Kelly talked as if she drew hope and encouragement from her church, but he wasn’t there yet. He wondered if he ever would be again.
Bruce took his seat in the small pew, he and Kelly flanking the girls on either side. He tried to discount the weirdly family-ish feeling sitting in a pew with these three people gave him, finding it ridiculous. He’d known two of them for one day. Just because Carly made instant friendships didn’t mean he had to. Be nice, yes, but get close? No.
Rather than look in Kelly’s direction, Bruce scanned the small sanctuary. Maybe his strange sense of comfort came from the fact that this place looked nothing like the large and fancy church back home. It was a bright and simple space. Peaceful. With the character that came from years and history. Neat but not fancy. Perfect for the kind of wedding Tina and Darren wanted.
Not that sitting here was effortless. More than once one of them had to “shush” the excited girls. Kids were such naturals at instant friendships. Carly’s smiles and stifled giggles were worth a prickly hour in a strange sanctuary, weren’t they?
Except sitting through the service didn’t actually feel that strange. Did he still have a bone to pick with the Almighty? Sure, that wasn’t going to disappear after the mountain of pain he’d been climbing over the past two years. But church itself? Church was different from God, even though he couldn’t quite say why. Church was people. Back home in Kinston, it was nosy, prodding, pitying people with concerned faces and endless hugs. People who said “How are you?” with such an invasive persistence. Church with a bunch of people he didn’t know ended up a lot easier than church with all those he did. The unfamiliarity gave him space to just be, somehow. Was it a deep, spiritual experience? No. But it wasn’t nearly as awful as he’d expected it to be.
Sure, it felt awkward when Carly and Lulu raced off down the hallway with the other children, leaving a gaping space in the pew he and Kelly occupied. He watched Kelly fidget and take pains not to look his way, so he knew she felt it, as well. An uncomfortable awareness threatened to distract him from the service, and he fought to keep his attention on Pastor Mitchell’s message about the true nature of love.
He was relieved no one quoted the “love is patient, love is kind” verse Sandy’s sister had read at their wedding. The message instead focused on the strength love brought to the world. How love stood up against the darkness with God’s relentless care for His people. How love transformed and redeemed. How God’s love could do things that human love so often failed to do: find the good, grow the hope, see the true value. He liked the pastor’s idea that love was a constant outside of human relationships. It helped him think there could and would be love left in the world despite the huge chunk of it that had been ripped from his life. Maybe he wasn’t ready to see that love now, but perhaps he could again someday.
“The best thing about God’s love is that you don’t have to reach for it,” Pastor Mitchell said. “It reaches for you. Sometimes even before you want it or feel ready for it. Wherever you go, there it is. All God asks of you is to turn and see it. Let it in.”
People were always quick to tell him what he needed to do to move on. Join this support group, read this book, do this, stop doing that. Mitchell’s sermon was the first message he’d heard that told him to just be, and maybe crack himself the tiniest bit open. Maybe struggling to escape the fog wasn’t the answer. Maybe he just had to wait for the fog to lift on its own.
And wasn’t that an uncomfortable notion. Waiting? Getting—what had the pastor called it—expectantly still? The very thought made every inch of his insides itch.
When the girls returned for the final hymn, each bearing a generously frosted giant heart cookie wrapped in pink sparkly cellophane, Bruce couldn’t decide if he wanted to stick around or run.
The girls, of course, were busy making plans to spend the entire day together. “Can Lulu come to lunch with us?” Carly asked.
“Well, now...” he hedged, not wanting to be rude, but needing some space after the jumble of his reactions this morning.
Clearly he hadn’t hid it well, because Kelly stepped in. “The grown-ups decided we’d each do lunch on our own.”
They hadn’t, of course, but he was grateful for the out she gave him. “You just spent a whole hour with each other. I think you can live through being separated for lunch.”
A chorus of little-girl moans erupted until Kelly held both hands up. “Enough of that. Carly, we’ll see you at one o’clock.” She turned to Bruce. “Thank you for coming to church with us. I hope you got something out of it.”
He did—he just couldn’t exactly say what.
Chapter Four (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
“Do you think Carly and Mr. Bruce liked our church, Mom?” Lulu asked as they loaded the dishwasher from Sunday lunch.
“I can’t say for sure, sweetheart.” She’d been surprised that Bruce and Carly had shown for church, but he’d looked unsettled during most of the service, and hadn’t spoken much afterward.
The man was impossible to read. Had he been irritated by the country congregation, or just needed some time to process his reaction?
“Carly’s fun. I really like her.”
I can’t really say the same for her father, Kelly thought. “She seems like a nice friend to have.” She handed a glass to Lulu.
“Carly said our church is tons more fun than the one she used to go to when her mom was alive.”
Kelly felt her heart pinch the way it always did when young Lulu talked about a parent dying in such a matter-of-fact way. It shouldn’t ever be normal, not to any child. And yet Carly’s remark told her a lot about Bruce, didn’t it? He’d been part of a church community, and then cut himself off—for whatever reason—after his wife’s death.
Why? Kelly couldn’t imagine how she’d have gotten through the dark days after Mark’s death without the support of MVCC. The congregation had held her up, prayed her through, even fed her. Though her own parents were far away in Texas, she’d never been alone, but had multiple invitations to choose from on those crushing first holidays and birthdays. How could anyone do it alone like he seemed to have? She wondered if the bruised nature of his soul—and he surely appeared to be a wounded soul to her—had come from that isolation. It made her sad and wary at the same time. Whatever small connection she felt with the man or his adorable daughter had to be tempered by the fact that he was a long way from healing.
“How much longer till they get here?” Lulu whined.
“Oh, just enough time for you to get your math worksheet done,” Kelly said, pointing to Lulu’s backpack on its hook by the door.
“Mom, it’s Sunday. Pastor says it’s rest day,” Lulu retorted, one cocky hand on her slim hips.
“Then maybe you’ll need a nap to pass the time,” Kelly teased.
Lulu rolled her eyes. “Fine. Math is better than naps. But not by much.” She pulled a folder out of her backpack and flopped down on the kitchen counter with a dramatic sigh. “Third grade is hard.”
Thirty-one is harder, Kelly moaned in the silence of her heart. And lately, for a host of reasons, thirty-one alone felt extra hard.
When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, Lulu scampered off her seat and made it to the door before Kelly even put down the magazine she was reading.
“It took forever!” Carly announced once Lulu mentioned how long the wait had seemed.
Kelly gave a soft laugh at the girls’ enthusiasm. “Remember when two hours was forever?” she asked Bruce.
“Not really,” Bruce replied, scratching his chin.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we got a snow day this week that closed school so you could come over again?” Lulu said as she opened the hall cabinet where the driveway chalk was kept.
“Are we gonna get lots of snow, Daddy? You said Miss Tina wanted to be a snow bride.” Carly clearly thought lots of snow sounded like a marvelous idea.
“Then I’d like four inches, please,” Kelly offered. “Fluffy not icy, with a nice, quiet wind. And sunshine by ten in the morning on the wedding day.”
Bruce furrowed his brow. “Not too particular, are you?”
Kelly gestured out the window. “We look gorgeous in a few inches of snow and bright sunshine. Like a postcard.”
“What about all of Miss Tina’s pretty flowers? Won’t they freeze?” The little girl’s concern was touching.
“No,” Kelly assured her. “I made sure to use flowers just right for a winter’s day.” Kelly was especially proud of the creative mix of winter-hardy amaryllis, anemones and silver brunia balls she’d designed, perfectly accented with pine and red ribbons. Like the cake Yvonne had designed, Kelly was sure nothing matched it anywhere in Asheville.
“Here’s the chalk for hopscotch,” Lulu pronounced, holding up the bucket. Obviously, there was not a minute to waste.
“Hat,” Kelly reminded Lulu.
“And mittens,” Bruce chimed in, for Carly had a hood on her sweet pink-and-purple jacket.
“Mom,” Lulu moaned, followed by a copycat “Dad” from Carly, though both girls obeyed the instructions.
They watched the girls race out the side door without so much as a single look back.
“I feel bad adding to your load on a Sunday...” Bruce began.
“Oh, no,” she cut in, “you’re actually helping. Keeping Lulu occupied can be a bit of a challenge sometimes.” Kelly caught the mix of relief and reluctance in Bruce’s eyes. Was he glad that Carly was so excited to play or sorry she’d left him so eagerly while they were supposed to be on vacation together? All of the above, she thought to herself. Every single parent knows that mix. “I can call you at the inn when they finally wear out, or—” it might be nice to grab an hour of productive solitude while the girls played, but she also had something particular she wanted to ask Bruce about “—I can make some coffee. I’m a big fan of afternoon coffee.”
She was surprised when he said, “Coffee sounds great, thanks.” Maybe he didn’t quite know what he’d do with himself while Carly was occupied. While part of her envied that kind of space in his life—the room to take a vacation without worrying over a million details connected to her job—she also remembered feeling like she’d never fill the lonely hours of her long days in that first year with Mark gone.
Kelly waited until they’d settled at the kitchen island, watching the girls draw and play a round of hopscotch, before she said, “Carly said something to Lulu at church this morning. About the unicorns.”
His look told her he didn’t really want to cover this topic.
She pursued it anyway. “She told Lulu her mother sends the unicorns, and she asked Lulu why they didn’t have any in the valley.”
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and set down the coffee mug. “I don’t know where this unicorn business came from. She started talking about them the day before Sandy died, when we knew it would be any moment. She was looking out the window as we were getting ready to go to the hospice center and all of a sudden she looks at me and says, ‘Mom’s friend the unicorn is in the woods behind the house.’ Just like that. Like there was nothing unusual about it.” He sighed. “I played along. I mean, what else could I do in all that sadness?”
“That’s not a bad thing,” she offered, hoping to soothe the dismay still lingering in his eyes at the memory.
“That’s what I thought, but then one came—or at least, Carly said one came—every day after that. Her eyes sort of lit up when she told me. I figured it was something she...needed somehow. I mean, for weeks I thought I heard Sandy’s voice in the hallway or saw her out of the corner of my eye after she was...gone. I figured this was the same thing.” He looked down at his coffee. “The child grief counselor didn’t seem to be worried, and I was barely holding it together as it was—I was in no shape to lecture Carly about the dangers of counting on unicorns.” A heartbreaking worry filled Bruce’s expression. “But now that’s coming back to haunt me, since she hasn’t seen them lately.”
“I’m not a grief counselor—a survivor maybe,” Kelly replied, “but from what I can tell, she seems to be coping okay to me.” She glanced out the window where the girls were having a grand time. “There’s still lots of joy in her.” She decided to go out on a limb. “You, on the other hand, look pretty wrung out.”
He shifted his weight and shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay.”
Kelly offered a smile. “I used to say that all the time, too. Long before it was even close to true. Everybody thinks I’m coping great—and most days I am—but there are still days...” She knew she didn’t have to finish the thought.
“Lulu’s been so nice to Carly. Your daughter’s a great kid.”
Now, there was something a struggling single parent couldn’t hear often enough. “Thanks.”
“How old was she when your husband died?”
“Six.”
Bruce swallowed hard. “Carly was only three when Sandy died. Does Lulu remember her dad?”
Kelly’s heart twisted. Wasn’t that the crux of it for everyone in their shoes? “Yes,” she reassured him. “I make sure she does.”
* * *
He could make sure Carly remembered Sandy. The need to do that drummed like a pulse through him every single day. He was glad to hear of Kelly’s success on that front, but it still bugged him that conversations with Kelly Nelson always went places he didn’t want to go. He would have been better off reading a book in his hotel room instead of sitting here asking questions he shouldn’t and having answers pulled out of him he didn’t want to divulge. Why was she able to get things out of him like this? And why had he let her drag him back to church, for crying out loud?
He hadn’t really minded church as much as he thought he would, but he sure wasn’t going to mention that in front of Kelly. At this rate, she’d probably have him attending potlucks or some widowers’ Bible study by Friday.
He didn’t live here; he was just a visitor. So why were she and Lulu so bent on making him and Carly feel welcome? Was that a valley thing? A wedding thing? Or just a Nelson family thing?
One half of him didn’t want to keep talking to her, but the other half of him was desperate to know how she pulled off the control she seemed to have. The control he couldn’t seem to find. “When’d you get your balance back?” he blurted out after a short pause in conversation. His life felt like a bicycle most days—living a crazy need to keep pedaling so he didn’t tip over.
She gave a quiet laugh. “You’re assuming I had any in the first place.”
“You’ve got more than I can manage at the moment. I don’t know how much more scrambling I’ve got left in me, you know?” He shook his head. “That’s a stupid thing to say.” The gentle recognition he saw in her eyes kept making him blurt things out.
“Oh, no, I get it. Busy feels good—well, better than the alternative, at least. Some days I wonder if there’ll ever be enough of me to make a decent life for Lulu and me. I mean, running the flower shop in a tiny town—even a tiny wedding town—isn’t exactly a surefire plan for solid success. Well-adjusted people don’t lie awake at night wondering how much longer a flower cooler named George will hang on.”
Lie awake at night wondering how many more days. Isn’t that exactly what he’d done on Sandy’s last days? Terrified to fall asleep for fear he’d miss the moment she slipped away from him?
Kelly looked up at the ceiling. “Now who’s saying stupid things? That was insensitive, to say the least.”
“No,” he said. “Kind of feels better to be able to say it. People are always so careful around me. I don’t want to be this fragile. I’m tired of being less than okay, on the verge of okay, anything but okay. Only I don’t know how to get to okay from here.” He looked over to see Carly looking into the kitchen window, waving to him with a happy, floppy mitten. “How to get her to okay. I mean, the whole unicorn thing. Either she isn’t seeing them, and she’s upset, or she is seeing them—which means she’s living in a fantasy instead of reality. That can’t be okay.”
“For her, maybe it is. I still get near hysterical on an airplane.” She sighed. “I don’t think there are rules to this. Not with kids, not with us.” She paused for a moment before saying, “I think maybe one of the reasons Lulu is so taken with Carly is that they’ve both lost someone. Lulu has friends who have single parents from divorce, but Carly is the first person in her age group Lulu knows who’s had a parent die.” She squinted her eyes shut. “I hate that verb, you know. ‘Die.’ ‘Passed’ sounds like it isn’t enough, and ‘die’ sounds like it’s too much.”
Bruce nodded his agreement. He hated most of the words associated with what happened. Deceased. Lost her battle to cancer. Widower. Bereaved. None of the language ever came close to describing the thing anyway.
“Have you had friends do the pushy date thing?” he asked, just to change the subject.
That brought a real, full laugh from her. “Oh, yes. And believe me, there aren’t a lot of eligible bachelors my age in a place like this. Plus—no offense to your gender—having a child in tow doesn’t exactly light up your prospects with most guys.” She looked at him. “You’ll have it easier, though. It may be a gross generalization, but I think women take to blending families easier than men do.”
He couldn’t believe he was asking. “But you’re looking?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I don’t know about you, but what I had with Mark was better than lots of thirty-year marriages I’ve seen. Absolutely too short, but oh, it was terrific. I hit the jackpot on the first time out. Trying again just feels like inviting disappointment.” She pulled in a deep breath. “No, I’d rather spend my time helping other people get married.”
Kelly sounded so content, so in control. She’d made peace with the parts of her life that had been taken away. She had plans and goals, wasn’t lurching though life in survival mode, doing the bare minimum to get by. Was it the constancy of her faith that had done that? His own faith had seemed to evaporate into a thin film of anger for him on the day of Sandy’s funeral. Was she just better suited to this survival journey than he was? Or was it just that time healed like everyone said?
Maybe it really was time. He could almost believe, listening to her, that he could get to where she was one day. Right now, he just needed to get through the upcoming wedding, and maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if she helped a bit with that.
Chapter Five (#u0abc4b59-3864-5ec3-bce2-d22786e69675)
Bruce and Carly managed to have a pleasant “vacation” day Monday. Visiting Darren and his elk herd up at the national park, they’d had a whole long, unhurried day out in nature. Darren’s elk had always fascinated Carly; he’d often wondered if they were the source of her imaginary unicorn thing. She’d “seen” one of her unicorns in the forest, playing among the elk herd. Was that good? Or bad? Whatever it was, the sighting had put her in a good mood, which at least meant his plans to spend quality time with Carly might succeed.
Until Tuesday morning anyway. The first words out of his daughter’s mouth were a whiny, “I’m tired of outdoor stuff. I wanna go play with Lulu today.”
Had anyone ever thought about bottling a five-year-old’s bored whine as a deterrent? To anything and everything? He loved Carly, but that girl had a pitch to her whine that could set his teeth on edge. He’d been expecting a request for a repeat visit to Lulu’s, but he’d thought it would at least come after breakfast. Not his daughter’s first waking words. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” he said.
“Can I?” She padded over in bright yellow pajamas covered in rainbows.
He put down his newspaper and pulled her up onto his lap. “Lulu has school today, remember? I thought you and I could have fun.”
“Is it gonna snow today? Can we go sledding?”
Bruce turned to the weather page at the back of the paper and pointed to the pictures that showed the week’s forecast. He pointed to the big snowflake on the box marked for Thursday, the one after the box with the big heart on Wednesday for the holiday. “The snow isn’t coming until after Valentine’s Day.” He noticed, but didn’t explain, the warnings about significant snowfall for the weekend. “But there are lots of other fun things we can do before then. We haven’t gone to see the bakery, or the fishing store, or visited the frozen waterfall yet.”

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