A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) Page 19
“You can go home and get some rest. Mrs. Brewster is in excellent hands.”
“I’m still on duty.”
They came to the door of the waiting room and Rachel noted that even more church members had arrived, so the gathering now resembled a cocktail party. “Do they expect to be able to visit her?”
“Not tonight. They’re just celebrating Hayley’s survival, her life in general. You could call it an informal service of thanksgiving.” Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders. “And I should be in there. I’ll make your excuses.”
His tired eyes met hers, and she wanted more than anything to ease the load on his shoulders, restore his resilient spirit.
“It’s still early,” she said, surprising herself. “I’ll come in with you.”
*
BY WEDNESDAY NIGHT, Hayley’s room resembled her garden, filled with blooming flowers of every color and variety.
“You’ll have to hire a van to get these home tomorrow,” Garrett joked when he walked in. “Or maybe a tractor trailer.”
“They’re all beautiful, but I can’t keep them. Some of the folks from church will be taking them to nursing homes.” She frowned at him. “You’re seeming awful weary, Pastor. You’re not supposed to run yourself ragged coming here so often for me.”
“You’re not to blame. We’re baling hay on the ranch this week, as well as keeping the kids occupied. We took them up to Lake DeSmet to go boating yesterday. It’s a demanding job, making sure seven kids don’t drown.”
“And maybe you’re not sleeping too well, fretting over a certain pretty doctor in our town?”
Garrett shrugged a shoulder. “It will get better. I hope.”
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the person under discussion. “What will get better? Is something wrong?” She’d obviously come from work; she still had her white coat on over a pretty green dress.
“Not a thing.” Hayley held out her hand for Rachel to take. “But as I just told the pastor, you shouldn’t wear yourself out driving down here.”
She did seem drained, her face pale. “I have to keep track of my patient. Is she behaving herself?” she asked him with a teasing lift of her brows.
The conversation remained lively, but Rachel seemed preoccupied. Her laugh didn’t come as easily; her smiles seemed forced. Judging by Hayley’s narrowed eyes, she noticed the same thing.
The Johnsons arrived for a visit, and so he and Rachel left together, which gave him a chance to investigate. “Everything all right?”
After a moment, she said, “Of course. I’ve just been…busy.” With a shake of her head, she made a visible effort to brighten up. “Is there a crowd in the waiting room again tonight?”
There was, and she joined him as she had Monday and Tuesday, listening to and empathizing with folks as they shared their worry and relief. He heard the M word frequently—miracle—and suspected how the idea must grate on Rachel. But she never betrayed her personal doubts.
The visitors left in twos and threes until, at last, they were alone.
“And then there were none,” Garrett commented. “I don’t know about you, but I’m talked out.”
Rachel didn’t answer. Standing by the window, she stared through the blinds into the night, her arms hugging her waist.
He stayed where he was, giving her space. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t move. “Not really.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. All the gratitude, though…it gets to be too much.”
“Salt in the wound?” he guessed.
Her brows lowered in a frown. “There’s no wound.”
“Oh, Rachel, of course there is. You’re deeply injured. That’s why you’re angry.” It was past time to confront her demons.
“Well…” She drew a deep breath. “Yes. I’m angry at the man who cheated my mother.”
“That’s a start. Did you ever get to tell him so?”
“I was never able to speak to him.”
“You should have been able to yell at him, confront him with what he did.”
She met his gaze, a reluctant smile curving her mouth. “That would have been great.”
“You still could. Whether he hears you or not.”
“Is this a therapy session? You said you were talked out.”
Garrett shrugged. “Whatever works. Who else are you angry with?”
She faced the window again. “No one that I can think of.”
“Come on. You don’t have any reaction to the fact that your mother wouldn’t follow your advice as a doctor? That she chose to believe a charlatan rather than her own child?”
“Hurt, perhaps… I don’t want to be angry with a dead person.”
“Doesn’t matter what you want. You’re a doctor. You’re familiar with the five stages of grief. Anger is one of them. While you’re yelling at the con man, you can yell at your mom.”
Rachel didn’t smile at that idea.
He kept pushing. “What about your responsibility for her death?”
“I did everything possible!” She glared at him. “Made appointments, brought home information, talked and talked and talked…” When he started to say something, she cut him off with a chop of her hand. “And I couldn’t save her—couldn’t do anything to make a difference.” She strode across the room to stand right in front of him. “Hell, yes, I’m angry. At her for resisting, at myself for failing. At a world as broken, as wretched as this one.” Putting up her hands, she wiped tears off her cheeks.
Garrett took those hands, led her to a chair and sat down beside her, waiting.
For long moments, she stared at her fingers, twined in her lap.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, finally.
“I didn’t realize…how angry I was.” Rachel glanced up at him. “But you did.”
“And because you were angry, you isolated yourself from people who could comfort you. People who would care about you. You’ve been strong. But everybody needs help now and then.”
“Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?”
He had to admit, he had taken on way too much in the past several weeks. But the crises with Lena and with Hayley had shown him that he couldn’t fix everything. Occasionally, he had to step away and let things happen as they would. He’d been attempting to do the same with Rachel. He just had to have a little more faith that things would work out.
“Equanimity, yes, I remember,” he said. “I’m trying.”
She almost smiled. “I don’t know what to do now. I’m…adrift.”
“Forgiveness is always a great start.”
Her startled gaze met his. “You want me to forgive the man who—”
“No. Well, not to begin with, at least. Forgive yourself, Rachel. And forgive your mom. What happened can’t be changed. Accept that and move on.”
A long sigh escaped as her shoulders slumped. “Bad things still happen.”
“But so do the good things. You came to Bisons Creek and Hayley Brewster is alive today because of that. Lena Smith is successfully managing her health issues because you’re here. We can’t explain why tragedies occur in this life. All we can do is love our neighbors and ease suffering where we find it. You’re already an expert in that endeavor.”
“And you’re an extraordinary man, Garrett Marshall.” She put a hand on his knee. “When I told a friend of mine about you, she wanted me to lower my defenses, give you a chance. But she wouldn’t explain why. Now, I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“I needed to hear what you had to say. I needed…connection.” Standing, she held out her hand. “Come walk me to my car. It’s time we both went home.”
The rest of the week passed in a blur for Garrett. Ranch work, camp work, checking on Hayley, writing Sunday’s sermon—every hour had its assigned task, but with never quite enough hours in the day to get them all finished.
At least he was sleeping better, due solely to the fa
ct that Rachel called every night late in the evening, after the kids were in bed.
When he first heard her voice over the phone, he panicked. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Hayley?”
“No, no, everything is fine. I just wanted to…talk.”
“Oh.” His heart rate stayed fast. “Like casual friends?”
“Um…not casual.”
He grinned to himself. “We can definitely do that.”
On Saturday, they talked until after 1:00 a.m., which left Garrett seriously short of rest. He was still yawning as he readied the church for the morning service at eleven. As usual, however, when he put on his robe a sense of calm and purpose came over him, and he felt ready to fulfill his mission. After a brief prayer for guidance, he left his office and made his way to the sanctuary.
In the moments before the service began, he surveyed the congregation, taking an informal census. Hayley sat in her usual place, with Dorothy beside her and her friends in the surrounding pews. Wyatt and Susannah sat close to the front and Caroline would be in the choir loft behind him. Ford and Dylan had stayed home to keep an eye on the teenagers, who weren’t required to attend church.
Just as the choir stood up behind him to begin the opening song, a woman slipped through the closed doors to the entry hall. She hesitated, searching for an empty spot, and finally settled on the far end of a pew about halfway along. Watching her, Garrett had some trouble getting his breath.
Rachel had come to church.
Somehow, he got through the hour smoothly enough and managed to deliver his sermon without stumbling. The subject was forgiveness, because that had been on his mind. He could only hope Rachel heard the concern and caring behind the words.
Then the bells started to ring as the service ended. He made his way to the front door and tried to focus on each person who came through to shake his hand, all the while wondering when she would arrive, what she would say.
She was the last person in line. “No lightning bolts,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m truly amazed.”
He held her hand in both of his. “God gives everyone a second chance. Welcome back.”
“Thanks. It feels—” she turned her head and gazed into the sanctuary “—right.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here so soon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed members of the congregation on the sidewalk, observing this meeting.
But Rachel was smiling at him. “I decided that if I was dating a minister, I should probably show up at church.”
His pulse rate jumped. “Dating?”
“Isn’t that what you do, before you get engaged?”
“Usually.” He swallowed hard. “Is that your plan?”
Both her hands now clasped his. “It’s a risk I wouldn’t take with anyone else in the world.”
The words warmed him like sunshine after a savage storm. “I love you,” he said. “And I’m going to kiss you.”
Rachel laughed. “There are people watching.”
“Let them watch.” Garrett pulled her into his arms and found her mouth with his. A sense of welcome, of homecoming, swept through him as she yielded to his hold and linked her hands behind his neck. Soft, warm lips, the sweet taste of her and the pounding of her heart against his chest assured him that this woman was, indeed, the answer to his prayers.
Lifting his head, he stared into her beautiful blue eyes. “You’re sure you don’t believe in miracles?”
“I’m starting to,” she said.
“Right answer,” he told her. And kissed her again.
Ten Months Later
THE WALK FROM Hayley’s house only took a few minutes. As they stepped onto the front porch of the house they now shared, Garrett released Rachel’s hand and reached into his pants pocket. “I made sure to have my key, since I doubted you would.”
“Good plan.” She stood close to his side, and he caught a drift of the scent she wore, the one he’d given her for Christmas. “This dress didn’t come with pockets.”
“But it’s beautiful.” He finished with the lock and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re a beautiful bride. And now…” Pushing the door open, he took a step and then swept her up into his arms. “Welcome home, Mrs. Marshall.”
She laughed as he stepped over the threshold. “You’re crazy.”
“You’ve said that before.” With the door shut behind them, he bent his head to hers. “Crazy about you.”
They’d kissed at the altar, a sweet declaration of commitment in front of a church full of friends. The beginning of their life together.
But this was different. After so many cautious months, he wasn’t holding back. Finally, he could offer the woman he loved all of himself.
Rachel responded with an intensity that matched his own, her mouth seeking, giving, demanding as the passion ignited between them. Without breaking the kiss, Garrett shifted his hold, letting his arm slide up along her legs as she straightened out against him. The ruffled layers on her pretty white dress rucked up, allowing his hand to graze the bare skin of her thigh. He groaned deep in his throat as he bent to let her feet reach the floor.
“You feel incredible,” he murmured against her lips. She smiled.
“I’m planning to feel even better.”
Lifting his head, he grinned. “I like the way you think.” A glance around the room showed him a platter of food from the reception and a cooler containing a bottle of champagne resting by the couch. “Someone was here before us.”
She turned to see, still leaning against him. “That’s sweet. I noticed Caroline and Ford disappeared for a little while.”
He circled his arms around her waist. “How could you tell, with so many people? But it was a fun reception.”
“Hayley was sweet to host it in her garden. Springtime in Wyoming is so beautiful—I love the contrast of the blooming flowers down here and the snow still on the mountains.”
“And it was nice of the kids to get all dressed up and join us.”
“Even Thomas and Marcos. Ms. Simpson said they’ve had a successful school year.”
“She has a one-track mind.” Right now, Garrett did, too. But he could still be patient. “Shall I pour you some champagne?”
“Later.” Rachel faced him, and her hands came to his shoulders. “Right now, I want you out of this jacket.” She pushed the sleeves down his arms, then threw the coat over a chair. “And you can lose the tie.” Her fingers found the knot.
His breathing had speeded up. “It’s a nice turquoise tie. Matches your boots.”
The tie landed on the coffee table. His shirt buttons somehow came undone, the tail dragged out of his pants. Then she took his hand and led him down the hall.
A new bed filled the space, big enough for the two of them. His shirt dropped to the floor.
Standing behind her, he pulled down the zipper on the lacy white dress, feeling his heart start to pound at the exposure of creamy skin underneath. Rachel caught the dress as it fell and stepped away to drape it over the armchair.
Then she came to him, wearing silky white lingerie and those turquoise boots. Her blue eyes were shining. “Make love to me, Garrett. The time is finally right.”
He took her in his arms. “My pleasure.”
But time had ceased to matter. In the sunny silence of late afternoon, they came together without reserve or restraint. Desire and delight were their only guides when Garrett and Rachel seized their moment, honoring each other as husband and wife.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, catching their breath. Garrett wanted to say something to mark the moment, something meaningful and profound. As satisfied and happy as he’d ever been, he was having trouble coming up with the words.
Rachel stirred against him and pressed her head into his shoulder. “I love you,” she said, in a drowsy voice.
He smiled up at the ceiling. “I love you, too.”
And, really, what else mattered?
Funny how a day could turn out to be absolu
tely perfect, without changing at all.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TEXAS RANGER’S FAMILY by Rebecca Winters.
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The Texas Ranger’s Family
by Rebecca Winters
Chapter One
Texas Ranger Kit Saunders took cover behind a fat pine tree and watched with his binoculars from a distance. Seven people accompanied the honey-blonde widow standing at the grave site at the Evergreen Cemetery on this hot July afternoon in Austin.
The woman was Natalie Harris, and her husband, Rodney Parker Harris, age thirty-three, was being laid to rest. As far as any of the mourners, including his widow, knew, the deceased had been an accountant with LifeSpan Pharmaceutical, a huge private corporation in Austin. A week ago he’d been found at the low-end Sleepy Hollow Hotel, dead of a gunshot wound to the temple.
Kit’s captain, T. J. Horton, had assigned him to the case only yesterday.