A Change in Altitude (25 page)

“We're ready when you are,” D. J. told the preacher.

“We should have had music,” Alina said.

“We do!” Lucas hurried to a boom box that sat half-hidden behind a plant at the bottom of the stairs and pressed a button. The strains of the wedding march sounded. A few seconds later, Olivia moved into view.

She looked lovely in a filmy lilac-colored dress, her hair left loose to fall around her shoulders. She carried a bouquet of purple and white lilacs bound in lavender ribbon. “I did the bouquet,” Alina whispered.

“It's beautiful.” Sharon slipped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. “I'm proud of you,” she said.

“It was fun.”

They fell silent as Olivia moved down the aisle to join D. J. and Lucas at the fireplace. Sharon's eyes stung as she watched D. J. take his future wife's hands. The world could have crumbled around those two at this moment and they never would have noticed, so intent were they on each other, their love so clearly revealed on their faces.

The Reverend Kinkaid had a rich, steady voice. As he intoned the familiar vows to love and honor in sickness and health, poverty and riches, “ 'til death do you part,” Sharon tried to remember her own wedding so long ago. She'd been so young and so nervous, overwhelmed more by the pageantry of the moment than by any depth of feeling for her husband-to-be. She had loved Joe, but only with the love of a young girl infatuated with a handsome, strong man who had the power to take her away from a life she despised. It was all the love she'd been capable of at that time of her life; she hadn't really known more was possible, and Joe hadn't seemed to want more, in any case.

When had things changed? When had she changed, so that that shallow, young love wasn't enough anymore? As an adult struggling with the burden of raising children, providing for a family, finding out who she was, those immature feelings weren't enough to carry her through the hard times.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Kinkaid intoned. “You may kiss each other.”

They kissed and the others applauded. Then Olivia kissed her son and her mother. D. J. opened the champagne.

“Better make it a glass of Sprite for me,” Olivia said, her smile almost shy.

D. J. froze in the act of pouring. “What are you saying?”

“Alcohol wouldn't be good for the baby.”

Luckily, Lucille was there to take the bottle before D. J. dropped it. He pulled Olivia into his arms and kissed her again, then peppered her with questions. “How long have you known? When were you going to tell me? When is it due?”

“I was waiting for the right moment. I'll have the baby in January, I think.”

“Talk about a great wedding present.” He whooped and grabbed up a glass of champagne. “A toast to my son or daughter!”

They all laughed and toasted and offered their congratulations, then enjoyed Danielle's delicious cake.

A while later, Lucas left with Lucille and Alina with Sharon. The newlyweds would spend the night alone in their newly remodeled house, which Olivia declared was all the honeymoon she needed.

Alina still bubbled with excitement as Sharon drove toward home. “Everything was so beautiful,” she said. “I can't believe how pretty Olivia looked. And Lucas is going to have a little brother or sister.”

“Brides are always beautiful,” Sharon said.

“And grooms are always handsome. Did you see the way he looked at her? Do you think Uncle Jameso will look at Maggie that way when she walks down the aisle tomorrow?”

“I hope so.” Every woman should have a man look at her that way at least once—as if she were the greatest treasure in the universe, and he couldn't believe his great luck in finding her.

“Mom, do you think you'll ever get married again?”

The question startled her. “I haven't thought about it,” she said. “I think I'd like to try it on my own for a while.” In the space of a few weeks she'd gone from wife to divorcée; she needed time to take it all in.

“Was it so awful for you, with Daddy?” Alina's voice was small, a little girl's voice.

“No, honey.” Sharon gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “Sometimes people grow apart instead of growing together. It doesn't mean that either one of them is a bad person.”

“It still doesn't seem real—that Daddy just let Adan leave.” Her voice broke on the last word; Sharon reached out and squeezed her hand.

“He probably didn't believe he'd really go.”

“Maybe if we'd stayed with him, this wouldn't have happened,” Alina continued.

A chill swept over Sharon and she chose her words carefully, searching for a way to remove at least this burden from her daughter's grief. “I don't think our staying would have made things better,” she said. “And it might have made them worse.”

“You mean because of me.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. She pulled the car into the driveway and shut off the engine. “Your father wanted a life away from everyone. That wasn't healthy—not for him, but especially not you children.”

“But you let Adan stay with him.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes, and I will have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.” She turned to her daughter. “People make mistakes—parents make mistakes. I know now I should have fought harder for Adan, but I truly thought he would be all right.”

Alina chewed her lower lip and stared at her own reflection in the side window. “What are you thinking?” Sharon asked. “Tell me.”

“I was mad at first, about the divorce and about moving here. But then, after a few weeks, I felt”—she shrugged—“I don't know. I wasn't mad anymore. And things just felt . . . easier here. More relaxed. As if back in Vermont I'd been all stressed out and didn't even realize it. But then I felt guilty about feeling better that we weren't all a family anymore.”

Sharon sighed. “Guilt is like that, but don't listen to it. It's okay for you to be happy.”

“I guess so.”

“Are you just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear, or because you believe it? Because if you want, we can find someone else for you to talk to—a professional counselor.”

“I'm okay, Mom. But I promise to let you know if that changes.”

“Good.” Sharon felt wrung out, as if she'd just run a marathon. She opened the car door. “Come on. If you want, I'll paint your nails for Uncle Jameso's wedding tomorrow.”

“Cool.” Alina fell into step beside her mother as they headed toward the door. “I think I want to wait at least until I'm out of college before I get married,” she announced. “Maybe a little longer. I think it would be good to live on my own a couple of years first.”

“That sounds very wise.” Maybe Alina had learned what not to do by observing Sharon's early-marriage disaster. Or maybe the girl was just smart. Sharon didn't bother mentioning that love didn't necessarily operate on a timetable. Better for the girl to believe she could control her own destiny. And why not? If Sharon had had that kind of faith in herself, her life might have worked out differently. But then, she wouldn't have Alina and Adan.

No, she decided, life worked the way it was supposed to. The trick was adapting to the changes, riding out the waves, and enjoying the smooth sections without worrying too much about the storms ahead.

“S
top fidgeting. I'm almost done.” Barb unwound the last hot roller from Maggie's hair and tugged the curl into place. “I swear, you'd think this was your first wedding, you're so jumpy.”

“This is my first wedding to Jameso,” Maggie said. “My first wedding with a baby on the way. My first wedding with a whole town full of people waiting to witness the ceremony.” Honestly, at forty years old, she would never have dreamed she'd be making so many firsts. Who wouldn't be a little nervous?

“You don't have anything to worry about.” Barb aimed a blast of Super Hold hairspray at the back of Maggie's head. “There. Take a look.”

Maggie swiveled to face the mirror and blinked against the sudden sting of tears. She might feel old and bloated inside, but Barb had transformed her into a storybook blushing bride. “Oh, Barb!”

“You're not allowed to cry,” Barb said. “You'll ruin your makeup.”

Maggie pulled her friend close in a hug. “Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you here.”

“You'd have managed, I'm sure. After all, you got married the first time without me.”

“I had my mother to do everything. Plus, I was just a kid. I didn't know enough to worry.”

“There's something to be said for naïveté.”

“Yeah, it got me through twenty years of being married to Carter.”

“This time around is going to be so much better,” Barb said. “And you couldn't possibly have been any more beautiful back then.”

“I was younger and definitely thinner.” She smoothed over the bulge of the baby, remembering that first wedding, a lifetime ago. “We were married in the Baptist church my mother attended,” she said. “It wasn't nearly as lovely as this place. I can't believe you did all this work for me . . . and all while you were getting your bed-and-breakfast ready to open. I can't thank you enough.”

“You know I loved every minute of it.” Barb patted her shoulder. “And speaking of the B and B, there's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Maggie turned back to the mirror and patted her head. At least now she knew she wouldn't look awful in the wedding photos—though she'd have to beg the photographer to focus on head shots. At this stage in the pregnancy, her baby bump had grown into a baby boulder and she couldn't get away with standing behind chairs or other people. “You're already booked up for most of the summer, right?”

“Right. And I've got people calling about reservations for the fall, and even this winter.”

“That's wonderful.” Maggie turned back to her friend. “I knew you'd be terrific at this. You've found your calling.”

“I guess so. But I still live in Houston. And I want to stay there. This past Christmas I had enough mountain snow to last me a lifetime.”

Barb and her husband, Jimmy, had been stranded by the same snowstorm that had almost kept Jameso and Maggie apart at Christmas. They'd spent the holiday in a remote tourist cabin.

“I guess you could close the place for the winter,” Maggie said. “Though that would be a shame. There really aren't enough places for people to stay in the off-season.”

“I was thinking of finding someone to run the inn for me,” Barb said. “Year-round. I'd still visit regularly to make sure things were running smoothly, but really, my fun is in decorating and planning special events—not the day-to-day hospitality stuff.”

“That shouldn't be hard,” Maggie said. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Actually, I do.” Barb looked steadily at her.

Maggie's heart fluttered—or maybe that was just the baby kicking a little vigorously. “Barb, no! I don't have time to run a B and B, not with my work at the newspaper and a baby on the way.”

“I wasn't talking about you,” Barb said. “I was thinking of Jameso.”

“Jameso?”

“Can you think of a reason he couldn't do it?” Barb asked. “He's charming; the customers at the Dirty Sally and at the Jeep tour company love him. He could do all the maintenance, and I understand he cooks at least as well as you do.”

“That's not saying a lot.”

“He could use my recipes, and it's just breakfast. He'd have to keep track of reservations and handle the money, but he strikes me as a pretty smart guy.”

Maggie nodded. “Have you mentioned this to him?”

“I wanted to run it by you first.”

Maggie laughed. “I'm marrying him—I'm not taking charge of his life. If he wants to do this, I'm all for it.”

“That's not the reason I wanted to ask you,” Barb said. “In order to do the job, you'd have to live on-site.”

“Here?” In this gorgeous house?

“I converted the whole third floor into an apartment. There's a separate kitchen and living area and three bedrooms.”

“I thought that was part of the B and B,” Maggie said.

“I planned it for you all along.” Barb grinned. “Why do you think I made you come with me to pick out the paint?”

Maggie swallowed a lump in her throat. “I really am going to cry now,” she said.

“Don't.” Barb handed her a tissue. “So what do you think? Will you do it if Jameso says yes?”

“Of course I'll do it. It's the answer to our prayers. We need a bigger place for the baby—Jameso and I barely have enough room in that little miner's cottage I'm renting—and the one his sister is in now isn't any bigger. Oh, Barb, thank you!”

The two women embraced; then Barb stepped back, blotting her eyes with her fingers. “Come on. We'd better get this show on the road. I at least want your vows said before the little girl there decides to make an appearance.”

“Right.” Maggie hoisted herself out of the chair. “But no worries. I saw the doctor yesterday and she said I'm hardly dilated at all, so we have a few days.”

“Just don't get carried away on your honeymoon,” Barb said.

Maggie stuck her tongue out at her friend, then followed her to the door.

A fresh flood of tears threatened when she saw the crowd filling the chairs in the inn's front parlor. All of her friends—people she hadn't even known a year ago, but who now were as dear to her as family—were gathered: Janelle and Danielle, Rick, Katya and Reggie, Lucille, Olivia and D. J., Shelly and Charlie Frazier. Eve, the real-estate agent, and Joette, who did her hair—everyone taking time out of their own busy lives to celebrate with her and Jameso.

The organist for the Presbyterian church began playing on the electronic piano she'd hauled to the B and B for the occasion. “It's showtime.” Barb took two bouquets from the table by the door and handed one to Maggie. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.” The friends embraced; then Barb opened the door and stepped into the parlor.

Maggie had told herself she was going to do a better job of remembering this wedding than her first, which had passed in a frantic haze. But the onslaught of so much emotion overwhelmed that determination. She settled for remaining upright and fixed on Jameso. He stood beside Reverend Kinkaid in front of the marble mantelpiece, hands clasped in front of him, broad shoulders stretching the jacket of the black suit Lucille had unearthed from the stock of Lacy's and insisted on altering for him. His ivory tie matched Maggie's dress, and the columbine in his lapel echoed the cloud of blue and white flowers in her bouquet.

As soon as Barb reached the front of the room, the organist segued into the “Wedding March” and everyone shuffled to their feet. For a few seconds, Maggie's view of Jameso was blocked; then she stepped into the middle of the makeshift aisle and locked eyes with him.

All the tension she'd been holding all morning released, and she all but floated up the aisle. A man she had at times thought of as impulsive, distant, immature, and impossible now looked nothing but certain of himself and his love for her.

When she reached him, Jameso took her hand, and never let go as they said their vows. She focused on the words, determined to seal them in her mind and heart:
for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; for better or worse; so long as we both shall live.
She smiled when Jameso slid the wedding band on her finger, and was smiling still when he kissed her, vaguely aware of the applause and cheers from onlookers.

Then they were hurrying down the aisle. They had reached the entry hall and turned back toward the crowd when pain sliced through and she gasped. “What is it?” Jameso put his arm around her, all concerned.

She shook her head. “It was nothing, I'm sure.” She smiled wanly. “Just another Braxton Hicks contraction.”

“You're sure?” Jameso's brows almost met over his nose, he was frowning so hard.

“I'm fine.” She turned to greet the first of their well-wishers—Bob, his beard and hair trimmed, his plaid suit looking like something out of a forties movie.

“Congratulations,” he boomed. He took Maggie's hand, but instead of shaking it, pulled her toward him and gave her a resounding kiss. “Don't look at me like that, boy,” he cackled at Jameso. “I'm just kissing the bride.” Still grinning, he moved on.

“Bob's been celebrating pretty hard since he got out of that mine,” Jameso said as Janelle and Danielle moved forward to offer their congratulations.

“You look beautiful, Maggie,” Danielle said.

“We wish you so much happiness,” Janelle added.

“Thank you,” Maggie said. “And thank you for all the wonderful food for the reception. Everything looks too beautiful to eat.”

Janelle's answer was lost to her as another pain ripped through her. “Could somebody get a chair?” Jameso called.

Barb appeared at her side. “What is it? Is it the baby?”

“I . . . I don't know.” She lowered herself into the offered chair and rubbed her stomach. “Maybe.”

“That's it. We're headed to the hospital.” Jameso pulled her to her feet once more.

“I guess we'll be having the reception without you,” Barb said.

“Jameso, we don't have to leave right away,” Maggie said. “Babies take forever to be born.”

“Better to not take any chances,” he said. “I'm parked right outside.”

“We could at least cut the cake,” she protested.

“Aren't you supposed to obey me now that I'm your husband?” His tone was only half teasing.

“We didn't have those words in our vows.”

“Then humor me. I've never had a baby before.”

“Neither have I!”

“Then don't you think we'd better play it safe and go to the hospital?”

“I'm with Jameso on this one.” Barb gently pushed Maggie toward the door. “We can cut the cake without you. And I promise to save you a piece.”

“All right.” Maggie looked uncertainly at her guests. Those who had figured out what was going on looked back with avid interest. She had a sudden image of herself giving birth with a crowd of onlookers. “Maybe going to the hospital is a good idea.”

“You can call the doctor from the car,” Jameso said, and opened the door.

“Good luck, Maggie!” “Call us from the hospital!” “Congratulations!” The cries from well-wishers still rang in her ears as Jameso started the car. She fastened her seat belt across her stomach and settled back in the seat, eyes closed.

“You okay?” Jameso asked.

“I'm better than okay.” She smiled at him. “We're going to have a baby. How's that for a wedding present?”

“I'd just as soon we didn't have to unwrap it ourselves,” he said, and hunched over the steering wheel and sped up.

She laughed. All the worry and fear that had plagued her earlier had vanished somewhere between “I do” and that first labor pain. Life had a way of working out exactly the way it was supposed to. She would never have planned things the way they were turning out, but she couldn't have been happier—and with a brand new husband and daughter about to make her debut, things were only going to get better.

 

“It's destruction of public property. You should find whoever is responsible and arrest them.” Cassie glared at Sergeant Miller. What was the world coming to when she had to tell an officer of the law how to do his job?

Sergeant Miller surveyed the row of blossom-less lilacs in front of the library. “They aren't destroyed. I'm not a gardener, but the plants look fine. And I don't think there's a law against picking flowers.”

“Those flowers belong to the town of Eureka. Whoever took them had no right.” Cassie clamped her lips shut against the dangerous wobble in her voice. To Sergeant Miller—a newcomer to town and a man—the lilacs were just flowers. But to Cassie they were part of her heritage—a living symbol of the way her family had contributed to and shaped this town. “We have laws against vandalism, don't we?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am.” The sergeant took a notebook from his pocket. “Do you have any idea who might be responsible? Did anyone see anything? Did the culprits leave anything behind that would help us identify them?”

“It's your job to determine those things, not mine.”

“And you're sure the flowers were here when you left last night?”

“Yes, and when I came in this morning, they were gone.”

“What about Sharon—Mrs. Franklin? Was she here last night also? And doesn't she usually open the library on Saturdays?”

“She left shortly after six o'clock. And she's off today.”

“For Jameso's wedding. Of course.” Smiling, he tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “I'll see if I can find any witnesses who saw anyone at the library who wasn't supposed to be,” he said. “You let me know if you hear of anything, too.”

“I certainly will.”

He tugged at the brim of his hat and turned to stroll back to his police cruiser. That would be the last she heard from him on the matter, she was sure. People had no sense of what was important anymore.