A Time to Keep (29 page)

“Neither have I,” Natalee intoned confidently. 

Gwen exchanged a smile with Moriah. “Nor will I.”

Ian came back, sat down next to Natalee, and draped an arm over the back of her chair. “What did I miss?”

Augustine raised his wineglass. “The ladies were talking about men paying women for sex.”

Ian stared at his wife. “I've never had to pay for sex, because women usually pay me,” he teased with a wide grin. Dropping his arm and pushing back his chair, he popped up like a jack-in-the box. “
Maudire!
I just forgot I left something in the kitchen.”

Natalee's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “Oh, no he didn't just raise the hell up outta here after talking that
smack!
”

“Please, Natalee,” Moriah said in a soft voice that challenged her daughter-in-law not to ignore her warning. She rounded on Augustine, green eyes flashing. “And don't you start, Augie, because you'll only wind up losing this round with me.”

Augustine stared at Moriah under lowered lids. “You win because I let you win,
mon amie.
”

Moriah blushed to the roots of her curly hair. “I am not your girlfriend, Augustine.”

He lowered his head and stared at Moriah as seconds ticked off. “Not yet.”

Gwen realized she wasn't the only one holding her breath when there came a collection of sighs from around the table. It wasn't until Ian returned with a tray of fish, pork and chicken-filled appetizers and a cold antipasto that the tense moment ended.

A
week before she was to exchange vows with Shiloh Gwen moved back to
Bon Temps.
The temporary move served a twofold purpose: she could finish packing up her office before it was to be shipped to the home she would share with her new husband, and it would give her time to meet with the wedding consultant to finalize the plans for her wedding.

Her anxiety as to whether she was carrying Shiloh's baby was alleviated by the onset of her menses. It lasted two instead of the normal five days, but the show was enough to put her mind at ease.

She and Shiloh mailed out invitations to family members and close friends, welcoming them to the nuptials of Gwendolyn Paulette Taylor and Shiloh Ryker Harper in the small Roman Catholic church where he'd been baptized.

Her gaze shifted to the headlines of the latest issue of the
Teche Tribune.
It had been three weeks since the explosion and
fire in an abandoned building near the waterfront, yet the incident was still on the minds of most parish residents.

The evidence collected by a team of bomb and arson experts revealed that the property had been used as a meth lab. The owner of the property denied knowledge of any illegal activity, which left local police and drug enforcement agents frustrated because they hadn't made an arrest.

Willis Raymond Benton's defense that he was an innocent victim when someone spiked his drink at a local club was strengthened because of the lab's existence, and his claim was subsequently corroborated by two of the six young men who'd been with him. They claimed their drinks were also spiked and that they'd passed out in the woods instead of attempting to drive home.

The D.A.'s office offered Willis Raymond Benton a plea bargain: ten years'probation, loss of his driver's license for five years, and an order to pay the relatives of the surviving infant two million dollars. When Gwen told Shiloh that the district attorney's office had caved under political pressure from Bram Benton, he cautioned her to leave the law to the lawyers, that he did not intend to discuss the case with her, and extracted a promise from her that they would never bring their work home.

The
Teche Tribune
sold out their weekly circulation with shocking headlines and Nash McGraw's op-ed columns were filled with innuendoes hinting of bribery and a coverup.

Keith Nichols' unannounced visit to the newspaper's office ended the impasse between his office and the publisher. Keith had threatened Nash with a lawsuit, citing libel and slander if he didn't cease and desist. Nash quickly acquiesced, saying that it was worth the threat because he'd increased the paper's circulation and revenue appreciably.

Gwen's gaze shifted from the newspaper to the stack of letters Janet Carruthers had given her. She'd read and reread
them over and over and hadn't come up with a single clue. Most of them were innocent notes from boys who'd thanked Shelby for studying with them, while others complimented her because she'd changed her hairstyle or started a new trend when she wore a new outfit. None professed their love or hinted they wanted a sexual liaison. She wanted to discuss the case with Shiloh, but because of their promise to each other, she hadn't.

The doorbell rang, eliciting a smile from her. One of her first requests on the renovation list was to replace the doorbell. Rising to her feet, she went to the front door.

Peering through the security eye, she went completely still. She was expecting the wedding planner, not her cousin. She opened the door to find Lauren, Caleb and their three children grinning at her.

“Surprise!” the Samuels family shouted, as six-year-old Kayla showered her with a handful of colorful confetti.

Gwen looped her arms around Lauren's neck. “What are you guys doing here? You told me that you wouldn't be down until Thursday.” A pair of eyes in a face so much like her own sparkled like polished onyx.

Lauren kissed her first cousin's cheek. “We changed our plans after I asked the kids if they wanted to wait and finish the camp season or come see their Aunt Gwennie and they opted for their aunt.”

Pulling back, Gwen smiled at her cousin's husband. Amusement flickered in the amber eyes belonging to bestselling author C.B. Samuels as he ushered his two sons and daughter into the entryway. He'd recently celebrated his fortieth birthday and along with marriage and fatherhood he'd acquired a captivating presence that enhanced his stunning virility.

“You guys should've told me when you were coming, and I would've picked you up at the airport.”

Dipping his head, he brushed a light kiss over Gwen's mouth. “We drove down,” Caleb informed her. “Congratulations, cuz. I can't believe you're really getting married.”

She patted his shoulder. “Believe it, cuz.”

Extending her arms, she smiled at the younger Samuels. Ten-year-old Drew had grown at least an inch since she last saw him. Kayla had lost her baby fat, and four-year-old Royce, clinging to his father's leg, smiled shyly up at her.

“Come and give Aunt Gwennie a hug and kiss.” Kayla raced into her embrace while her brothers were slower in responding.

“I didn't know you lived in a castle, Aunt Gwennie,” Kayla whispered close to her ear.

Gwen smiled at the young girl. All of Lauren's children resembled Caleb. They'd inherited his slender lankiness, black curly hair, and citrine-colored eyes.

“Do you want to see it?” The three children nodded. Gwen winked at Lauren. “Come on up and I'll show you your rooms.”

Lauren turned to her husband. “Cal, could you please bring in the bags?”

He bowed from the waist. “Yes, boss lady.”

Lauren rolled her eyes at him, then followed Gwen across the highly polished living room floor and up the winding staircase to the second floor. “I have to agree with Kayla. This house is a showplace.”

Gwen glanced over her shoulder. “And that's what it's going to stay—a showplace.” She told Lauren that she didn't intend to make
Bon Temps
her permanent residence. “I'll open it for tours, and offer it for fund-raisers.”

“Are you going to remove the furniture for the reception?”

Gwen shook her head. “No. The doors on the opposite side of the living room open out into a ballroom.”

Kayla gasped when shown her bedroom, running to sit on a padded window seat. “It's for a princess.”

Lauren ruffled her daughter's short curly hair. “That's because you are a princess.”

The two boys were less effusive, especially Drew when told he had to share his bedroom with his younger brother who followed him around as if he were a rock star.

“And you're not sleeping in my bed,” Drew said, glaring at Royce.

Royce crawled up on one of the twin beds. “I have my own bed,” he countered proudly.

Gwen opened the door to a bedroom across the hall. “This one is for you and Caleb.”

Lauren walked into a bedroom that was wholly Southern in nature. Creamy-white fabrics on dignified mahogany pieces and a pale sisal rug complemented off-white wallpaper dotted with delicate violets.

“Unbelievable,” Lauren crooned. She ran her fingertips down the sheer fabric draping the decoratively carved posts on the four-poster bed. “I feel as if I've gone back a hundred years.”

“I'll let you settle in, then once I finish meeting with the wedding planner I'll prepare lunch.”

Lauren waved a hand. “Don't trouble yourself with lunch. We stopped and ate about an hour ago.”

“I went food shopping yesterday because I knew I wouldn't have time later on in the week.”

“As soon as Cal brings the bags in, I'm going to have the kids shower, then take a nap. They were so wired this morning that Cal pulled off the road and read them the riot act.”

Gwen grimaced. It was not often that Caleb raised his voice to his children. “I'll call Shiloh and have him come over after his shift ends. We can all have dinner here tonight.”

“You don't have to cook for us, Gwen. We can always order in.”

“This is not Boston where you can order pizza or fried
chicken and have it delivered within an hour. The nearest takeout is ten miles away.”

“Damyum,”
Lauren drawled. “You live in the country.”

“Correction, cuz. I live in bayou country.”

Lauren sat down on the edge of the bed. “You've done well, my sister. You have a beautiful home, you've fallen in love, and now you're going to marry your Prince Charming.”

“Incredible, isn't it?”

Lauren angled her head, smiling. “Incredible no, mind-boggling yes, because it was only a couple of months ago that you said you didn't need a man, and were talking about having a test tube baby.”

“I suppose I was talking smack.”

“Wicked smack,” Lauren countered, grinning.

The two women laughed hysterically. They were still laughing when Caleb entered the room carrying a bag. He put it down, shook his head, then left to check on his children.

* * *

Gwen threaded her gloved fingers through her father's as they lingered in the vestibule of the church waiting for the signal to begin their procession along the white carpet to the altar where Shiloh, Ian, Lauren, Caleb and Natalee waited with a priest.

Kayla, in a delicate white organza dress with a pale pink sash, and Royce in a white jacket, shirt with an Eton collar, short pants and knee socks with a pink bowtie and cummerbund, had strewn red, white and pink rose petals along the length of the carpet. Drew had carried a white silk pillow with the wedding bands tied to it with pink-and-green ribbon.

Millard stared at his daughter's strained profile as she took a deep breath, held it for several seconds before letting it out slowly. The strains of “The Wedding March” filled the church.

“Are you ready, princess?”

Gwen smiled and nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

She concentrated on putting one satin-covered foot in front of the other, her gaze fixed on one man. He was breathtakingly handsome in white jacket, shirt and tie. Her gaze dropped to the precise crease in his black dress trousers and shoes.

They'd gotten to see little of each other during the week; she'd spent all of her free time meeting with the consultant, who'd brought her up to date with the activities of the floral designer, photographer, musicians and pastry chef. The precise, organized woman had finalized the menu with Ian, while Gwen went to a bridal dress salon for a final fitting.

She met Shiloh at the church for a rehearsal, then later at Moriah's home for an elegant rehearsal buffet dinner Thursday evening.

Lauren in pale pink and Natalee in a darker hue looked like flowers as they held bouquets made of pink roses and blue-and-green hydrangeas with streamers of light green ribbons. Miniature rosebuds, in corresponding colors, were pinned in their dark hair.

Shiloh watched his bride as she came closer, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. This wedding day was so different from the one wherein he and Deandrea had exchanged vows in the office of the judge where he'd clerked after graduating law school.

He'd tried imagining what Gwen would look like as a bride, and failed miserably.

He'd also tried imagining what style of gown she'd choose, and again he'd failed.

The Elizabethan-inspired silk satin gown with a square neckline, Empire waist, capped sleeves, gold-and-platinum embroidered bodice and a sweep train was stunning. Her hair was swept off her face and fastened atop her head in a mass of black shiny curls. Her flyaway veil was a backpiece,
attached to a jeweled barrette. A pair of magnificent pearl-and-diamonds earrings that had belonged to Gwendolyn Pickering hung from her pierced lobes. There was just a hint of a smile on her face, and for the first time since he awoke that morning, Shiloh smiled.

Time stood still for Gwen from the moment her father placed her hand in Shiloh's. She heard the words, repeated her responses, and it wasn't until she handed Lauren her all-white bouquet of roses, gardenias, tulips and peonies held together with yards of wide satin pink ribbon and her gloves so that Shiloh could slip a diamond eternity band on her finger that the significance and symbolic action hit her. His soft drawling voice, repeating his vows, jolted her like a quake's aftershocks. She repeated her vows, her voice sounding strangely loud in the eerie hush of the historic church. When she heard the priest tell Shiloh he could kiss his bride, she knew it was over.