Mr. Wrong (28 page)

B
rother Archibald waved her to him and lowered his voice as those around them congratulated Martha and Larry. He peered down at her hand. “My dear, I heard you were engaged." He spoke in his soft, apostolic sounding voice.

She
looked around, and Beau was gone. Sara knew the Bishop would know. He took pride in keeping tabs on the unengaged and engaged at the institute. She smiled. "Yep."

He put his arm around her shoulders. "Pretty
ring. Very pretty. I am so happy for you, my dear. Mrs. Archibald wants you to know that we plan on being at the wedding."

Sara stared down at her ring. It was pretty. It didn't feel personal to her. She had never had a chance to tell him what she liked. But
. . . it was enough.

“
Congratulations, dear.” He took his arm off her shoulders. “It seems these things always have a way of working themselves out.” He lightly tsked his tongue. “Though it will be sad Brother Hennings won’t be around to teach next semester, eh?”

Sara
felt herself turning red. She didn’t know that. "Oh."

Bishop frowned.
“Did I upset you, Sara? That wasn’t my intent.”

Sara
waved the air too quickly. “No, Bishop. I’m fine.” She tried her best to smile. “I’ve got to get on the road.”

“Just remember,
Sara. Beau is a good man. Be safe on those roads, sometimes the ones that look like a clear path, are the ones that put you in the gravest danger.” He cleared his throat and turned away from her, greeting another guest.

She
didn't move. Why would he say that to her? She had half a mind to tell him that he should ask Beau about his new girlfriend. The room felt hot to her and she scanned the crowd for Martha and Larry. She had to leave.

They were s
eated at a long table. Servers were putting plates in front of them. Guests were lined up in front of the table to talk to them.

Sara quickly went behind them and put h
er hands on both of their shoulders. “Congratulations you guys.” She squeezed their shoulders, hugging them to her.

“Have some food,” Larry said, gesturing to the table.
“It cost us enough for an army.”

Martha
sighed. “His manners.”

Sara smiled and scanned the room for Beau. "
No. I think I’m going to get on the road.”

“Okay.”
Martha gently touched her cheek. She whispered, “You are so lovely, dear.”

She squeezed her hand, again.
“Thanks, Martha.”

Larry grinned at her. "I have one thing to tell you."

Martha beamed. "You will like this."

"Okay."

“I’ve been taking the discussions. Even got ole Martha here sitting in on them.” His eyes sparkled.

Her heart lightened. “That is awesome." She gave them both another hug. "Get her converted by the time I get back."

He chuckled. “I plan to.”

Sara
straightened. “Merry Christmas you guys.”

“Merry Christmas
,” they both said it in unison.

She wound her
way through the cafeteria and into the decorated hallway. Sara tried to imagine herself in a place like this with Jonathon someday. She smiled at Frank. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you
, too. Be safe now."

Sara waved and thought of what Bishop Archibald had said about roads.
Weird. He was always so philosophical. She pulled her coat closer and tried to quickly pick the right spots on the sidewalk to get to her car.

“
Sara.”

Chapter 40

Sara jerked back and felt her feet slip beneath her.

Immediately Beau was beside her
. His strong arms lifted her. “Are you all right?”

She pull
ed away from him. "I'm fine."

“I didn’t mean to make you fall.”
His words were strained and the wrinkle between his eyes was bent into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Sara
inspected his face and then turned for her car. “I’m going home.”

“
I . . .” His voice faltered.

Sara
flung her head back around to him. “Where are you going?”

He paused.
“What do you mean?”

“Bishop Archibald said you won’t be teaching next semester
. Where are you going?”

Beau hesitated for a second.
“Africa.”

This was a surprise.
Why would he go to Africa after everything with his wife there? Then it dawned on her. “Is she going with you?”

Beau
shrugged. “She’ll be in charge of the project.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“Well, we all have to pick our road."

**

It was the day after Christmas and Sara was exhausted. Working to put away most of the decorations and deep cleaning the house was quite a chore. But she was leaving for Denver in two days to attend Genova’s wedding and then going directly to Laramie to work. There was no way she was going to leave the mess for her brothers to clean up.

J
onathon, who’d been holding a game controller in his hand for most of the day, called out to her. “You wanna play?” He didn’t even avert his eyes from the game.

Sara
started up the stairs to her room. "Nope."

“I brought my new gaming system up
, so we could play it together.” His voice held some scorn in it.

“Been a lit
tle busy."

He
paused the game. “Hey, Sara."

Sara didn't stop.

"Hey, Coach told us to get good and rested before next week. I’m going to be going pretty hard for a while. Plus, you’ve just been running around here like crazy. I thought you just wanted me to stay out of your way.”

She hovered at the top of the stairway. "It's fine."

The game blared back to life.

Sara
went to her dad's doorway. Everything felt so different with him gone. Even though James and Mark still lived here, with Rosie coming in occasionally to cook, clean, and leave some freezer meals, it didn’t feel the same. She noticed the family picture of all of them from last summer next to his bed. Her heart ached. She walked in the room. She needed him so badly. Why couldn’t he still be with them? Tears streamed down her face.

Without warning
, Tim, James, and Mark burst through the front door. Their voices were loud and laughter ricocheted through the house.

"Sara?" James called.

The sound of the video game stopped. "She's upstairs."

"Sara?"
James called out, again.

“Hold on.”
James called after her, his voice stern.

Sara knew her brother wouldn't stop. She
hustled out of the room. "Hey."

James frowned. "We need you in the kitchen to talk."

"I'm about to get in the shower."

Ma
rc took the steps two at a time. A fierce, mischievous look in his eyes.

The pit of her stomach turned into a knot. She recognized that look.
“Do not pick me up!"

Marc dipped his shoulder and threw her back like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down!”

He rushed down the stairs. "Nope, the boss says we need to talk to you."

Tim poked at her.

Marc took her into the kitchen and dropped her into the chair James held out.

"You drive me crazy!" Sara shouted, half playing.

Mar
c stopped when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

Sara sucked in a breath and knew they could read her.
"Nothing."

James squinted down at her.
“You’re not moving until you tell us what’s wrong with you.”

Sara
glared up at him. She hated to be strong-armed. She’d always hated it, ever since she was little. “Nothing.”

Marc
and Tim both planted themselves behind James. She knew it was pointless to try to get around him.

Tim
pointed at her. “You've been crying."

Sara looked behind them to the living room. She didn't want Jonathon to come in here. "
Shh."

They all crossed their arms in unison. They used to do this to her. They would always gang up on her when she didn't agree with them. But instead of being angry, her
heart deflated. She had to tell them the truth. “I just miss him.” It was the safest thing she could say right now. They all understood how their father’s death would hit randomly sometimes.

Marc frowned.
“I know, sis.”

Tim
pulled a chair out next to her and sat. “It’s strange, you think you’re done grieving and it hits you.”

James
went to the kitchen and pulled glasses, milk, and a package of cookies out of the cupboard. He put them on the table and sat.

Marc immediately grabbed one
and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. He sat on the other side of Tim.

James
carefully poured milk for all of them. “I knew I bought these cookies for a reason." He looked at each of them. “I’m calling a family council.”

Sara
hated the way his formality made her smile. Since she'd been back for Christmas, she kind of liked his concern for all of them.

James dunked a cookie and didn't look at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She took a cookie. "No."

James
exhaled loudly. “Okay. We need to talk about our budget for Sara’s wedding.”

S
ara almost choked on her cookie. “What?”

“You guys aren’t going to worry about it.”
She had it worked out to just do something informal at the house.

James put his hand up.
“Hold on, sweet little sister.” James told her he liked to put the sweet in there because one day he hoped it would come true. “We’ve been talking and we want to do this. It won’t be really fancy or anything, but we have a couple thousand dollars for you to work with.”

Tears form
ed in her eyes. She’d seen the latest spreadsheet of expenses and knew there was no money. “James . . .”

Tim touched her forearm.
“We want to do this. It’s what Dad wanted. It's what we want."

Marc playfully pushed her shoulder. "You can't stop us."

Sara hated the tears. “But the money’s not there.”

James put his milk glass down with finality.
“I’m selling Sherman.” His face was determined.

“No.
Absolutely not.” The horse her father had bought for James. James had wanted to train him to be a race horse.

“
No, that's been your dream.”

James shook his head
. "I already have a buyer."

Sara wiped her tears. "No."

“Sara.” Marc put his hand over hers. “It’s what he’s decided. Let him. It’s what he wants.”

James wiped at his own eyes.
“It's what we want. We love you, sis.”

She reached out to all of them. Their hands mingled together in the center of the table.
“I love you all, too. I don't deserve you." She cried harder.

Marc and Tim stood to hug her.

Sara was overwhelmed with love for them. Before
, all she could think about was that her father was gone. Now, she could only think how grateful she was to be part of a family that was always there for her.

Marc gently pushed her back down into the chair.
“We've given you the money for the wedding, and I want to know why you're marrying him?"

Chapter 41

“What?” Sara felt like she’d been sucker punched.

Marc turned his chair around and straddled it. "You'
re seriously gonna tell me that you’re okay if your life is like this.” He hooked his thumb toward the living room.

“What?”
Sara felt her defenses go up. Jonathon had been visiting for four days, and she’d felt her brothers silent disapproval. “Just because he’s not a ranch guy doesn’t mean that he’s unfit to be my husband.” She tried to keep her voice even, not wanting Jonathon to hear.

Tim put his hand up.
“It’s all right, Sara.” Tim hated confrontation, and he especially hated it when things got heated.

James nodded.
“Calm down, Sara.” He frowned and looked at Marc with displeasure. “What he meant was . . . are you sure he’s the right one for you?”

“What?”
Marc smirked back at James with a challenge in his eyes. “Since no one can say it—I'll say it. Frankly, we don’t like him. We think he’s lazy and full of himself, and the only thing he cares about is basketball. Oh, and the new games he got for his system, he cares about that too.”