wasn’t sure which was worse—the shock of a death when it happened suddenly or having time but knowing that it was fast coming to an end.
“I’ve got to stop this and enjoy what time I have left with him. This should be a wonderful time, not one of sorrow,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror.
She left the dressing room and went out to sit in the chair that Bridget had vacated. She’d just sat down when her phone rang. Expecting it to be her father, she answered it without even looking at the screen.
“So you like the dress, do you?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t know,” Pax said. “If you’ll send over a picture of you in it, I’ll be glad to pass judgment.”
“Oh, no, the groom can’t see the bride in the dress until the wedding day. That’s bad luck.” Her spirits lifted at hearing his voice. “And we sure wouldn’t want any of that, now would we?”
“No, ma’am, we’re going to have a beautiful wedding, and, honey, you’d look good in a dress made from a feed sack and tied up in the middle with a calf rope,” he teased. “Want to take a drive to the creek this evening? We could throw down a quilt, have a few beers, and watch the stars. We might even see a shooting star and share the good luck.”
“I would love it,” she said. “Pick me up at eight. You bring the beer, and I’ll bring the quilt.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Before I forget,” she continued, “our high school reunion is Friday evening. Want to go?”
“I thought that was in June,” he said.
“They changed it to May this year. The excuse was that so many people take vacations in June that we were having a small turnout. And you’ll never believe it, but we’re having it in the school cafeteria. The committee thought that it would be nostalgic, but there’ll only be nonalcoholic drinks.” She stood up with the phone still to her ear and walked through the store to see where Bridget might be. Surely it didn’t take that long to find some peach dresses.
“Sure,” Pax answered. “Let’s go show ’em that we’re engaged.”
“Billy Ray is in charge of everything this year. I’ll call him and tell him that we’ll be attending.” She finally located Bridget.
“Tell him there will be four of us. I’m sure Maverick will want to be there with Bridget,” he said.
“Will do. See you this evening,” she said and ended the call.
A real girlfriend or fiancée would have ended with I love you. Alana wondered if she and Pax should say it too so what they were doing would be more convincing.
Bridget waved her over and pointed to a large bunch of dresses on a rolling rack. “We found so many in the same color that we couldn’t carry them.”
* * *
At dusk that evening, Pax hit the house in a dead run, went straight to the bathroom for a quick shower, got dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt, and was ready to go pick Alana up. He was in his truck and halfway down the lane when he remembered the beer he’d left behind in the refrigerator. Gravel and dust billowed up behind him when he stomped the brakes. The gray fog hadn’t cleared when he whipped his vehicle around in a three-point turn and headed back to the house.
He waved at Maverick and Laela, who were sitting on the porch swing, as he raced inside the house and came out with a six-pack of beer in his hand. “See y’all later.”
Laela whimpered and reached for him. He set the beer on the porch railing and crossed the porch in a couple of long strides. “It’s all right, darlin’. You’ll always be my favorite girl, and I’ll be back in time for breakfast.”
“Don’t believe him, Laela,” Maverick said. “If he’s telling the truth, then that means something fishy is going on with this wedding business, because Alana should be his favorite girl.”
“Alana is my favorite woman. Laela is my favorite girl.” He gave the toddler a kiss on the forehead. “And don’t you ever doubt that. But right now I’ve got to go. Being late for a date does not start off the night well.”