Chapter Four
Gabby
"Sounds like you've had your share of problems," Phoebe Spencer observed sympathetically. "What with the church being closed for painting right now, and all the rain forecast for the weekend. Although, I do think having a broken neck is lot more inconvenient for Pastor Michael's sister than it is for you."
"I know." I covered my face with my hands. "I'm sorry. I'm a bitch for even mentioning it. One day with my family and I'm already back to acting like a spoiled brat."
It was Wednesday, the morning after our arrival. Derek and I were at Scott's Sweets to sample cakes. Phoebe was there to visit Adrianne Riley, who—or so I'd gathered—was one of her closest friends. I might have felt embarrassed venting to strangers about all the complications we'd encountered, but Phoebe was hardly a stranger. She'd grown up here, just like me, and had gone through school with my sister Arielle, so really, I've known her all my life.
"You're not a bitch," Phoebe protested with a laugh. "And you were never a spoiled brat, either."
"If you say so." I was pretty sure younger Phoebe had taken a different view of things.
"She's a sweetheart," Phoebe said to Derek. "I hope you appreciate how lucky you are."
Derek caught my eye and smiled. "I certainly do."
I felt myself blush. "It's just that I really thought we had all the details worked out. Now, we're back to square one. We have no idea where we're getting married or who's officiating..."
Given the prospect of rain, and with not a lot of other choices on offer, I'd reluctantly agreed to have the reception in the barn. And, yes, I know that kind of thing is very trendy right now, but it's not what I'd envisioned. At least it would be convenient for the food trucks we'd hired to cater the event. And we'd have no lack of parking.
Those were both good things, and I was trying to make the best of it, but my emotions were all over the map—all those pregnancy hormones again, I guess—and it was all I could do not to burst into tears.
Planning a wedding while pregnant? Bad idea. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
"Try a truffle," Adrianne said. She set a plate of precious, jewel-like little candies on the table, then pulled up a chair and joined us. "I've been thinking. I don't know what you have planned in terms of wedding favors, but if you wanted, we could do individually boxed truffles for your guests to take home with them."
"Mmm. That's a fabulous idea," Phoebe said as she helped herself to a piece. "These are great."
"They are," Derek agreed, going back for seconds. "They're amazing. I'm sold."
I nodded. "Me, too. That would totally work." The candy was to die for, and I was thrilled to be able to cross one more "to-do" off my list. Adrianne Riley was quickly becoming one of my all-time favorite people.
It wasn't just the awesome cupcakes and kickass candy, either. There was also the fact that she'd been the one to convince her husband Mason to move his company headquarters to Sapphire Falls.
Innovative Agricultural Solutions has revitalized the town's economy. It's put Sapphire Falls on the map, and opened the community's eyes to the potential value of new, less traditional approaches to farming. Which makes my parents look like genius, agricultural pioneers, rather than "the weirdos who run that smelly, organic goat farm," which is how the town used to view them.
"What about that guy your parents mentioned last night," Derek asked suddenly. "The one they said could marry us?"
"You mean Bodhi?" I asked, barely suppressing a shudder.
"Bodhi Wilson?" Phoebe sounded every bit as horrified as I'd felt when my parents had brought it up. Even Adrianne looked surprised. "I mean, I know that he and your dad are friends, but..."
I nodded vigorously in agreement "I know, right?"
"Yeah, that's the name." Derek glanced around the table, brow furrowing. "And I'm guessing that's a no. Why? What's the deal? Who is this guy, anyway? Is there a reason his name sounds familiar?"
I shrugged. "I don’t think so. Bodhi is...well, that's kind of hard to explain. He's just not what I had in mind."
As far as I knew, no one knew exactly what the deal was with Bodhi Wilson—or if they did, they weren't talking. I'd always suspected he had a lot more in common with the John Rambo character from the Stallone movies than he tried to let on. But, then again, my imagination has been known to run wild from time to time.
Here's what we do know. He's a former Navy SEAL who hung up his mask and flippers, and moved to Nebraska. Nebraska, of all places! In case you haven't made the connection, that's about as far from an ocean as you can possibly get.
Once here, he bought a small plot of land near the river, and built the one-room cabin where he's lived ever since. He hunts, he fishes, he forages for food. His sole means of support appear to be the odd-jobs he does around town. Occasionally, he'll disappear for months at a time. Where he goes—and what he does there—is a mystery no one’s been able to solve.
There was a woman who came to visit him once. I don't remember her name—if I ever heard it—and I didn't see her myself, but the few people who did said he'd introduced her as his wife. She left after a few weeks and, as far as I know, she hasn't been back. I'm sure there's some kind of story there, but I'm not certain it's one I want to know.
"There have to be some other alternatives," Phoebe insisted.
"Well, if you can think of one, I'd love to hear about it." I shot Derek an apologetic glance. "You were right, you know. We should have just gone to Vegas."
Smiling, he reached over and squeezed my hand. "And miss out on all this fun? Not a chance."
I had no idea if he meant that or not. But I do know a good thing when I've found it. I nodded, and tried to smile, and clung to his hand with all my might. There was virtually zero chance I was ever letting this man get away. No matter what we had to go through to get hitched.
"Hold on a minute," Phoebe said suddenly. "Vegas! Omigod, that's it!"
"Phoebe." Adrianne wore a pained expression. "It's a little late for them to change plans now."
"That's not what I mean." Phoebe turned to me excitedly. "Let me look into this for you, okay? I have an idea."
"Okay," I replied, feeling doubtful.
"Great." She sprang from her seat and headed for the door. "I'll get back to you. And really—don't worry. It'll be perfect."
We watched her go in silence, too surprised to comment.
"Soooo," Adrianne said, after a moment. "Let's talk cake. What did you decide?"
What we'd decided was to get a tower of cupcakes—almond cakes with matcha green tea frosting; raspberry iced with pink champagne; hummingbird cakes with yellow pina colada buttercream; and at the very top, a nearly-naked blue velvet layer cake with cream cheese frosting. The frosting colors would match my gown and the bridesmaids’ dresses, and Adrianne promised she could use the same colors and flavor profiles in the truffles.
And when I say "we" decided, what I really mean is that I did. Derek deferred to me on everything. He did agree that the tower idea was clever because it allowed us to include something for everyone's tastes. But beyond that, I had no idea what he thought. It was starting to annoy me. Did he really not care at all about our wedding?
"Well, this was great," Derek said as he got to his feet. He took hold of my hand again and pulled me up too. "But now, if we're all done here, I think we have a festival to get to."
"Have fun," Adrianne called after us. "Be sure you don't miss the Haunted House!"
"Oh, we won't," Derek assured her. The look he gave me had me blushing. I just knew he was remembering our conversation last night, as we lay together in the bed of our truck, watching fireworks explode overhead in the sky above Klein Hill. I'd filled him in on some of our festival traditions—like kissing your girl on the Ferris wheel, making out with her in the Haunted House.
"You're not serious about going into the Haunted House, are you?" I asked as we headed up the street in the general direction of the town square.
Derek looked at me in surprise. "Don't you want to?"
"No, not really."
"Why not? You don't think we're too old, do you?"
"Are you kidding? Given the number of children who have reputedly been conceived in the haunted house, I'd say it definitely counts as an 'adult' activity."
"Then are you afraid we won’t be able to measure up? That we can’t compare to your past make-out sessions?"
"Only you would think something like that," I said with a laugh.
Derek shrugged. "What can I say? I'm competitive by nature."
"If you must know, I can't help thinking about the kid whose nose I broke the last time I was in there."
"I'm sure he deserved it," Derek replied loyally.
I shook my head. "Sadly, he didn't. It wasn’t self-defense. It was an accident."
The truth was, my most vivid memories of the Haunted House had nothing to do with any make-out session. And only someone like Adrianne—someone who hadn't lived here at the time—would ever even have suggested that I go anywhere near the haunted house.
Adrianne didn't know about the year I volunteered to dress up as a zombie, how seriously I took the role, or how badly I scared the kids. So badly that it started a mini-stampede. One that resulted, as I'd told Derek, with one kid breaking his nose, and another getting concussed.
After that debacle, it was strongly suggested I stick to working the kissing booth. And I vowed never to step foot in Herschfield House again.
"Sounds to me like it's time you made some sexy new memories," Derek said. "It's like riding a horse. If you fall off..."
"Don't even go there," I said, laughing again. "It's not like that at all. I tell you what, though. Why don't we give the Ferris wheel a try? Depending on how things work out there, maybe I'll let you try to convince me to give the haunted house another try. And, before you ask—yes, I am absolutely expecting this to be the best kiss ever. If it’s anything less, I'll be extremely disappointed."
As I'd hoped, that brought a smile back to Derek's face. "Challenge accepted. And maybe after that we can get some lunch. That barbecue smells fantastic."
"We could do that," I said, crossing my fingers, and fervently hoping that my stomach would continue to behave itself. We'd sampled a lot of cupcakes that morning. And puking on the Ferris wheel? Yeah, that would be one "sexy" memory all right. Not.
"Oh, by the way," he said. "I meant to tell you. I've decided to ask Chase to be my best man, what do you think?"
"I think it's a great idea!" But it made me cringe to realize how little thought I'd given the subject. "Be honest, Der. Are you really okay with how things are turning out?"
"What do you mean?" He asked guardedly.
"I feel bad. It's all my family, my friends, my hometown. Other than Chase and Mia, you don't know anyone here."
Derek squeezed my hand. "I know you. Doesn't that count?"
"I'm serious. I hadn't even realized how skewed things were getting until this morning. The whole wedding is me, me, me. That's not right."
"Now you're just being silly." Derek lifted my hand and pressed a kiss against my knuckles, "If you’re happy, I’m happy. We can do this however you want. I don't have that many close friends anyway."
I guessed that was true. Most of the people we hung out with in LA were my friends, or his co-workers. And he had suggested eloping. Maybe he really didn't care as much as I did about the details. I don't know why, but that made me feel a little lonely—for both of us. "All right. If you say so."
There was hardly any line at the Ferris wheel. And the day was perfect—sunny and clear. From the top of the wheel we could see the whole town stretched out below us.
"Wow," Derek muttered as I pointed out the various landmarks. "So. Much. Blue."
I nodded in response. "It's fun, isn't it?"
"Sure is," he agreed, as he pulled me close.
I sighed in contentment.
Even better was the fact that my stomach didn't object—not to the motion, or the height, or the tantalizing scents of funnel cake, popcorn, grilled meat, and beer that was rising from the midway.
Best of all, however, were Derek's kisses.
His lips fit mine so perfectly. He tugged my hair and nipped at my ear with just the right amount of pressure. I ended up plastered so tightly against him, it was a wonder either of us could draw breath. My nipples were tingling, my panties were damp. If it wasn't for the safety bar holding us in our seats, I'd probably have climbed right into his lap. By the time the ride ended, he could have led me anywhere—even the haunted house—and I wouldn't have objected.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I wasn't sure which, Phoebe was waiting for us, practically bouncing with excitement, as we disembarked.
"You are going to love me even more than you already do," she promised as she thrust a piece of paper into my hand. "Here. Call this number."
"Okay." I glanced at the unfamiliar phone number scrawled on the page. "What's it for?"
"That, my dear, is the answer to your prayers: a mobile wedding chapel company. I already called and talked to them and they have an opening! They can be here by Saturday. They're just waiting for you to call and confirm."
"A mobile wedding chapel?" Derek repeated uncertainly.
Phoebe nodded. "Sounds crazy, right? I'd never heard of it either. But check out their website when you get a chance. They have these tiny little churches—they're freaking adorable. And they're on wheels! I think the one you'll be getting is built on a trailer. But they also have smaller ones you drive! Plus, they have traveling ministers that go with them. Non-denominational. Certified in fifty states. Or forty eight, anyway. So you're all set!"
"I can't believe this," I said, still trying to wrap my mind around the concept. "Thank you! How'd you even know to look for something like this? You're amazing."
Phoebe laughed. "Well, of course I am. But I can't take all the credit this time. This is one of the perks of marrying into a family with Vegas connections. I figured if there was a weird way to get married, they had to have heard of it. And I was right!"
I sighed in relief as the weight of all the worry I'd been carrying since yesterday lifted from my shoulders. "This is awesome." Derek nodded in agreement.
"It kind of is," Phoebe agreed. "I'm almost sorry I didn't know about it when I got married. But anyway, now that that's taken care of, what do you two love birds plan on doing with the rest of your day?"
"We thought lunch," Derek told her. "And, please, if you'd like to join us, it's on me. After all the help you've given us, I figure the least we can do is treat you to some barbecue. And after that, Gabby's promised to take me through the haunted house."
"I did not promise!" I protested. "I said maybe."
"The haunted house?" Phoebe slanted a surprised glance in my direction. "Have the EMTs been alerted?"
"So not funny." I hid my face in my hands. "I know, all right? I told him it was a bad idea, he won't listen."
"I listened," Derek began. "And I still say—"
He broke off suddenly as one of the largest, and certainly the loudest, motorcycles I'd ever seen—ridden by one of the largest and loudest men I'd ever encountered—roared up Main Street and pulled to a stop at the curb, just a few yards away from where we were standing.
Phoebe's eyebrows rose. "What on earth?"
"I don't believe it," Derek muttered, watching as the man pulled off his helmet and removed his dark glasses. He had a mane of dark hair—more Jason Momoa than Jared Leto—that fell to his shoulders, dark eyes that widened slightly as he glanced around at all the activity, and a face that positively lit up when he saw us.
"Derek," he called in a booming voice that had more than a few heads turning in our direction. He spread his arms wide and flashed an eerily familiar grin. "Bro! I'm here. I made it!"
"So I see." Derek's arms were crossed, and his face was set in an expression that any of his students would be quick to tell you meant only one thing: trouble. My stomach roiled uneasily. What now?
"Who is that?" Phoebe asked, eyeing the stranger with avid curiosity—and a little more interest than I'd have expected from a married woman.
Oh, who am I kidding? I was interested too. "Der?"
Derek sighed resignedly. "That would be my brother."