Chapter Twenty-Nine
Zee smiled at Hope’s expression of awe as she looked around at the decorated pavilion. Sweet, ethereal music, from a harp and flute duo Kelsey had asked for after hearing them in Kerrville last year, floated out from the speakers.
“Your fiancé’s pretty darned amazing, isn’t he?” she said.
“He is. The pavilion’s gorgeous, but you, too,” Hope said. “The way the fabric flows down all the columns and drapes in-between, and everything looks so…together!”
Zee nodded in satisfaction. It had turned out well. “Bluebonnet-blue,” she murmured. “Too bad we’re a month too late for the real thing; that would have been beautiful.”
“I just saw Kelsey. I don’t think she cares.”
Zee grinned. “She is pretty happy, isn’t she?”
Hope looked at her consideringly. Then, in carefully even tones, she asked, “So are you. How’s Jamie?”
Zee fluttered her eyelashes exaggeratedly to match her drawl. “Whyever did you connect those two things?”
Hope laughed. Zee was glad to hear it; her future sister-in-law had changed so much in the past four months. Not as much as today’s groom, but she hadn’t started in quite that awful a place.
“Actually,” she said, answering seriously now, “he’s nervous.”
Hope looked startled. “Nervous? The guy who performs in front of thousands?”
“Crazy, huh? Only one song, and he’s a wreck. It’s Deck and Kelsey. Plus he’s never sung at a wedding before, and he knows most of the people coming, so it’s…different.”
“That’s sweet,” Hope said. “That he cares so much.”
Yes, it was. And no one knew better than she did how much Jamie Templeton was capable of caring, because over the last week he’d proven it again and again.
In the end, everything came together beautifully, thanks to True’s preparations and Zee’s planning. It was a small—at least, given Deck’s worldwide fame—wedding, but everyone there had a direct link to the couple who were about to make the most public and heartfelt declaration of the love they’d unexpectedly found.
Zee knew many of the attendees, for she and Kelsey had friends in common in Whiskey River. She met Deck’s agent who had flown in from New York, and his attorney, who happened to be the father of one of his biggest young fans, which was how they’d connected. And that boy, who was so excited at being invited he could hardly sit still. Former recluse that he was, his guest list had been slim, mostly people connected to his work, but he’d brushed it off.
“This is for Kels,” he’d said.
Zee spotted her brother—the best man—tall and lean and quite striking in the simple, classic tux. And she smiled. “He does clean up nice, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, yes,” Hope said fervently, and Zee guessed she knew why they had almost run late this morning.
“I’m glad to see Kelsey’s dad’s friends here,” Zee said, looking at the group of men taking seats to her right, several of them in military uniform. Eric Blaine had died in action years ago, but clearly he had been liked and respected. And his family had not been forgotten.
“You don’t forget your brothers-in-arms.”
The deep, male, very Texan voice came from behind her. She saw Hope smile in the moment before she turned to see Jack Ducane, in formal wear that had a distinctly Texan air—pearl snaps instead of buttons, a string tie, and the arrowed yoke—as befitted his status as a Texas Ranger. She was glad to see Hope’s smile was genuine, for she had spent a long time being wary of any law enforcement types. But Jack had helped her, and had managed to earn the hard-won trust of Deck as well, a testament to his rock-solid integrity.
Jack had also hand-picked some security to keep the media who had somehow—Zee suspected Martha—learned of the ceremony today, clustered outside the gate.
“Thanks for keeping the hounds at bay,” she said to him now.
“Glad to help,” Jack said. He looked at Hope. “That’s twice this year I’ve been able to do something cheerful.”
Hope looked startled, but she smiled. Zee thought it was grimly indicative of what Jack usually dealt with that he thought helping someone get through an ugly murder trial cheerful.
“Your tie matches the trimmings,” Zee said. The neatly tied strip of blue fabric was almost exactly the same shade as the draped fabric and the table embellishments.
“And Kelsey’s mom’s dress,” Hope said, looking at the matron of honor.
To Zee’s surprise, Jack looked uncomfortable.
“She’s as beautiful as her daughter,” Zee said.
“Yes. Yes, she is,” Jack said, and something in his voice tripped Zee’s radar. She filed it away on her list of things to be considered later.
The music changed, a clear signal, and everyone took their seats. True took his spot up front, and a moment later, a clearly nervous Deck joined him. True grabbed his shoulder and grinned at him, and even from here Zee could almost feel the tension break. Bless her brother, he always knew.
The ceremony was the most wonderful combination of tradition and unique touches Zee had ever seen. Kelsey, glowing in a gown that gleamed like snow under the spring sun, covered the distance from the house to the pavilion, on a big gray horse. She wondered briefly how women had ever ridden like that, sidesaddle, but Kelsey—and Granite—were clearly in tune; the horse was moving with delicate care, almost prancing, as if he understood this was somehow special.
The moment Deck saw her, his entire expression and demeanor changed. The nervousness vanished, to be replaced with an awed love Zee doubted he would ever lose. And in that moment, she thought Declan Kilcoyne the bravest man she’d ever met.
Hope, sitting next to her—on the outer edge, so Zee could deal with anything that went amiss—asked, “Who is that?” when a tall, gray-haired man in uniform held his hand up to help Kelsey slide off the horse and began to walk with her down the aisle. An aisle lined with another man in uniform every few feet along the way.
“He was her father’s commanding officer,” Zee said, her throat a little tight. “And they all served with him.”
Hope sucked in an audible breath, and Zee saw her hand go to her lips as if to hold back a sound.
“Me, too,” Zee said, blinking rapidly for a moment.
The stern-faced officer handed Kelsey off to Deck, whispering something that made them both smile. Then he turned to the woman who was the model for the bride, and with an old-world sort of courtly grace, he took her hand and bowed over it. Lisa Blaine colored slightly, and Zee saw her make a quick swipe at her eyes. Even not knowing what was said she felt her own eyes sting a little again.
The stir in the crowd warned her. She looked up, and Jamie was there, taking the stool beside the microphone, slinging that sweet old guitar Aunt Millie had bought him all those years ago around in front.
He said simply, “This is for Kelsey and Declan.” Not another word, although it was obvious many had recognized him. But she knew he’d decided that long ago; this was for Deck and Kelsey, and Jamie wasn’t about to distract from that.
She recognized the delicate picking out of individual notes the moment he began. Morning. It was one of her favorites, a paean to the sun’s rising after a stormy night. He’d told her the couple had chosen the song because the sentiment had special meaning to them.
It began quietly, Jamie’s voice little more than a whisper. But it built as if it were the rising sun itself, dancing over the intricate melody, soaring to a triumphant and beautiful sort of power that took her breath away.
She hadn’t heard him sing live in so long. It brought tears to her eyes now; his voice had always seemed a miracle to her, but she’d forgotten how incredible it was to hear him pour himself into it like this. Whatever had been bothering him that day when she’d heard him playing, he’d obviously set it aside. This was for his friends, and they got his all.
She didn’t know what the protocol was for a wedding singer, but if it wasn’t standing up and applauding, everyone broke it.
He came to her when he was done, and she hugged him. “Look at them,” she whispered to him, nodding at Kelsey and Deck. “That was the best present you could give them, next to being here.”
“Kelsey is pure sunshine, and Deck…gives me hope.”
There was a touch of it there, in his voice, whatever was eating at him, but it vanished as the officiator began.
Much later, when there was finally nothing left but the cleanup, Hope looked around at the debris. The guests had been tidy enough, but there was a lot of trash in the bins and crumbs on the floor of the pavilion. She gave True a sideways look. “Can we elope?”
True, his best man duties discharged in full with Kelsey and Deck off to places unknown, laughed and hugged her.
“This is nothing, for Mahan Services,” Zee said airily, and dug in, heedless of her silky blue dress and high heels.
“Especially now that we can add horse caretaking to the résumé,” True said. He glanced at Jamie. “With some help,” he added.
Zee stopped, looking at Jamie in some surprise; he hadn’t mentioned this. He shrugged. “I told Kelsey I’d stop by and spend some time with them. It’s important to be consistent, to get the ones that were abused trusting people again.”
Zee smiled at him, feeling a kernel of warmth expanding inside her at this evidence Jamie was rebuilding a place for himself in Whiskey River. A little afraid of what might be showing in her face, she turned and grabbed the broom True had brought from his truck. He and Hope went to the other side of the pavilion and began to fold up the chairs and stack them for pickup.
“Leave the crumbs,” Jamie suggested as he watched her with the broom. “Give the field mice a treat.”
After learning that he’d offered to look after Kelsey’s horses, and since he had jumped in and was helping in the cleanup—and wouldn’t Ms. L.A. glamour love that?—she gave the suggestion strong consideration. “I’ll sweep them off the edge, leave them there,” she said.
Jamie went back to gathering trash and stuffing it into the big, heavy trash bags True usually used on construction sites. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?” Jamie asked as he knotted the top of one of the bags.
“Not since this morning,” she said with a smile.
His gaze went suddenly hot, and Zee remembered with a flash of echoing heat that Jamie hadn’t only said she looked beautiful when she’d finished dressing for the day, he’d said it when she’d been astride him in the early morning light, savoring the feel of his rigid flesh stretching her with slow, undulating movements.
“Hold that thought,” he whispered to her.
“Oh, I will,” she whispered back. And looked forward to tonight, when she could do more than think about it.
*
“Jamie?”
Zee, whispering his name into the darkness, her long, sleek, naked body pressed to his. In her bed tonight, simply because they’d come here for her to change.
It was something he’d dreamed about so often in the years he’d been gone. And now she was here, in his arms, both of them sated, tension banished. It was more incredible than it had ever been, and in those moments of joy he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild something great on the foundation of what they’d had before.
Until he faced yet again that he was lying to her. That he hadn’t told her the real reason that had sent him running home to her, as if she were still the muse of his youth, as if he had the right to expect her to fix what was wrong with him. Without even telling her what it was.
“What is it? What’s wrong? I know something is.”
“Ah, Zee,” he said, the vast ache inside creeping into his voice. “You always know, don’t you?”
“Jamie,” she said again, sitting up now, worry a ragged undertone in her words. “I know there’s something, there’s been something, for a long time. Since even before Derek. Hasn’t there.”
It wasn’t really a question, so he didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, as if the darkness of the night alone wasn’t enough of a buffer between him and the reality, and the moment that was finally here.
“Tell me. Please.”
“I…can’t.”
She was very quiet for a moment before she said, “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“If I tell you, if I put it into words, especially to you…then it’s real.”
“It’s that bad?”
His mouth tightened. He let out a suppressed breath. “To the state of the world, hardly.”
“I don’t care about the state of the world right now. I care about you.”
“I know. God, I know.” His voice broke, and he turned to her. He couldn’t stop himself, he shivered in her arms. He was on the edge—that sharp, slicing edge—and he could feel it starting to cut, could feel the bleeding start.
She tightened her arms around him. “It’ll be all right. Whatever it is, we’ll fight it, fix it, get past it.”
She sounded scared. And he’d done that to her.
“Zee, I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m not going to lose you again, Jamie Templeton. So whatever it is, you just hang on.” She hugged him fiercely this time. “And someday you’ll write a song about it, and that will be all that’s left of it.”
A harsh, choking sound broke from him. And the dam broke within, and he couldn’t hold it back.
“There won’t be another song. Ever.”
“Jamie?”
He made one last try to stop it, but failed. The truth came ripping from him. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“The music, Zee. It’s gone.”