EPILOGUE
French Town, July
There hadn’t been another wedding like it since Troy Reynolds had married Lisa Marie Johnston.* The French Town Inn was dressed for Fourth of July just past. The bride and groom had kept the red, white and blue decorations and added flowers to match. The big room sparkled, the band played, and the throng made merry.
To give away the bride, Pierre Benoit had ferreted out his ancient navy-blue suit and added a chestful of medals that rivaled those on the bridegroom’s dress uniform. The bride was wearing a long white gown that seemed to have been made for her. It was difficult to tell, because she was a tall, buxom young woman, but she might have been pregnant. Either way, she looked radiant.
The French doors of the dining room overlooking the river had been opened to the wide terrace. The fiddlers had been playing traditional tunes and the country dances had been long and vigorous. Some of the guests had gone outside when the dance floor filled up and were do-si-doing up and down the terrace, laughingly avoiding those people taking the air.
Amber felt a strong arm circle her waist. She smiled up at her husband.
“My father is complaining that he hasn’t danced with you yet, sweetheart.”
Lance looked strong and happy in his dress blues. Although his jacket strained across his shoulders. Apparently, heaving hay was a better workout than combat training. Who knew?
“We can’t have that,” she responded. She broke off her conversation with Erin Benoit** and took Lance’s outstretched hand.
“This is a galliard,” she whispered as the fiddler launched into a new tune. “Does your dad know the steps?”
“Probably not. But he’ll pick them up,” Lance said confidently.
Robbie Jeff Prescott gave her a big grin that broke her heart. In a better world, Lance would have looked like this handsome, silver-haired man. But she pushed such melancholy thoughts down deep. They didn’t need to spoil her wedding day. She loved her husband, scars and all.
“Shall we?” Robbie Jeff asked.
“I’d like that, sir.” Amber led him demurely onto the dance floor where couples had begun the intricate country dance. “Are you familiar with our folk dances?”
“Nope. But I’ll pick up the steps. We’re great dancers in Falkirk.” The dance carried them apart and back together. “Lance is a changed man,” Robbie Jeff said. “Happy. Healed. Don’t think his mom and I are not grateful.”
Amber felt her face heat. “If he’s better, it’s his own hard work,” she replied. Which was totally true.
The next set of couples took their hands and separated them. And then Moira Prescott and her cousin Lenny** were curtseying and bowing to her and Robbie Jeff.
“Lance has done very well for himself,” Moira whispered, “He’s married into a fine family.”
Amber caught herself before she explained that the Benoits were only cousins and she herself was related to the less-than-sterling Duprés. Uncle Bobby and Aunt Marlene were no more closer family than her more respectable cousins. Besides, she was now a Prescott. And as respectable as all get-out.
“Can I have my wife back, Dad?” Lance demanded when the dance was done.
“Certainly.” Robbie Jeff kissed her cheek. “Welcome to the family,” he said for at least the twenty-fourth time.
“Thank you, sir. I’m pleased and proud to be a Prescott.”
He and Lance exchanged a man hug and then Lance swept her off into a waltz.
“Did you ask for this?” she asked.
“I did. I needed to hold my bride. How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” Since they had discovered she was pregnant, Lance had been hovering. But she didn’t mind – it made her feel loved and cared for. A warm safe feeling to go with the exciting bedroom feelings that were now a normal part of her life.
He spun her in a circle in time to the music. Over in a corner she saw his grandfather Prescott in conference with Jack Enright***, Patrick****, and Uncle Pierre. “What are those four up to?” she mused aloud.
“A little idea I had,” Lance admitted. “You were complaining that there were hardly any jobs in French Town. I thought maybe turning your applejack tradition into a legitimate distillery might solve that problem.”
“That’s a great idea,” she said enthusiastically.
“There’s always money in hard liquor,” Lance said. “Only, they want me to manage the plant.”
She didn’t even have to think. “No.”
“No?” He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed like a kid’s. “We could live here, near your sister and your nieces. To say nothing of the rest of your relatives.”
Stella, Bethany and Hope were long out of the hospital and growing like weeds in spring. Hope had even learned to sit up and Bethany and Stella could roll over. Aunty Amber had FaceTimed with them every evening on Skype. Being closer to them was a temptation. One Amber easily resisted.
“Still, no. You and I have made new lives, good lives, in Colorado. We’re not going to mess with that, Lance. I appreciate you coming to French Town for our wedding, but I don’t expect you to make it permanent.” It might undo all the good the peaceful life in Colorado had accomplished. She wasn’t about to risk flashbacks.
“Are you sure?” He twirled her again.
“Absolutely sure. Not to mention that I just got a promotion and a raise and everything. And so have you. Now that I am the stud recordkeeper, Laura is going to pay for me to get my Masters of Library Science and computer training. You are officially Head Trainer at the Stud. Why would we want to change?”
It was a measure of how far he had come that he was willing to take on the responsibility and the title of the job he had been doing for years. Not for anything were they going to mess with his stability. Happiness was partly knowing when you had enough. They had more than enough already with good jobs, a lovely house, and a baby on the way.
“Oh, Amber, I could make a lot more money as the CEO of a distillery.”
“You’d be utterly miserable indoors all day. You love training horses. You love Colorado.”
“I do.”
“Let them find someone else to take on the distillery. There’s plenty of talent right here in these hills,” she assured him. “And with the Bascoms flying back and forth between Washington and Colorado, I will be able to hitch a ride whenever I want to see Heather and her girls.”
“I’d do it for you,” he swore.
“I know. But I’ll be happy with what we’ve got. I love your house – especially since you let me redecorate.”
Lance had dipped into his trust fund and bought all new furniture to replace the shabby stuff he had been living with since he moved into that place. Laura had renovated the kitchen and added a second bathroom for her Head Trainer and his wife.
“Besides,” Amber giggled, “We need to stay in Colorado so we can watch Dr. Arruta and Calvin court.”
“Those two are comedy gold all right.” And right there on the dance floor Lance swept her into his strong arms and kissed her deeply. The music drifted to a stop. The room filled with the rowdy cheers of a hundred bear shifter throats and the whistles and hoots of the younger generation.
Amber was breathless and she knew her face was scarlet when Lance lifted his mouth from hers and led her off the dance floor. Together they went out the French doors toward the wonderful new life that they had made for themselves. They had love, it would be more than enough.
*Bearly a Bride
**Bearly Begun
***Bear Necessities
***Bear Sin