Kaye Dacus: Stand-In Groom

She filled her cousin in on the evening, and by the time she got to seeing Forbes, she heard Meredith’s SUV pull up the driveway. Although she trusted her completely, something kept Anne from telling her about how she felt when she met George Laurence. Anne wasn’t sure herself what her feelings meant. She needed time to pray…and time to get to know him better.

“Do you want to come up for a few minutes?” Anne asked, crossing to the kitchen window that overlooked the carport.

“You working tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Just for a minute, then—Jenn sent some peach cobbler for you.”

Anne opened the door and closed the phone. Meredith Guidry’s strawberry blond head came into sight in the dim stairwell. Anne met her on the landing and accepted a plastic tub of the still-warm dessert while leaning forward to kiss Meredith’s cheek.

“Did y’all have fun tonight?” She ushered Meredith into the kitchen.

“Turned out to be just Jenn, Jason, Rafe, and me. Seems it was a big night to have other plans. How much work do you have left to do tonight?”

“A few hours. What was Rafe’s big announcement?” Anne closed the door and leaned against the kitchen cabinet. Meredith, Forbes, and Jenn’s younger brother piloted the private jets owned by their parents’ commercial real estate and investment corporation.

“He took a job with Charter Air as a senior pilot or something like that. He said he wanted to do more flying and less paperwork— Daddy had him working in the capital ventures office when he wasn’t flying. Since Mama and Daddy aren’t traveling as much, they decided to sell off the two company jets and sign a contract with this charter service.”

Anne’s stomach churned at the thought of flying.

“Of course, that means Rafe will be gone a lot more now,” Meredith continued. “Most of his flights will be single-day round-trips, but occasionally he’ll be gone overnight. He’s going to get to fly bigger planes, too. Not the big commercial planes, but the kind that carry about thirty passengers—”

Bile rose in the back of Anne’s throat, and clamminess spread over her skin. That was the same size plane…

“Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of— here.” Meredith pulled over one of the tall, ladder-back chairs from the table. “Sit down and put your head between your knees.”

Anne sank into the chair, drew a few deep breaths, and tried to smile. “I’m okay. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of reaction just from someone talking about planes.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Meredith crossed the kitchen, took a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with water from the refrigerator door, and handed it to Anne.

Anne sipped it and pressed the cold glass to her forehead. “I guess I’m just tired. You’d think after twenty-seven years and thousands of hours of therapy, I’d be over the fear.”

Meredith gave her a sympathetic smile and rested her hand on Anne’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Patting Meredith’s hand, Anne set the glass on the table and rose, her knees not too weak to support her. “I know you are. If you talk to Rafe before Sunday, tell him congrats from me.”

“I will. Good night, Anne.”

“Sweet dreams, Mere.”

Shutting the door behind her cousin, Anne took a few more deep breaths and tried to put the images and sensations from a lifetime ago out of her head. The best way was to concentrate on something else.

Work.

For the next two hours, she focused on entering data into the software her cousin Jason had written for her to help with organizing seating arrangements at events, then moved on to making lists of everything that needed to happen in the next forty-eight hours— not just for the wedding on Saturday, but for weddings coming up in the next few weeks as well.

Why was George Laurence in town, and why was Forbes being so secretive about it?

She shook her head and returned her attention to the half-finished checklist on her computer screen—and saw she’d typed George Laurence’s name. She deleted it and continued working, only to have the memory of their brief encounter pop up when least expected.

At 2:00 a.m., she finished the last list, saved everything, e-mailed the files to herself at work, and shut down her computer. When she finally climbed into bed, she grabbed her burgundy fabric–covered prayer journal and fountain pen filled with purple ink from the nightstand:

June 1—Lord, I know there’s a reason why You had me meet George Laurence tonight. I’ve never felt this way about any other man I’ve only just met. Could he be the one You’ve had me waiting on for so long? I don’t know what Forbes meant by “not available,” but I do intend to find out. You showed me tonight that I need to take that first step on my road to my own happy ending. Thank You, Lord, for the confirmation I’ve made the right decision.

She set the journal aside and pulled out her worn, black leather Bible, flipping it open to where the ribbon held her place from this morning. She’d read the twenty-seventh Psalm many times in her life, but this night, the last two verses stuck in her mind: I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord.

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. “Lord, I’ve been waiting for a very long time. Please let this be the answer to my prayer. Let George Laurence be the one.”

The bell on the front door of Anne’s office jingled at 9:50 Monday morning. She looked up from Saturday night’s invoices, which she’d been entering into her expenses spreadsheet. Her heart thudded. Dressed in a dark gray suit, a white button-down, and a colorful tie, George Laurence cut a dashing figure. More slender than she’d remembered from last Thursday, but with broad shoulders that suggested he worked out.

She saved the Excel document and went around the desk to greet him. What was he doing here? Had he gotten her office address from Forbes? Had his “not available” status changed over the weekend? And who was the young woman—“Courtney? Courtney Landry?”

The beautiful brunette stepped forward and extended both hands. “Miss Anne! I was so afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Anne clasped the girl’s hands, and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. “How could I not? Your sister Brittany’s wedding was only last summer. You’d just graduated from high school, if I remember. Did you enjoy your first year of college? UCLA, right?”

Courtney’s perfect, homecoming-queen features glowed. “Right. It was awesome . I loved it. It seems like a long time since you used to come over and babysit and tutor me in—well, everything.” She squeezed Anne’s hands. “I set up the appointment for today because I want you to plan my wedding. There isn’t anyone else in the world I trust more than you to pull it together exactly the way I imagine—like, even better, I’m sure.”

“Your—” Anne’s heart dropped into her left big toe. She glanced over Courtney’s shoulder at George Laurence, who stood in profile looking at photos of previous events on her wall. The name Landry was all that had downloaded from the request form on her Web site for ten o’clock Monday morning—now. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you—that you and he—” She swallowed hard. “Congratulations, Courtney. Why don’t we sit down and discuss your ideas.”

She couldn’t meet George Laurence’s gaze as she waited for him and Courtney to be seated on the Chippendale-style sofa under the picture window. “Can I get anything for either of you? Coffee? Tea? Water?”