Debbie Macomber - Back on Blossom Street

“Alix,” Jordan shouted, running after her, his feet pounding hard as he crossed the road and splashed his way through the puddles on Blossom Street.

Alix had visited Jordan’s office during lunch break. They hadn’t actually argued, although they’d come close. She hated what this wedding had turned into, hated having no control, hated that no one seemed willing to listen. Not even Jordan. When she realized he wasn’t hearing her, she’d rushed out of his office with a huge lump in her throat. The stinging tears surprised her as much as the craving for a cigarette.

She ignored Jordan’s shout. With the rain and wind, it was easy to pretend she hadn’t heard him.

“Alix!” he yelled again and a moment later caught up with her.

She slowed her pace and he fell into step beside her. “What just happened back there?” he asked. He was obviously confused by the way she’d hightailed it out of his office.

“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out.

“Why’d you leave like that? We were right in the middle of a conversation and all of a sudden, you’re gone.”

“You weren’t listening to me,” she said, looking up at him, not caring that the rain had drenched her short hair, dripping down her face and onto her chin.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he began. “I—”

“You don’t know? ” she cried, struggling not to get emotional. “Shouldn’t I have some say in my own wedding?”

“You do.” He still seemed befuddled. “The last thing I remember was you telling me Jacqueline and Reese had decided to hold the reception at their country club.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” she asked him.

“I think it’s very generous.”

“It is, but …” Jacqueline and Reese had been wonderful—about everything. Alix owed them far more than she could ever repay.

She’d met Jacqueline in a knitting class at A Good Yarn, and after a rough start the older woman had taken Alix under her wing. Alix had signed up for that class in order to work off community service hours on a trumped-up drug charge; she’d decided to knit a baby blanket and donate it to charity. Her caseworker had approved the project and that was the beginning of her friendship with the Donovans.

Through Reese Donovan’s business connections and the Rotary Club, Alix had been able to attend culinary school. The Donovans had provided part-time employment, as well. She’d filled in as their housekeeper when needed, and they’d let her move into their guesthouse, where she still lived. Jacqueline and Reese were about as close to family as Alix ever hoped to have. They’d given her the love, encouragement and support her own parents never had, and Alix loved them in return. She’d asked their daughter-in-law, Tammie Lee, to serve as her matron of honor. Jordan’s brother, Bret, was to be his best man.

“From what my mother told me, Jacqueline had to call in all kinds of favors to get the country club for a Saturday in June,” Jordan said.

“I know.” The guilt was even stronger than her craving for a cigarette. “But, Jordan—the country club?”

Her fiancé placed his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of the rain.” He led her under the awning outside the French Café. The rain beat against it and the water fell in a solid sheet over the edge.

“Mom was really pleased when I told her what Jacqueline had done,” Jordan continued.

Alix lowered her head. Jordan’s mother was a subject best avoided. Susan Turner would’ve preferred a more traditional bride for her son. Her future mother-in-law hadn’t said or done anything overt, but Alix wasn’t stupid. She knew . Jordan was close to his parents, though, and Alix would never mention any of this to him.

“Kiss me.”

Jordan’s eyes flared wide. “Here? Now?” He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture window at the café filled with customers.

Alix nodded, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought. “And not a peck on the cheek, either. I need a real kiss.”

“All right.” He clasped her shoulders with both hands and bent down to cover her mouth with his. His lips were warm and moist as they touched hers, his mouth slightly open. Relaxing, she savored his taste, his feel. She did her best to remember that while a big fancy wedding wasn’t what she wanted, it would make a lot of people happy—people like Jordan and his family and Jacqueline and Reese. She’d do it; she didn’t have to like it. With that in mind, she slid her arms around Jordan’s neck and leaned into him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. She must love him if she was willing to go through with this craziness.

When he broke off the kiss, she sighed and instantly felt better.

“You have to talk to me, Alix,” he whispered, holding her tight, nuzzling her neck. “Tell me when you’re worried about something….”

“I did. You weren’t listening.”

“I was trying,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to call off the wedding? Is that it?”

“No!” Her response came fast and vehemently. “I love you. I want us to be married.”

He brushed the wet hair from her forehead, his eyes intense. “And I love you.”

She looked away because the love shining from his eyes confused her and made it difficult to speak. “As soon as you gave me the engagement ring, I should’ve known everything would change.”

“In what way?” he asked.

“Before … before, it was just you and me—and your teens, of course.” As a youth pastor, Jordan planned church-related activities with the teenagers in his congregation. Alix often tagged along to help. It was understood that once they were married, her role would continue in a larger capacity. That was fine; she enjoyed working with that age-group. She related to a lot of the temptations they faced in the world and found it gratifying that she was able to steer some of them away from making negative choices, choices she’d made as a teenager and come to regret.

Then the minute he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger, life as she knew it changed.

As soon as she heard the news, Jacqueline had instantly started talking about the wedding. In fact, for Christmas, Jacqueline had presented Alix with a huge hardcover book titled Planning the Perfect Wedding . At the time, Alix hadn’t given the actual ceremony much thought. She figured she’d marry Jordan with his family and a few friends in attendance, open gifts, eat cake, and that would be it.

Boy, was she wrong. The wedding was turning into a production, like a Broadway musical or something, with a dinner that cost more per plate than she’d earned in a week back when she’d been employed at the video store.

That wasn’t all. The dress—correction, gown —had become a major issue. Each one she’d seen came covered with expensive lace or hundreds of tiny pearls. Or both. Jacqueline had taken her to a boutique, and Alix had made the mistake of glancing at the price tag. She’d nearly fainted. People bought cars for less money than those dresses!

“Can’t we elope?” she pleaded, her face buried in Jordan’s chest. She knew the answer; still, she had to ask.

“Sweetheart, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She looked up, hoping he’d give her the confidence she needed to see this through. The acceptance—the resignation—she’d felt earlier had faded. She was no longer sure she could be Alix Townsend, Perfect Bride. The wedding was four months away and already she could feel the panic rising inside her.

More than anything she wanted to be Jordan’s wife. She’d fallen in love with him when they were in the sixth grade; he embodied everything she’d ever longed for in life. Then she’d met him again three years ago, shortly after she’d joined the knitting class. She remembered every single fact about Jordan from grade school. She remembered what she’d learned about his family, too. His mom and dad loved each other and cared for their children. They weren’t drunks and losers like her parents. They had regular meals, during which the entire family sat down at the table and talked about their day. In Alix’s home, no one did anything together. If her mother was inclined to cook, dinner was left on the stove and everyone dished up their own meals. Most nights Alix ate alone in front of the television while her parents argued in the background. More often than she cared to count, the fights turned physical and she hid in the closet, where she’d invented a fantasy world—a whole family of parents and siblings like the ones on TV. Or the ones at Jordan’s house …