Debbie Macomber - Summer Wedding Bells - Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'

“While we were on the dance floor I kept pinching myself to be sure this was real, that Joyce was real. It was like we were both in a dream. These sorts of things only happen in the movies.

“When the music stopped, I looked around and realized my buddies were gone. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Joyce.”

“Oh, Dad, I never get tired of hearing this story.”

Joyce smiled as if she, too, was eager to relive the events of that night. “As we were walking out of the hall, I kept thinking I was never going to see Marcus again. I knew he was in the army—his haircut was a dead giveaway. I was well aware that my parents didn’t want me dating anyone in the military, and up until then I’d abided by their wishes.”

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see her again,” Savannah’s father went on. “But Joyce gave me her name and phone number and then ran off to catch up with her ride home.”

“I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was convinced I’d imagined everything.”

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” Marcus confessed. “Here I was with my shipping orders in my pocket—this was not the time to get involved with a woman.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Nash said, studying Savannah.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t think I had much of a choice. It was as if our relationship was preordained. By the end of the following week, I knew Joyce was the woman I’d marry. I knew I’d love her all my life, and both have held true.”

“Did you leave for Germany?”

“Of course. I had no alternative. We wrote back and forth for two years and then were married three months after I was discharged. There was never another woman for me after I met Joyce.”

“There was never another man for me,” her mother said quietly.

Savannah tossed Nash a triumphant look and was disappointed to see that he wasn’t looking her way.

“It’s a romantic story.” He was gracious enough to admit that much.

“Apparently some of that romance rubbed off on Savannah.” Her father’s eyes were proud as he glanced at her. “This wedding business of hers is thriving.”

“So it seems.” Some of the enthusiasm left Nash’s voice. He was apparently thinking of his sister, and Savannah’s role in her wedding plans.

“Eat, before your dinner gets cold,” Joyce said, waving her fork in their direction.

“How long did you say you’ve been married?” Nash asked, cutting off a piece of his steak.

“Thirty-seven years,” her father told him.

“And it’s been smooth sailing all that time?”

Savannah wanted to pound her fist on the table and insist that this cross-examination was unnecessary.

Marcus laughed. “Smooth sailing? Oh, hardly. Joyce and I’ve had our ups and downs over the years like most couples. If there’s anything special about our marriage, it’s been our commitment to each other.”

Savannah cleared her throat, wanting to gloat. Once more Nash ignored her.

“You’ve never once entertained the idea of divorce?” he asked.

This question was unfair! She hadn’t had the opportunity to challenge his clients about their divorces, not that she would’ve wanted to. Every case had saddened and depressed her.

“As soon as a couple introduces the subject of divorce, there isn’t the same willingness to concentrate on communication and problem-solving. People aren’t nearly as flexible,” Marcus said. “Because there’s always that out, that possibility.”

Joyce nodded. “If there was any one key to the success of our marriage, it’s been that we’ve refused to consider divorce an option. That’s not to say I haven’t fantasized about it a time or two.”

“We’re only human,” her father agreed with a nod. “I’ll admit I’ve entertained the notion a time or two myself—even if I didn’t do anything about it.”

No! It wasn’t true. Savannah didn’t believe it. “But you were never serious,” she felt obliged to say.

Marcus looked at her and offered her a sympathetic smile, as if he knew about their wager. “Your mother and I love each other, and neither of us could say we’re sorry we stuck it out through the hard times, but yes, sweetheart, there were a few occasions when I didn’t know if our marriage would survive.”

Savannah dared not look at Nash. Her parents’ timing was incredible. If they were going to be brutally honest, why did it have to be now? In all the years Savannah was growing up she’d never once heard the word divorce . In her eyes their marriage was solid, always had been and always would be.

“Of course, we never stopped talking,” her mother was saying. “No matter how angry we might be with each other.”

Soon after, Joyce brought out dessert—a coconut cake—and coffee.

“So, what do you think of our little girl?” Marcus asked, when he’d finished his dinner. He placed his hands on his stomach and studied Nash.

“Dad, please! You’re embarrassing me.”

“Why?”

“My guess is Savannah would prefer we didn’t give her friend the third degree, dear,” Joyce said mildly.

Savannah felt like kissing her mother’s cheek. She stood, eager to disentangle herself from this conversation. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mom,” she said as if suggesting a trip to the mall.

Nash’s mood had improved considerably after meeting Savannah’s parents. Obviously, things weren’t going the way she’d planned. Twice now, during dinner, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She’d expected them to paint a rosy picture of their idyllic lives together, one that would convince him of the error of his own views.

The project had backfired in her face. Rarely had he seen anyone look more shocked than when her parents said that divorce was something they’d each contemplated at one point or another in their marriage.

The men cleared the picnic table and the two women shooed them out of the kitchen. Nash was grateful, since he had several questions he wanted to ask Marcus about Savannah.

They wandered back outside. Nash was helping Marcus gather up his fishing gear when Savannah’s father spoke.

“I didn’t mean to pry earlier,” he said casually, carrying his fishing rod and box of flies into the garage. A motor home was parked alongside the building. Although it was an older model, it looked as good as new.

“You don’t need to worry about offending me,” Nash assured him.

“I wasn’t worried about you. Savannah gave me ‘the look’ while we were eating. I don’t know how much experience you have with women, young man, but take my advice. When you see ‘the look,’ shut up. No matter what you’re discussing, if you value your life, don’t say another word.”

Nash chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Savannah’s got the same expression as her mother. If you continue dating her, you’ll recognize it soon enough.” He paused. “You are going to continue seeing my daughter, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t object?”

“Heavens, no. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of my little girl?”

Nash didn’t mince words. “She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

Marcus nodded and leaned his prize fishing rod against the wall. “She gets that from her mother, too.” He turned around to face Nash, hands on his hips. “Does her limp bother you?” he asked point-blank.

“Yes and no.” Nash wouldn’t insult her father with a halftruth. “It bothers me because she’s so conscious of it herself.”

Marcus’s chest swelled as he exhaled. “That she is.”

“How’d it happen?” Curiosity got the better of him, although he’d prefer to hear the explanation from Savannah.