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

The young woman viewed herself in the mirror, staring at her reflection for several minutes as if she wasn’t sure she could believe what she was seeing.

“I’m going to ask Nash to attend the wedding when we have lunch,” she said. Then, biting her lip, she added, “I’m praying he’ll agree to that much.”

“He should.” Savannah didn’t want to build up Susan’s expectations. She honestly couldn’t predict what Nash would say; she only knew what she thought he should do.

“He seemed pleased to hear from me,” Susan went on to say.

“I’m sure he was.” They stood beside each other in front of the mirror. Neither seemed inclined to move. Savannah couldn’t speak for Susan, but for her part, the mirror made the reality of her situation all too clear. Her tailored pants might not reveal her scarred and twisted leg, but she remained constantly aware of it, a not-so-gentle reminder of her deficiency.

“Let me know what Nash says,” Savannah said impulsively just before Susan left the shop.

“I will.” Susan’s eyes shone with a childlike enthusiasm as she turned and walked away.

Savannah sat at her desk and wrote down the pertinent facts about the wedding gown she was ordering for Susan, but as she moved the pen across the paper, her thoughts weren’t on dress measurements. Instead they flew straight to Nash. If nothing else, he’d given her cause to think over her life and face up to a few uncomfortable truths. That wasn’t a bad day’s work for a skeptical divorce attorney. It was unfortunate he’d never realize the impact he’d had on her.

Nash was waiting in the booth at quarter after twelve on Thursday, anxiously glancing at his watch every fifteen seconds, convinced Susan wasn’t going to show, when she strolled into the restaurant. A smile lit her face when she saw him. It was almost as if they’d never disagreed, and she was a kid again coming to her big brother for advice.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into the vinyl seat across from him. “I’m starved.” She reached for a salted chip, weighing it down with spicy salsa.

“It’s good to see you,” Nash ventured, taking the first step toward reconciliation. He’d missed Susan and he said so.

“I’ve missed you, too. It doesn’t feel right for us to fight, does it?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re the only real family I have.”

“I feel the same way. We’ve both made mistakes and we should learn from them.” He didn’t cast blame. There was no point.

The waitress brought their menus. Nash didn’t recognize the young woman, which made him consider just how long it was since he’d had lunch with Susan. Frowning, he realized she’d been the one to approach him about a reconciliation, when as the older, more mature adult, he should’ve been working toward that end himself.

“I brought you something,” Susan said, setting her handbag on the table. She rooted through it until she found what she was looking for. Taking the envelope from her purse, she handed it to him.

Nash accepted the envelope, peeled it open and pulled out a handcrafted wedding invitation, written on antique-white parchment paper in gold letters. He didn’t realize his sister knew calligraphy. Although it was obviously handmade, the effort was competent and appealing to the eye.

“I wrote it myself,” Susan said eagerly. “Savannah suggested Kurt and I would save money by making our own wedding invitations. It’s much more personal this way, don’t you think?”

“Very nice.”

“The gold ink on the parchment paper was Kurt’s idea. Savannah gave me a book on calligraphy and I’ve been practicing every afternoon.”

He wondered how many more times his sister would find an excuse to drag the wedding coordinator’s name into their conversation. Each time Susan mentioned Savannah it brought up unwelcome memories of their few short times together. Memories Nash would rather forget.

“Do you like it?” Susan asked eagerly. She seemed to be waiting for something more.

“You did a beautiful job,” he said.

“I’m really glad you think so.”

Susan was grinning under the warmth of his praise.

The waitress returned and they placed their order, although neither of them had looked at the menu. “We’re certainly creatures of habit, aren’t we?” his sister teased.

“So,” he said, relaxing in the booth, “how are the wedding plans going?”

“Very well, thanks to Savannah.” She folded her hands on top of the table, flexing her long fingers against each other, studying him, waiting.

Nash read over the invitation a second time and saw that it had been personally written to him. So this was the purpose of her phone call, the purpose of this lunch. She was asking him if he’d attend her wedding, despite his feelings about it.

“I don’t expect you to change your mind about me marrying Kurt,” Susan said anxiously, rushing the words together in her eagerness to have them said. “But it would mean the world to me if you’d attend the ceremony. There won’t be a lot of people there. Just a few friends and Kurt’s immediate family. That’s all we can afford. Savannah’s been wonderful, showing us how to get the most out of our limited budget. Will you come to my wedding, Nash?”

Nash knew when he was involved in a losing battle. Susan would marry Kurt with or without his approval. His kid sister was determined to do this her way. He’d done his best to talk some sense into her, but to no avail. He’d made the mistake of threatening her, and she’d called his bluff. The past weeks had been miserable for them both.

“I’ll come.”

“Oh, Nash, thank you.” Tears brimmed and spilled over her lashes. She grabbed her paper napkin, holding it beneath each eye in turn. “I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

“I know.” He felt like crying himself, but for none of the same reasons. He didn’t want to see his sister hurt and that was inevitable once she was married. “I still don’t approve of your marrying so young, but I can’t stop you.”

“Nash, you keep forgetting, I’m an adult, over twentyone. You make me sound like a little kid.”

He sighed expressively. That was the way he saw her, as his kid sister. It was difficult to think of her married, with a family of her own, when it only seemed a few years back that she was in diapers.

“You’ll love Kurt once you get to know him better,” she said excitedly, wiping the moisture from her cheek. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” she muttered. Her mascara streaked her face in inky rows.

His hand reached for hers and he squeezed her fingers. “We’ll get through this yet, kid,” he joked.

Nash suspected, in the days that followed, that it was natural to feel good about making his sister so happy. All he’d agreed to do was attend the ceremony. He hadn’t figured out what was going to keep him in his seat when the minister asked anyone who opposed the union to speak now or forever hold their peace. Attending the ceremony itself, regardless of his personal feelings toward marriage, was the least he could do for causing the rift between them.

The card from Savannah that arrived at his office took him by surprise. He stared at the return address on the envelope for a moment before turning it over and opening it with eager fingers. Her message was straightforward: “Thank you.” Her elegant signature appeared below.

Nash gazed at the card for several minutes before slapping it down on his desk. The woman was driving him crazy.

He left the office almost immediately, shocking his assistant, who rushed after him, needing to know what she was supposed to do about his next appointment. Nash suggested she entertain him with some law journals and coffee. He promised to be back in half an hour.