Sandra Steffen - Nick's Long-Awaited Honeymoon

“Hmm?” He took a step closer. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I decided to bunk down on the couch. I have no idea how anybody can call the country quiet. Honking horns and sirens are nothing compared to all the sighing of the wind, the rattling of the shutters and the creaking and groaning and shifting of this old house.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well.”

He held up one hand. “Hey, I’m explaining, not complaining. Guess I’d better go see about that shower. And I’d better unpack my razor. Savannah thinks I’ll look better after I shave.”

That proved to Brittany that little girls and grown women had entirely different opinions about what constituted a good-looking man. Nick had disappeared up the stairs before Brittany had realized he’d done it again. He’d taken her mind off what she was supposed to tell him and made her think about things she wasn’t supposed to think about anymore.

She massaged her forehead, wondering if Mertyl had found the aspirin. She wasn’t prone to headaches, but she felt one the size of Mount Rushmore coming on.

Raising her chin, she stared at the place Nick had slept. On second thought, she didn’t need aspirin. All she needed was a brisk attitude and a firm resolve.

Brisk and firm, Brittany reminded herself, hurrying Savannah into her coat twenty minutes later. Brisk and firm.

Her decision to leave Nick six months ago hadn’t been made lightly. If he had beaten her or chased other women or been an ax murderer, leaving might have been easier. As it was, it had been the single most difficult thing she’d ever done. She and Nick were both to blame, she supposed, and they both had reasons for the things they’d done. She had Savannah to think about, her daughter’s happiness and well-being much more important than the loneliness that had a way of slipping past Brittany’s defenses when she least expected.

She should have anticipated the drowsy, hazy thoughts she was having, now that she’d seen Nick again. More than anything, she should have expected this yearning to see him smile—when she knew darn well that Nick Colter rarely smiled. Forewarned should have been forearmed, and might have been if he had arrived when he’d said he would. She supposed she should have expected that, too.

OK, he’d caught her off guard. But she’d recovered.

She didn’t know why he was fiddling with the lock on the front door, and she didn’t see any reason to ask. From now on she was going to keep a handle on her resolve. Brisk and firm.

“Hurry, Daddy,” Savannah said. “Get your coat.”

Nick’s salute earned a giggle from Savannah and a brittle smile from Brittany. Nick didn’t say a word as he retrieved his bomber jacket from the back of the sofa and followed them out the door, but he’d seen drill sergeants with less-intimidating posture than Brittany’s.

They took her car, Savannah keeping up a steady stream of prattle all the way. The church sat on the corner of First and Church Streets. Like every other building in town, it could have used a coat of paint. Maybe that was part of its charm. Stained-glass windows gleamed in the morning sunshine, that same sun glinting off a white steeple high on the roof.

A group of women who were huddled on the steps looked up as he, Brittany and Savannah approached. “Morning, Miss Opal,” Savannah called.

“Good morning,” a short lady with a double chin called. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she lowered her voice. “Some of the other children have already arrived. Why don’t you go in and say hello?”

The moment Savannah disappeared through the double doors, another woman, this one tall and wearing a pinched expression, said, “I don’t know whether you’re aware, Brittany, but something dreadful happened at the wedding reception last night.”

“Merciful heavens,” the woman with the double chin interrupted, “something dreadful indeed. Why, somebody spiked the punch, and not one of the fine members of the Ladies Aid Society caught it until it was too late.”

The four other gray-haired women standing on the steps nodded their heads. Grimacing at the sudden movement, they placed a hand to their foreheads. The tall, skinny one said, “We’re calling a special meeting this afternoon during which we’ll try to recount the events leading to such a dreadful act. Perhaps someone saw something or someone.”

Nick knew the moment he came under suspicion. The leader of the group narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Brittany made short work of the introductions. When she was finished, Isabell Pruitt, the tall, skinny one who bore a striking resemblance to Olive Oyl, gave Nick a critical squint and said, “And what time did you arrive at the reception, Mr. Colter?”

Nick lifted one foot to the bottom step and smiled up at the woman. “I’m afraid I got there just about the time you fine ladies decided to do the Bunny Hop.”

All six of the women exchanged pained looks.

“Isabell,” Brittany said quietly, “it’s good to see you and Opal speaking again.”

“Yes,” Isabell said, nodding carefully. “We’ve decided to let bygones be bygones. And I must say our united front couldn’t have come at a more crucial time.”

Nodding gravely, Opal said, “The meeting will begin at one, Brittany. You’re more than welcome to join us. Were you planning to help in my class again this morning?”

Nick shook his head before Brittany could open her mouth. “Sorry, but Brittany’s been itching to give me a piece of her mind ever since I arrived. First things first, you know?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Opal muttered. “By all means, first things first.”

Brittany didn’t have the presence of mind to clamp her mouth shut until after the six staunchest members of the Jasper Gulch Ladies Aid Society had gone inside. Even then she stared at Nick for a full five seconds before she had formed a coherent thought. “What on earth possessed you to tell them that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“So?”

“So,” he answered, looking far too sure of himself for her peace of mind, “go ahead. Tell me whatever it is you’re so hell-bent to say. But you might as well know right now that I intend to change your mind about the divorce.”

The church bell rang, another gong keeping perfect time inside Brittany’s head. When it was quiet again, she said, “What are you talking about?”

He placed his foot back on the sidewalk and turned to face her. His movements were fluid, the expression in his blue eyes far more serious than she’d expected. “I’m talking about you and me and the feelings that are still between us. I’m talking about in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. But wait, don’t let me do all the talking. There’s something you want to say. You might as well say it while we walk.”

“You want to take a walk?”

“Yeah. I want to take a walk. Better yet, I want to play hookey. When was the last time you played hookey, Brittany?”

Brittany might have been able to resist the invitation in the depths of Nick’s eyes, but she couldn’t resist the challenge in his voice as he said, “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust yourself to be alone with me for five minutes?”

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and hurried after him. “You’re something else, Nick Colter, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“If you know, what makes you so sure I’ll walk with you?”

He was walking fast, and she was getting winded trying to keep up with him. He slowed down long enough to slip an arm around her back and steer her across the street. “Because I’m adorable?”

“You are not adorable.”

“Oh, really?” he asked quietly. “Why don’t you tell me how you’d describe me.”