The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (31 page)

Gabe studied himself in the car mirror and straightened the collar of his shirt. He’d dressed up a little but stopped short of putting on a tie. He tousled his hair a bit, then patted it down.

Why was he primping like a girl getting ready for the prom?

Because he had an idea the date with Hannah wouldn’t go well.

Oh, all day he’d gone around grinning and whistling because he was in deep denial. When she’d gone to Galveston, she hadn’t returned his calls. After she got back in town, she had excuse after excuse for why they couldn’t go out. Each one filled him with deep foreboding.

He’d never been filled with foreboding of any kind—deep, shallow, narrow, or wide—before. No other woman had ever turned him down. Sounded conceited, but no other woman
had
turned him down for a date ever, until this week. Hannah couldn’t find time for him, not an hour here or an evening there or lunch or a coffee break. Nothing until she finally called him and set this up.

Maybe he cared about her more than she cared about him. He wanted to see her every day, all day, if she’d agree. Finally, tonight, he’d see her again.

He waited for ten minutes before she came downstairs. Not that he minded. He could always talk to Gussie and Adam, although the two of them were so much in love and so excited about the wedding they weren’t good company. They spent most of the time making goo-goo eyes at each other or talking about flowers or napkins.

When Hannah finally came down the back stairs and through the kitchen, he watched her expression at the moment she saw him. For a second, not even that long, he could read her face. For that tiny moment, he saw joy in her eyes and a smile quickly curved her lips before she replaced them and displayed no emotion whatsoever.

No, Gabe didn’t have a good feeling about the evening.

He walked toward her and took both her hands before he leaned down to kiss her. Again, for a fleeting moment, she leaned against him and returned the kiss before she tugged her hands away and stepped back.

“Hello,” she said levelly.

He couldn’t allow her to get away with indifference. As she walked past him, Gabe put his arm around her shoulders. Oh, she could pull away, but she had allowed his touch. She looked up at him, her gaze caressing his lips and the curve of his chin before she twisted away.

“Bye.” Hannah waved at her brother and Gussie before she headed to the door, leaving Gabe to stare after her.

But he knew, although she attempted to hide it in her quick stride and the confidence of her movements, that she cared about him very much. She just couldn’t or wouldn’t or didn’t want to admit it.

Why not?

L
ife had closed in on Hannah.

For a moment, she’d allowed herself to relax against Gabe. To kiss him. To drink in his beauty, knowing that within that gorgeous exterior was a great guy who helped others and who cared about her. As Hannah and Adam had said, this was a nice man and—for reasons she’d never understand—he seemed to be attracted to her.

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked after he’d held the car door open for her and steadied her as she climbed up to the seat.

He made her feel loved and protected but she was a woman who didn’t need to be protected. However, she’d discovered she did want to be loved.

Once in the driver’s seat, he stuck the key in the ignition. “I thought we could drive to Fredericksburg. Feel like German food tonight?”

She nodded because, suddenly, her throat had closed up and she couldn’t force words out.

After they’d driven for a few miles in silence, Gabe said, “How was your conference?”

A safe topic. She cleared her throat and babbled on about stuff no one outside of her field would understand, but he listened. That was the amazing thing about Gabe. He listened to her and didn’t mind asking her questions—ooh, elementary questions like, “What is a spirochete bacterium?” He focused on her words politely as if he were interested. Not even she thought leptospirosis was interesting, but Gabe listened.

Then he turned and smiled. She couldn’t speak anymore. He reached across the seat and took her hand. It felt so good, she couldn’t pull away for a few seconds. Then she finally did.

Bringing every iota of her willpower together and reaching inside to remind herself who she was and where her future lay and who Gabe was and what God had said, she forced the words out. “I can’t see you anymore.”

The truck swerved a little. Gabe brought it back into the lane. He didn’t say anything until they reached a wide shoulder, where he pulled off the road and stopped the truck.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that.”

“You don’t want to go out with me anymore?”

“I can’t see you anymore,” she repeated because she couldn’t lie. She
wanted
to see him but she couldn’t.

He sat back in the seat and looked out the windshield at a field of prickly pear cactus. A few weeks ago the deep reddish orange flowers had covered the area, but no longer. Now there was little to look at other than the spiny pads, but he kept staring at them and she couldn’t read his expression.

“Why not?” he asked.

“We’re very different people. We have nothing in common,” she explained logically.

“Hannah.” He turned toward her and tried to pull her toward him.

When she didn’t allow that, he put his fingers on her chin. She could hardly pull away, not without hitting her head on something, although, looking in his face and at the pain in his eyes, she thought a bump on the head would hurt less.

“I love you,” he said. “Did I misread this so badly?” He shook his head. “I thought you felt something for me.”

He ran his eyes across her features. She attempted to keep them passive, uninterested.

“I know you do,” he said. “You love me, too. Why won’t you admit it?”

She had admitted that, at least to herself. The fact only made this so much more difficult. “I’m very attracted to you. What woman wouldn’t be?” She attempted a light laugh.

“I’m not talking about any woman.” His voice was serious, and his eyes still studied her face. “I’m talking about you, the woman I love. What’s wrong?”

“We’re very different. We both have our own lives and our own futures and plans that are”—she hardened her voice—“incompatible.”

He dropped her chin. “I’ve never asked you to give up or change your plans,” he said.

No, he hadn’t, and that made this more difficult. But she knew how she felt. She knew what she could do and what she couldn’t and still respect herself.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And you love me. Why can’t we discuss it?”

“Because we’re very different people.”

With that, he turned in the seat and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “That’s it? No more explanation? May I ask you one more question?” He kept his gaze on the highway before he turned to scrutinize her expression. “Do you love me? At all?”

“You’re very attractive,” she said. “Manly, charming, handsome, and rich. Everything a woman would want.”

“But not you?”

She nodded because she knew she couldn’t speak without her voice giving her away.

“Hannah Jordan, you are a coward,” he said. He put the truck in gear and looked over his shoulder before he made a wide U-turn on the highway and headed back to Butternut Creek.

“That’s another reason,” she said. “If I married you, my name would be Hannah Jordan Borden.” After the words were out, she wished she could suck them back in again. Her hiding place had always been snark and sarcasm, not humor. Adam often told her she wasn’t funny. Besides, the words hadn’t come out as amusing and sophisticated as she’d meant and were a huge mistake because her voice had quavered.

“I never asked you to marry me.”

Oh, that hurt. The words stung but the cold, sharp edge to his voice tore her up inside. She looked at his set profile and his hard chin and bet his eyes were flinty too if she could see them.

What had she done?

“I couldn’t look at another doily or napkin or tablecloth or nut cup.” Adam pushed the swing on the porch of Sam’s old house and covered his face.

“Suck it up,” Gussie said without a bit of sympathy. “You got away easy.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and massaged her arms, enjoying the peace of a Sunday evening. “Can you believe it? We’re going to be married in a week. I figure the Widows have run out of questions.”

“Adam, you are such an innocent. The Widows will have questions and changes all the way to the moment I walk down the aisle.” She closed her eyes and leaned against his arm. “They’ll probably follow me asking about some detail of the reception like the setup on the tables or placement of flowers or where we’re going on our honeymoon.”

“Two days in Austin, then back to work.” He hugged her. “Sorry it couldn’t be more romantic.”

“What could be better than being with you?”

Adam watched her in repose, an expression he seldom saw with Gussie, and swept a curl from her forehead with a light touch. “You’re exhausted,” he said. “Go in to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gussie opened her eyes and yawned. “Hate to cut our time together short but I’m going to fall asleep.” She pulled him close for a kiss before they stood.

When Adam reached the parsonage a few minutes later, Hannah still sat in her chair reading. Hadn’t moved for hours, he thought. Then he glanced at the clock. Nearly eleven.

“You’re up late,” he said.

She looked up from her book with eyes devoid of joy and vitality.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.

“Thanks, brother, for mentioning how bad I look.” She stood, put her book down, and moved to the sofa. “Sit with me?”

The woman next to him didn’t act like his sister at all, but whoever she was she needed comfort—or at least companionship. He put his arm around her. She leaned against him but said nothing. His arm got numb after a few minutes but he wiggled his fingers and didn’t move away because a moment like this with Hannah was rare.

When she didn’t say anything, he asked, “What’s the matter, champ?” using his mother’s childhood name for her.

Her answer was an odd groan mixed with a mirthless chuckle. “Champ. Yeah, I’m a real champ.”

“Hannah?” he encouraged after a long silence.

“I took another look at my life. I decided I do not want to be Miss Birdie, alone and with children afraid of me and dogs running in the opposite direction. Of course she does good works and she’s not alone and she did have a husband so, other than the grumpiness, we really aren’t a bit alike.”

Then she began to cry. He knew she’d cried for sick children who suffered from malnutrition, for adults slipping slowly away from AIDS, for young people riddled with bullets who’d died before they’d ever lived, and for the homeless marine who died on the street alone, but this was only the second time he’d seen her cry for herself. Her sobs broke his heart.

All he could do was pat her shoulder. That’s what he did. He patted and held her, and waited and passed her the box of tissues.

“I really messed up.”

He couldn’t contradict her. She’d told him what she felt she had to do. Since then neither Hannah nor Gabe would talk to him about the breakup. With Hannah, silence was her preferred method of communication. With Gabe, Adam didn’t want to hurt his friend, so he kept quiet. Or maybe Gabe didn’t want to talk about it at all, wouldn’t even if Adam asked. Whatever the reason, Adam had no idea
exactly
what had happened, but he did know both of them were miserable.

“Do you want to talk?”

Hannah wiped her eyes and shook her head but almost immediately she said, “I miss Gabe. I really love him.”

“Then why did you break up with him? I know Gabe isn’t stupid enough to break up with the woman he loves.”

She nodded. “I didn’t ask you to judge me, only to love me, to comfort me.”

So he’d failed as a brother.

“Part of this is your fault, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t accept any blame.”

“You helped me find my faith.” She looked up at Adam. “Living with you and watching your faith in action, I realized I had a call, too.”

“Okay, you have to go back. I understand that.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a wavering smile.

“I understand that you have to go back to Kenya. What did Gabe say about it when you told him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t you think it would help if you did?”

She shook her head slowly, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “It’s irrelevant,” she said at last, sadly.

Hannah the stoic who thought she had to sacrifice everything—her health, her future, and her happiness.

“Do you think he’d…” She turned back toward Adam.

“I think you owe it to him, and yourself, to explain. Maybe it will work out.”

“I really messed up. It’s already too late.”

“How’re the wedding plans?” Gabe asked as he and Adam played HORSE at the hoop on the church parking lot.

Adam put in a long jumper and tossed the ball back to Gabe. “Fine. I’m not interfering in any way. I stay out of discussions and run when I see the Widows.”

“Good groom.” Gabe bounced the ball a couple of times and shot. It hit the rim and bounced off.

So far, Gabe had H, O, R, and S. Adam had never beaten Gabe.

“You don’t seem to be on today, Coach.”

Gabe didn’t respond.

Adam dribbled to the basket for a layup. If Gabe couldn’t get that, the man had real problems. Of course, Adam already knew that.

When the ball popped from Gabe’s hands on his approach to the basket, he said, “Okay, you win.”

“How’re you sleeping?” Adam asked.

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Why?” He picked up the ball, tossed it to Adam, and headed toward his truck. He hadn’t come to the parsonage in days. Didn’t refuse. Just didn’t call or show up.

“Hannah isn’t sleeping at all well.”

Gabe froze in place, then turned. “Why would you tell me that?”

“She seems unhappy,” Adam stated.

His eyes wary, Gabe studied his friend. “And?”

“She said she’d made a big mistake. Said she really messed up.”

“She did?” The first slightly positive expression Adam had seen in days covered his face.

“What are you going to do about that?” Adam turned and missed a ten-foot jumper.

Gabe picked up the ball on the long rebound and held it. “Go on.”

“You going to be at the rehearsal dinner?”

“Don’t I have to be?”

“You need to let her know who’s boss.”

The men looked at each other, then both laughed.

“That’s exactly the way to treat her,” Gabe said. “If I want to make sure that she runs off to Kenya and I stay here.”

“Women fall all over you. You’ve dated thousands of women.”

“Hardly that many.”

“Why can’t you figure out my sister?”

He bounced the ball. “That may be why I care about her. She’s herself. She doesn’t change to attract me. She’s honest and caring. She doesn’t give up on her beliefs to accommodate me. In fact, she’s probably the most unaccommodating woman I know.”

“And you find that attractive?”

“Go figure.” Gabe shrugged. “I have no idea why I want to be with your sister. She’s not easy to get along with. She’s hardheaded and outspoken and opinionated and sometimes I don’t even think she likes me.”

Adam didn’t even bother to contradict that.

“Okay, I know she loves me. Now I have to convince her that she likes and trusts me. That I want to be with her forever.” With those words, he tossed up a shot from across the parking lot.

Swish. Nothing but net. “Think I’ll head home.” He dribbled the basketball as he walked off, and Adam headed back toward the parsonage. He grinned. In his efforts to get Gabe and Hannah back together, was he becoming a fifth Widow?

“Hey.”

Adam turned to see a low and expensive sports car drive into the parking lot.

“Anyone know where the parsonage is?” his mother called out the window.

“Good to see you! Park here and we can walk over.”

His father opened the door and leaped out. Tall, and lean—but no longer skinny—with thinning gray hair, Dad played tennis every day and liked to show off that vigor and flexibility.

“Your father rented the sports car in an effort to regain his lost youth,” Mom said. “But I can’t get out of the thing.”

He reached for his mother’s hand and helped her from the car. She was also tall but rounded, with carefully arranged salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes.

“Let’s go inside and find Gussie, and you can meet her parents.” As they walked, he said, “So you’re staying in Horseshoe Bay?”

“Yes, it sounds like a nice place,” Mom said.

“Great. That’s not far away.” He led them onto the porch and opened the door. “Hannah, our folks are here.”