A Decent Proposal (16 page)

“
Very
high praise.” Cam looked Syd up and down. “I've never seen you look more amazing. Burke Holden is my friend, but he's a complete idiot. He doesn't know what he's missing. I tried to talk to him and make him understand that you two are made for each other, but he's being stubborn and—” The words stopped when Ellie cleared her throat. Cam looked mortified. “I'm so sorry. Me and my big mouth.”

Syd desperately wanted to ask for specifics about what he'd said, but this wasn't the time. She had the rest of her life to wonder why he couldn't love her. “It's okay.”

“No. I'm usually more sensitive than that, but I guess today I'm more nervous than sensitive.”

“Don't worry about it.” Syd did her best to smile and hoped she pulled it off. “I'm great. Where do you two have my nieces stashed?”

“Maggie Potter has Amanda,” Cam said. “Her mom, brother and his fiancé are watching Leah. So, with Maggie's little girl, Danielle, four adults are keeping track of three toddlers. But the little ones usually play nice and keep each other occupied.”

“Okay, then.” Syd nodded. “Whatever will be will be and that's how Dad and Loretta want it.”

“Did I hear my name?” The mayor had emerged from a room off to the side that was reserved for brides. She was wearing a cream-colored lace-over-silk tea-length dress with a neutral shade high heel.

“You look beautiful,” Syd said. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I can't wait to be Mrs. Tom McKnight.”

As if that was her signal, Rinda Bartell walked over. The blue-eyed blonde was a church volunteer who coordinated weddings. “We're ready to start, ladies. The gentlemen have taken their places in the front with Pastor Will. Sydney, you'll be last before the bride. Camille and Ellie, who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Ellie offered and Cam gave her a grateful look. “One of the first things I did here in Blackwater Lake was break my ankle so everyone knows I'm a klutz. If I fall today, Cam, just go around me. I'll be a distraction. That should take care of your nerves.”

“It doesn't,” she said. “But let's do this.”

“I'll go cue the organist,” Rinda said and hurried away.

They had a moment for wishes of happiness before Ellie opened the doors separating the rear of the church from the pews. Then the music started and she headed up the aisle. Cam waited a few beats then followed. Syd gave Loretta a thumbs-up gesture before starting her walk.

People filled the seats and the ones on the end that she could see smiled broadly and murmured that she looked beautiful. Diane and Norm Schurr gave her a little wave. Jill and Adam Stone, with their son and daughter, were there. She passed Violet, Charlie and their kids. This time she grinned at them and meant it. Finding happiness wasn't easy and she was glad for her friends.

She saw her father with Uncle John beside him. Her brothers were there, too, and all the men looked incredibly handsome in their dark suits. Just before she took her place, her gaze settled on her dad. He nodded his approval, then his expression changed. He looked expectant, or excited. She knew him as well as he knew her and this was something more than a man about to get married.

Before she could wonder what was going on, his expression changed, filled with happiness, and she knew he'd seen his bride walking toward him. Her father took two steps to meet Loretta and held out his arm. She put her hand in the bend of his elbow and they moved in front of the pastor.

“Tom, Loretta, in front of most everyone in Blackwater Lake I have to say—it's about darn time.”

The congregation laughed, including the bride and groom, dissipating any lingering nerves. Then the pastor cleared his throat and started the ceremony. “We are gathered here today in the sight of God, family and friends to join Tom McKnight and Loretta Goodson in marriage.”

He talked about love being patient, kind and understanding. The obligations of a husband to his wife and vice versa. Her father and Loretta vowed to love, honor and cherish then exchanged rings. The minister said the “I now pronounce you husband and wife” part and it was time for him to announce you may kiss your bride. But that's not what he said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there's someone here who has requested permission from Tom and Loretta to say a few words.”

Syd heard the click of a man's shoes walking down the aisle and glanced in that direction. Her legs started to tremble when she recognized Burke and Liam Holden approaching. The boy looked so handsome and grown up in his suit and tie. And Burke... Seeing him was like a shot of adrenaline to her system. She couldn't believe he was here.

He stopped in front of the wedding party and thanked both the pastor and her father. After that, all his attention was focused on her.

“Syd, you were absolutely right to refuse my proposal. It was decent enough, but not even close to what you deserve. I can do better. Please hear me out.”

“I will,” she whispered.

He moved closer, stopping about a foot away. When he spoke, his words were clear and loud enough to be heard in the church's far corners. That was partly because in spite of the capacity crowd, it was possible to hear a pin drop.

“When I asked you to marry me, I said I would take you away from all this. It was glib, a cliché. The truth is that Blackwater Lake is part of who you are and I would never change you. I love you and that means never asking you to choose between me and what you care so deeply about. But I'd move heaven and earth for you. That includes my corporate office. I plan to set it up here in Blackwater Lake.”

Syd had the ridiculous thought that she hoped whoever her father had asked to video the wedding was still recording because she would want to see it later. Burke was still talking and she was pretty sure it was important but all she could focus on was the “I love you” part.

Then he said, “You would make me the happiest man in the world if you'd marry me.”

Before she could even process those words and form a response, Liam spoke. “I love you, too, Syd. And I want you to be my mom.”

That's when the tears she'd been struggling to hold back trickled down her cheeks. And judging by some loud sniffling and a chorus of “ohs” she wasn't alone.

She glanced at her father, who stood with an arm around his new bride. “You knew about this?”

“Burke asked for my permission to propose. I gave it without hesitation. He's a good man. He'll take very good care of my little girl.”

“Oh, Daddy—” Her voice broke.

And then Burke was holding her and whispered against her hair, “Please don't cry. I wouldn't have crashed the wedding if he hadn't been on board with this.”

She nodded. “But why was it so important to do it here? Why now?”

“For one thing I needed a grand gesture.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “But it's more than that. Your father's happiness is as important to you as yours is to him. As he takes this step forward in his life, it was necessary for him and everyone in Blackwater Lake to know that I promise to love and protect you as long as I live.”

“Oh, Burke. That's so—”

“Please don't say nice.” He smiled. “Just say you'll marry me.”

“Since that's a much better proposal than the one I made to you—yes.” She pulled back just enough to see his face and said in a voice as loud and clear as his had been, “I love you, too. Of course I'll marry you. There's nothing I want more than to be your wife and Liam's mom.”

There was spontaneous applause and when everyone settled down, the pastor cleared his throat. “Now it gives me great pleasure to say—I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. McKnight. Tom, you may kiss your bride.” His grin was wide when he said, “Burke, you may kiss your fiancée.”

Burke didn't waste any time. He cupped her cheek in his hand and smiled tenderly before touching his mouth to hers. She sighed with happiness and felt a soft puff of air on her face, like the caress of a mother's fingers or the brush of an angel's wings.

Suddenly awareness filled her heart and soul that two mothers who couldn't be here in body for their children were here in spirit and signaling their approval of a most decent proposal.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from MEANT-TO-BE MOM by Karen Templeton.

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Chapter One

“D
ad. Dad!”

His brain already in knots from grocery shopping with a pair of adolescents, Cole Rayburn frowned at his shivering twelve-year-old daughter. Who was clearly about to freeze in her tank top and short-alls in the frigid store, despite the curtain of blond hair shielding her bare shoulders. But would she listen to Cole's suggestion to take a sweater with her? Oh, hell, no—

The slight note of alarm in Brooke's voice belatedly registered, echoing through his entire nervous system. Not that he'd let her see it—

“What is it, honey?”

“That man over there,” she whispered, sidling closer to Cole's elbow. Much as she'd done for the past week, as if afraid he'd disappear if she let him out of her sight. Gratifying and terrifying all at once. “No, the one by the apples. With the white hair. He keeps staring. Like he knows us or something.” A few feet away, her slouching, dark-haired brother, Wesley, gawked at a towering display of canned soda. Longingly. Cole briefly met his son's silent plea, ignored both the stab of guilt and Wes's sigh, then finally looked to see who Brooke was talking about.

And damned if his own adolescence didn't flash before his eyes.

He'd assumed, of course, he'd eventually run into one or more of the family he'd practically grown up with. Just not this soon. Or that he'd have such mixed feelings about the reunion, even after all this time.

Or whether the man everyone called the Colonel would be more inclined to welcome him home like the Prodigal Son...or splatter his guts all over the grapefruit.

“Cole?” Preston said. Grinning, actually. So far, so good. “Cole Rayburn?”

“Yes, sir,” Cole said, returning the grin, even as he reminded himself it'd been more than twenty years since Sabrina Noble had dragged home, like a stray puppy, the flabby dork he used to be. The Colonel still had a couple of inches on him—although, at six-four, he pretty much towered over everybody—but Cole understood why the older man hadn't recognized him at first. Few people from those days would.

By now they were side by side, their carts facing opposite directions like a pair of horse riders meeting up on a trail. Unlike Cole, the Noble clan patriarch hadn't changed a whole lot that Cole could tell. Although he had to be in his seventies by now, the retired air force officer had lost none of the imposing bearing that had gone a long way toward keeping his motley group of adopted and foster children in line for so many years. The shoulders were still square, the posture still ramrod straight, his intense blue gaze as direct as ever. But not, Cole could see now that he was closer, as bright.

It also occurred to him he couldn't remember Preston ever doing the grocery shopping. That had been his wife Jeanne's domain.

Now he clasped Cole's hand in a firm shake. All forgiven? Forgotten? Unknown? Although Sabrina would've had to say something, wouldn't she? To explain—

“Didn't mean to creep you out,” the Colonel said, “but I wasn't sure it was you at first. What on earth are you doing back here, boy? Thought you'd fled New Jersey years ago.”

Cole smiled. “I'm only in Maple River for the summer. Taking care of my parents' place while they're away.” He grinned down at Brooke, frowning so hard Cole had to fight a laugh. “This is my daughter, Brooke. And this guy,” he said as Wes wandered back, curiosity clearly overriding—for the moment—his annoyance with his father's junk-food ban, “is my son, Wesley. Kids, this is Preston Noble. Spent a lot of time at his house, when I was around your age.”

Because I had the mother of all crushes on your daughter, sir.

And how is Sabrina, by the way?

The Colonel's brows dipped slightly behind his glasses, as if he knew exactly what Cole was thinking. Which wouldn't surprise him in the least. It used to rattle all the kids, Preston's uncanny ability to read their minds, to put the kibosh on trouble before they could get into it. Most of the time, anyway.

But not all.

Both kids politely shook the older man's hand, although Brooke hung back, more like a much younger child would have. Not surprising, Cole supposed, considering recent events.

And damned if the Colonel didn't somehow pick up on that, too, immediately engaging both kids in some tale or other from when Cole had been a fixture in the Nobles' kitchen, when Jeanne Noble had known his food preferences better than his own mother. And as he watched his still shell-shocked children begin to thaw in the warmth of the older man's spirited tale-telling, he realized he couldn't ever remember the Colonel talking down to a kid, how he always treated them as the intelligent, capable beings he knew, and expected, them to be. Not surprisingly, the kids were eating it up. Same as Cole had.

Then the older man met Cole's gaze, his smile almost wistful. “The three of you should come over. So we can catch up properly. Not in the middle of the Food Lion.”

“Oh. Um...I...”

“How about this afternoon? If you're not busy, I mean. Jeanne's roses are spectacular this year, with all this rain. She would've been so pleased. You remember, I'm sure, how much she loved those roses.”

Loved
. Past tense.

Cole's heart lurched in his chest. That explained the slightly not-there look in the older man's eyes. Why
he
was shopping.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“No reason you should have. Eight years ago now.”

“But you still have the house?”

“For now. Since everyone's out on their own...” Preston's attention drifted back to the kids, now quietly arguing over grapes. Or something. “The boy looks exactly like you, doesn't he?”

“Except about fifty pounds lighter.”

The older man turned back to him. “You'd already lost a lot of it, though, by your junior year.” He chuckled. “When you shot up six inches in as many months. Jeannie said you never saw it. Your metamorphosis.”

Cole felt his face warm. “I...no. I guess I didn't.”

The Colonel humphed, clearly keeping whatever else he was thinking to himself as he looked back at the bickering duo. “It's not like I don't see the others fairly often, since they're all still around. Well, except for Sabrina, she's in New York. Pretty much only comes back for weddings. And new babies. And we've got plenty of those. Still. It's not like it used to be, when the house was filled.” He paused. “Too damn big now,” he said softly. “Too quiet.”

The longing in the older man's voice knifed straight through Cole, partly because he doubted Preston even realized it was there. If it was one thing the guy wasn't, it was manipulative. Anal and demanding, perhaps, he thought with a smile, but definitely not one to play the pity card. And since his own parents were away—and had never been the coddling grandparent types, anyway—and Erin's parents were both dead, what could it hurt to the let the old guy play honorary grandpa for an hour or so?

And frankly, Cole wouldn't mind seeing the house again. If for no other reason than to perhaps expunge a memory or two.

“We're having dinner with my sister tonight,” he said, “but I suppose we could come over for a little while this afternoon.”

Preston beamed. “That would be great. Around two or so?”

“We'll be there.”

The other man clapped him on the shoulder before steering his cart down the aisle. Cole watched him for a second, then wandered over to the veggie section, ignoring his children's grimaces as he bagged a bunch of broccoli and plunked it into the cart. “Heads up—we're going to go visit Colonel Noble later.”

“Why?” Wesley said, suspicious.

“Because he invited us. And it'll be fun, getting to see the house again.”

Fun. Yeah. Let's go with that
.

“One of his kids...” To Cole's surprise, his throat caught. He cleared it, then said, “Was my best friend, all through middle and high school.”

“What was his name?”

He tossed a three pack of multicolored peppers into the cart. “
Her
name.” And some asparagus, tightly rubber-banded. “Sabrina.”

“Your best friend was a girl.”

“Yep.”

Wesley shook his head as Brooke leaned on the front of the cart, impeding Cole's progress. “How come you never mentioned her before?”

“I'm sure I did. I must have.”

“Nope. I would've remembered. So how come?”

Did he dare try Brussels sprouts on them? He did.

“Haven't seen her in years. One of those things.”

And amazingly he sounded almost nonchalant. In the past, over and done, didn't matter. Highly doubtful he'd ever see her again.

Except Brooke gave him one of her strange looks, her searing, green-eyed stare reminding him yet again that he was perpetually an inch away from screwing up. Especially now. But at least, for these few minutes, he'd managed to distract them from what must have been the constant refrain of their mother's pulling the rug out from under them. Completely of their own volition and without Cole's knowledge, his extraordinarily courageous children had given his ex the choice between them and a lifestyle that had left them feeling like also-rans—and she had not chosen them.

And this—they—did matter.
Now
mattered. In a way that nothing else ever had, or ever would. Because while his love life was apparently doomed to eternal suckage, these kids would know they came first. That he loved them, and was proud of them, and wanted nothing less than the best for them.

Even if that included tiny cabbage-like vegetables, so innocently snuggled together in their little green net, unaware of their own gross-out factor. Awesome. “Dinner. Tomorrow,” he said. Both kids groaned, and Cole smiled.

Maybe he had no idea what he was doing, but at least they'd know he cared.

* * *

Blowing out a breath, Sabrina Noble stuffed her wallet back inside her purse as the taxi chugged away behind her down the tree-lined street. Shadow and sunlight danced across the lawn like a thousand fairies, beckoning her up the wide, welcoming stairs fronting the serene Queen Anne.

Home
.

As in, that place you go when your future gets shot out from under you. Although not for long, the for-sale sign reminded her. She frowned, still not entirely sure how she felt about that.

A rose-scented breeze—not a smell one often caught in Manhattan, if ever—tangled with her long hair, and made her shiver slightly underneath her floaty top. Although not because she was cold.

Squaring her shoulders, Sabrina trudged up the brick walk, her largest rolling bag
clackety-clacking
behind her, echoing the refrain in her head—that she had no intention of staying a minute longer than necessary. She lugged the bag up onto the porch, returning to the curb for the rest of her luggage before retrieving the spare key from the secret pocket on the underside of the striped cushion on the far rocker. The front door open, she breathed in that same faint scent of eucalyptus she'd always associate with her childhood. With her adoptive mother, Jeanne, who'd installed that “secret” pocket. Amazing, that they'd never been robbed.

Although they had been, actually, of the woman who'd
loved
more than any human being Sabrina had ever known.

The sting of tears startled her. Never mind she'd lived on her own since she graduated from college. But if Mom had been here, there would have been hugs and cookies and sympathy. And probably a good talking-to, about needing to buck up and move on. And then more hugs—

Blowing out a breath, Sabrina hauled the bags inside and shut the door...only to frown when, from the back of the house, came a girl's high-pitched giggle, followed by another kid's—a boy?—affronted response. Then a masculine rumble, definitely not Pop's, gently rebuking. For a second, irritation spiked, that Pop wasn't alone. And wasn't that stupid? That she was annoyed, not that he had company. Giving her head a sharp shake, she shoved down the case's handle, let her purse slither off her shoulder to softly thunk onto the worn entryway carpet—

Like a summoned genie, the man she and her twin brother, Matt, had called their father since they were kindergartners appeared in the foyer. Underneath bristly white hair, ice-blue eyes slammed into hers.

“Sabrina? What are you doing here? The wedding's not for another week—”

“Surprise,” she said through a tight throat, and her father's eyes narrowed. Between two decades in the military and a second “career” fostering more kids than Sabrina could count, nothing got past Pop. Especially a small mountain of luggage sprawled across his foyer rug.

His gaze veered back to hers, burgeoning with questions.

“Later,” she whispered. More laughter drifted out from the kitchen. “When we're alone—”

“Preston?” she heard, a split second before the dude belonging to the deep voice materialized behind him. And if it hadn't been for the steely gray eyes, that one stubborn, still untamed curl at his temple, she wouldn't have recognized Cole Rayburn in a million years.

Behind her own stinging eyes exploded a word she wouldn't dare say in front of her father.

* * *

“You've changed.”

In more ways than you know,
Cole thought, hyperaware of Bree's gaze on his profile as he focused on the kids, playing catch in the backyard with her dad. A steady, dark brown gaze that used to make his stomach turn somersaults a million years ago.

That still could, apparently.

He hadn't been able to read the emotions that'd streaked across her face when the penny dropped, although he'd caught the
What the hell?
easily enough.

Same goes
, he'd wanted to say.

And for a moment, he'd considered gathering up the kids, getting out. Except the Colonel had given him a
Deal with it
look that brought an end to that idea. A look that the Colonel probably had been waiting a long time to give. Man had zero tolerance for unresolved issues. Especially involving his children. That the statute of limitations had long since run out on this one was beside the point.