Every Bride Needs a Groom (4 page)

The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

Dolly Parton

I
spent the next couple weeks with my stomach in knots. Barely a day went by when I didn't wish I could un-press the Send button. Ugh. Every day I prayed Casey would propose. Every day he didn't. In fact, he seemed to be acting a little odd—evasive, even—whenever I dropped hints about our relationship, which really bugged me. But I couldn't beg the guy to marry me, now could I?

Instead, I went about my business, working at the hardware store, hanging out with Casey and my friends at Dairy Queen, and listening to my brothers ramble on about the goings-on in our little town.

Until Thursday evening, May 14, when I received a call from Queenie.

“Katie, I want you to come by my place in the morning for breakfast.” Her words sounded more like an order than an invitation.

“But we're going to dinner tomorrow night at Sam's, Queenie.”

“I know, but I need some time with you . . . privately.”

Hmm. Seemed suspicious. Still, I knew better than to turn her down. “What time?”

“Seven thirty should be good for me. That way we can visit before you have to go to work. Sound agreeable?”

Sounded more like a business meeting, but I didn't argue.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Worries consumed me. Had Lori-Lou told Queenie about the contest? Maybe that was why I'd been summoned into her royal chambers—for a lecture about how I'd overstepped my bounds. What if she told my parents? Then what? I'd look like an idiot.

I already felt like one.

When I did sleep, crazy dreams consumed me. In one of them, I wore a zebra-striped wedding gown, a wacky avant-garde number with huge, puffy sleeves. I walked the aisle toward Casey, who turned and ran in the opposite direction. I'd run too if someone walked toward me looking like a caged animal.

I woke up earlier than usual on Friday morning, determined to put the weird dreams behind me, though I couldn't get Queenie's breakfast invitation off my mind. No doubt she had ulterior motives.

I pulled up to her house at 7:30 on the dot and got out of my car. The front walkway was surrounded by the loveliest flowers, all pinks and yellows. Queenie had quite an eye for color. She had quite an eye for everything.

I didn't have to knock. She stood in the open doorway, arms extended. “Glad you could come, Katie-girl.”

That made me feel a little better. I relaxed and did my best to give a genuine smile. “G'morning, Queenie.” I slipped into her warm embrace and received several kisses on my cheeks. As her soft skin brushed against mine, I thought it felt a bit like velvet.

She took me by the hand and led me inside her spacious, comfortable home—the same one I'd grown up loving. We passed by the photographs of our various family members—including the second cousins twice removed—to the breakfast table, where a spread of foods awaited. Pancakes. Bacon. Orange juice. Yum. I settled into a chair and she blessed the food, then we dove right in.

I had a feeling this visit wasn't really about the food, at least not completely. We made small talk and nibbled for a while, but I could sense something coming around the bend.

After she finished up her first cup of coffee, Queenie rose—slowly, using her cane—and walked to the coffeepot for a refill. “You want more, honey?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. Better not. I'll take one to go when I get ready to leave for the store.”

With a shaky hand she refilled her cup, then turned to face me. “I do hope you can give me a few more minutes before you leave. There's something I want to talk to you about.”

Ah. I knew it.

I rose and helped her with her coffee cup. She hobbled back to the table and took her seat, then lifted the hot coffee, her
hand still trembling. “Let's talk about that boyfriend of yours, Katie.”

“Casey?”

She gave me a knowing look. “Well, yes, Casey. Unless there's some other boyfriend out there I need to know about.”

“Nope. No one.” I smiled and tried to look confident.

“Honey, I get the sense that you're itching for a proposal. Am I right?”

“Well, I'm not sure
itching
is the right word, Queenie, but yes. Isn't that the idea?”

The long gap in conversation made me a little nervous. Queenie stirred her coffee, which was weird, since it didn't have any sugar or cream in it.

Maybe I'd better build her confidence with another speech. “I'm pretty sure he's going to propose any day now. I think he went to Dallas to order my ring a couple weeks ago, then went back yesterday to pick it up. Maybe it had to be sized or something like that.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself. And of him. Has he given you any clues, other than his disappearing act?” She put the spoon down and stared at me intently. Too intently, really. Made me nervous. I could never keep my emotions hidden from Queenie. She could read me like a book. No doubt she was scanning a few pages now.

“Just a few suspicious comments about plans. And the future. He's always talking about his future. Career stuff. The kind of house he'd like to one day live in. Pretty sure those comments are meant to tease me.”

“Could be.” She sipped her coffee. “Some men are just a little slow to bat, honey.” Her nose wrinkled, and I wondered if maybe her coffee was too hot. “Not sure why he's taking his time, but I suppose that's a good thing. Kind of reminds
me of that Loretta Lynn song ‘You Wouldn't Know an Angel if You Saw One.' I sometimes wonder if he sees what's right in front of him.”

“Yeah, I wonder too.” I couldn't help but smile as she mentioned one of my favorite songbirds. “I love Loretta Lynn.”

“Me too.” Queenie sighed. “Always have, from the time I was young. We have a lot in common.”

“Oh?”

“Well, sure. We're both small-town girls. She's from Butcher Holler, I'm from Fairfield.”

“What else? Is there something you're not telling me? You own a guitar? Write songs when no one's around?” I took another nibble of my food and leaned back in my chair.

“Hardly.” Queenie shrugged. “But we do have one key thing in common. Loretta and her husband Doo married impulsively.” As soon as she'd spoken the words, my grandmother clamped a hand over her mouth. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to say that. Not out loud, anyway.”

“Are you insinuating that you and Grandpa married impulsively?” I asked.

She brushed some crumbs off the edge of the table. “I loved your grandpa. He was truly one of the best men I've ever known. But yes, I guess you could say I did marry him impulsively. And things weren't always a bed of roses, if you know what I mean. We had our share of obstacles.”

“Like Loretta and Doo.”

“Yep.” My grandmother took another sip of her coffee, and for a moment I thought I'd lost her to her memories. She put the cup down and smiled. “You remember that story about Loretta? The one where she accidentally put salt in the pie instead of sugar?”

“Of course. The pie was for some sort of contest, right?”

“Yep. She worked so hard to bake the best pie to impress the fellas. Her sweetie bought the pie and took a big bite. Only, it tasted like salt, not sugar.”

“I remember.” What this had to do with Queenie's comment that she'd married impulsively, I could not say. “What are you getting at, Queenie?”

“If it's meant to be, it'll be, whether you put salt in the pie or sugar. If he loves you—if he really, really loves you—any obstacle can be overcome. That's how it was with Grandpa and me. We got past the salt. And if it's meant to be with you and Casey, you'll get past the salt too, and the rest'll be sugar.”

“You think?”

“I really don't know for sure, but I know someone who does.” She pointed heavenward. “Only he knows who we're supposed to end up with. But that's part of the adventure—finding out his will, then getting in the stream.”

“Hmm.” I didn't feel very adventurous at the moment. And for whatever reason, Queenie's story about the pie left the weirdest salty taste in my mouth. “So, do I just come out and ask him if he's going to marry me?”

“No.” She picked up her cup and nearly dropped it. “Don't even bring yourself into it. Whenever he gets to talking about his career, the home he'd like to live in, just listen. Let him talk. Ask for details about
his
plans.
His
future. Ask where he sees himself in five years. Or ten years. Or whatever. Might be hard, but leave yourself out of it for now.” She took another swig of coffee and adjusted her position in her chair. “He needs to know that you care as much about his plans as your own. You see?”

“Yes, I get it. Sort of a nonthreatening way to bring up the subject of our life together.” I grinned in spite of myself. “Makes sense.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way.” Queenie's furrowed brow didn't bring me much comfort, but I managed to remain positive anyway. “Point is, the conversation might just add a wee bit of sugar to the pie, if you catch my drift. And I have it on good authority that Casey likes pie.”

I rose and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You're always loaded with great advice, Queenie. Thanks so much.”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded and attempted to stand. I reached to help her. After a few moments of awkward silence, she glanced my way, her eyes glistening with tears.

My heart skipped a beat as I analyzed the pain in her expression. “Queenie? You okay?”

She reached for my hand and squeezed it so tight that it hurt. “Just promise me something, honey.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you'll make the best possible decision for your future happiness. And pray. Ask God's opinion. Don't just jump willy-nilly into something because it feels right in the moment. Really, truly seek the Lord and ask his opinion. If you think that Casey's approach is too calculated, think again. It's better to think things through from start to finish before jumping in.”

“Well, of course. Do you think I'd do something without thinking it through? I'm more levelheaded than that.”
I think.

“I want you to pray it through. Look for answers, not just in your heart but in your head. If you ask the Lord's opinion, he'll be happy to give it. Problem is, most of us just move along with our emotions leading the way and live to regret it later.”

The sadness in her eyes made me curious. “Queenie, is there something you're not telling me? Do you think Casey and I shouldn't . . . well, get married?”

“I didn't say that, honey. I just want God's best for you. If you ask him, he'll tell you what to do.”

Her words lingered in my thoughts long after we parted ways. Did my own grandmother really think I shouldn't marry the man of my dreams? What was up with the hesitations?

I pondered all of these things as I drove to the hardware store. Once I arrived, Pop put me to work, sorting through a new shipment of door hinges. Exciting stuff. I dove right in, my focus still on Queenie's words. Perhaps she had a point. If I focused on Casey, if I cared more about his plans than my own, then perhaps God would open the door for those plans to include a happily-ever-after for me too.

You do sing about what you know about. And I grew up in a small town, and I grew up in a place where your whole world revolved around friends, family, school, and church, and sports.

Kenny Chesney

I
n the weeks leading up to the June 1st contest announcement, I could barely sleep. Most nights I tossed and turned, designing wedding gowns in my head. Every second or third day I'd go into a panic, wondering what I'd do if I actually won the dress. On the in-between days I convinced myself there was no way I'd win, not with thousands of entries. By the time I received my proposal, which seemed to be taking longer than I'd imagined, the whole contest thing would be behind me, just an elusive dream.

On Monday morning, June 1, I drove to the hardware store and found it teeming with customers. Mrs. Raddison needed a new faucet for her kitchen sink. Reverend Bradford browsed the lawn and garden aisle, looking for a connector for his water hoses. And Brother Mitchell, my favorite Sunday school teacher from early childhood, had finally decided to spend “the big bucks,” as he called it, on a new power drill. Pop was busy unloading a new shipment of fertilizer, so I waited on the customers and then headed to the front window to continue my work on the summer window display.

I'd just hung up a banner advertising the sale on fertilizer when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket, stared at the unfamiliar number, and answered with, “H-hello?”

“May I speak to Katie Fisher?” a female voice said from the other end of the line.

“Th-this is she.”

“Katie, this is Madge Hamilton, assistant to Nadia James, from Cosmopolitan Bridal.”

My heart sailed directly into my throat, making it impossible to respond. I finally managed a shaky, “Yes?” Maybe they called every losing entrant as a courtesy. Right?

“I am delighted to inform you that you've won our
Texas Bride
contest.” Her voice sounded chipper. Light. “Your essay was chosen from over four hundred entries.”

For a minute I thought I might faint. I'd pictured this call a hundred times but hadn't really believed it would take place. In my imagination, sure. But in real life?

“W-what?” I nearly lost my balance.

Pop meandered down the aisle nearby, his eyes wide as he saw me bump into the window. “You okay over there, Katie-girl?”

I nodded, then eased my way down into a seated position. “I'm sorry. What did you say again?”

Pop must've thought I was talking to him. He hollered out, “I said, ‘You okay over there, Katie-girl?'”

The woman on the other end of the phone laughed. “I said you've won the contest. But I can tell you're in shock, and I don't blame you. It's a lot to take in, I'm sure.”

“That's putting it mildly,” I managed.

“Putting
what
mildly?” Pop asked as he took a few steps in my direction. I pointed to the phone.

He shook his head and whispered, “I've told you not to talk on that thing at work, Katie Sue. Very unprofessional.”

I turned my gaze out the window to avoid his glare.

“This is quite an honor,” Madge said. “Trust me. Hundreds of girls would love to be in your place right now.”

She went on to say something about how my essay had touched Nadia James's heart to the deepest level, but I only heard about half of it.

“I . . . I'm sorry,” I said when I finally found my voice again. “Did you just say that I”—my voice squeaked—“w-won?”

“You did. What a compelling essay, Katie. Small-town girl with cosmopolitan wedding plans. We all read it and loved it. You have some serious writing skills, by the way. Are you a writer by trade?”

“Oh, no ma'am. I work at a hardware store.”

“Oh yes, that's right. I remember reading that now. Well, you have quite a way with words. And the way you described your fiancé, well, it just swept Nadia off her feet. You two must really be in love.”

“Yes ma'am.” I swallowed hard as I realized she'd called him my fiancé. “Only, Casey isn't actually—”

“We can't wait to hear the details of the proposal. It'll make a terrific addition to the
Texas Bride
article.”

Ack. “I, well . . .”

“So, we have a dress to design,” she said. “And fittings will need to start soon because Nadia will be leaving for an internship in Paris.”

“She won't be in Dallas anymore?”

“Only for the next week or so. Then she'll leave for an exciting year in Paris. Her son Brady is taking over the shop in her absence. He—well, he'll be here to supervise as our seamstresses work on your gown.” Why the woman sounded hesitant, I could not say. “Anyway, the point is, this will be a rushed job because Nadia is leaving soon. When can you come to the shop for your first fitting?”

“Oh, I . . .” Hmm. Go to Dallas? Wasn't it more important to talk Casey into marrying me first so that I could show up with a ring on my finger?

“It's important to get going on your dress design before Nadia leaves. And we have to think of the time frame for your big day. What date have you set for the wedding, honey? I don't remember that part from the essay.”

That's because I didn't mention a date
.

Should I fess up? Tell her that I wasn't exactly engaged—only almost engaged?

“Oh, never mind. I can hear that you've got something going on in the background there. We can talk about your wedding plans later.”

I didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise because she continued to fill my ears with instructions. She buzzed through a list of details that included an interview and photo shoot with
Texas Bride
and several dress fittings.

“I see that you live in Fairfield. Hmm. You're an hour and a half from our shop. I'm not sure that's practical.”

I'd do anything to have the dress of my dreams. But how could I manage going back and forth to Dallas for fittings? Pop
would flip if I left in the middle of a shift at the hardware store, and Mama would have a conniption if I missed choir practice, but maybe I could work around those things. Bessie May drowned out the rest of us altos, anyway. I'd never be missed.

“We really need to go ahead and set up an appointment for your first fitting,” Madge said. “Ideally, we would need to get your measurements as quickly as possible—say, by next Monday?”

“Next Monday?”

“Yes. If you come sooner rather than later, it would give Nadia time to draw the sketches before she leaves. Then we'll need you to come and go while the dress is being made. Is that doable?”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“At least a month or so. Maybe longer. But we need to get the ball rolling. Let's just say one week from today at noon for the consult, shall we? Does that work for you?”

“Well, I'll do my best—”

“Great. We look forward to getting to know you and making the dress for your big day.”

She ended the call in a hurry, but I was grateful for the reprieve. I needed time to think. To plan. To get my heart beating normally again.

For a good ten minutes after the call ended, I stared at the phone in total silence. Maybe I'd just dreamed this whole thing. Surely I hadn't won the contest.

I headed to the stockroom at the back of our store and began pacing, my emotions shifting from disbelief to an undeniable sense of excitement. Surely God had just opened a door for me. This was all a sign that Casey was going to pop the question. Hopefully soon.

My roller coaster of emotions continued as I began to pray
about all of this, thanking God from the bottom of my heart for giving me such an amazing opportunity. Then I lit into one of my favorite worship songs, which must've alerted my father. He stuck his head in the door, eyes wide.

“Someone having a church service in here?”

“Yep. Just having a little praise and worship.”

“Next time invite me to join you. Mama says I have the best baritone voice in town.” He lit into an off-key rendition of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” and I giggled as he disappeared back out into the store.

After a while I calmed down a bit. I couldn't share my news with Pop, but I did feel the need to tell someone. Only one person made sense. I picked up my cell phone and pushed the button to call Lori-Lou.

After three rings I half expected it to go to voicemail, but she answered, breathless. “Katie? That you?”

“Yes. I have such exciting news. I—”

“I'm in the bathroom. Hiding. From the kids.”

“W-what?”

“It's the only privacy I can get around here. Hold on a minute. One of the girls is beating on the door.” Her voice grew shriller as she hollered out, “Mariela, if you bang on that door one more time, so help me, you're going to be grounded from now until you leave for college.” The noise level escalated and then she returned. “Okay, what were you saying?”

I could barely remember. The image of her hiding in the bathroom served as a deterrent and affected my ability to think clearly for a moment. “Girl, you're not going to believe the call I just got.”

“Ooh, tell me!”

I'd just started to when I heard a loud flush, followed by water running. “Speak up, Katie. It's loud on this end.”

Ew.

“I won the dress!” A nervous laugh surfaced, though I tried to press it down.

“I'm sorry, what did you say? The water was running. I thought you said you won the dress.”

“I did! I won the dress!”

The squeal from her end of the line nearly deafened me. I had to move the phone away from my ear.

“Oh, Katie, that's the best news ever!” She lit into a lengthy conversation about the style of the gown, asking me a thousand questions along the way. Finally she paused. “So, um, I hate to bring up the obvious, but does this bride have a groom yet?”

“Well, not officially, but I'm 99 percent sure Casey's going to pop the question soon. He's been back and forth, going out of town and then returning. The boy has a ring in his pocket. I know he does. He even asked me some weird questions the other day about the cost of apartments. Isn't that odd?”

“Perfect sign. Well, hurry him along. You know those people at the bridal shop are going to be asking a lot of questions.”

“They already are. But just so you know, no one else has a clue about any of this. Not my family. Not anyone. I mean, Queenie knows that I'm hoping for a proposal, but she . . .” I hesitated, unsure of how much to share with Lori-Lou. “She wants me to be 100 percent sure. She doesn't want me to jump into something.”

“Jump into it?” Lori-Lou laughed. “How many years have you and Casey been dating again? A dozen?”

“No. I'm only twenty-four. That would mean we started dating at age twelve. We only made it official when we were seventeen.”

“Well, that's almost eight years, girl. Besides, you've known him since you were twelve. No one will think you're jumping
into anything. Besides, someone needs to make a move. The people at Cosmopolitan Bridal are going to announce it to the world in just a few months, Katie Sue.”

“Trust me when I say that no one in my inner circle reads
Texas Bride
, so I think we're safe there. And other than you, I don't have any friends or family in the Dallas area, so no one will hear those radio announcements anyway.”

“Wait . . . doesn't Queenie have a sister who lives here?”

Ack. I'd almost forgotten about Alva—the family's black sheep.

“Well, yes. Alva's there. But what are the chances she would find out and say something to Queenie? They don't even speak.”

“True, that.” A shriek followed. “Mariela! How did you get that door unlocked? Mama needs her privacy!” This escalated into an argument between mother and daughter. I could tell I'd lost my cousin altogether, so I said my goodbyes.

After I ended the call with Lori-Lou, I went back to work on the summer window display and pondered my situation with Casey. He needed to know about the dress. If I showed up at the bridal shop next Monday without an engagement ring, I'd have a tough time answering questions about how my wonderful fiancé had proposed, now wouldn't I?

I had to talk to Casey about our future together as a couple. And I had to somehow get him to pop the question.