Kiss the Bride (24 page)

“I'll get the rest of these dishes,” Grant said to Rand.

When he arrived at the doorway, he paused to look at the two women, mother and daughter, as they worked. It reminded him of home and his mom and sisters.

“I can hardly wait to meet Grant's family,” Skye was saying. “Especially his mother. She raised ten kids, Mom. Ten. She must be full of advice, and I plan to ask her all kinds of questions when we get to meet. You know how I've always dreamed of having a big family like the one Grant grew up in. Oh, Mom. I can hardly wait until we have babies of our own. We'll have a big old house with a rope swing in the tree in the backyard and ponies for the kids to ride when they're little.”

Grant went cold all over. He knew Skye and her mother continued to talk, but their voices were more like a buzz in his ears now.

He and Skye had crammed a lot of information, questions, and answers into the short time they'd known each other. Whenever together, they'd talked. About everything. How was it possible she'd never said anything about wanting
a big family like his? Never a clue that she was eager to add to the overpopulation of the world. But then, he couldn't lay the blame at her feet. He should have made his own sentiments clear when he proposed. Or better yet, before he proposed. Why hadn't he thought to tell her how he felt about it?

A sick knot formed in his gut.

Midge Foster caught sight of him in the doorway. “Oh, thank you, Grant. That was nice of you to bring those to us.”

Feeling stiff, he moved forward and set the dishes on the counter next to the sink.

As he turned, Skye touched the back of one of his hands with her fingertips. “I'll help Mom clean up, and then we can go.”

He nodded.

To her mom, Skye said, “We're going to call Grant's parents with the news after we leave here.”

“Grant, I look forward to meeting your parents. I hope your whole family can come down for the wedding.”

The whole family. Thirty-two of them, counting spouses. Where would they all stay if they did come? Kings Meadow didn't have a motel. Only a bed-and-breakfast that had three available bedrooms. He knew because that's where he'd stayed upon his arrival in town.

His head began to throb.

Maybe he hadn't prayed about this marriage idea enough. Maybe he hadn't heard God's answer after all. He'd given Rand Foster his word that he would take care of Skye, that he would make her happy. They weren't even wed yet—not even home yet—and he was about to break that promise.

Tension emanated from Grant. Almost like a third entity in the Jeep.

When Skye dared to glance at him, his eyes were locked on the street ahead, his mouth set in a hard line. His hands gripped the steering wheel as if he might try to break it in two.

Something had gone awry, and she didn't know what. There had been joy and laughter at her parents' home throughout the dinner. Announcing their engagement plans had gone even better than she'd hoped it would. But something had changed before they left the house.

She didn't have the courage to ask Grant about it. She would have to wait until he told her of his own accord.

However long that'll be.

As soon as the Jeep stopped in her driveway, Skye opened the passenger door before Grant, per usual, could come around and open it for her. His tension had become her tension, and she couldn't stand to wait for him. Wordlessly, she led the way up the narrow walk.

“I'll be out in a minute,” she said over her shoulder as she headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, her breath rapid and shallow.
Calm down. You don't know anything's wrong. Not for sure.

He loved her. That was what mattered. That was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

She pushed off the door, stepped over to the mirror above her dresser, and stared at her reflection. Forcing
herself to take a slow, deep breath, then another, she pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

Yes, that was better. Foolish to stand in here, imagining the worst. Better to go out and talk to Grant. That was what people did when they were married. They talked things through. Might as well begin now.

Drawing one more deep breath, she left the bedroom and walked the short hallway to the living room. Grant stood at the window, staring outside, his thumbs tucked into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Are we ready to make that phone call?” she asked, trying to sound normal, not sure she succeeded.

He turned toward her. “We need to talk first.”

Dread became a lump in her chest. “Okay.” She expected him to move to the sofa where they could sit, side by side, as they discussed whatever was on his mind. He didn't. He stayed near the window, the light at his back, casting his face in shadows.

“I heard . . . I heard you talking to your mom. In the kitchen before we left. I heard you say you want a big family. I saw how much joy that idea gave you. You came alive when you talked about it. It was written all over your face.”

She nodded, glad that he understood her so well, still afraid because she didn't know what he would say next.

“Skye, we never talked about kids. I don't think I can give you what you want.”

This time she shook her head, confused.

“I never planned on having kids of my own,” he said softly. “No big family for me. I can't.”

“Can't?” Was there a medical reason? Because if—

“Won't.” The single word dashed her brief hope. “I decided a long time ago. No kids.”

Tears welled, and she rubbed them away. “You decided,” she whispered, the words like a dagger to her chest.

“Maybe I'd better go so you can think about it. So we both can think about it. I'm sorry, Skye. Real sorry. It's just . . . I don't know . . . I just—” He broke off, his frustration obvious, and walked to the door. Without looking back at her, he said, “I'll call you.”

The instant the door closed, she sank to the floor. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she didn't sob. Didn't make a sound. She hadn't the strength for more than one single thought.

So this is what a broken heart feels like.

Grant arranged for time off from both of his jobs and was on
the road to Montana before dawn the next morning. It was a little better than a six-hour drive, taking the route through the mountains and not counting any stops for fuel or food. He pulled into the barnyard of the Nichols family ranch just after one o'clock in the afternoon.

Before he could close the door to his Jeep, his mom was running toward him from the house. “Grant! Grant's here!” she shouted to anyone within hearing distance. In the next instant, she was hugging him. “Oh, son, you're home again. You're home. It's been too long.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Why didn't you let us know you were coming?” she asked as she drew back from him.

“It was a last-minute decision. Spur of the moment.”

His dad appeared out of the barn. A second or two later, Vince came around the corner of the house. More hugs were
exchanged. More questions about his impromptu visit. His answers were evasive, although honest.

He might have fooled his parents as per the nature of his visit, but not his older brother. “Care to tell me what's up?” Vince asked as soon as they were alone in the room they'd shared as boys.

Grant dropped his duffle on the bed. He'd had all those hours of driving to think about what had happened with Skye. Not only what had happened yesterday but from the first moment he'd met her. Thinking hadn't solved the dilemma. Maybe talking about it would. Maybe.

He sat on the bed. “I met a girl,” he began.

After that the words poured out of him. Vince listened, never trying to interrupt. Not even once. He didn't make a sound until Grant ran out of words. All he said then was, “Wow.”

“ ‘Wow'? I was hoping for something more than that.”

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a bonehead. How's that for something more?”

Grant wasn't sure how to respond.

“Look, bro. I know being part of a big family isn't always easy. And being the oldest two kids meant a lot of stuff fell on our shoulders, yours and mine, when we were growing up. But you're no prize, you know. Yeah, you've turned your life around in the last few years. I'm proud of you for it. But you've got more work to do in that head of yours. You think Mom and Dad had too many kids? You think your brothers and sisters all married too young and had their own kids too fast? Who made you the judge?”

Wasn't Vince ever going to draw a breath?

“Maybe you oughta take another look at this family, Grant. Yeah, we're big and noisy. Yeah, at any family gathering there's probably at least one baby crying and another needing a diaper change. But there are also husbands and wives there, supporting each other, loving each other, helping each other. Because of the examples of our parents, we've got strong marriages that we keep working on so that they'll stay strong. And there isn't a single one of your brothers and sisters who wouldn't do just about anything for you if you needed them. If you were in trouble, there'd be an entire tribe coming to your rescue. How many people in this world are lucky enough to say the same?”

Defensive, Grant said, “I never said I didn't love and appreciate my family.”

“Then start taking note of your blessings. And then check with your brain and your heart to see if you even know what you want anymore. Don't stay a bonehead. Grow up!” With those words, Vince strode out of the room.

“What got him so riled?” Grant muttered.

He tried to get angry over his brother's outburst, but he failed. In fact, something in his gut told him they were the words he'd driven all the way from Kings Meadow to hear.

Skye pressed her face against Snickers's neck. She would have wept, but her tears had run dry after four days of doing little else but crying.

Grant's last words to her had been that he would call.

He hadn't called.

He hadn't come to his dance lesson on Monday night.

And yesterday she'd learned from Chet Leonard that Grant had gone to Montana. For a few days? Or for good?

“Skye.”

She gasped softly. Now she was hearing voices. No, now she was hearing
his
voice.

“Skye?”

She spun around, and there he stood—black hat, rumpled cotton shirt tucked into the waistband of his jeans, boots covered in a fine layer of dust.

He took a step forward. “Can we talk?”

“If you want.” She turned toward the gelding and stroked his neck.

“My brother called me a bonehead. He was right. I am one.”

After all the crying she'd done in the past few days, the urge to laugh took her completely by surprise. It even maddened her. She looked over her shoulder and followed him with her eyes as he walked to the opposite side of Snickers.

“I was wrong not to sit down and talk it through, you and me, right then, Sunday night. I panicked, I guess. I love you, but all of a sudden I saw my whole world spiraling out of control.”