Runaway Bridesmaid. Karen Templeton

been here when the pups were born.”

      “It was two in the morning, baby. And Mama dog did it all by herself. I was just here for decoration.” Sarah traded pups. “Now, sheep, on the other hand, don’t even know which end the lamb’s supposed to come out of.” She thought of last March when she and Doc helped George Plunkett and his pubescent son Joshua usher two dozen new lambs into the world, and yawned automatically. “Except they always decide to do it when it’s raining and dark.”

      “Well,” Katey announced, unperturbed, “when I’m a vet, those dumb sheep will just have to have their babies when I’m on duty.”

      Sarah regarded the little girl with a wry smile. Knowing Katey, she probably would get the dumb sheep to birth during office hours.

      “So…still wanna be a vet?” She touched her forehead to Katey’s. “You didn’t seem real interested this morning at the clinic.”

      Katey squirmed, her dark brows dipping. “Well…” Sarah could almost hear the child’s brain fast-forwarding through several dozen possible answers. Then the little face relaxed into a grin as she let a puppy sniff her fingers. “I’m just a kid. I’ve got a short attention span.”

      Sarah let out a laugh, then hugged the little girl to her. No matter what, this precocious little girl never failed to make her smile. Even more than the pups. “You’ve never been ‘just’ a kid, you know that? Even when you were a baby, you always wore this funny, grown-up expression.”

      “I did?”

      “Uh-huh.” Sarah pretended to shudder and Katey giggled. “It was freak-y, too, having this little tiny baby look at you with this serious face all the time—”

      “Sarah Louise?” The lights flickered in the kennel as her mother’s low voice, easily overriding the next wave of thunder, filled the old barn.

      “In with Mariah, Mama.”

      “Katey with you?”

      “Yes, Mama,” Katey piped up.

      Clad in her usual attire of oversize man-tailored shirt and jeans, the full-figured woman now blocked most of the light coming into the stall. Vivian never had lost the weight from the last pregnancy. Not that she seemed to care.

      Vivian settled what was supposed to be a stern gaze on the little girl. “I believe there’s something you’re supposed to be doing, young lady?”

      The child looked from one woman to the other, then let out an affronted sigh. “Yes, Mama,” she muttered, getting to her feet. Wiping her hands on the already filthy seat of raspberry-colored shorts, Katey unlatched the gate and let herself out of the pen, stoically allowing Vivian to plant a kiss on the top of her glimmering chestnut head as she passed. Size two sneakers ground emphatic squeaks into the smooth cement floor as the child retreated.

      Vivian joined Sarah in the cage, huffing a little as she lowered her ample form to the floor, then patted Sarah’s knee. “You okay?”

      Sarah cuddled the tiny dog to her chest. “The pups needed to be checked.”

      That got a snort as Vivian tucked a stray hank of silver-streaked, ash-brown hair back up into a loose bun at the back of her head. “Chicken.”

      “Damn straight,” Sarah shot back with an attempt at a grin, then averted her face when her mother tried to look her in the eye.

      “You’ve been crying.”

      “What gave you your first clue?”

      “Puffy eyes, blotchy face, swollen lips—take your pick.”

      With a huge sigh, Sarah said, “I saw him.”

      “Yeah. I know.”

      Sarah leaned her head back against the whitewashed partition of the pen with a soft thud. “Could you just tell everyone I tripped and drowned in a mud puddle or something?”

      Vivian grunted in what Sarah assumed was sympathy. “Now, baby, you knew he’d come back some day.” A beat. “And you knew what that meant.”

      Sarah pulled her head forward, concentrating on the writhing mass of pups in front of them. “I just thought for some reason I’d have a little more time to prepare myself.”

      “Hah! Bad news never seems to be terribly interested in giving much warning.” Vivian shifted her weight with a soft wince. “What’re you going to do?”

      With a sigh, Sarah leaned her head back again and shut her eyes, the puppy snuffling the hollow of her throat with whiskers soft as the inside of a daisy. “Kinda liked the mud puddle idea, myself.”

      “You could tell him.”

      Sarah opened one eye and tilted her head just far enough to see the side of her mother’s face, sternly refusing to allow one more emotion into her already overcrowded brain. That didn’t stop her face from flushing, however. “Tell him what, exactly?”

      The puppies’ mewling filled the silence as Vivian seemed to consider her answer. “You still being sweet on him might be a good place to start.”

      The two women regarded each other for a moment, then Sarah looked away. “And what makes you think that?”

      “I’m psychic.”

      Sarah swallowed past the knot of anger in her throat, then said quietly, “Dean Parrish chewed up my heart and spit it out in little pieces all over Lee County.” Frowning, she shut her eyes and rocked her head from side to side against the wall. “I don’t deserve that.”

      “That’s right.”

      Sarah’s mouth pulled into a straight line as her voice dropped an octave. “And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve me.” She let out a long sigh. “You were right, you know. Back then. About our not being suited for the long haul.”

      Vivian picked something off her jeans. “Maybe…he’s changed.”

      “Yeah, and maybe Auburn’ll get a major league football franchise next year.” Sarah shook her head, finally opening her eyes, regarding nothing in particular. “You didn’t see the look on his face, the night he broke up with me.” She carefully placed the pup back with its siblings.

      They sat in silence again for a full minute, Sarah fully aware if her mother touched her she’d start bawling all over again. Except what she did was far worse. “The question is, what did you see in his face today?”

      Sarah turned away, determined to hold it together, determined not to be the pawn in whatever game her mother now seemed so determined to play.

      “Honey, all you can do is take this one step at a time—”

      “What’s done is done, Mama,” she said sharply. “There’s no going back.”

      After a long moment, Vivian gently bumped shoulders with her daughter. A conciliatory gesture, Sarah figured. “How you handle this is up to you,” she said softly. “And it’s just one week. Dinner tonight, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding. That’s all. Think you can manage that?”

      Just one week. Right. With a toss of her head, Sarah said on an exhaled breath, “Doesn’t look like I’ve got a whole lot of choice in the matter, does it?” She stood, then held out a hand to help up her mother, the one person who, no matter what, had been there for her, had helped her through the most painful period of her life. And who, Sarah knew, felt more than bad about her part in creating the situation now facing all of them.

      “There are always choices,” Vivian said with a grunt as she struggled to her feet. No longer taller than her daughter, her eyes met Sarah’s dead on. “Always.” She shrugged and draped an arm around Sarah’s shoulder as a teeth-rattling thunderclap ripped open the clouds at last, letting loose a barrage of stone-hard raindrops onto the tin roof overhead.

      “Like now,” her mother shouted as they stood at the barn door