Back on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

Twenty-four hours—actually, less than that—she could handle. The wedding was scheduled for five o’clock in the afternoon, followed by a dinner and reception at the country club. Jordan already had reservations at a hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, for their honeymoon. If enduring a formal wedding meant she’d be Jordan’s wife at the end of that day, then she’d do it without another word of complaint.

      “I know this isn’t your kind of thing,” Jordan said, kissing the top of her wet head. “The truth is, all I care about is being married to you.”

      “Really?”

      He smiled. “Really.”

      “Then why don’t we just get married by ourselves and tell everyone after the fact?” Even as she said it, Alix knew that would never happen.

      “We can’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry. My mother would feel we’d cheated her and … there’d be talk.”

      “Talk,” she repeated, her voice numb.

      “I work in a church,” he reminded her unnecessarily. “Eloping isn’t a good example to pass along to the kids in the congregation. You might not realize it, but they watch everything we say and do.”

      This wasn’t news to Alix, since she was well aware of how the teens looked up to Jordan and consequently, to her. She remembered the first time she’d seen Jordan with a group of church kids at a local skating rink. He’d made her think of the Pied Piper leading children through the town. Those kids thought the world of him; they idolized him and had sent frequent glances her way, apparently shocked that he was associated with her. They weren’t the only ones.

      It’d taken Alix a long time to believe that Jordan loved her. Even now, she wasn’t sure what had attracted him to her. Whatever it was, she felt deeply grateful.

      “It’ll be a small wedding,” Jordan promised.

      She nodded. Her guest list was limited to a few friends, most of whom she’d met through the knitting class. Maybe twenty people.

      “Mom’s putting together her list this week.”

      At the mention of his mother, Alix tensed. She liked Jordan’s mother but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a disappointment to Susan Turner. In truth, Alix didn’t blame her and was determined to do whatever she could to make this relationship a successful one.

      She derived some comfort from knowing that Jacqueline hadn’t liked her daughter-in-law in the beginning, either. Jacqueline couldn’t understand why Paul, their only son, would marry someone like Tammie Lee, whose southern background was so dissimilar to his own.

      If Alix recalled correctly, Jacqueline had had another woman in mind for Paul. Tammie Lee had persevered, though, and eventually her kindness and charm had won Jacqueline over. By the time her first grandchild was born, Jacqueline had wholeheartedly accepted Tammie Lee. Now they were as close as … well, family. And Alix considered Tammie Lee one of her best friends.

      Susan Turner might well have another woman in mind for her youngest son, too. If so, Jordan had never mentioned anyone. One Sunday, three years ago, Alix had slipped into the back of the church without Jordan’s knowledge. As part of the service he’d sung a duet with a beautiful blonde—who’d turned out to be his cousin. But seeing him with someone else, even in church, had infuriated Alix. Jordan had been equally upset with her for jumping to conclusions. He was right. Not once in all the time they’d dated had Jordan given her reason to suspect he was interested in anyone else.

      That didn’t mean his mother shared his certainty about Alix, though. Still, Susan had always been polite, if a bit cool. Jordan got along exceptionally well with his parents, and the last thing Alix wanted to do was mess that up for him.

      “You need something to take your mind off all this wedding business,” Jordan said.

      “Like what?” She was eager to do anything that would help her get through the next few months.

      “What about another knitting class?”

      Alix bit her lip as she considered the idea. She nodded slowly. “Lydia was in the other day and we chatted for a few minutes. She’s always got classes going and she’s starting a new one for a prayer shawl.”

      “What a great idea.”

      “Who would I give it to, though?” Alix asked.

      “What about my grandmother Turner?”

      Alix knew immediately that this was the perfect suggestion. She’d met his grandmother for the first time over the Christmas holidays, shortly after Jordan had given her the engagement ring, and had felt an instant connection with the old woman. They’d talked for hours, finding that their views were surprisingly alike and laughing at the same corny jokes. Although well into her eighties, Grandma lived on her own and still managed to keep a large flower garden. Alix had called Grandma Turner several times since and been out to see her last month with Jordan.

      “I’ll sign up for the class after work,” Alix told him.

      “Good.” He sighed, as though relieved the matter was settled.

      Alix leaned into Jordan and kissed him again. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated the fact that he’d come after her. She’d left before he’d begun to really listen to her. Before he’d taken her doubts and fears about this wedding seriously. But he was listening now.

      She must have put a bit more emotion into the kiss than she’d realized because Jordan was breathing hard when they broke apart. He cleared his throat. “That was nice.”

      “Yeah,” she agreed in a soft voice. “It was.”

      Jordan pulled her back into his arms. “June can’t get here too soon as far as I’m concerned.”

      “I second that,” Alix said with a laugh.

      CHAPTER

      3

       Colette Blake

      Colette suspected that Margaret from the yarn store had never meant for her to hear that comment. The truth was, she was running away; she was hiding … from Christian Dempsey, from her past and—mostly—from herself. Colette had been halfway up the stairs when Margaret’s words hit her square in the back and now, a week later, those words continued to sting. She felt an overwhelming urge to explain, but she resisted. How could she tell these two women she’d been a widow for a year but was two months pregnant? Life was full of ironies, to say the least. Bitter ironies …

      For three years she and Derek had tried to have a baby with no success. Then … one slip. A one-night stand, and here she was, carrying the child of a man she’d hoped never to see again. The very thought of Christian Dempsey filled her with dread. How could she have worked as his personal assistant for five years and been so naively unaware of the kind of man he was? Losing Derek, her shocking discovery about Christian and now this unexpected pregnancy—it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of emotional collapse.

      Memories of her dead husband always brought her a pang of loss. It shouldn’t hurt this much after a full year and yet it did. His death made no sense to her. Her guilt over the fight they’d had just before his accident, another fight about their fertility problems, didn’t help. Nevertheless, her husband was dead, and she had to deal with that reality. She hated it. She hated every minute of life without Derek.

      It was so stupid that he’d died. So incredibly stupid. For the first few weeks, her anger at the unfairness of it had consumed her. Derek should never have gotten up on that roof in the first place. All it would’ve taken was a simple phone call, and a professional repairman could’ve come out to take care of the leak. Derek had no business even attempting it. However, he’d said that any delay would cause more damage and claimed the job was a “no-brainer.” Before she could stop him, he had the ladder up against the side of the house and a tool belt slung around his waist. This was his opportunity to use the tools he’d gotten for Christmas; she wondered