A Family For Tory And A Mother For Cindy. Margaret Daley

Slade were the only two who existed. Earlier that day in her church she’d married him for better or worse, forever. She was now part of Slade and Mindy’s family. The implication of what had transpired made her falter as she walked toward her husband. Doubts took hold of her heart and squeezed. Had she done the right thing for everyone?

      Slade took her trembling hand and clasped it, conveying his support in his gaze and touch. “Is your mother all right?”

      “She says yes, but I think she’s overdone it. She’ll be the last person to complain if she isn’t feeling well.”

      “Are you two ready to cut the cake?” Aunt Maude asked, snatching the knife off the table and presenting it to Tory.

      She grasped it with Slade’s hand over hers. The warmth in his palm seared into her. For a second she felt branded, panic swimming toward the surface. She shoved it back down and smiled for the photographer.

      Slicing the knife into the bottom layer of the two-tiered carrot cake, her favorite, she prepared the first piece to feed Slade. Her fingers quivered as she lifted the cake to his mouth. His lips closed over the dessert, nipping the tips of her fingers. A tingling awareness chilled her. Dropping her hand away, she entwined her fingers, trying not to shake.

      Slade’s eyes sparkled like blue fire as he brought her morsel toward her. When she opened her mouth, his finger grazed her bottom lip, again sending a current of sensations zipping through her. She swallowed too soon and nearly choked. Coughing, tears springing to her eyes, she desperately tried to draw air into her lungs and couldn’t quite succeed.

      Slade patted her on her back. “Tory, are you okay?”

      Finally taking a shallow breath, she nodded, unable to speak.

      Slade gave her a glass of water that Aunt Maude handed him. Concern etched his features and gave him an endearing appeal.

      “It—went down—the wrong way,” Tory said.

      “When you told me your favorite cake was carrot, I didn’t realize you would try to inhale your piece. There will be plenty left for you, I promise.”

      Tory laughed, all tension fleeing. Slade made her laugh. Slade cared about her. Slade was a loving father. Those were three things she needed to remember as they learned to live together.

      “Toast. Toast,” Brad, her brother-in-law, called out.

      Aunt Maude thrust a glass of lemonade into each of their hands.

      Slade faced Tory and lifted his high, his gaze connected to hers. “To a wonderful woman who has opened her home and heart to my family.”

      The sweet words washed over her in warming waves. Her mind went blank as she took a sip of her drink. Then it was her turn and still she didn’t know how to express her churning emotions. The crowd fell silent, every pair of eyes on her.

      She ran her tongue over her dry lips and said, “To a man any woman would be lucky to have as a husband.”

      “Hear, hear,” someone shouted from the back.

      Heat flamed her cheeks as she sipped some more of her lemonade, soothing her parched throat. Tory moved away from the table to allow Aunt Maude and Judy to cut the rest of the cake and pass it out to the guests.

      “How are you holding up?” Slade asked, leaning close to her ear.

      His whispered words feathered the nape of her neck and sent a cascade of goose bumps down her spine. She shivered, again a mass of jittery nerves. “Fine. I will say the past few weeks have been a whirlwind, but the ranch looks nice. And all thanks to you.”

      “This is my home now. We are partners.”

      His gaze robbed her of rational thought. She felt lost in the swirling blue depths as though she were drowning in a lake, a whirlpool dragging her under for the third time. “Yes,” she managed to say even though her mouth felt dry as an August day in Oklahoma.

      “How’s Gus working out?”

      Tory spied the old man talking to her father and grinned. “He has been a blessing. He may be sixty-eight, but he works like he’s years younger. And he knows his way around horses.”

      “Mindy has taken a liking to him.”

      “If I’m busy with book work, she’s out helping him. He’s good with her.”

      Slade took her hand and brought it up between them, his gaze fastened to hers. “You’re good with her.”

      There was little more than a few inches separating them and Tory should have been afraid. Always before when a man got too close, all her alarm bells rang and sent her flying back. But slowly Slade had insinuated himself into her life until she wasn’t scared of his nearness. She even enjoyed his touches. Maybe everything would work out. Hope planted itself in her heart. She wanted her life back. Like Mindy, she was struggling for normalcy.

      “Time for you to throw the bouquet.”

      Her sister’s words broke the spell Slade had woven about her. Tory stepped back, her hands dropping away from his. And for a few seconds she felt deprived.

      “I’ve got all the single women lined up below the deck. All you have to do is toss it into the crowd.”

      “Crowd?” Tory spied the three women by the deck. One was eighteen, another in her thirties and the last in her seventies.

      “I can’t help it that you know mostly married women. I thought about having Mindy and Ashley join the group, but I don’t think either Slade nor I want to deal with two young girls dreaming of getting married just yet.”

      “You’ve got that right,” Slade said with a chuckle.

      “So it’s our cousin and two ladies from your church.” Judy pushed the bouquet of white roses into Tory’s hand.

      Tory felt all eyes on her as she strode to the steps that led to the back deck. Perspiration popped out on her forehead. She didn’t like being the center of attention, but the day of the wedding the bride always was. She should have eloped. Of course, then her family would never have forgiven her and she suspected Mindy wouldn’t have been happy, either. The little girl had been all smiles as she walked down the aisle to the altar earlier that day.

      With her back to her guests, Tory tossed the bouquet over her head, then spun about to see Mrs. Seitz nearly shove her eighteen-year-old cousin out of the way to grab the flowers. The seventy-year-old proudly waved the bouquet in the air, catching sight of Mr. Weaver by the punch bowl. He colored a deep red.

      After that the guests started to leave, surrounding Tory and Slade to say their goodbyes. Slade by her side felt right. Maybe this could work. Please, Lord, give me the strength to do what I need to be a good wife and mother.

      The bellow of a bullfrog and the occasional neigh from a horse in the paddock vied with the chorus of insects. The nearly full moon lit the darkness, creating shadows that danced in the warm breeze. Tory, dressed now in shorts and a T-shirt, sat on the porch swing with her legs drawn up and her arms clasping them to her chest. Resting her head on her knees, she listened to the night sounds and thought back over her wedding day.

      She was no longer Tory Alexander, but Tory Donaldson. That realization produced a constriction in her chest. She was responsible for more than herself now. Her arms around her legs tightened. Everyone was gone, even her family who were staying at a motel in town and Slade’s brother. It was just Mindy, Slade and her. She no longer heard nature’s background noise. The lack of voices isolated her, sharpening her senses.

      She knew Slade was there before she saw him standing by the steps. She’d heard the soft shuffle of his feet moving across the yard; she’d thought she’d smelled his lime-scented aftershave wafting to her. Lifting her head, she asked, “Did you find it?”

      Slade produced the stuffed pony. “By the swing set.”

      “Good. I know how important favorite toys are.”