In Name Only. Peggy Moreland
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as she studied the tiny chapel tucked against the side of the hotel. Red neon lights flashed on and off beneath an oversize set of plaster wedding bells draped with satin-like ribbon painted a garish silver. The blinking sign promised a drive-through wedding ceremony for under twenty-five dollars. “This one is just too…too…”
“Tacky?” Troy offered helpfully.
“Yes,” she replied, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Much too tacky.”
It was the fourth chapel Troy had driven by and the fourth Shelby had eliminated, for one reason or another. Personally, he thought the Elvis wedding might have been kind of fun, definitely something to tell the guys about later, but she had nixed that one with barely a glance.
Wearily he plucked another brochure from the pile littering the console. “How about this one?” he asked, holding the brochure out for her inspection. “The Little Church of the West. The name has a nice ring to it, plus it actually looks like a real church. See?”
Shelby studied the photo he indicated and the creases on her forehead slowly smoothed. “That’s it,” she said, then tipped her face up to Troy’s, her smile radiant. “That’s the one.”
“You sure?” he asked uncertainly.
“Positive,” she said, and took the brochure from his hand. “And it isn’t too far,” she added, studying the map. She lifted a hand and pointed a finger. “Three blocks ahead, near the end of the strip. The chapel should be right there.”
Troy stood back while Shelby talked to the receptionist, his cowboy hat clasped between his wide hands, feeling much like what he thought a corpse might feel—if they could feel anything—while waiting for their casket to be selected.
“And which package would you like?” the receptionist asked, turning a colorfully printed brochure around on the desk for Shelby’s inspection. “A custom package? Or perhaps our luxury package?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Shelby replied uncertainly, and turned to give Troy a helpless look. He arched a brow and lifted a shoulder, letting her know the decision was hers to make. “Just the basic one, I guess,” she said, turning back to the woman.
“We offer several services and items for our guests’ convenience. Surely you’d like to have a video recording of your ceremony to share with your family back home?”
“Oh, no,” Shelby said with a quick shake of her head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“How about photographs, then? We have a professional photographer on hand who takes wonderful pictures. I’m sure you’ll want a set to commemorate the event.”
“No,” Shelby said slowly, and Troy thought he heard tears in her voice. “I…I don’t think so.”
“Flowers?” the receptionist offered, peeking around Shelby to peer at Troy, her arched eyebrows indicating that she considered him to be the ultimate tightwad.
“N-no. Just—”
Troy saw Shelby’s chin begin to quiver and knew he hadn’t been mistaken. She was definitely about to turn on the waterworks, which didn’t surprise him. He was amazed she’d made it this far without falling apart. A woman like her had probably dreamed for years about her wedding day…and, more than likely, those dreams had never included a late-night drive to Las Vegas in a one-ton dually with some old cowboy she’d picked up at a truck stop.
And the receptionist wasn’t helping things a bit with her unending questions and suggestions. Though he realized that the woman had no clue about the circumstances behind this trumped-up marriage, he’d like nothing better than to wring her pretty neck for reminding Shelby of what all a wedding ceremony should consist of.
Feeling the need to intercede and spare Shelby any more anguish, he slipped between her and the receptionist and caught Shelby by the elbows, gently squeezing and forcing her gaze to his. “Why don’t you wait out in the truck?” he suggested quietly. “I’ll take care of the arrangements.”
Shelby nodded tearfully and turned away, pressing her fingers against her lips.
Troy waited until the door closed behind her, then dropped his hat on the desk and planted his wide hands on either side of it. He scowled down at the woman opposite him.
“We just want to get married, okay?” he said, struggling to remain calm. “Just the basics. A preacher, a little organ music and a witness to sign the certificate once we’re done. Think you can handle that?”
“Well, of course,” the woman replied in surprise. “We can provide any type of ceremony you wish.”
He straightened, dragging his hat from the desk and clamped it down over his head. “Good. ’Cause that lady waiting out in the truck is going to have a baby in a few months, and I’d like to think we can pull this wedding off before the kid hits the ground.”
The woman’s jaw dropped open, then closed with a click. She tore her gaze from his and opened a book. “W-we have an opening at ten this morning,” she stammered, obviously flustered. “Would that fit in with your schedule?”
Troy flexed his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. “Yeah. That’d be just dandy.” He turned for the door, then stopped, paused a second, then glanced back. “And fix up a bouquet, would you? One with yellow rose buds. And throw in the cost of the photographer, too. Nothing fancy. Just a couple of shots.”
Whether Shelby considered herself a real bride, or not, Troy told himself as he pushed his way through the door, she deserved flowers, even if her wedding was nothing but a sham. And he would need the pictures as proof this wedding had taken place, because he had a feeling that without them his buddies, Pete and Clayton, would never believe him when he told them he’d taken a detour off the rodeo circuit to marry a pregnant preacher’s daughter in Las Vegas.
The line at the courthouse was longer than Troy had expected, and it took almost two hours for him and Shelby to acquire the paperwork required for a marriage in the state of Nevada.
Though he was sure his bride-to-be needed some time to compose herself before she was forced to lie, by pledging to love and honor a complete stranger for the rest of her life, Troy didn’t have it to give her. As it was, they arrived back at the chapel with only seconds to spare.
The ceremony itself was pretty much a blur to Troy. He remembered standing at the altar, waiting while Shelby walked down the aisle, her steps slow and careful, in perfect rhythm with the traditional wedding march played by the organist he’d requested. He remembered seeing her white-knuckled fingers clasped around the bouquet of tiny yellow rose buds, and the shiny satin ribbons that had cascaded from it brushing against her knees with each slow step. He remembered her turning, once she’d reached the altar, and looking up at him.
But it was at that point that his memory failed. When she’d lifted those wide blue eyes up to his, eyes that glistened with unshed tears, eyes filled with so much innocence, so much trust…well, the sight had rendered him speechless. He was sure he must have repeated the vows the preacher had fed to him, but he didn’t remember saying them, or even what they were. All he could remember were Shelby’s eyes.
And something told him that those eyes, and the woman who possessed them, would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Troy pulled his truck into the alleyway, following the red taillights of Shelby’s car. When she stopped, he did, too, then shut off the ignition and set the brake. Sighing wearily, he dragged a hand down his face before he opened the door and slid to the ground. He hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours, and the lack of rest was beginning to take its toll.
The long drive to Las Vegas. The return trip to Kingman, Arizona, where they’d retrieved Shelby’s car from the truck stop where they’d met. The drive to Dunning, New Mexico, with her in the lead, guiding him back to her hometown. And few, very few, stops in between.
He glanced up, noticing the hesitancy with which she approached him. But he understood her