Walls of Jericho. Lynn Bulock
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it made Claire want to squirm slightly, combined with the way he was still admiring her.
“Try about ten pounds less inside the dress,” Laurel piped up from across the room. “Or does it take another woman to recognize that?”
Ben shrugged. “Whatever. It looks great, Claire. Want me to holler at the guys to get them down here?”
“Only if I get to cover my ears first,” Laurel told him. “I remember your hollering, Ben Jericho. And it could shatter glass.”
Claire braced herself for the ruckus she knew would erupt when Ben called the troops. At least this way they’d get to church on time.
Thirty minutes later everybody had made it the half block to church. With a minimum of fuss, they were all seated in the front pew, on the groom’s side. As the organ music played and the minister spoke, Claire sat and helped her sister work through a whole purse-size package of tissues. “This is silly,” she whispered as they stood for prayers. “I couldn’t be happier.”
It was a gorgeous June day. Sun streamed in the stained glass windows like a blessing, and the church was filled. Everything was going just right. But she was still crying. At least she wasn’t alone. She could hear sniffling down the aisles behind her. Weddings just seemed to naturally do that to people. Women, at least.
“Me, too. We just show it oddly, I guess,” Laurel said wryly. “The wonders of waterproof mascara.” She fished another tissue out of the package and dabbed at her eyes. “Daddy looks so happy.”
“He really does. I didn’t think this would ever happen.” Claire watched her father, beaming as he faced Gloria at the altar. It was amazing to Claire that after nearly a decade of being on his own, Hank had found someone to share his life with again.
He’d grieved long and hard after her mom had died from cancer. Who could have imagined that at sixty-one he’d be a bridegroom again? But it felt so right. Gloria was such a sweetheart. And she was so thrilled to have “lots of girls,” as she put it. Claire could understand that. It was nice having another female around the house this weekend, even if it was her big sister, and only for a few days.
The couple looked more than happy. Hank still cut a dashing figure in a tuxedo. But then, he even looked good in his usual sheriff’s uniform. And Claire had never seen Gloria look anything less than perfect, even when she was tending to her grandchildren. The pearl-gray suit she wore now fit her to perfection, and her wrist corsage of roses and baby orchids was luscious.
There was a shifting down the row, and Claire started to turn her head to see what her awful boys were getting up to. Laurel put a hand on top of hers. “Don’t look. You really don’t want to. I know that between yours and mine, they’re doing something horrid. Just nudge Ben and have him take care of it.”
That brought a smile to Claire’s face. Ben handle the disturbance? Her husband was the biggest boy of all. He was probably in on whatever those hooligans down the row were doing. As was their Aunt Carrie, most likely. Her baby sister was never much for either romance or decorum. Even a wedding was not likely to change that. At least they’d talked her into wearing a dress. That sight itself might have set the boys off. They’d probably had no idea Carrie had legs.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give Laurel’s suggestion a try. “Ben?” she called softly. “Sit on whatever those guys are doing, okay?” She reached out to squeeze his arm and get his attention, in case her words hadn’t. Good old solid Ben—her rock since she was no older than her fourteen-year-old nephew Jeremy.
“Right,” Ben whispered back, leaning over her. His lips brushed her ear, making Claire shiver a little. His touch still did that to her after almost twenty years of dating and marriage. Just the solid wall of his arm in that dark suit, the touch of his mouth as he whispered to her, made her spin. She was so fortunate. The tears welled up again, and she grabbed another tissue from Laurel.
“We’re a mess,” her sister muttered. “A happy mess, but we are definitely a mess.”
“It can only get better. I think they’re almost to the end. At least we won’t cry during the reception.”
They didn’t, because there was just too much going on all at once. The huge hall beneath the church was packed with people. Her father had insisted that they were not going to do a sit-down dinner and band and all the trimmings. “We know too many people who want to be here,” he’d told the girls. “Nobody would have room to dance.”
Claire had felt like arguing at the time, but her dad was right. The hall held several hundred people without a problem, and it was filled to capacity. Everybody in Friedens seemed to be here to wish Hank and Gloria well.
When Claire thought about it, that didn’t surprise her. Gloria had been the leading Realtor in town about as long as her dad had been sheriff. Between them, it would be hard to find a family within twenty miles whose lives hadn’t been touched by the people standing near the front table, smiling at each other.
Had she and Ben looked that happy nearly sixteen years ago? Of course they had, Claire told herself. But then, at the time she was all of eighteen, and Ben not quite twenty. They were too young and stupid to be anything but happy.
Not stupid, really, she mused. But they hadn’t had any idea what they were up against—unlike Hank and Gloria, who’d been married before, raised children and each lost a spouse. Still, they looked radiant. Claire was filled with the impulse to go over and hug her dad, to tell him how happy he looked.
Not that he’d take well to a hug in public, even now. But she could get away with it here. As she crossed the floor toward Hank, she looked around to see where the boys had gotten to. Kyle must have seen her searching, because he bounded up to her.
At least he’d looked presentable during the wedding. The eleven-year-old was actually wearing a white shirt and tie, although the tie was drooping now and the top collar button was undone.
“Hey, Mom. You never told me Aunt Carrie could burp the alphabet.”
Claire couldn’t help shaking her head. “It just never occurred to me, Kyle. It’s not a talent that gets much use, even for Carrie. Tell me she’s not doing that for you guys here. Is she?”
“Not exactly. But she can spell words. Jeremy still has her beat on sound volume, anyway.”
There was that familiar dimple beside his grin. It looked just as appealing on her blond son as it did on her dark-haired husband.
“Which has more bubbles?” he asked. “Fountain soda or cans?”
“Cans. Don’t shake them and don’t join the contest, understood?” She ran a hand through his hair, only to have him pull back.
“Gel, remember?”
Of course. Trent and Jeremy had helped him style the unruly mop before the wedding. “Right. Sorry. And I mean it about being good, got it?”
“Got it,” he said over his shoulder, heading over to join the beverage line and get his can of something extremely bubbly.
Maybe she should hunt down the boys and Carrie, and settle them down. Shaking her head again, Claire sought her father, instead.
“Sorry you didn’t have a band?” she asked him, giving him a quick hug. She was surprised when he answered her with a hearty squeeze right there in the middle of the church hall. If this was what marriage did for her usually reticent father, she liked it.
“A little bit. It would be fun dancing with Gloria. But then I’d get roped into dancing with all you girls, and two dozen ladies with blue hair, and I’m just as glad not to have to do that.”
“I imagine.” Claire looked over at Gloria, who had her granddaughter Mikayla on her hip and was straightening the stretchy headband in the child’s fluffy pale hair. “So, are you two going to sneak out soon?”
Hank shrugged. “Don’t see how we can for a while. I’m just glad we decided to go off