The Marriage Bargain. Stephanie Dees
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with love and contentment.
She’d never felt more loved than when she was sitting at that kitchen table, soaking up her mom’s caring attention. She could only hope that Eleanor and Emma would know as much love from her as she’d felt from her own mom.
After following the corridor to the guest room, she pushed open the closet doors and found what she was looking for tucked way in the back of the top shelf. She laid the garment box on the bed and gently removed the lid, barely breathing as she lifted her great-grandmother’s lace veil from the layers of tissue.
When she was a little girl, she’d often imagined wearing this veil on her wedding day, placing it on her head as she did now and turning to admire it in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She stared at her reflection. She’d certainly never imagined wearing it to the county courthouse for a wedding to someone she barely knew.
“Jules?” Her mom appeared in the door to the bedroom. “I saw your car outside. Are you okay?”
She faced her mother, warmth rushing into her cheeks. “I’m fine.”
Bertie walked the few steps across the room and stopped to arrange the veil around her shoulders as Jules turned back to face the mirror. “Is there a reason you came by to try it on today?”
“I’m getting married.” As soon as she said the words, she wanted to take them back. And that should tell her something about the absurdity of what she and Cam were planning to do.
“I see. Someone I know?” Bertie’s expression never changed as she fiddled with the veil.
A giggle bubbled out as Jules turned to face her mom. “Only you would say that. Nothing has ever ruffled you. One of us kids could’ve cut off a limb and you’d say calmly, ‘We’re gonna need some ice on that.’”
“I think you’re exaggerating a little.” Bertie brushed an imaginary speck off Jules’s shoulder.
“I’m marrying Cameron in less than an hour.” Jules searched out her mom’s eyes. By nature, she found excess emotion annoying and rarely useful, but she found herself on edge, in need of a little bit of Bertie’s imperturbability.
“You know, my grandmother Elisabeth wore that veil when she married my grandfather. She had three very small children when she was widowed. She didn’t have a lot of choice when she married my grandfather. But you do have a choice, honey.”
Jules wished she could share that she didn’t have a choice—not if she wanted to protect the girls—but that was the one thing she couldn’t say. “I know. I’m doing the right thing, Mom. For me and for Emma and Eleanor.”
Bertie brushed a loose curl away from Juliet’s face. “I asked my grandmother one time if she ever regretted marrying so quickly. She said, ‘The heart loves who it wants to love, Elberta. And I love your grandfather with all my heart.’ About that time, he came in from the field, grabbed her by the hips with his dirty hands and kissed her, right in front of me.”
“So she fell in love with him, anyway.”
Bertie tipped her head and studied Jules’s face. “Or she decided to love him, anyway. Regardless, I know you lead with that magnificent brain of yours and rarely do anything without thinking it through from a million different angles. I trust you. And back in the day Cam was a good boy who didn’t deserve anything that happened to him. Hopefully, he’s grown up to be a good man.”
“He is, Mom. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Her mother kissed her on the forehead. “I know. Stay here just a minute.”
Jules turned back to the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her dove-gray dress was understated, but was probably the most elegant thing she owned considering the majority of her wardrobe was imprinted with her Take the Cake logo.
She heard her mom reenter the room and saw her mom’s sweet face behind her in the mirror. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”
Jules’s throat ached, and for a moment she longed to turn back the clock to when she was a little girl, when she and Glory would play house in the walk-in closet, when her mom would entice them to the kitchen with cookies and her dad would be coming in from work with a big grin on his face.
Life had seemed so simple then.
When she turned back around, a gold ring glimmered in Mom’s palm—her dad’s wedding ring. “For you. I know your dad would want you to have it.”
The ring was a little dull, a little scratched and battered, but it was a pure sign of the love that her father had for her mother—and for their children. Jules missed him every single day. Her father had been a big man with a hearty laugh. The local chief of police, he could be stern when needed, but she’d never hesitated to crawl into his lap and lay her head on his broad shoulder.
He’d never met a problem he didn’t face head-on. She liked to think she was like him in that way, practical and driven.
She lifted the ring from her mother’s hand and slid it onto her thumb, her throat aching. “Thanks, Mom.” A half laugh, half sob came bubbling up. “If I don’t go, I’m going to be late for my own wedding.”
“You’ve never been late for anything in your entire life. Go. I’ll be praying.”
Jules glanced in the mirror at her reflection one last time. Color flagged her cheeks, but the veil was perfect.
And she was as ready as she would ever be.
* * *
Cameron paced outside the small gray stone courthouse in the county seat a few miles down the road from Red Hill Springs. He glanced at his watch for the fourteenth time in as many minutes. This half-baked plan may have been Juliet’s idea, but he should never have agreed to drive separately.
As he paced back the other direction, her black minivan pulled into a space across the street. The merry-go-round of what-ifs stopped short in his mind as he saw one long leg and then another swing out. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her in anything but her work clothes. But today, she had on heels, a formfitting dress and...a wedding veil.
His heart did a little stutter. He caught her eye as she crossed the street, a hesitant smile on her face. And had to steady his voice before he could speak. “Wow—you look incredible.”
A trembling hand touched the veil. “I hope it’s not too much. It was my great-grandmother’s.”
“It’s perfect. I have something for you.” He turned to the bench behind him and picked up a small hand-tied bouquet of pale pink roses. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he realized now that he didn’t even know if she liked roses. And maybe he’d been making a huge assumption. “I, um, I didn’t want you to get married without flowers.”
She smiled down at the bouquet. “I love it, thank you.”
He held out his arm for her. “Ready to go in?”
She nodded and slid her hand into place at his elbow as they walked into the building. Fifteen minutes later, license in hand, they were waiting to see the judge. Feeling like he did when he landed in New York City after months in the slower pace of a third-world country, he stopped outside the door to the courtroom, mind swirling with thoughts. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can find another way. We’ll run away to Argentina or Uruguay or Iceland—I don’t know. We’ll figure out something.”
“If you changed your mind, it’s okay, Cam.”
“No.” He said it—and surprisingly, meant it—with a steadiness he hadn’t been sure he felt, and the tightness in his chest loosened its grip. “If you’re good, I’m good.”
“I’m good.” She said it quietly. And the doors to the courtroom opened.
The judge looked up as they entered the room and came down the stairs from the bench to meet them. He didn’t look nervous at all, which seemed