“No, this is all wrong. What am I doing?” I unpin my hair and shake it loose around my shoulders. Grabbing a tissue, I aggressively wipe off the lipstick.
“Maddy?”
Beverly sits pin-straight on the corner of the bed while watching me, her worried expression taking over her pretty face. She’s wearing a floral dress and knee-high leather boots looking prettier than ever. Giving her the once over, I seriously consider changing outfits with her.
Tossing the lipstick-stained tissue on the dresser, I head for the door. Beverly stands in a rush.
“Where are you going?”
I stop and turn, willing myself to calm down. “I’m going to find George. Maybe he’s still in the barn?”
“But why?” She looks at her watch. “It’s almost time for the ceremony. Besides, the barn is dirty and dusty, and you’re wearing white.” She points at me.
“Cream.” I correct her.
“Well, you won’t get very far in those fancy shoes.”
I look at my feet. Bev is right. These nude Jimmy Choo heels will only slow me down.
I hold onto the doorjamb and slip off the pricey shoes. My eyes land on my cowboy boots near a chair. I sit and hurriedly slide them on.
“Madison, what has gotten into you? Those boots don’t go with your outfit.” She walks over to me and palms my shoulder. “Are you okay? Are you having second thoughts?”
I shake my head. “No. I just… I just want to look and feel like a bride on my wedding day, that’s all. I can’t walk in there looking like a corporate snob.” I chew my lower lip, anxious for a solution.
“Okay. Settle down. I’m sure we can make this work. What if you… take off the jacket, huh?” Beverly slides the jacket over my shoulders and tosses it on the bed. She smirks and says, “That doesn’t look half bad now with those cowboy boots.”
I turn and survey myself in the mirror again. Once again, she’s right. It does look a little better. And with my hair down andmy lips more natural, I’m not so formal and bureaucratic. My ivory shell is tucked into the skirt, my silhouette soft and feminine. Thank goodness Beverly always has my back.
Still, I have an overwhelming desire to see George and get his take. I’m only getting married once in my lifetime, and I want it to be perfect. Not wearing a true wedding gown has thrown me for a loop. We shouldn’t have rushed. We should have built in more time to prepare.
“I still think you should wear your hair up to show off your gorgeous diamond earrings. Or maybe a high pony?”
“No. I’m wearing my hair down. And I’ll be right back. Meet me at the main house in ten minutes,” I yell over my shoulder.
I don’t give her time to answer as I rush out of the bedroom. It takes me a minute to jog to the barn, my boots quickly navigating the uneven terrain. The sliding door is ajar, and I notice a few interior lights on.
“George?”
I peer inside, the musty scent of old wood and dust mixed with the undeniable aroma of dried lavender hitting my senses. Taking a few tentative steps into the cool confines of the historic structure, I look up into the loft space and marvel at the explosion of upside-down lavender hanging from the rafters. The stems are tied with twine close to the purple flower heads and hang in the dark above a huge table a few feet from a built-in ladder.
As I come closer to inspect the workstation of twine, ribbon, and cutting utensils, the tip of my boot strikes something on the floor, halfway sticking out from under the table. I look down and gasp at the beautiful flowers abandoned in the dirt. I realize it’s a bouquet. White daylilies and dried lavender are tied together with a perfect purple bow. I lean over and pick it up.
Bringing the flowers to my face, I breathe in the deep, sensual smell and smile. This is one of George’s creations. It’s the “secret” he was working on. The sweet man crafted me a wedding bouquet. And it’s perfect.
“George?”I call again. I keep my voice low in case he’s deeply engrossed in another project. I don’t want to startle him.
I’m anxious to see him. I want to tell him thank you for such a thoughtful gift. I want his sturdy arms around me and feel his lips kiss my cheek. I want him to remind me why we’re getting married in such a rush, even though I know it’s for Ralph’s sake.
I hear a man’s voice curse from outside. I frown, knowing George is not the kind of man who swears.
Quietly, I exit and walk parallel to the side of the barn. Peeking around the corner, I see Kip standing next to the water trough. He’s dipping a bandanna into the water and gently dabbing the fabric against his face.
His bloody, swollen face.
I gasp, causing him to stand at full attention. He looks right at me, and I cower from behind the wooden corner with uncertainty. I have no idea what happened to him.
“Therewillbe payback,” he mumbles before spitting on the ground.
