Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.. Sandra Steffen

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СКАЧАТЬ that was only four days away, and Lisa and Jillian had too much to do already. Lisa and Jillian exchanged knowing grins.

      “There’s plenty of time.”

      “You just leave everything to us.”

      Swallowing the trepidation that was fast becoming a-fistsized knot around her vocal chords, Mel hoped to high heaven she didn’t live to regret what she was about to do.

      

      Organ music was playing softly when Mel slipped into a pew near the front of the church. Unobtrusively gliding to the center of the row, she glanced around to see if anybody had noticed.

      So far, so good.

      Candles flickered on the altar and on windowsills throughout the old-fashioned church. Daisies and mums tied up with white bows and pale yellow ribbons adorned the front of the church and the end of every pew. The church was a hundred years old, yet it was filled with a sense of excitement and urgency it hadn’t seen in a long time.

      Wedding guests had started arriving twenty minutes ago, but it seemed that half of them were making a fuss over Hugh and Rita Carson, Luke and Clayt’s parents, who’d arrived home from Oregon yesterday morning. The other half—all area ranchers and cowboys—were tripping over each other in their efforts to draw Brittany Matthews into conversation. As a result, no one had paid any attention to the petite woman in the peach-colored dress who’d hugged the shadows in her efforts to remain unnoticed.

      Mel smoothed her hand over the soft fabric of her dress and crossed her legs the way she’d practiced. She recognized most of the voices coming from the back of the church, from Boomer Brown’s booming baritone to Isabell Pruitt’s annoying whine, all the way to DoraLee’s infectious laughter. Today’s wedding would be the first in more than five years and the only double wedding in the history of Jasper Gulch. Automatically reaching for the braid that was no longer hanging over her shoulder, she smiled to herself. Melody McCully planned to make a little history of her own.

      Talking in undertones, guests began filing in. A short time later Boomer ushered Clayt’s parents to the front pew on the right, while Jason Tucker ushered Ivy Pennington, a special guest of both brides, to the seat next to Mel. She smiled at the gray-haired lady, then glanced up to gauge Jason’s and Boomer’s reactions to the new Melody McCully. Looking stiff and uncomfortable in their suits and ties, they nodded nervously then hurried to the back of the old church, none the wiser.

      Mel settled herself more comfortably in her seat and smiled to herself. Things were working perfectly. At this rate Clayt was going to be the first person to notice her, exactly as she’d planned.

      Louetta Graham began to play another song on the organ, and the grooms took their places at the front of the church. Clayt, best man to both Luke and Wyatt, fell into line a few feet behind them. All three men were tall, all three were wearing dark suits, all three were handsome in their own right. Mel loved her brother, and she liked Luke Carson, but her heart beat a steady rhythm for Clayt alone.

      His hair looked freshly cut and appeared darker beneath the flickering light of so many candles. His face was cleanshaven, his skin stretched taut over high cheekbones and that angular chin that could be so infuriatingly condescending. His nose was a little too wide to be considered aristocratic, and today his gray eyes looked serious and thoughtful.

      At the first strains of the wedding march, everyone rose to their feet. Feeling tall in her new heels and giddy with joy and excitement, Mel held perfectly still, waiting for the moment when Clayt’s eyes would meet hers.

      

      Clayt could see Luke and Wyatt in his peripheral vision. It had taken everything he could think of to keep them calm this past hour. The hard part was over. Now, all he had to do was hand them the rings at the appropriate time and his job would be done.

      Patting his right pocket where he’d placed Luke’s and Jillian’s rings and his left pocket where he’d tucked Lisa’s and Wyatt’s, Clayt peered through the crowd where the first bridesmaid was slowly making her way to the front of the church. Jason Tucker almost fell out of his seat as Allison Delaney floated by. If Haley was half as graceful at sixteen as Allison, Clayt was going to be in big trouble. The woman who came next didn’t look old enough to be Allison’s mother, but he’d met Corinna Delaney, the maid of honor—a newlywed herself and a close friend to Jillian and Lisa from when they’d lived in Wisconsin—at the rehearsal last night, and she was definitely Allison’s mother.

      His vision blurred, and for a moment he saw only a patch of pale peach. Before his eyes could focus, an “Ahh” wound through the church, and he turned his head slightly as Cletus McCully came into view, a red-haired bride on one arm, a dark-haired bride on the other. Clayt’s mother always said there was no such thing as a homely bride, but Lisa and Jillian were prettier than most. As Jillian took Luke’s arm and Lisa took Wyatt’s, Clayt felt a burgeoning sense of pride that he’d been instrumental in bringing these two women to Jasper Gulch.

      Listening with only one ear to the words Reverend Jones was reciting from his frayed prayer book, Clayt patted his pockets one more time then glanced at the people who filled the old church. He’d never seen so many ranchers and cowboys without their hats, but he had to hand it to them—the local boys didn’t clean up too badly. His parents were sitting with Haley in the first pew across the aisle, and Opal Graham was sniffling into a lace handkerchief. Cletus McCully looked about as proud as he could be, and Ivy Pennington, the gray-haired lady sitting next to Cletus, dabbed at a tear on her cheek. Clayt caught sight of that peach-colored dress again, but before he’d gotten a good look at the woman wearing it, Reverend Jones asked everyone to take their seat.

      Clayt glanced away and back again so quickly his vision blurred. Still, there was something familiar about the woman’s build and the efficient way she moved. As if in slow motion, his gaze finally came to rest on her face.

      Eyes he’d seen nearly every day of his life met his. Eyes the color of violets. Lips that had uttered his name a thousand times lifted—lips that were pink and full and the tiniest bit trembly.

      Mel.

      She smiled, so tremulously, so delicately his mouth went dry. Reverend Jones’s voice was coming from someplace far away, but Clayt couldn’t make out the words over the explosion in his head. His eyes strayed to the wisps of hair brushing Mel’s eyebrows and the slightly longer tendrils grazing the base of her neck where her heavy braid used to be.

       What the hell had she done to her hair?

      He was vaguely aware that people were looking at him. And he thought he heard Reverend Jones clear his throat. But it was the repetitious movement of Mel’s head that finally got through to Clayt. He glanced at Luke and Wyatt, who were looking at him strangely. Through the roaring din in his ears, he heard his brother say, “The rings, Clayt. We need the rings.”

      Clayt fumbled in his pockets, came up empty-handed, and fumbled again. By the time he’d given the proper rings to the right couple, the din in his ears had turned into a silent hush that was even more unsettling.

      While Luke and Jillian, and Wyatt and Lisa, exchanged sacred vows and wedding rings, Clayt told himself he’d been imagining his reaction to Mel. To prove it, he cast another glance in her direction. For a moment he froze all over again. Everyone else in the church was looking at the brides and grooms. Mel was looking at him.

      His mouth went slack, and the strangest sensation began to uncurl low in his belly. Somehow managing to tear his gaze away, he clamped his mouth shut and told himself to get a grip.

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