“So, you’re afraid.”
Her father had been counseling engaged couples for years. He’d probably seen it all. No use trying to deny the truth.
“Terrified.”
“I don’t know him well, but unlike that young man you dated in high school, Sebastian doesn’t strike me as the sort who’d feed you to the wolves.”
“No,” Missy agreed. “You don’t know him well. He’s not marrying me because he loves me.” She puffed her breath out in a huge sigh. “I’m pregnant.”
Her father sat in silence for a long moment. When he spoke, a deep sadness filled his voice. “Tim’s?”
“No.” She shook her head, the burn of tears blurring her vision. “Sebastian’s. That’s why he wants to marry me. It’s why he married his first wife. He’s honorable.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to let him make the same mistake twice.”
“I don’t think he views marrying you as a mistake.”
She twisted her hands in her father’s grasp until she held him. She squeezed gently, thinking of all the people he’d touched both physically—with a gentle hug, a comforting hand on the shoulder during a moment of grief—and with his wise sermons and thoughtful counsel.
“He can be rather thick-headed that way.”
Laugh lines deepened at the corners of her father’s dark-brown eyes. “I can see he’s going to have a tough time convincing you to marry him.”
“Tougher than you know. He’s terrible at negotiating.”
The front door opened and Matt’s wife, Helen, entered, followed by David’s very pregnant wife, Abigail. They carried bowls and trays.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Memorial Day weekend,” Helen explained. “We’re barbecuing.”
Missy got to her feet. “Do you want some help?”
“We’ve got it covered.”
Abigail winked at Helen. “We wouldn’t want you killing Sebastian with your cooking.”
Of all the household tasks Missy had mastered after her mother’s stroke, cooking was not one of them. And it wasn’t as if she got much time to practice. Sebastian kept her working until seven most nights. She usually grabbed take-out on the way home.
She headed upstairs to drop off her duffel bag. Passing David’s old room, she spied Sebastian’s suitcase in the corner. He was staying here? In the room next to hers? How was she expected to get any sleep knowing he was on the other side of the wall?
Emotions churning, she sat on the window seat that overlooked the garden in the backyard. Her mother had planned and lovingly maintained each and every bed from the vegetables to the roses. After she’d had her stroke, Missy tended the garden while her mother looked on. At first Missy had resented the weeds that seemed to sprout overnight. The task of keeping the numerous beds in perfect order had pained her with its tedium.
Eventually, however, she began to find the repetitious chore soothed her restless n
ature. She’d read up on the various types of plants and dreamed that when she moved into her own house, she’d spend many free hours creating colorful plantings around her property.
“We’re heading over to bring the boys some lunch. Want to come?”
Helen and Abigail hovered in the hallway.
“Sure.” She snatched up the battered Stetson she wore only when in town and followed her sisters-in-law downstairs. “What are they doing today?”
“Repairs on the Taggets’ roof,” Helen said. “Last week’s thunderstorm did quite a bit of damage to a dozen homes. It’s been tough getting to everyone who needs help.”
“Nice of your boss to pitch in,” Abigail added. “Or should I call him your boyfriend?”