Leave a Trail (44 page)

“Badge’s mom wants us to get married at St. John’s.” Adrienne set the carton of butter on the island, pulled out a stick, and unfolded the waxed paper.

“Just dump the whole stick in. We’ll probably need another one, too.” As Adrienne dropped the butter into the vat of boiled potatoes, Shannon, wearing a brown poplin apron over her dress, set to mashing them. “And you’re really okay with that?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m militantly atheist or anything. And Badge was baptized there, just like Joey and Millie—and Show, too. It’s like a family place. And a town place. It’s good. Plus, it’s really pretty.” She set the second unwrapped stick on its paper. “That’s a lot of butter.”

“This is a lot of potatoes. If we’re not feeding the whole town today, I think we’re coming pretty close.”

“But people brought a ton of stuff, too. There’s stuff all over the bar already.”

“Yeah—Lilli has the potluck army on the job.”

Thanksgiving dinner at the Horde clubhouse. They had much to be thankful for this year. The men had all come home from their war, and they’d come home uninjured, except for Badger’s terrifyingly bruised back and the bruised ribs that went with it. The town was safe, and the Horde was out of the grasp of the drug cartel, which had apparently been destroyed. Adrienne didn’t understand all of it, because Badger was stubbornly vague about some details. But they were out of whatever deadly business they’d been in. They were home—and for the past several weeks, they’d stayed home.

There was a tinge of urgency to the celebrations of this holiday season, since Isaac and Len would be going away for a long time right afterward, and the Horde family wanted to give them a holiday that might sustain them a little through their long years inside. It was also why, although Adrienne was not yet pregnant, they’d decided to get married quickly, a few days before Christmas. So that Isaac and Len could be there. Badger wanted Len to stand up with him. Jason, Badger’s brother, had been disappointed, but he’d understood. He would serve as usher.

When she’d shared the date with Lilli and Shannon, they’d exchanged a grinning glance. They’d set their date for Lilli and Isaac’s anniversary. She’d immediately apologized and said they’d change it, but Lilli wouldn’t hear of it.  And now Shannon, thwarted for months from this work by the twins and the fire and the rebuild that was creeping along in the cold weather, had put on her Wedding Planner cap in earnest. For the past few weeks, she’d had Adrienne thinking about flowers and lace and cake even in her dreams.

Adrienne had never been one to obsess about expensive fantasy weddings, but she’d put some little thought to the question over the years, and she’d always imagined being married outdoors, in a forest or on the beach, barefoot, with a wreath of daisies in her hair, and a simple, long cotton sundress.

But she was learning that weddings weren’t just about the bride and groom. Badger’s mom had ideas. Shannon had ideas. Even Badge had an idea or two. Geez, even women in town had ideas. Plus, it would be late December in Missouri. And a sleeveless sundress was out of the question regardless.

Instead, they were having a traditional church wedding, and she would be wearing a long-sleeved ivory lace dress and carrying a bouquet of red calla lilies and white orchids. She’d gone shopping with Badge’s mom—whom she was supposed to call Darlene now, which was still an adjustment—for a mother-of-the-groom dress.

It was wonderful. As her girlish bohemian fantasy became wisps and blew away, Adrienne realized that the wedding she and Shannon were planning, even incorporating the requests and demands of other people, was exactly what it should be. It wasn’t a party for Adrienne and Badger. It was a celebration of their whole family.

Not to mention that her dress, which she and Shannon had found at a vintage store in St. Louis, was just about the most amazing thing Adrienne had ever seen in her life—all ivory lace, with chiffon inserts in the skirt, the cut skimming her body lightly until it flared subtly away. She couldn’t
wait
for Badger to see her in it.

He’d offered to wear a suit, but she liked the idea of the Horde dressed in their kuttes. She couldn’t even imagine Badger in a suit.

“I wish the inn was ready so we could at least do the reception there. This cold is really slowing everything down.” Autumn had lasted all of a few weeks this year, giving way quickly to below-freezing temperatures and hard frosts. No snow to speak of yet. It had pushed the re-opening of the inn back until early spring. Adrienne was looking forward to the reopening almost as much as Shannon was—on Shannon’s gentle but persistent urging, she’d agreed to start there as assistant manager. Since the fire, Vicki had taken a new position at a hotel in Springfield, so the job was open. Adrienne didn’t really have the qualifications—a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree officially qualified the bearer for virtually nothing—but she’d gotten to know the B&B well over the years. And it was nice to think about working in the family business. She could do wedding photography there, too, so she was kind of using her degree.

“Badge really wants the reception at Tuck’s. It’s the only thing he made a fuss about, so it’s fine. Rose and Marie are giddy about it, and it’s fine with me.”

“You and your beautiful dress in that musty old place.” Shannon shook her head. “The guys better be on their best behavior.”

“They’re not going to start a brawl at our wedding reception, Shannon.”

Shannon’s only answer was a look of indulgent disbelief.

She finished mashing the potatoes in their humungous pot and turned to Cory, who was checking on the cranberry sauce. “Is there room on the stove to put this back and keep it warm?”

Cory shifted some things around. “Yep. In the back.”

Shannon hefted the pot and set it on the burner. “I’m going to check on the kiddos. Lilli, do you need anything else?”

From the far corner, where she was taking hard rolls off a cookie sheet she’d just pulled from one of the two wall ovens, Lilli answered, “Yeah—uh, Adrienne, check the turkey, would you?”

Cory stepped to the side so that Adrienne could comply. “It says one-sixty degrees.”

Lilli nodded. “That’s close, then. I’ll make sure the girls have the table set, and I’ll round up the troops.” She went out into the Hall.

“I heard you and Shannon talking. I think it’s nice that you’re getting married in the church. It’s a nice thing to do for everybody. You’re a sweet girl, Adrienne. Badge’s lucky. We all are.”

Adrienne stepped back to stand next to Cory, sensing an opportunity in what she had said. “Thank you. Um…can I ask you something?”

Cory gave her a smile. “Sure.”

“I don’t really want organ music for the wedding. It’s so heavy and…just not me. Not us. Would you play during the ceremony? There’s a song I really like. Just an acoustic guitar.”

The smile faded. “Oh, hon. I’m sorry. I don’t play anymore.”

Adrienne knew that. Badger had told her not to ask, because Cory had stopped playing her guitar when Havoc died, and a wedding seemed to him the wrong reason to ask her to start again. But it felt to her like more than just a thing she wanted in her wedding. It felt important in a bigger way than that. She couldn’t push Cory any harder than simply asking, though. It seemed cruel to do more than ask.

“Okay. I understand. I just thought I’d ask.”

Cory considered her for a long time, then shook her head. “I appreciate the honor, Adrienne. It’s very sweet. I just can’t.”

Adrienne lifted up a bit on her toes and kissed Cory’s cheek. “I understand. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“You didn’t. I’m touched.” Cory squeezed her arm. “Let’s get all the food into serving dishes and have ourselves a feast.

~oOo~

Portable buffet tables, stretched end to end over the full length of the Hall, had been covered in white twill—and then overlaid with butcher paper, because they were not feeding a civilized gathering of diners. They were feeding a horde of Horde and farmers. For the same reason, the plates were melamine, and the napkins were paper.

Although the tables were cheap and efficiently dressed, and the chairs were metal and folding, the women—led by Lilli and Shannon, as always—had made a pretty setting. And there was food everywhere. Three of the biggest turkeys Adrienne had ever seen. Two hams. A big meatloaf. Bowls and baskets and trays of side dishes—vegetables, casseroles, potatoes, breads, everything. The tables literally sagged slightly under the weight of the dishes spread over them. And the bar was covered in pies, cakes, trifles, and cookies.

People packed the Hall, and room resounded with good cheer. The jovial vibe of the festivities—people talking and laughing, children playing, couples arm in arm or hand in hand, made Adrienne feel a deep ache of homesickness, one she hadn’t felt so strongly since the day her father drove a U-Haul to the B&B and dumped the dregs of her old life on her head. Their family holidays had been civilized affairs, lovely but not remotely like this chaotic revelry in the Hall, but still she felt a pull of loss. With a determined shake of her head, she cleared that pain away. No. She had made her choice. Her ex-father had made his—and she was finished thinking about him. Never would she believe that what he had done was even a misguided gesture of love. It had been a gesture of control, and he had lost.

She still spoke online with her brothers, but, as they had recently been forbidden to stay connected with her, their contact was dwindling. Now, they had to sneak. They were more than willing to do so, but it made her feel wretched.

Leaving those unhappy thoughts behind, Adrienne surveyed the scene of the family she had. Distinct from the family she’d lost in every conceivable way. As full and crazy as it was, there was room for her here, room to be the person she was—and room to change her mind about who she was.

A kids’ table was set up not far from the main table, and it seemed to be nearly as long. Not only the club kids would eat there. Many town families with children had come—even some families who were fairly new to Signal Bend and had been suspicious and fearful of the Horde’s influence. Badger had told Adrienne of their troubles a year ago, and she’d seen it a little when she’d first come to town. But after the fire, when she’d gone back out into the world a little, things had seemed much as they’d always been.

Lilli and Cory got the kids seated and fed first. Then Isaac cupped his hands over his mouth and called people to the table, and the room settled quickly. Badger caught Adrienne’s hand and pulled her to sit with him near the head, where the Horde family was grouping.

Isaac stood at the head of the table, the biggest turkey in front of him. Not for the first time, Adrienne was struck hard by his size and presence. With his long, dark braid, his beard, his distinctive scar and intense green eyes, all sitting on top of impossibly broad shoulders, Isaac commanded attention and respect by simply existing. He wore his significance on his bones. In one way or another, all the Horde did, whether they were giants like Isaac and Show or not. They were not men to be taken lightly. Her gaze shifted to the man at her side. Her man. He was watching Isaac, and she had his profile all to herself. He was beautiful. She’d always believed that she could see the depth of his soul most clearly when his face was in repose. He was a man who watched, who thought, who felt—who knew—before he acted. A man like that might be mistaken for one who could be discounted, but that would be a terrible mistake.

Love for him made her blood race and bubble.

When the table was fully seated, before he picked up the carving tools, Isaac said, “There’s a lot of great food here, and I’m not gonna keep you from it. But I wanted to thank you all for being here with us, makin’ this day full of family and friends. It means a lot.” He looked at Lilli, then over at the kids’ table—the occupants there were ignoring him completely. He cleared his throat. “I’m not a grace-sayer. But I do want to say thanks. We have a lot to be thankful for. A year ago, I didn’t believe that could be true again. We’ve had some hard times. We’ve lost a lot. All of us—the club, the town. Family and friends. We’ve got hard times ahead. That’s the way of this life. It’s the way of any life, I guess. But I am thankful for my family. For my brothers and my club. For my friends and neighbors. For my town, this little wide spot that almost died right out from under us. We’ve been through a lot together. We’ve fought together, and we’ve fought each other. But we came through it standing. We came through it together. I am thankful for all of you. I am thankful for this life.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, and his silence spread through the Hall; even the children keyed into the change and settled. Then he nodded. “Okay. Let’s cut this bird and dig in.” The adults erupted in cheers and applause.

Badger turned to Adrienne, his dazzling eyes aglitter with unshed tears. “
That
is worth everything.”

Her own eyes blurring now, she nodded.

~oOo~

Four days before Christmas, on Isaac and Lilli’s sixth wedding anniversary, Adrienne sat at a vanity in a small back room of St. John’s Methodist Church. Bree Jensen, the office manager at Tasha’s clinic, stood behind her, pinning her mass of hair into a loose updo.

“You have the most amazing hair I’ve ever had my hands in.” Bree spoke with bobby pins in her teeth. “Thank you so much for letting me do this.”

Adrienne smiled at Bree’s reflection in the illuminated mirror. “Dora said you were a wizard with hair, and she was right. This is perfect, Bree. Just perfect. Thank you so much.”

The pretty blonde blushed. Once all the pins were in, she finger-combed the tendrils left on either side of Adrienne’s face. Then she held up the final touch. “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

“You can do it.”

Bree nodded and tucked the slimly delicate, silver and pearl tiara into the bound waves atop Adrienne’s head. Then she stepped back, and three women looked into the mirror at the result.

“Wow,” said Shannon, beaming at Adrienne in the mirror.