Heart Song Anthology, Carolyn Faulkner [simple ebook reader .TXT] 📗

this summer, after the long RV trip they planned, they were discussing the possibility of her becoming a wedding planner. She’d thoroughly enjoyed herself working on this one, so why not think about a second career? Doug had enjoyed it too. It would be something else they could do together in addition to golf (her idea), fishing (his), church – and of course those long, lazy mornings in bed.

As if reading her thoughts, Doug’s head popped inside the door. “The band’s here. Okay to let them in?”

She crooked an index finger to summon him inside. “First things first. Deidre, would you go tell the band we’re almost ready for them to set up?”

Deidre smiled knowingly and closed the doors quietly behind her as Carla put her arms around Doug’s neck and gave him a wet, passionate kiss. “I love you, Douglas Danvers.”

“I love you too.” Doug sighed. “We wasted a lot of years, Carla. I’m so thankful we got a second chance.” He looked around the room. “This looks great! It will be a beautiful wedding. Let’s just hope it lasts. These days, so many of them don’t. Look at us! With what we went through, I think we beat the odds, don’t you?”

Carla smiled at him, then at the room. In a few hours, the bride and groom would step out of the shadows and into the light, officially. Just as the ghost of Clark Gable had played a crucial part in her own happiness, the two of them had had a hand in making today possible, she liked to think.

“This one will last, I’m sure. John and Greta Farmer won’t have the longest marriage in years, not at their age, but I’d bet any amount that they’ll have one of the happiest.”

Doug gave his wife another long kiss. “Like ours, then. Let’s get this party started.”

Carla texted Greta to make sure there were no last minute concerns, asking for permission to begin the ceremony. Most of the guests were from out of town, all staying at the Royal, representing years of friendship, family, and close work relationships. She thought back to that fateful Valentine’s Eve when she realized that Greta was, in fact, not Mrs. Farmer. And now she will be.

They had approached her a few months earlier to discuss a wedding at the Royal. Carla had neither shown surprise nor explained her lack thereof. She had no idea what had been the deciding factor, but she was happy for them. She and Doug had found a renewed joy in their marriage; she hoped with all her heart that the “new” Farmers would continue their obvious joy as they entered into marriage after the long wait.

Getting the go-ahead, Carla was about to signal the musical ensemble when the front doors shut noisily behind her. A man in his early thirties walked briskly toward her, his face a picture of concern. “Am I too late?” he asked. “Has the wedding started already?”

Carla smiled. “You’re just in time. Guests are seating themselves – friends of the bride on the left, friends of the groom on the right.”

He frowned slightly. “No, I’m not a fr– My name is Jeffrey Farmer,” he explained, holding out a hand to shake. “My dad asked me to be his best man, but...” His voice trailed off and he looked up at the chandelier as if for guidance. “I was stupid and stubborn and told him to go to hell.” Jeff sighed and looked at Carla, shaking his head. “To make matters worse, I know how difficult my mother made his life.” He shrugged. “But she was still my mother.” His face contorted with pain. “When she passed last year... by her own hand, tragically. Controlling to the end. I just never considered, well, this.” His eyes narrowed. “They were together, Greta and my father, for a long time, weren’t they?”

Carla said nothing, but her eyes were soft. “I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Farmer. It was difficult for me when my mother passed.” She smiled. “But I’m sure she would want you to be happy, and for your father to be happy too.”

Jeff shook his head grimly. “Me, perhaps. She blamed him for everything from the weather to her headaches, and never let him forget what a disappointment he was. Well, I tried not to see it or hear it, and I got away as soon as I could so I didn’t have to. Dad stayed.” He smiled sadly. “But I think he also got away when he could.”

He let out a long breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, ma’am. But you’re right about one thing. With Greta, I believe Dad truly will be happy. Where is he now?” He grabbed Carla’s sleeve as she began walking toward the ballroom. “Ma’am? Maybe you know. Does Greta have anyone to give her away?”

Carla shook her head.

“Then point me in her direction, please.”

A few minutes later, Carla caught John Farmer’s eye as he stood talking to a few friends he’d asked to stand with him. She held up her arm and tapped her watch. He nodded to her and then to the musicians. It was time.

Carla took her seat beside Doug, who grabbed her hand and leaned over for a quick kiss. An angelic ten-year-old – Greta’s granddaughter – entered the ballroom first, followed by her mother and aunt, Greta’s daughters. They wore simple flowing dresses of deep purple gauze.

As the music changed, the guests stood and shifted to watch the doors. Carla’s eyes were on John Farmer, however, not turned to watch the bride enter the room. When his face crumbled with tears of joy, she could tell it was time to turn. Greta’s hand rested softly on the arm of her new stepson. What a gift he is giving her right now, Carla thought. What a gift to his father.

Carla suddenly realized that this was the first wedding she’d been to in many years that she hadn’t sat