In the early hours of Friday morning, she tossed and turned, going over the schedule for that night’s rehearsal and dinner. She’d only seen Cliff a few times since the engagement party. If she was going to resolve her past, she had to do it this weekend. She had to talk to him. No longer did she seethe with anger whenever she saw him. From the way he treated Courtney, she could tell he genuinely loved the girl. But he still had a lot of explaining to do.

Thunder shook the house, and she groaned. She couldn’t understand why anyone in Louisiana would want an outdoor wedding. One of two things inevitably happened: unbearable heat or torrential rain. Or both. The weather guy on Channel Six said the rain would move through today and the weekend would be clear. She hoped for once he knew what he was talking about.

She crawled out of bed and stumbled down the hall to her home office. She jiggled the mouse, and the computer screen came alive, showing the rain contingency she’d been working on before trying to go to bed at midnight.

Why couldn’t George just come out and say it? I love you. Did he? Maybe it was a British thing, this reluctance to be demonstrative or say the words aloud. A cultural difference. Given his loveless childhood, he might even be afraid of saying it. Yes. That was most likely the case. He loved her but was afraid to say so for fear of… what? Losing her?

She grimaced in wry understanding. He had as many issues with cultivating a relationship as she did. She just needed to give him time. If he could get his visa status worked out and join her as a partner, they’d have all the time they needed.

She saved the document, shut down the computer, and returned to bed, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the rain against her bedroom windows.

* * *

George rolled out of bed before the alarm sounded. He took his Bible and prayer journal out onto the back porch, along with a large mug of Mama Ketty’s strong coffee, and tried to still his thoughts long enough to concentrate on God’s Word.

“I know the plans that I have for you,” God had said through the prophet Jeremiah. “Plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.”

He clasped his hands, elbows on the edge of the iron scroll table, and leaned his forehead against his thumbs. “O God, the King Eternal. I haven’t always tried to follow Your plan for my life. But now I ask You to bless my steps as I walk in what I believe is Your plan in asking Anne to marry me. I love her more dearly than I ever knew possible, and she is my hope for the future. I know it was Your divine plan that brought us together. Thank You for blessing me with her. Please prepare her heart to receive my proposal…and to understand the haste with which I will ask her to wed with me so we do not have to part.

“As we go into the whirlwind this weekend, I ask You to strengthen Anne and give her the courage and grace she needs to speak with Cliff and finally, once and for all, forgive him. I pray You’ll bless Courtney and Cliff in their new life together. Amen.”

He leaned back in the chair and sipped his coffee and watched as the rain fell in sheets across the lush green yard. Even if it stopped in an hour or two, would the ground still be soggy Saturday? It wouldn’t do to have the guests’ chairs sinking into the newly leveled and sodded yard.

“George, what are we going to do?”

He stood at the sound of Courtney’s voice. “Don’t fret. It’s not supposed to last the day.”

In loose-fitting, blue-plaid seersucker pants and a misshapen white T-shirt with no makeup and her dark hair pulled into a ponytail atop her head, Courtney looked more like a thirteen-year-old desperately in need of loving parents than a young woman about to get married in a public spectacle. She sat in the other chair, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them.

“What are you doing downstairs? I thought we discussed how the ground floor is for employees. It’s not appropriate for you to be down here. Mama Ketty or I will bring your breakfast to you upstairs—on the balcony, if you wish.”

“It’s boring upstairs. George, before I moved here, I was living in a sorority house just off the UCLA campus with two other girls in the same room, and nearly one hundred others in the house. I’m not used to being alone so much.” She rested her chin on her knees. “I wish Cliff hadn’t gone off to New York right after the party. Or at least that he’d been able to come back for longer than two days at a time. It’s so hard to be separated from the one you love.”

He tried not to laugh at the philosophical tone of her voice as he regained his seat. “Yes. It’s hard.”

She leaned her head to the side to look at him. “But you don’t have that problem, do you?” She grinned. “You and Miss Anne are hardly ever apart.”

His face burned and he scowled, staring out at the rain.

Courtney laughed, leaned over, and wrapped her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m happy for you. I’m just sad, because I have a feeling it means you won’t be working for Cliff much longer, which means I won’t get to see you anymore, except when we come home for visits.”

He rested his right hand atop hers. “Yes. We’ll always be here for you, whenever you need to get away from the chaos of life under the examining glass.”

“Mama’s coming back from the Riviera today. I don’t think she’s going to be happy with the wedding.”

He squeezed her hands and reached for his coffee. “It’s not her wedding, so what does it signify?”

“I don’t want her making a scene. Miss Anne has worked so hard on everything, and I don’t want Mama to say something to offend her.”

“I believe Anne has a clear understanding of mothers of the bride. Perhaps, though, your mother’s jet lag will keep her from raising too much of a stir.”

“George, I can’t find—” Mama Ketty stopped and propped her fists on her ample hips. “Young’un, you’re supposed to be upstairs for your breakfast, not down here mingling with the hired staff.”

Courtney didn’t budge from her clinging position. “Oh, Mama Ketty, you and George aren’t just hired staff. You’re family.”

Mama Ketty clucked and went back inside, shaking her head.

Contentment nearly burst his heart. Only one person missing and his family would be complete. Soon, though… He kissed the top of Courtney’s head. “I don’t know about you, young miss, but I for one am famished.”

Instead of letting go, Courtney hugged his arm tighter. “George. Do you think… I mean, would it be inappropriate… ?”

He rested his cheek against her hair. “Spit it out, lass.”

“Do you think it would be okay for you to walk me down the aisle? Do you think people would think it’s weird?”

He swallowed hard. Walk her down the aisle? Take on the duty of the father of the bride? He cleared his throat. “It’s your wedding. You can do whatever you wish, weird or not.”

“Then I want you to walk me down the aisle. I want you to give me away like my daddy would have if he was still alive. Do you think Anne will think it’s okay?”

He squeezed her hands. “We’ll talk to her this morning.” Despite his best efforts, his voice came out gruff with barely suppressed emotion.

“She’s more like the mother of the bride than Mama. I wish…” She heaved a sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to invite Mama, that I could have just you and Miss Anne there with me. And then when y’all get married, I’ll be like your adopted daughter.”

“When we get married?” He chuckled. “You’re assuming quite a lot.”

“Oh, y’all will get married. And soon, too, I figure. You may think I’m oblivbious to what goes on around me, but I know you picked up the engagement ring when we went to get my jewelry last week. So when are you going to propose?”

He didn’t have to hide his smile at her oblivious mispronunciation. “Saturday night, after the wedding.”

“At the reception?”

“Most likely. Probably after you’ve made your exit. She won’t be able to slow down a moment before then.”

“But I want to see her after you give her the ring.”

“All right. I’ll find a time to propose that’s convenient for you.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Come on. Let’s go eat before Mama Ketty comes after us again.”

* * *

Humidity rose in nearly visible waves from the wet ground as the sun started its western descent. Anne slogged barefoot through the soggy yard toward George, holding the end of a measuring tape in one hand, cradling a clipboard in the other.

“There’s nothing for it. We’re just going to have to figure out some way to make the ground hard by Saturday.”

George laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “There’s nothing for it? Where do you pick up such idiosyncratic phrases?”

“Some strange English guy I know. He says weird things like that all the time.”

He squeezed her tight a moment longer, then released her. “Has Courtney talked to you?”

“About what?”

“About me.”

Anne’s right eyebrow shot up. “About you?”

“Yes. She’s gotten it in her mind that she wants me to walk her down the aisle.” He took Anne’s hand, tucked it under his elbow, and began to practice by walking her back toward the house. She released the end of the tape measure, and it snaked back toward her cousin Jonathan.

“Oh, that’s so sweet. I don’t have a problem with it if that’s what she wants. But what will Cliff think?”

“That’s the crux of the matter. I don’t think he would appreciate his hired man escorting his bride down the aisle.” He smiled in remembrance of Courtney’s outburst of emotion this morning. “Even if the bride considers me to be part of her family.”