Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Now that I’m literally dropped right in the middle of it, a part of me wonders what I was so afraid of all this time.
Samuel slaps a hand over his face and sneezes abruptly, his whole body convulsing and his facial expression twisting in the most comically unattractive way. As if recovering from a sweaty dream, he wipes his wrist off on his shirt, disgusted with himself, then turns to me. “Sorry. Somethin’ must be in the air.”
I’m staring at him with a repulsed grimace of my own.
And then I let out the biggest laugh.
“Hey!” he protests. My laugh is going on a tad too long. “Hey, I didn’t hear a ‘bless you’. Why are you laughing? Stop that!”
Then he can’t help but laugh at himself, and soon, the pair of us are doubled over busting our guts.
I think today might be shaping up to be the best day I’ve had in years.
When the room grows quiet and the music plays, I watch the proceeding with a tremendous feeling of fulfillment in my heart. I smile as Jimmy takes his place at the altar, looking like a nervous wreck. (Okay, maybe it’s a tiny bit satisfying, seeing him without his usual cock-of-the-block demeanor.) But once Bobby is brought into the chapel, Jimmy’s face locks on him, and every bit of terror he knew a second ago is gone. When the two join each other in the front, they hold hands, and their faces beam.
I find my hand on Samuel’s thigh, clinging, as I watch with as much passion swelling in my heart as a front-row relative. I feel Samuel gaze thoughtfully at me, then smile.
As if I couldn’t hate Spruce any more, I discover the reverend is some cute, young guy who delivers a sweet, heartfelt speech to the room as he presents the couple. When it comes time for the vows, Jimmy has trouble fetching the paper from his coat pocket, makes some joke, and the room erupts into laughter. But once he gets it out, his trembling hands steady, and he reads the words.
Words he wrote. Mixed with words I wrote.
To my surprise, it doesn’t feel weird at all, hearing my words through Jimmy. It’s fitting in a poetic way, like we wrote the vows together, Jimmy and I, his words of devotion to the sweetest soul on the planet: Bobby Parker.
I’ll consider it my wedding gift to the happy couple.
Then the moment is here: “I do,” declares Jimmy. “I do,” says Bobby softly, though his two little words fill the whole room.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husbands.” The cute reverend closes his book and smiles fondly at them. “You may kiss each other.”
The moment it happens, the room explodes from one end to the other. Scattered across everyone’s faces, I see happiness. I see love. I see rapidly clapping hands, glittering gowns, big curly hair, and happy tears running down cheeks. In this moment, the church has become the very heart of Spruce itself: full of so much life and love, it’s a miracle the walls can contain it.
Chapter 18
A Teensy Bit Of Hope.
We sit inside Mortimer The Car for a while.
Samuel and I.
The Strong ranch is now full of every last soul that was just crammed into Spruce Fellowship. Even that cute reverend—whose name is Trey, apparently—whipped off the collar to join all of his friends inside that house in a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. Also, he’s married to a man, an equally hunky military vet. I have no fucking idea what to make of this town anymore.
“I’m not really ready to go in, either,” admits Samuel, kicking back in the driver’s seat.
I have my arm hanging out the passenger side window. “I can literally drink the cool air with my fingers.”
“It really is a special time of year, huh?”
“You have to cherish these few weeks we get when it’s cold.” I reconsider. “Well, cold for Texans, I should amend. My sister would probably mock me. She deals with below-zeros up there in Maine.”
“Ooph … Sign me up never.” He gazes at me across the center console. His eyes change. “I like this side of you.”
I look at him. “My left side? I don’t know. I think my right side looks better in selfies.”
Samuel rolls his eyes. “You know that ain’t what I meant.” He reaches for an instant, as if about to stroke my hair, then drops his hand to his lap, changing his mind I guess. “I mean, I can tolerate Moody Malckie, too, if need be.”
I snort. “‘Moody Malckie’ …? I don’t love that new nickname, Sneezy Samuel.”
“Sneezy Sa—? Nah, that doesn’t even roll off the tongue right. Moody Malckie is way better.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Anyway.” He smiles at me. “I was sayin’ I can tolerate him as long as he wants me to—the old Malcolm. Hell, I even find him entertaining sometimes. He was a lot easier to rile up.”