The Wrangler’s Christmas Gift (The Malones of Grand, Montana #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

W hen Heather Hudson Scott Malone came to Grand, Montana, to witness her long-lost son marry the love of his life, it never once occurred to her that she might end up sharing the moment with the long-lost love of her own life. And yet there was, JP Malone, Father Joseph Patrick Keane, standing next to Brade in the small hallway outside the parlor. Her heart was thudding, her throat dry, and her stomach felt like it was filled with helium.

Once, long ago, she’d dreamed of a day like this, only with her walking down the aisle to meet JP. They wouldn’t have had a roomful of people to support them. Her father wouldn’t have given her away with joy. The minister of her childhood church wouldn’t have blessed them. Surely, love could overcome almost anything, but building a life together was so much easier when you were doing it in community, surrounded by joy.

“What is it?” JP said, touching her chin.

She shook her head. “Just thinking of what-ifs.”

“What if this had been us?” he guessed.

She swallowed. “It never could have been.”

“Circumstances were not on our side,” he said quietly, “but if they had been, we most certainly could have had this.”

“That’s nice of you to say.” She stroked a piece of dust off his lapel.

“Honey.” He frowned and glanced toward Brade, who was coming their way. “I truly loved you. You must believe that.”

She looked away. She didn’t want to cry on her fresh makeup.

Then, JP was pressing something into her hand. A package.

She looked at him. “What is this?”

“I meant to give it to you the other night,” he said. “When the baby was born. I’ve kept them. All these years, next to my rosary and my Bible.”

It was a stack of stationery, tied with a ribbon, the envelopes worn and faded, as if they’d been handled frequently.

Letters, addressed to JP Malone. From Honey Hudson.

The room spun, briefly, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop it. “You kept these?”

“They kept me going, Honey,” he whispered. “I never stopped loving you. I never will.”

Brade reached them then, as the music began, a soft, lilting version of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” that never failed to make her heart swell. But today, the warmth in her chest came from another source. She couldn’t believe all the love in this room, everything they’d all been through, overcome, and were beginning.

“You ready?” her son whispered. “You’re not going to faint on us?”

She grimaced. “Will you ever let me live that down?”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Nope.”

She looked beyond her son, to the man standing on his other side, the man she’d tried and failed to stop loving, who’d never stopped loving her, either. “How about you, JP?”

JP gave a watery smile. “I couldn’t be readier. I’ll tell you this, I never expected to be on this side of the wedding ceremony. This—” he gestured to Heather, Brade, and the people in the next room “—you all are a blessing beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Stop it,” Brade murmured. “It’s bad enough with one parent crying.”

Parents. They were his parents. And they were both, at his request, escorting him toward where he would stand to await his bride. Wildest dreams, indeed.

“There’s our cue.” Brade gave their arms a little jostle and they started walking.

Her feet weren’t working quite right and she was certain her face was going to dissolve in tears. But as she walked, with her handsome son on her arm, and the smiling faces nodded at her, she grew steadier. JP loved her. She’d found their children. They were together, as a family. This was their day and Brade had given her the ultimate gift, in honoring her this way. In honoring them.

At the front, slightly hidden by the arch, stood Colt, panning his camera around the room. They had a wedding photographer, as well, but Colt’s focus was different, capturing her and the triplets and now, their father, too. She couldn’t wait to see what Colt had put together for her. Each moment of the past few months was so precious and now, thanks to his photos, she’d be able to pull them out whenever she wanted and relive them.

Sue Anne Nylund stood at the front, her brassy-gray hair in a teased helmet, her posture immaculate, her chin high. How JP had convinced her to volunteer her services, Heather didn’t know, especially since their sparring in the lead-up to the Christmas festival had never been a secret.

But today, the typical superior expression was missing from her face. Her eyes were a little too wide, her smile a little too broad.

She was nervous, Heather realized.

When they reached the front, they stopped.

Sue Anne Nylund cleared her throat. “Who gives this man in marriage?”

JP looked at her and his eyes were swimming.

Brade nudged her.

“Um, we do.” A collective sigh went across the room and her voice broke as she added, “His mother and father.”

Brade moved to Sue Anne’s side, ready to receive his bride, and Heather and JP took their seats in the front row, JP’s hand tight around hers. It felt as if he might never let her go. In her other hand, she clutched the small stack of paper that matched the stack she herself kept in a box, hidden in a closet. Words professing the love of two young people, words that lasted across time and space, words that had spun magic and then used it to gently rope them back to each other and bind them together.

Then Em was walking toward them. Her smile was bright, her dark hair in a magnificent tumbling mass at the back of her head. Colt snapped her at every step, it seemed, crouching down for different angles, even bumping into the other photographer at one point and getting hissed at for it by Sue Anne. He stayed in his corner after that, snapping only a few photos of Ashley and Diana, before looking back through his files.

The music changed, then, and everyone got to their feet and turned to the entrance of the room.

Kendall McKinley was radiant in a floor-length gown in a silvery-blue tone that set off her golden hair. A crushed-velvet wrap draped over her shoulders and she carried a simple bouquet of winter greenery. As she and Coralee walked past the first few rows, Kendall smiled at the people, her people, the friends and family who’d been with her throughout her life, and those who’d only joined recently. Those who’d supported her through the tough years of raising her beloved siblings and those who’d celebrated when she seized a life of her own.

Heather watched as Colt trained his lens on Kendall’s father. Doug Andrews looked small and sad, as if just now realizing the cost of his leaving. This was a roomful of people who loved Kendall and he was here on sufferance. If he wanted back in her life, he’d have to earn the privilege. She hoped he had the courage to do it, for a healthy reconciliation would only benefit Kendall.

Then Colt turned to the groom. Brade’s expression, as he watched his bride make her way toward him, was one of hopeful disbelief. He loved her, Heather marveled, as she deserved to be loved. And it was reciprocated.

She put a hand to her throat, as if she could press back the emotion welling within her. Then her hand dropped to the pendant. Tears slipped down her cheeks, happiness at all she’d been given so unexpectedly, sorrow at all that had been needlessly lost. How she wished her mother could have known the crazy turns her life had taken. How she wished her father could have escaped his own pain enough to recognize the joy she’d found.

Yet, like Kendall, like Bayleigh, like Leila, Diana and Em, Heather herself had triumphed over her adversities. She’d found, however it had come, the strength to champion herself, to fight for her one, precious life and make it the best it could be, to love where she could, and who she could, to mother the children who came to her with the same fierceness she’d had for those she’d lost. She’d chosen not just to survive, but to thrive.

And now, here, as she watched her children celebrate love, in all its fragmented and earth-bound glory, she thanked God and the universe for the uncountable blessings she’d been given.

“We are gathered here today,” Sue Anne began, “to celebrate a miracle.”

The unlikely officiant gave a brief but surprisingly heartfelt speech, before the exchange of vows and after, when the new couple was busy accepting congratulations, Heather went up to her.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” she said softly. “I can’t thank you enough for stepping in as you did.”

Sue Anne looked at her and the brittleness was gone. She appeared smaller, less certain of herself. She glanced at JP. “This must be a big shock for him. What…what will happen now?”

There was something in her voice that made Heather frown. Sue Anne, who knew everything, who had all the answers and didn’t care if she was right or wrong, who could be counted on to do whatever needed to be done, even when it wasn’t wanted, had a good heart. She was, beneath the bluster, generous and kind.

And suddenly Heather knew: Sue Anne loved JP, too. Or rather, she loved Father Patrick. And now the man she’d loved was a stranger to her.

Heather touched her arm. “He’s not going anywhere. You are a good friend to him, Sue Anne.”

Sue Anne gave a slight smile, then, like a light switch, she turned it into her usual superior expression. “He’s going to need all the friends he can get, now that we know his past. All this time, the father of your triplets was our town priest. What a scandal.”

Heather laughed, then leaned over and kissed the other woman’s cheek. “Indeed, Sue Anne. Indeed.”