“Jump into it?” Lori-Lou laughed. “How many years have you and Casey been dating again? A dozen?”
“No. I’m only twenty-four. That would mean we started dating at age twelve. We only made it official when we were seventeen.”
“Well, that’s almost eight years, girl. Besides, you’ve known him since you were twelve. No one will think you’re jumping into anything. Besides, someone needs to make a move. The people at Cosmopolitan Bridal are going to announce it to the world in just a few months, Katie Sue.”
“Trust me when I say that no one in my inner circle reads Texas Bride, so I think we’re safe there. And other than you, I don’t have any friends or family in the Dallas area, so no one will hear those radio announcements anyway.”
“Wait . . . doesn’t Queenie have a sister who lives here?”
Ack. I’d almost forgotten about Alva—the family’s black sheep.
“Well, yes. Alva’s there. But what are the chances she would find out and say something to Queenie? They don’t even speak.”
“True, that.” A shriek followed. “Mariela! How did you get that door unlocked? Mama needs her privacy!” This escalated into an argument between mother and daughter. I could tell I’d lost my cousin altogether, so I said my goodbyes.
After I ended the call with Lori-Lou, I went back to work on the summer window display and pondered my situation with Casey. He needed to know about the dress. If I showed up at the bridal shop next Monday without an engagement ring, I’d have a tough time answering questions about how my wonderful fiancé had proposed, now wouldn’t I?
I had to talk to Casey about our future together as a couple. And I had to somehow get him to pop the question.
6
A Dear John Letter
Of emotions, of love, of breakup, of love and hate and death and dying, mama, apple pie, and the whole thing. It covers a lot of territory, country music does.
Johnny Cash
After a stressful afternoon of trying to balance work with my frazzled emotions, I managed to talk Pop into letting me off early. By four thirty I was in my car, driving through the heart of town to Casey’s house. If I knew my guy—and I did—he was just arriving home from work. Changing into his jeans and cowboy boots, no doubt, then heading out to work in the yard for his mama. Such a great son. Such a great guy.
Underneath the brilliant late-afternoon sun, the whole town seemed brighter, happier than ever. Banners hung along Main Street, advertising next month’s Fourth of July parade. Folks strolled from building to building, store to store, chatting and hugging like the old friends they were.
What a blissful place to live. What a fantastic place to marry and raise a family. No wonder my parents had opted to stay here all these years. We lived in paradise.
When I turned right at the next corner, I saw Reverend Bradford shopping at the local bookstore. He waved as I drove by and I returned the gesture. He turned his attention to Mr. Finkle, the store owner, who patted him on the back and gestured for him to step inside the store.
As I drove past Tu-Tu-Sweet, our local bakery/ballet studio, I caught a glimpse of a faux wedding cake in the front window, one I’d never seen before. I made a mental note to stop by tomorrow to check it out. I’d have to start shopping for wedding items soon. Well, as soon as I had a date set. To my left, flags flew over the courthouse, the sunshine causing the white stripes to shimmer in the breeze. All in all, a picture-perfect day to broach the happily-ever-after question with my sweetheart.
Mayor Luchenbacher stood in front of the courthouse, gazing up at the American flag. He gave me a frantic wave, and I rolled down the window to holler, “Good afternoon!” I didn’t dare slow down for a conversation. He’d have me signing up to coordinate the Fourth of July parade again. Hopefully I’d be too busy planning for my big day to head up the festivities this year.
The radio station blared out a familiar worship song, and I leaned back against the seat as I drove, the words sliding off my tongue. Words of joy. Hope. Faith. They made my heart sing all the way to Casey’s homestead.
When I pulled up to the Lawson home, I sighed with pure joy. I’d always loved this expansive property with its traditional picket fence. Gorgeous. I could see myself living in a place like this someday. Our children would run and play in the yard. Our dog—probably a Lab—would romp around with the kids and then take a dip in the pond out back. Someday. Then again, from what Casey had shared, he might be more interested in getting something new. Maybe we’d build a small house on the back acreage. That might be nice. We could have our own space and still be close to the family.
Before getting out of the car, I checked my appearance in the rearview mirror. A quick lipstick touch-up was called for, and then I climbed out of the car, adjusted my twisted blouse, and headed to the front door, where Casey’s mother greeted me with tilted head and wrinkled brow.
“Well, Katie Sue. Didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Neither does Casey.” I giggled. “Just wanted to surprise him. Is he here?”
“Yes. He’s . . .” Her words drifted off. “Well, let me get him for you, honey. C’mon in.” She gestured for me to come inside. “You want a glass of sweet tea? There’s a fresh pitcher in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” I followed her down the front hallway of the house, taking in the country-chic décor. Some might consider it outdated, but I was enamored by the simple, rustic environment. Homey. That was the word. And nothing made a girl feel more at home than homey. The wood paneling in the living room put me in mind of the eighties, but even that brought comfort. Familiarity.
I made myself at home in the kitchen until Casey joined me a couple minutes later. My honey walked into the room looking as handsome as ever. His dark hair was a bit more tousled than usual, and those gorgeous blue eyes flashed with intrigue when he saw me standing in the middle of his kitchen, swigging a giant glass of sweet tea. I couldn’t help but wonder about the basketball shorts and faded T-shirt, though. He usually wore jeans and button-ups around the house, even on the most casual day.
I let out a whistle. “Hello, handsome. Love seeing you like this.”
“Thanks. Different, right?” The edges of his lips curled up in a smile. “And hello yourself. Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Exactly.” I snuggled into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s what makes it so fun. Thought I’d surprise you by stopping by. That okay?”
“Sure. But you look like you have something on your mind.”
“O-oh?”
“Yep. I’d know that look anywhere.” He gave me an inquisitive look. “Is your mama trying to get you to talk me into singing that bass solo next Sunday morning? I tried to tell her it’s out of my range.”
“Nope. She never said a word about it.”
Casey looked half relieved, half perplexed. “Ah. So, is it your dad?”
“Oh no. Not that. I—”
“Does he need me to come and move that shelf unit to the back of the store? I’ve been promising to do that for weeks now but haven’t had time.”
“Nothing like that.” I tried to figure out where to start this delicate conversation. “I, um, just have a lot on my mind today. I just wanted to ask you—”
“Something big going on at the store? Or is Queenie still upset with the Methodists?”
“Presbyterians. But I really came by to—”
“She’s mad at the Presbyterians too?” he asked. “Wonder how she feels about the Lutherans. And the Charismatics.”
“Pretty sure she’s okay with the Lutherans, but I wouldn’t place any bets on the Charismatics. Anyway, that’s not why I came by, I can assure you.”
“Dewey in trouble again? Mary Anne break his heart?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not it either.” I took a seat at the breakfast table and he sat down in the chair next to me. I gazed at him, wishing I could work up the courage to come out and ask him about his intentions.
Still, a girl could hardly pop the “are you ever going to propose?” question.
“You’ve got something on your mind, Katie.” He poured himself a glass of tea, then leaned back in his chair. “Might as well spit it out. No offense, but you’ve never been very good at hiding your emotions, especially when you’re upset.”
“Well, I just woke up this morning thinking about . . .” Marrying you. Duh. “Thinking about the future.”
“The future?” He took a swig from his glass. “Like, years-from-now future or tomorrow future?”
“Both, actually.” And thanks for playing along. Maybe this would be easier than I’d guessed. “Casey, I just wondered if maybe you’ve given any thought to, well, the future.” I mustered a smile and prayed he would take the hint.
An odd expression overtook him and a moment later he nodded. “Katie, I think about the future every day.”
“Really?” A hopeful spark ignited within. “Me too. So let’s compare notes, okay?”
“O-okay.”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“In five years?” He rolled his eyes. “Out of this town, for sure.”
“W-what?” In all the years I’d known him, I hadn’t heard him talk about leaving. “You mean, like, the outskirts of town? In a different house? Different property?”
“No. I mean, like, way out of town. Another state, even. If a man’s gonna have a career—a real career—it’s going to be in someplace bigger than Fairfield, Texas.”
“But I thought you planned to live here someday. On this land, I mean.”
“That’s my parents’ plan for me. They’ve said it a thousand times. And I’ve done my best to play along because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Heck, I even thought I could talk myself into it. But I’m not really into all of that, Katie. I thought you knew that. Sometimes I think my father loaded me up with ideas that were really his, not mine. I want something bigger than a few acres of land and a garden. You know?”
No, I didn’t know. My response was stuck in my throat, however, and refused to dislodge itself.
He rose and paced the kitchen, finally coming to a stop in front of the refrigerator, where he turned back to face me. “Katie, I’m glad you asked me about the future, because there’s something I need to talk to you about. I’ve been praying about this for days. Just didn’t know how to come out and say it, but you’ve given me the perfect segue.”
“Oh? Have I now?” I tried not to let the little giggle in my heart escape. Oh, hallelujah! He was going to propose right here, in his kitchen! Perfection! I’d always joked about getting engaged on a random weekday. What a story to tell our kiddos: “Mama got her proposal on a Monday afternoon over a glass of sweet tea at your grandma’s kitchen table, the one that was passed down from one generation to another.” Lovely!
“Just say it, Casey.” I smiled. “Won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”
He nodded, walked over, and stopped right in front of me, taking my hand. My left hand. With his free hand he reached into his back pocket. My heart skip-skip-skipped, and I wanted to sing a funny little ditty just to celebrate this glorious moment. He pulled out a small box, just the right size for a ring.
Praise the Lord! Thank you, Queenie! Your suggestion worked like a charm. We’re talking about the future now, aren’t we?
“Katie, you’re the sweetest girl I know. So understanding.”
“Th-thank you. I feel the same about you.” But this would be better if you dropped to one knee. That would make for a better story.
My sweetie’s smile lit the room, and I stared into his handsome face, a face lit with joy as he spoke. “You asked about my future, and I honestly believe it’s going to be great. Better than great, actually.”
“Me too!” This time the giggle escaped. “I can see it now.”
“I can too.” A contented look came over him. “And I like what I see. A lot.”
A delicious sigh wriggled its way up inside of me as I whispered, “So do I.”
“And because I’m so sure the future’s going to be bright, I need to show you something that might come as a bit of a surprise.”
Maybe not as much of a surprise as you think. I’ve been prepping for this for years!
His hands trembled as he opened the box, revealing . . .
Huh?
Instead of a ring, the box held a strange-looking pin. Weird. Casey pulled it out and held it up in front of me. “Can you read the inscription on this?” he asked.
I squinted to get a better look. “Chesterfield Oil and Gas?”
Weirdest. Proposal. Ever.
“Yes.” He nodded and gazed at the little pin in his palm. “Chesterfield Oil and Gas. In Tulsa.”
“O-okay.”
He paced the kitchen and finally came to a stop in front of me once again. “Katie, I don’t know any way to tell you this other than just coming out and saying it. I’ve been offered a job in Tulsa at Chesterfield Oil and Gas. They want me to start next month. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for ages now, but there just didn’t seem to be the right opportunity . . . until now.”
“W-what?” My heart felt like a stone. “What are you saying? You’re . . . you’re leaving?” How had we jumped from proposal to rejection in less than a minute? Surely I’d misunderstood.
“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he said. “But a great company with potential for financial advancement? I can’t get that here in Fairfield. You have to admit it. This is a dead-end town.”
“A dead-end town?” My heart felt as if it had been personally attacked. How could he say that about the place I loved so much? “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before. I’m here. In Fairfield, I mean.”
“I know. And I’m not asking you for a long-distance relationship here, Katie. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I know that’s not what’s best for the two of us.”
Ooh, got it! He planned to propose but wanted to give me a heads-up first that we would be living elsewhere. Likely wanting to gauge my reaction. Well, I’d offer a brave smile and face the “do we really have to move away?” question later. Surely he would change his mind. Maybe the Texas heat was getting to him. He would come to his senses soon.
“So, you don’t want a long-distance relationship?” I asked.
“No.” He opened his hand and looked at the Chesterfield Oil and Gas pin. “I know it wouldn’t work for either of us.” He rolled the pin around in his hand, then looked my way, his nose wrinkled. “To be honest, Katie, I . . .” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “I . . .”
“You . . . ?” What?
Any bit of lingering hope withered as I saw the somber expression in his eyes.
“I just feel like I need to focus on my work right now. My future with the new company is hanging in the balance. I need to play it safe. Be fully on board. That way they won’t question my loyalty. You understand, right? You are, as I said, the sweetest, most understanding girl in Fairfield.”
“Wait.” In that moment, I had the strangest out-of-body experience, the one where you feel like you’re dreaming. The one where you hope—no, pray—you’re dreaming. “Are you breaking up with me?”
His expression contorted and his eyes filled with remorse. “We don’t really have to say it like that. I know this is hard to hear, but I think we should step back for a few months. Maybe reassess at Thanksgiving when I come home for a visit.”
“Thanksgiving? That’s months from now.”
“Yeah. Mama said she’d kill me if I didn’t come home for the holidays.”
“So your parents know? They’ve known you’re moving away?”
He nodded.
“Great. Everyone knows but me.” Only, I knew now, didn’t I? And now . . . well, it pretty much changed everything.
I couldn’t say what happened next because I found myself in a somewhat catatonic state. I vaguely remember knocking over the glass of sweet tea and leaving it to run down the ed
ge of the table. I sort of remember stubbing my toe on the leg of the kitchen table as I fled from the room. And I’m pretty sure I remember nearly tripping down the steps as I bolted from the front porch.
Still, when I reached the car, as I stared back at the large ranch-style home, I had to believe the whole thing had been a terrible dream. I’d wake up soon, and Casey and I would laugh at how real it had all seemed.
Or not.
I couldn’t stop the tears as they flowed down my cheeks. I didn’t want to. My entire world had just come crumbling down around me. Every fantasy, every plan . . . vanished.
Thank you very much, Chesterfield Oil and Gas.
A humming noise from inside my purse got my attention. I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed and realized I’d missed another call from Cosmopolitan Bridal. I listened to the message, recognizing Madge’s voice right away.
“Something I forgot to mention,” she said, her voice sailing along in the same chipper fashion as before. “We’ll be counting on you to be available not just for fittings but for press engagements, radio interviews, and that sort of thing. Hope this isn’t too much of a distraction from your wedding plans.”
Wedding plans?
What wedding plans?
As I pushed the button on my phone to end the message, I leaned back against the seat and dissolved into a haze of tears.
I had the gown. I had the church. I had the guests. The only thing missing from this wedding . . . was the groom.
7
Somewhere Between
I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on earth.
Steve McQueen
Just two days after I learned that I’d won the dress of my dreams, my would-be fiancé packed his bags and headed north to Oklahoma to look for an apartment. He might not be leaving for good just yet, but it sure felt like it. Looked like he was eager to get his new big-city life started.
I received the news through the grapevine—i.e., the WOP-pers—who made it their mission to pray the dear boy back home again. No doubt they would do it too, though frankly, I didn’t care if I ever saw him again.