Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (45 page)

The laugh that rumbled through his chest sent pleasant vibrations through Laney. "I'd suggest we hop in Francine right this minute and go catch the next flight to Las Vegas, but we can't deprive the Graces of a traditional wedding. Not after they insisted all the way home from Nashville that you and I are the best match they ever made."

"I can't believe they're taking the credit for this!" Laney huffed. "Remember that day at the tearoom? Whatever happened to that poor woman they were so eager to fix you up with? I never caught her name, but—"

Jeb was laughing again. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Princess, that 'poor woman' was
you
. They've been planning this for years!"

O
n a fine Saturday evening at the end of April, Laney married Jeb in the church wedding of her dreams.

A former wedding-planner's assistant, she'd had a blast arranging things just the way she wanted. Unsurprisingly, Jeb had shown little enthusiasm for helping to make decisions regarding flowers and catering and so on. But when Laney wondered aloud which of her friends to have as bridesmaids, he'd made an extremely good suggestion.

After the ceremony, several guests told Laney
how charmed they'd been when
the music had begun and they'd looked expectantly toward the church door and seen Caroline on the threshold, a bouquet of white roses in her hands. Aggie and Millie, holding bouquets of their own, had immediately stepped in to flank
their sister
. And then with plump chins held high, the Three Graces
—
first-time bridesmaids, all
—
had
linked arms and
swished proudly down the aisle in matching gowns of sky-blue satin.

The wedding was perfect.

So was the honeymoon in Paris, where Laney spent the better part of two weeks indulging her enthusiasm for classic French cuisine while Jeb looked on in fond amusement.

"We can stay another week if you want," he offered one balmy evening during supper at a sidewalk café.

"We don't dare," Laney said. "Not when I'm gaining weight and you're losing it."

A subtle breeze ruffled Jeb's dark hair as he shrugged. "The bread's good here."

That was what he'd been subsisting on while Laney enjoyed mouthwatering dishes garnished with shaved truffles and swimming in exotic sauces.

"I'll make you some Minnesota man-food the very second we get home," she promised.

"Hotdish?" He patted his flat stomach. "Now you're talking."

"You never said what made you decide on Paris for our honeymoon," Laney commented later as they left the café.

"I heard this was the place to go for French food," Jeb said. "And I knew you'd love seeing the gardens and art museums."

Was there ever a more exasperating man? Hugging the tissue-wrapped bouquet of purple lilacs he'd bought earlier at a charming flower stall, Laney gave him a piece of her mind. "Jeb, this is your honeymoon, too. What do
you
want?"

"I already have everything I want." He stopped walking and pulled her into his arms, crushing the lilacs and releasing their heady fragrance. "I spent years telling myself this could never happen, but just look where I am now."

"Yes, look," Laney said with tender sarcasm. "You're in Paris, eating food you hate and wandering through gardens and museums that don't interest you at all."

"I don't care about the food, Laney. It's who I'm sitting across the table from that matters. And if I don't seem very impressed by the gardens and museums, it's because I can hardly tear my eyes away from you."

"Oh, Jeb." She nestled her cheek against his chest and found the comfortable spot that belonged to her alone. "I can't imagine why you thought you needed the Graces' advice for courting me. You're the most romantic man I've ever met."

It was their last evening in the City of Light, and even though Laney's feet hurt from so much walking, it was too beautiful an evening not to enjoy one last stroll along the Seine. Holding Jeb's big warm hand as the nighttime sounds of Paris swirled around them, she was almost painfully happy.

When they stopped to admire a picturesque stone bridge spanning the river, Jeb shook his head in confusion.

"Are we walking in circles? Because this bridge looks familiar, and—" He broke off and squeezed her
hand
. "Laney," he said urgently. "It's the puzzle!"

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then it hit her: The pretty bridge arching across the dark waters of the Seine was the very one pictured in her mother's "Paris at Night" puzzle.

"Over there," Jeb said, pointing to the opposite side of the street. "That's where the picture was taken from." He tugged on Laney's hand and together they raced across the street, laughing like children, breathless with delight.

Jeb suddenly stopped. "Right here."

"Yes," Laney breathed, hugging her lilacs and struggling not to cry as Jeb wrapped his long arms around her. "I can't believe we're actually standing here. I can't believe we found this place by accident. If we'd come here in the daytime, we wouldn't even have recognized—"

"We didn't find this by accident," Jeb interrupted, his deep voice rumbling above her. "Don't you see?"

"See what?"

"Laney, we were
led
here," he said with quiet conviction. "This is a wedding gift from God."

"Yes," she whispered, understanding at last. "And you know, I don't think it's Mom's puzzle anymore. She started it, but we finished it, so it's ours now. So the very first thing we're going to do when we get home is frame it and hang it in our bedroom."

"Wrong." Bending down, he pressed a brief kiss against her lips and chuckled suggestively. "That'll be the
second
thing we do."

One year later.

B
ackstage at the Gospel Music Association's annual Dove Awards ceremony in Atlanta, Jeb cradled three gold-plated statuettes in his arms and tried not to flinch as he was mobbed by the media.

He was still trying to absorb the fact that he'd just won Dove Awards for Song of the Year, Male Vocalist of the Year, and Rock Album of the Year.

Spotting Justin Kramer over a TV cameraman's shoulder, his bald head reflecting the harsh overhead lights, Jeb caught the producer's gaze and then widened his own eyes in a silent message:
Can you believe this?

The man who had become Jeb's close friend and spiritual mentor grinned broadly, his gold tooth flashing as he pointed one finger toward the ceiling:
This is all God's doing.

Jeb shook his head at the interviewer in front of him. "Sorry. Could you repeat the question?"

"Just tell us how you're feeling right now."

"Overwhelmed," Jeb said. "Grateful."

He knew his one-word answers wouldn't satisfy the interviewers, but his attention had strayed back to Justin, who was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. When their eyes met again, the producer confirmed Jeb's hope by mouthing, "Laney."

"Excuse me," Jeb said to the people pressing around him. He quickly threaded his way through the clamoring crowd, his eyes on the prize in Justin's hand. Shifting his Dove Awards to one arm, he grabbed the phone.

"Laney?"

"I'm so excited!" she squealed. "Jeb, I can't stand it!"

He closed his eyes. "I know, sweetheart. I wish you were here."

"I wish that, too, Jeb. But you know we can't take her on a plane at this age."

Her
. Their precious gift. The ten-day-old miracle they'd named Hannah Grace Bell.

Every time he thought of his daughter—His
daughter
!—Jeb's insides quivered with joy.

Someone touched his elbow. When he turned, a smiling entertainment reporter
 
poked a microphone at his face.

"Congratulations, Jackson!"

"Thanks."

"When can we expect your second album to drop?"

"Release date is June first," Jeb said. "Please excuse me." Turning his back on the woman and the TV camera trained on him, he lowered his head and focused all of his attention on the sweet voice in his ear.

"I can hardly believe it!" Laney said. "First a Grammy and now three Dove Awards! I wish I could be there with you."

Her voice wobbled over those last few words, and Jeb pictured tears sparkling in her China-blue eyes.

"Laney, you
are
here. You're right here, in my heart. I take you wherever I go."

He heard a little sob, and then she said, "Jeb don't you
dare
make me cry when you're not here to hold me! Don't say any more romantic things until you get home, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," he said, loving her so hard it made his chest hurt.

"Good. So now I'm going to be all calm and wifely and tell you to be patient with the interviewers and give more than one-syllable responses to their questions, all right?"

"Yes, princess."

"And then go have some fun with your band."

His band. How could he ever express his gratitude to them? Not just for their professionalism and hard work, but for their companionship and encouragement. They had studied the Scriptures with him, and they had prayed with him for God's blessing on the music they made together.

Tonight he would tell them once again how much all of that had meant to him, and then he'd take his leave. They had families of their own; they would understand his eagerness to get back to Minnesota.

"I won't be on that flight tomorrow afternoon," he said suddenly. "I'm coming home tonight."

"Tonight? But don't you need to—"

"I need to be with
you
, Laney. I'll give a couple of interviews and then I'll do a quick round of back-slapping with the guys, but after that I'm heading to the airport. I'll call the hotel later and ask them to ship my suitcase."

"Not the awards," she said quickly. "Jeb, I don't want them lost!"

"I'll bring them with me," he assured her.

"Okay.
But do you even know if there's a flight heading to Minneapolis that late
?"

"There will be." He'd charter a private jet if that was what it took to get home in time for breakfast with Laney and Hannah Grace.

"The Graces knew you'd win," Laney said. "So earlier this evening, they brought over a celebratory pie. Your favorite."

"We'll have it for breakfast," Jeb said, grinning. "But you should go to bed now. You need to catch whatever sleep the little princess will allow you."

"You're right," Laney said. "I'll leave the kitchen light on for you."

Jeb told her that he loved her, and then he handed the phone back to Justin and turned to face the cameras.

Three microphones were immediately pushed toward him, and three people spoke at once. He managed to sort out the tangle of questions and give detailed answers to each one. Laney would have been proud.

When he'd had all he could take, he held up one finger and said, "Last question."