The Bride Raffle (22 page)

A
t the grassy square in the center of Morrow Creek, the whole place buzzed with frivolity and laughter. Red, white and blue bunting stretched from pole to pole at the entrance gate. Townspeople milled about, dressed in their most sporting garb, chatting with their neighbors and waving souvenir flags. The town band played a patriotic tune, festively arrayed on the same stage where, later, Astair Prestell was scheduled to appear.

B
ARKER
& B
OWLES
P
RESENT
: T
HE
L
ITERARY
F
IGURE OF OUR
A
GE
! A
STAIR
P
RESTELL AND HIS ELUCIDATING OBSERVATIONS
… T
ODAY
O
NLY
!

Gazing at the sign and stage, Daisy felt at first wistful, then accepting. She would have liked to have spoken at the town picnic. But with everything else that had gone on…

Well, maybe next year, she reckoned as she scanned the crowds for signs of Élodie—or Mrs. Archer, who was supposed to have brought her here.

Unfortunately, Daisy glimpsed neither of them. There were
plenty of children present, but none of those children sported twin coppery braids, an elfin smile and a lovable demeanor.

Determined to enjoy herself all the same—because, after all, Morrow Creek was her home and her baby’s home now— Daisy turned to Mrs. Sunley, who’d accompanied her here. She smiled.

“My goodness! I think the entire town is here.”

“Pshaw,” Mrs. Sunley scoffed. “You haven’t seen anything yet. This place is only half-full right now. By nightfall, it’ll be downright rootin’ tootin’!” She gave Daisy a fond smile. “Good luck on your mission, my dear. I’m off for some mescal.”

Left on her own, Daisy watched as her friend toddled off to enjoy what had become—apparently—a yearly tippling tradition.

Standing there alone amid the frolicsome antics of the Independence Day celebrants, Daisy sighed. She hoped Élodie hadn’t decided to stay home this year. She hoped Thomas and Miss Reardon were correct, and Owen would be at the picnic, too. She hoped… She hoped she wouldn’t lose her nerve when she saw him, and fail to tell him all the things that were in her heart.

She’d never been brave, Daisy knew. All her life, she’d relied upon happenstance to guide her. If not for her newfound friends here in Morrow Creek, she would never have met Owen Cooper. She would never have known Élodie. She would never have had cause to question Conrad’s behavior, to acknowledge her baby and her changing future…to risk loving someone with all her heart. Thomas, Miss Reardon, Mrs. Sunley and everyone else had seemed to discern that about her. Their very necessary urgings toward a new, more complete life had brought Daisy very far.

Now all that remained were a few more important steps.
The only question was, could Daisy take those steps on her own? Could she claim the man and the life she wanted and make amends for her mistakes in the process?

Daisy didn’t know. Just then, surrounded by everyone she knew in town and a great many more people she did not, she feared the answer was no. Panicking, she hoisted the freshly baked pie she’d brought, then turned away from the crowd altogether.

Upon pushing his way into the town square, Owen spotted the group of gossipy troublemakers he sought almost immediately.

With Élodie’s small hand held firmly in his own, he bee-lined toward them, making his way to their gathering point at the popular booth hosted by a local mescal distillery.

With every step, his focus narrowed, blotting out the cheery hellos of his neighbors, the flapping flags and signs, the bunting and the band. With every step, his teeth clenched more tightly, causing his jaw to ache. With every step, his resolve strengthened. He intended to defend Daisy or die trying.

“You.”
Owen reached the group at last. He swept them all with his most fearsome gaze. Shaking with anger, he honed in on Mrs. Sunley, Mrs. Archer and Miss Reardon, specifically. He reckoned Miss O’Neill ought to have been included, but she was nowhere in sight. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, slandering Daisy the way you did! How you could treat a good, kind, gentle,
caring
woman that way is beyond reason! I never—”

Mrs. Sunley raised a glass. “Mescal, Mr. Cooper?”

Owen gaped at her. “Do I
look
as though I want a drink?”

“You look as though you want to murder someone,” the widow said. “A drink generally helps calm down folks who are tetchy.”

“Tetchy?”
Awash in amazement, Owen scowled. “Damn right, I’m ‘tetchy’! I’m mad as hell!” He pointed. “You three are—”

“Language, Mr. Cooper.” Miss Reardon tsk-tsked, aiming a meaningful glance at his daughter. “There are children present.”

Frustrated, Owen glared at them. “You don’t even have the decency to be ashamed of yourselves! I heard what you said about Daisy. It’s reprehensible. Don’t you know the damage that can—”

“Hello there, Mr. Cooper!” Thomas Walsh had arrived, appearing chirpy and pleased—and not the least cowed by Owen’s fury. “It’s about time you came to the picnic. You led us on a merry chase.”

Owen didn’t know what Daisy’s exasperating brother was blathering about, but the sight of Thomas made him even angrier. The least the man could have done was stand up for his sister.

“You will all
stop
spreading malicious gossip about Daisy!” Owen said, coming clean to the point. “You will shut your mouths and not say a single word more! Otherwise, I promise I’ll—”

To his amazement, Mrs. Archer—his longtime friend—laughed.

“This isn’t
funny,
Matilda!” Owen felt his brow crease.

“I’m sorry, Owen. But it rather is.” Mrs. Archer sent Élodie a comforting glance, along with—Owen would swear—a very conspiratorial grin. “You are properly formidable and quite terrifying in your protectiveness, I assure you. It’s most impressive. Truly! But we have
not
been slandering Miss Walsh,” she said in a more serious tone. “It was all a ruse,” she confessed, “concocted deliberately to bring you here today.”

Flabbergasted, Owen stared at them. The foursome nodded.

So did Élodie. “It’s true, Papa. We all conspired to do it, because we all wanted you and Miss Walsh to be happy together.” Even
Élodie
had schemed to bring him here? For Daisy?

“We knew the only thing guaranteed to bring you out of your hidey-hole was making you think that Daisy needed you to defend her,” Miss Reardon admitted cheerily. “So we made it all up.”

Still smarting over
hidey-hole,
Owen frowned. He gestured at the town picnic. “This is all one of your irksome schemes?”

“Well, not the picnic itself,” Élodie clarified. “But otherwise…yep. It’s a scheme. Just like the bride raffle was.”

The bride raffle,
Owen remembered.
The very thing that had brought him and Daisy together.
Discomfited at the memory, he had to admit the truth: if not for his interfering friends and neighbors, he might well have missed meeting the woman he loved.

But that didn’t mean he had to
like
their damn meddling!

Grumbling, he gave them another scowl, just to assure they knew it. “Daisy never heard a cruel word against her?” he asked.

“There was never an unkind word spoken,” Mrs. Sunley promised. With a twinkle in her eye, she added, “If you’re so hell-bent on protecting her, maybe you ought to consider why.”

Wholly taken aback, Owen did. He did consider it.

“And when you’re done doing that,” the meddlesome widow added, “maybe you ought to tell her. She’s right over there.”

Helpfully, all three women, one bespectacled man and one little girl pointed in the direction of the pie-contest table.

Owen swiveled. He couldn’t see Daisy. But he could see a flashy B
ARKER
& B
OWLES
P
UBLISHING
sign. He could see
a stage. He could see his future—alone and bleak—if Daisy left town again.

“Mr. Astair Prestell won’t be speaking today,” Mrs. Archer informed him, misinterpreting his interest in the sign-age. “Apparently, he and Miss O’Neill eloped by rail this afternoon.”

But Owen didn’t care about clandestine weddings or hearing a famous author speak. All he cared about was finding Daisy before it was too late. To that end, he turned to the group.

“Mrs. Archer, can you please watch Élodie for a minute?” Owen asked. “I’m sorry about before.” Contritely, he gestured. “I didn’t mean—well, I was all fired up, is the thing. And—”

Matilda smiled. “Of course I’ll take care of Élodie.”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” his daughter declared. She clenched his hand in a viselike grip. “I’m not missing this! Let’s go, Papa!”

Recognizing the mulishness in Élodie the same way he did his own, Owen nodded. “All right. But we’d better hurry.”

S
he should have known better than to hope this scheme would work, Daisy realized as she stood, still alone, in the square. Apparently, Thomas and Miss Reardon were wrong. Owen had not come to the town picnic…and neither, it seemed, had Élodie.

Disheartened, Daisy mustered up a smile for a group of passing children. She waved at Molly Copeland, whom she’d met at the sociable sightseeing outing, and her sisters, Sarah and Grace. She glanced at the lemonade stand…

…and would have sworn she glimpsed Owen standing there.

Surprised, Daisy stood on tiptoe for a better look. She knew she shouldn’t hope. Still, her heartbeat increased a notch.

No. Now there was no lanky, broad-shouldered, handsome man with a little girl by his side. All she saw were strangers.

But then, near the starting line of the three-legged sack race, Daisy could have sworn she caught sight of Owen
again
.

She couldn’t be sure, because the picnic grounds were
packed cheek by jowl with revelers. If it
had
been Owen, Daisy discerned, he appeared to have been searching for someone.

But whom? And why? And could she even be sure it was him?

Everyone knew that cantankerous Owen Cooper didn’t waste his time over “social silliness.” Not for any reason. And yet, there he seemed to be
again,
peering over the crowds…at
her
.

Their eyes met. Jolted by that contact, Daisy blinked.

It
was
Owen. It was! He was here. He was looking for her.

Hardly able to fathom it, Daisy looked around. She didn’t know where to go, what to do, how to behave. Her mind whirled.

Never at a greater need for clarity, Daisy could suddenly find none. Thankfully, her feet were not similarly confused. They took up walking, heading directly across the green to Owen.

An instant later, Daisy lost sight of him. More picnic-goers clogged her path and her view. She walked faster. Where was he?

Then, with blissful suddenness, he was there.
Owen
.

He stopped right in front of her, appearing tall and proud and serious and wonderful and smart and loyal and fierce and beloved and sorely, deeply missed. Near him, Daisy trembled.

“You look like ten kinds of wonderful,” she blurted, aching to touch his bristly unshaven cheek—wanting to assure herself that he was real…really there, next to her, all over again.

Remarkably, he smiled. “You look like all I ever wanted.”

At that, Daisy nearly burst into tears. Maybe she
hadn’t
ruined everything, she thought. Maybe there was still hope.

“Owen…I’m so sorry!” Daisy said, making herself stand
still and straight. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a better chance to explain. I was scared and alone and shocked, and I know that’s really no excuse for all the terrible things I said—”

“You said a lot of good things, too.” Owen’s solemn, darkeyed gaze met hers. “You
did
a lot of good things. You showed me a side of myself I didn’t even know was there, Daisy, and I—”

He broke off. Beside him, Élodie urgently tugged his sleeve. With an apologetic smile, Owen leaned down. He conferred with his daughter. When he rose again, he was wearing a necktie.

On him, it appeared beyond handsome—even if it didn’t quite match with what seemed to be a hastily pulled-on shirt and coat.

Eminently satisfied, Élodie rocked back on her heels. She cast Daisy a smile. Relieved that she seemed to be fine, and assuring herself that she would hug Élodie twice as diligently later, to make up for their separation, Daisy winked at her.

“I’m sorry, too,” Owen said. “I’m sorry you had to see me and Conrad that way. I’m sorry I didn’t think about what you needed more than what I wanted to give you. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to explain!” His gaze pleaded with her to understand. “Everything you said about me… It was everything I feared was true. I couldn’t stand hearing it. Not from you. So I—”

“It
wasn’t
true!” Daisy interrupted, impassioned with a need to make him understand. She couldn’t help grabbing his hand. “I
know
you couldn’t have wanted to hurt me. You don’t have it in you, Owen. You’re not mean. You’re sweet, especially to me. You
are!
I should have remembered that. Only—”

“I
didn’t
want to hurt you.” Owen’s voice was hoarse with needfulness. “I never wanted that. I only wanted you to have—”

“A nest egg. Like Élodie’s!” Daisy squeezed his hand, heedless of the curious picnic attendees who’d begun slowing, stopping, even gathering near their meeting place. “I thought about it later, and I knew that must be it. You wanted to give me a steady future. That’s a noble gesture. It truly is.”

“It’s a
necessary
gesture,” Owen disagreed. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on hers. “Being with me hurts. It was bad for Renée. I didn’t want it to be bad for Élodie—or for you.”

“Is that what you think?” Daisy shook her head, brimming with compassion for him—a big, strong man who’d shouldered this fear alone. “That you’re
dangerous
to the people who love you?”

Owen looked away. He seemed unable to speak. He nodded.

That brief affirmation nearly broke her heart again.

“But it’s not true!” Daisy swore. She squeezed his hand to make him look at her again. “Owen, being with you is the best thing I’ve ever done. When I was with you… I felt special. I felt understood and accepted and loved.
Loved!
” Shaking her head, Daisy smiled. “Do you know how rare that is? To feel that you make someone truly happy? To feel that every day is brighter when that person is in it? To feel that the whole world was constructed just so you two would wind up together, as one?”

At that, Owen grinned. His smile dazzled her. “I have a small notion of what it’s like to feel the whole world turning around you, just to make something particular happen. I do.”

Belatedly realizing he was talking about their scheming—but well-meaning—friends and neighbors, Daisy smiled wider. “Thank heavens. Otherwise, I might never have found you. Both of you!”

She beamed at Élodie. The little girl smiled back.

For an instant, Owen merely gazed at Daisy. He took
in her smile, her face, her bearing and her whole being…and he smiled. Daisy smiled back at him, feeling positively beguiled.

Élodie cleared her throat. She elbowed her father in the ribs. “Not now, Papa!” she said. “You can’t be tongue-tied
now!
”

All three of them laughed. Then Owen took hold of Daisy’s other hand. He pulled it to his chest, where she felt his heart beating a steady rhythm. He squeezed her hand tightly.

“I came here to defend you, Daisy,” Owen said. “I came here to make damn certain the world was treating you fairly. But along the way, I realized I wasn’t treating you fairly.”

“Owen, no. That’s not true! You’re—”

“I wasn’t treating you fairly,” he persisted, wholly undeterred by her protest, “because I never told you the truth. I never told you I love you. But I do, Daisy. I love you with all my heart and soul combined.” His gravelly voice deepened, roughened with emotion. “I love you today, and I know I’ll love you even more by tomorrow. And if that sounds impossible—” Owen broke off, his face finally glowing with a rascally smile. “Well, then that’s entirely appropriate. Because you made me believe in miracles, Daisy. Just by being with me, you made me believe in
myself.
You made me hope again. You taught me to open wide and take in my life. I’d plumb forgotten all that. I had. But it’s so sweet, and
you’re
sweet, and I…I know that if you don’t say something soon, I’m going to turn into a gibbering fool, Daisy. Maybe I’m a fool already! Lord knows, I’m pretty far gone. But I need you to understand. I need you to
need
me. I need you to please,
please
forgive me. Say we can try again—”

“We can try again,” Daisy said, tears welling in her eyes.

Owen seemed taken aback. “We can?”

“Of course!” Daisy said—and this time, those tears fell. “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?” she
blubbered, not caring who heard her. “I
do
need you, Owen! I need you like flowers need rain. Like bread needs butter. Like soup needs salt.” Seeing the perplexed look on his face, Daisy laughed. She had a lot to teach him. “Those are good things!” she explained. “They’re good like
you.
Like me. Like us, together.” Drawing in an emboldening breath, she gazed straight at him. “I love you, Owen. I love you with everything I am,” she dared to tell him. “And if you say that’s enough for you, then I believe you—”

“That’s enough for me,” he said, voice choked with tears.

“—and I would like to come back and never leave again.”

“As far as I recall,” Owen told her, “you never left. Because you were always in my heart, every moment. I love you. I love you!” He swept the enraptured crowd with a redoubtable glare. “And I don’t care who knows it. I would marry you today—”

“Today?” Daisy breathed, gazing up at him. “Now?”

“—if there was someone here to marry us. I promise you,” Owen said, “I will love you and protect you, no matter what.”

“Marry me?” Daisy asked again. “Today? Here? Now?”

Owen nodded. Solemnly, he dropped to his knee. Daisy felt her mind whirl anew—and this time, her heart joined in, too.

“I’ve never said a word to you I didn’t mean,” Owen told her, “and I mean this now—I love you, Daisy. If you will honor me by becoming my bride, I will spend my life making you smile.”

“Well—” Daisy sniffled “—if I could accomplish the miracle of making
you
smile, I guess I can do anything.” She lifted him up for a kiss. “Yes, Owen! I
will
marry you. Yes,
please!
”

As they came together for that kiss, all the Independence
Day revelers cheered. The band struck up a tune. Daisy blushed, Owen tried to glower—and failed—and Élodie whooped with joy.

Someone else stepped forward. He cleared his throat. “I’m Reverend Benson,” he said. “I can marry you today if you’d like.”

Someone in the crowd guffawed. “Called your bluff, Cooper!”

Daisy would have sworn she recognized Gus’s joking voice, making that gibe. But she didn’t have time to ponder it for long. Because in the next moment, Owen looked at her. She looked at him. Élodie watched them both, then they nodded as a trio.

Jubilantly, Owen kissed her again. “Let’s do it!” he said.

“Let’s!” Daisy agreed. “Only…” She cast a longing glance at the starting line of the three-legged sack race. “Do you think we could indulge in one tiny race together first?”

Owen raised his eyebrows. “You want me…to do that?”

Biting her lip, Daisy nodded. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“Do it, Papa!” Élodie urged. “It will be fun!”

“I’m just dying to see Cooper do a three-legged race!” put in a tipsy-sounding Mrs. Sunley from the sidelines. “Do it!”

Reverend Benson stood by. He grinned. “I
do
have all day.”

With that, it was settled. There was a three-legged sack race for a starter, a break for pie in the middle, a hurried change of clothes and assembling of rings to follow, and then…

“Owen Cooper,” Reverend Benson intoned once they were all gathered near the hastily repurposed stage in the town square, “do you take this woman, Daisy Walsh, to love and cherish, with all your heart and soul, to be your wife, now and forever?”

Owen glanced sideways—undoubtedly at the reverend’s liberties with their vows. In a booming tone, he said, “I do!”

At the same time, Daisy felt…something. Startled, she clutched her belly. It felt like a flutter. Like a gentle wave. Like…a teeny-tiny baby delivering her his very first kick!

With her eyes wide, Daisy signaled Owen. She took his hand. She lay it on her middle. An instant later, another kick came.

This time, Owen’s smile was downright euphoric. Feeling, with him, as though they had an unfair quantity of wonderfulness to look forward to, Daisy faced the reverend again. He repeated their vows, this time with Daisy in mind. “…now and forever?”

“I do,” Daisy promised. She sneaked a glance at Owen. “And I think,” she added in a more private tone, “my baby does, too!”

“
Our
baby.” Owen pulled her close for their first wedded kiss. His gaze touched hers, making her feel safe and beloved and wonderfully secure. “
Our
family, together, now and forever.”

Happy and radiant, Daisy nodded. “
Our
family,” she agreed, knowing it was true. She’d taken a chance on being brave, and now she had more to look forward to than she’d ever dreamed of.

Hand in hand, she and Owen turned to face their friends and neighbors. The town square resounded with applause and cheers.

Some of that enthusiasm was doubtless owed to the copious quantities of mescal that had been donated by the distillery. Some of it was owed to the overall mood of celebration in the air on this, the most festive of all summertime holidays. But a part of it, Daisy knew, was owed purely to the power of love…a power she’d had cause to doubt once, but would never doubt again.

Especially not while she had herself to depend on, a family who loved her and now a new daughter to shower with affection.

“Élodie!” Daisy swooped down for a hug, laughing with glee.

The little girl hugged her, too. Shyly, she asked, “Can I call you Mama now? It’s not like Maman, but it’s still special.”

“I’d be honored,” Daisy said. Impulsively she kissed her.

“Arrgh!” Élodie cried with a giggle. “Not another nose kiss!” With girlish exaggeration, she pretended to be thoroughly exasperated. “What am I going to do now? I’m doomed!”

“Doomed to be loved, you mean!” Owen chortled.

Laughing, he looked at Daisy. She looked at him. At the sudden thought of the wedding night still to come, Daisy felt a frisson of excitement shiver through her. Then, by mutual unspoken agreement, they both turned their attention to Élodie.