20. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
I woke up the next morning, on the Sabbath as my aunt liked to call it, still unsettled about the previous night’s events. At least Aunt Lu got to come home today.
Part of me thought about skipping church even though I knew Brady would be there.
I didn’t think I would get to see him all that much today.
It probably wasn’t the best idea to have him over on my aunt’s first day home, knowing it would agitate her and she needed her rest. See how messed up our situation was?
But if I went to church, it would mean I would have to see Brady’s parents and the rest of the town.
Still, I got up and got ready. Maybe it was the Southern girl in me who couldn’t skip church. I had bought a couple of new dresses the day before, so I had something new to wear. New clothes usually made me feel better, but not today. This uneasiness hung in the air.
As I straightened my hair and applied makeup, I kept staring into my reflection, searching for answers that wouldn’t come. How were Brady and I supposed to make this work? Was it even possible to be together without making everyone—including ourselves—miserable?
As I sat there contemplating, I heard the doorbell. I wasn’t expecting anyone, especially this early in the morning.
I took my time walking to the door, wishing I could hide from the world.
But when I opened it and saw Brady—leaning in the frame, suit and tie, signature cowboy boots in place—I couldn’t help but smile.
He looked devastatingly handsome, the light scruff on his cheeks giving him that perfect edge of wild and worn.
“Hi, handsome,” I said, trying to sound flirty even though I wasn’t feeling all that flirtatious this morning. “What’s the occasion?”
Without a word, he stepped inside and drew me into his arms. “I wanted to take my girl to church,” he whispered, “and I was worried. About you. About us.”
I sank into him, exhaling hard. “I’m sorry this is so hard for me, Brady.”
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. “Ellie, quit apologizing. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“What for?”
“Because I should’ve been man enough to stand up to my family ten years ago. Then I wouldn’t be picking you up for church today—I’d be home helping you wrangle our kids. Or at least making pancakes for you in our own kitchen.”
All lovely, lovely thoughts. It was almost too lovely because I was so afraid we’d never get there.
“Brady, you were a kid. You did what you thought was best at the time.”
“No, I did what my family thought was best. And I hurt you.”
I wished I could tell him he hadn’t. But after what I witnessed last night, I felt sorry for Brady. I could only imagine how much his mother had manipulated him.
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“I trust you.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Not the way you used to, and I don’t blame you.
I know I have a lot to make up for, and that the road ahead of us may not be as smooth as we would like it to be, but I promise you that it will be worth it and that I’m in it for the long haul.
I know that if we’re together, we can overcome anything that comes our way.
” He lowered his forehead to meet mine, his minty breath wafting between us. “Please don’t give up on us.”
I gripped the lapels of his jacket, breathing him in. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He loudly exhaled, like I’d offered him a lifeline. “I love you.”
“I love you, Brady Jackson.” And I did. I’d loved him for almost half my life.
He kissed the top of my head. “By the way, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I slipped my hand into his. “Are you hungry?”
He grinned. “Are you offering to make me breakfast?”
“Well, if you consider smoothies breakfast, then yes.” I tugged him into the kitchen.
“A smoothie, huh? Sounds like city food.”
“City food?” I laughed.
He settled onto a stool at the counter while I got to work mixing up a blueberry pomegranate smoothie.
Brady watched me like I was a culinary magician—or maybe like he’d never been within fifty miles of a Jamba Juice.
Honestly, he probably hadn’t. Kaysville didn’t exactly scream juice bars and protein shakes.
I slid the glass toward him. “Drink up, cowboy.”
“Do I get kisses for trying it?”
“Do I really have to bribe you?”
He tugged at the hem of my dress and pecked my lips. “Nope. I just wanted to kiss you.”
Then he picked up the smoothie and took a long gulp.
“Not bad, darlin’.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Not bad?”
He laughed. “I meant . . . yum.”
I grabbed a blueberry muffin from the stand—bless Doris, she’d made them before heading out yesterday—and tossed one at him. He caught it like he’d been preparing for that play his whole life. Still laughing.
I settled beside him and stole his smoothie while he dug into Doris’s muffin.
“Is it good?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He nudged me with his elbow, mouth full, respectfully silent—but clearly implying the muffin had won the breakfast battle.
“You know I’m not going to be one of those sweet little wives who cooks and crafts for the church bazaar,” I said.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
Honestly, I admired those women. “And once a month, I get a little grumpy and eat chocolate ice cream for dinner. I don’t garden or can or do anything that might be considered domestic. ”
He kept smiling like I was saying all the right things.
“I hate doing laundry,” I added.
He leaned in and tugged on my hair. “Anything else, darlin’?”
“I’m not a big football fan either.” Blasphemy in the South—I knew.
“So, you’re telling me,” he drawled, “instead of watching football, I’ll have to make out with my wife while the game’s on.
I’ll do most of the cooking, I’ll never have to weed a garden, survive without cutesy doilies.
I’ll have to keep the freezer stocked with chocolate ice cream, and tackle the laundry? ”
He stroked my cheek. “Sounds perfect.”
“You’re such a liar, Brady Jackson.”
“As long as you’re the wife,” he said, “it’ll be perfect.”
I rolled my eyes—and loved him more than ever.
***
On the way to church, I kept wondering if I was overthinking everything. I loved Brady. Now that we were together, I couldn’t imagine being without him. No one made me laugh like he did. No one made me feel more like myself. And I knew he didn’t care that I wasn’t a domestic goddess.
But as we pulled into the church parking lot, I swore every neck turned in our direction. A few sweet older ladies even scurried inside—probably eager to spread the news that we’d arrived together.
“Do you think this town will ever get used to us?” I asked. “That they’ll accept us?”
Brady took my hand and kissed it. “I’d like to say yes,” he said. “But after last night, I’m not sure. Still, it doesn’t matter to me. And I’m serious about looking for a job in Atlanta—if that’s what you want.”
“I love that you’re willing. I know how much you love this town. And your cabin. The cabin you built for us.”
He squeezed my hand. “I love you more.”
I knew that. But I also knew leaving this place would be hard for him. And I kept thinking maybe I should move closer to Aunt Lu. She wasn’t getting any younger. It was all so complicated.
“Should we go in and give them a show?” he teased.
“I’m sure my aunt’s phone is already ringing.”
“This town really is ridiculous,” he said with a grin. “I’ll come around and grab your door.”
By the time we entered the chapel hand in hand, the room was buzzing. Every eye was on us.
We hadn’t discussed where to sit. We’d never sat together in church before—our parents had never allowed it growing up.
I glanced to the left. His parents were there.
I didn’t want to sit near them. But if Brady did, I wouldn’t object.
Honestly, I kind of wanted to talk to Mr. Jackson.
I had questions. Not that I could ask them with Mrs. Jackson present.
Still, I had a feeling he wanted me to know his story.
Why choose that song last night or tell me I reminded him of Aunt Lu?
Gratefully, Brady led us to the right side, middle row.
We sat down. His momma glanced over immediately.
I think the chapel plants may have wilted.
His daddy stared straight ahead—like it was a survival tactic.
How sad. It was kind of unnerving, the sympathy I felt toward a man who had once disparaged me in the pastor’s office. I wouldn’t be mentioning it to Aunt Lu.
Dave Mayfield spotted us and walked over. “Elle, what do you see in this loser besides his good looks and money?” he teased.
I looked adoringly at Brady. “Where do I even begin?”
Dave laughed and sat behind us. Weird—more Jackson supporters on the right.
Then came my favorite five-year-old, Caroline, in her green plaid Christmas dress.
She and her parents walked straight over and sat in our row.
Kendra and Benjamin gave me conspiratorial smiles as they walked past us to sit down. For some reason, I had a feeling this was a coordinated plan.
I braved a peek at his momma. I could’ve sworn steam came out of her ears. Her sons had just broken protocol. Their momma wasn’t the only one having a reaction to the turn of events. Mrs. Jackson’s friends seemed to be rallying around her, and there was a low buzz of whispers that could be heard.
But one person looked genuinely delighted: the pastor. He came over, greeted us warmly, and gave a subtle nod of approval.
I liked him.
Caroline gave Brady and me a big hug before trying to wedge herself between us.
Her uncle scooped her up and settled her on his lap. “I don’t think so, darlin’. I’m sitting by Miss Ellie today.”
She gave him a look—arms folded, chin lifted. She was going to make a fine sassy Southern woman someday.
“I love her, too, you know,” she huffed.
I tried not to laugh out loud. We were in church, after all.
I took her tiny hand in mine. “I love you, too.”
She smiled sweetly at me, then shot her uncle an I told you so look. I’d never seen her act that way toward him. Brady just chuckled and hugged her tight.
“But I loved you first,” he said.
That seemed to appease her. She leaned back against him, content.
Brady slid his arm around me, pulling me close. I glanced at Caroline on his lap and felt a pang of emotion. Someday, it could be our little girl sitting there.
The thought made my eyes sting.
Brady tilted his head. “Everything okay?”
“I hope so.” I so badly wanted things to work out.
He kissed my head.
The chapel buzzed with whispers and glances until the pastor stepped up to the pulpit. He scanned the congregation, then zeroed in on us.
“Love,” he began, “is the defining characteristic of God. And it should be of humankind. God does not take sides—or even choose football teams.”
Brady leaned in. “That might be pushing it. God did give Alabama Nick Saban.”
I stifled a giggle.
The pastor continued, voice rich with conviction. “God loves all His children equally and unequivocally. There is such beauty in love.”
He looked directly at us. And I had a feeling he wasn’t the only staring at us.
It was a stirring sermon. I hoped Brady’s parents heard it. And I prayed I remembered it, too.
Some people seemed to get the message—because after the service, folks from both sides of the chapel came up to us, smiling, offering kind words. They told us how happy they were to see us together again.
I couldn’t believe it. Maybe I would get my Christmas miracle.
I couldn’t stay for Sunday School. I needed to get to the hospital to spring my aunt. She was more than ready to come home, and I was eager to have her there. I said goodbye to Brady’s family, minus his parents, of course. They didn’t even approach us.
When Kendra hugged me goodbye, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t let anyone—and I mean anyone—steal this from you.” That confirmed my suspicions that today was a coordinated plan that Brady had talked to them about last night. “Let’s have lunch together later in the week,” she offered.
“That sounds fabulous,” I said.
Caroline squeezed me tight. “Don’t forget you’re coming to my class on Tuesday,” she reminded me.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The pastor’s wife stopped us on the way out. “Ella, the women’s group has set up some meals to be brought in for you and your aunt. You can expect one tonight.”
Normally, I would have said we had it covered, but after the sermon, I felt like I should be gracious and accept it—which I did. Besides, my aunt deserved something better than I could make.
Brady drove me home so I could get my own car. He offered to take me to the hospital and pick my aunt up with me, but I felt like baby steps were more appropriate. I wanted her to get settled in at home before I sprung Brady on her again.
He still seemed eager to get her approval, so I supposed last night’s events hadn’t made him resentful of her.
His eagerness made me feel better. I wanted more than anything to have the two people I loved most to love each other, or to at least like each other.
At this point, I would settle for tolerance.
Brady turned to me as soon as he parked in the drive. “Can I come by later?” he asked.
I had to think for a moment. “Yes?” I bit my lip.
The way his face fell said he was disappointed by how hesitant I was.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you; more than anything, I want to see you. It’s just my aunt.” I reached for him.
He took my hand. “Ellie, we’re a couple and we’re adults now. And honestly, darlin’, I’m a little tired of our families trying to get in the way of that.”
You know? I was, too.
“You’re right. I’ll see you soon.”