The Marriage Conspiracy

“Mama?” Niki gulped back a sob. “DeDe? What is going on?”

Her mother and middle sister only cried all the harder. Niki’s face started to crumple.

Joleen reached Niki’s side in three quick steps. “Before you start,” she warned, “give me my baby.”

“Here.” Niki held Sam out. He reached for Joleen automatically, gurgling, “Mama!” And then his biscuit-gooey little hands encircled her neck, his soft weight was on her arm and his sweet, slightly dusty smell filled her senses.

With a hard sob, Niki flew across the room. Camilla and DeDe enfolded her into their embrace. The three hugged and bawled, their arms around each other, a sniffling, tear-streaked huddle of satin and lace.

Joleen stood a few feet from the door, resolutely calm as always, holding her baby and watching her mother and sisters wail and moan, wondering how in the world she would manage to calm them all now.

“What is this, a wedding—or a wake?”

Joleen turned toward the sound of that deep, wry voice. It was Dekker, in the doorway. He had made it, after all.

Chapter 2

Relief washed through Joleen—and a sweet rush of affection, as well. She should probably be good and angry with him for being so late, but how could she be angry when she was so glad to see him? And he looked so handsome in the nice lightweight suit they had picked out together just for this occasion.

He also looked…easy within himself and relaxed. Something good must have happened out there in Los Angeles.

“You’re late,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “Air travel is not what it used to be. I sat at O’Hare for ten hours.”

“Your cell phone—”

“Needs recharging. Sorry. I tried to call you.”

“At my house?”

“Right. From a pay phone, this morning around eight.”

“I left at seven-thirty.”

“And I also called here. Twice. Got a busy signal both times.”

She wasn’t surprised. The house had been full of people all day and the phone had been in constant use.

“Dek!” Sam shouted. He let go of Joleen’s neck and reached for the man in the doorway.

“Whoa, big guy.” Dekker stepped up and took him.

About then, DeDe stopped sobbing long enough to glance across the room. “Dekker! You made it!”

The three Tilly women broke from their huddle and rushed for the door. Joleen got out of their way again. They surrounded Dekker and Sam, all of them talking at once.

“Where were you?”

“We’ve been waiting for hours….”

“We were so afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Is everything—”

He chuckled. “Everything’s fine. There was just a little matter of a long delay between flights. But I am here now.” He had Sam on one arm. He wrapped the other around DeDe, who looked up at him through shining eyes. “And I am ready to give away this gorgeous bride.”

Twenty minutes later, down in the backyard beneath the pecan trees, the wedding march began. A blessed breeze had actually come up, so it wasn’t quite as stifling as it had been for most of the day. The ceremony went off without a hitch. And when Wayne Thornton kissed his bride, everyone could see that this was a true, love match.

Joleen had had her reservations, when DeDe and Wayne first announced that they would marry. After all, DeDe was only twenty. It seemed young to Joleen.

But looking at the two of them as they repeated their vows, Joleen let go of her doubts. Wayne was a good, steady man. And DeDe adored him almost as much as he worshipped her. In the end, Joleen supposed, the two had as good a chance as any couple at lasting a lifetime side by side.

She was pouring more ginger ale into the punch bowl, feeling kind of misty-eyed and contented for the first time that day, when Dekker appeared at her side.

“What the hell are the Atwoods doing here?” He spoke low, for her ears alone.

She gave him her most determined smile and whispered back, “I invited them.”

“Damn it, Jo. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me, too—and would you go in and get me some more of this ginger ale?”

Midnight-blue eyes regarded her steadily. “I wish you had listened to me.”

“I did listen—then I did what I thought was right.” She waved the empty bottle at him. “Ginger ale? Please?”

Shaking his head, he turned for the back door.

The afternoon wore on.

Camilla, on something of an emotional roller coaster this special day when her middle baby was getting married, had a little too much sparkling wine and flirted blatantly with anyone willing to flirt back.

“You probably ought to say something to her, hon,” advised Aunt LeeAnne as Joleen was putting the finishing touches on the buffet.

Joleen shook her head and took the lid off a chafing dish. “My mother is a flirt. Always has been, always will be. I have enough to worry about without trying to fight a person’s nature.”

“When your father was still with us—”

“I know. All her flirting was for him then. She never looked at another man. But he’s been gone for so long now. And she is still very much alive. She will never stop lookin’ for the kind of love she had once.”

“So sad…” Aunt LeeAnne looked mournful.

Camilla’s musical laughter rang out as she pulled one of the groom’s uncles from a chair and made him dance with her.

“I don’t know,” said Joleen. “Seems to me that she’s having a pretty good time.”