Wyoming Christmas Surprise
Autor:in
Melissa Senate
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HarlequinChapter One
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”
Bride-to-be Allie MacDougal Stark stood in front of the mirror in the Wedlock Creek Town Hall’s “Bridal Preparation” room, her sisters, Lila and Merry, on either side of her. Lila, the most traditional of the MacDougal triplets, was insisting that Allie tick off the old wedding poem checklist.
Even though nothing about today’s wedding was traditional.
“Hmm, something old,” Lila said, tilting her head and surveying Allie’s reflection. “Ah—got it. You’re wearing Grandma’s pearl drop earrings. Perfect.”
The earrings were beautiful, and Allie loved the idea of having a part of her beloved grandmother with her today.
“And the ‘something borrowed’ are my shoes,” Merry pointed out, gesturing at the salmon-colored suede pumps on Allie’s feet. They were a great match for the blush-colored lace jacket and matching knee-length pencil skirt that Allie wore for every special occasion. The usual shoes that went with this outfit had horribly scuffed heels, so Merry and her shoe collection to the rescue.
“Something new is next,” Lila said. “Sexy underthings perhaps?” she added, wriggling her blond eyebrows.
Uh, no. Allie made a face at her sister, who knew perfectly well that things between her and her fiancé didn’t—and would likely never—merit a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Honestly, if tonight, their wedding night, she and Elliot watched a movie and played Boggle before turning in early with a peck on the cheek, she wouldn’t be surprised.
“You know,” Allie said, looking herself up and down, “I don’t think I have anything new on right now.”
As if she would. As the widowed mother of eleven-month-old quadruplets, new was not a word in Allie’s vocabulary. She hadn’t bought anything for herself in at least two years, and most of the quads’ stuff—and there was a lot of stuff—was hand-me-downs or gifts.
“You actually do have something new, though,” Merry said, nodding at Lila, who ran over to her purse on the chair in the corner and pulled out a small square box.
“What is this?” Allie asked as Lila handed it to her.
Merry smiled. “Open it. It’s your wedding present from us.”
“You guys,” Allie said, looking from one sister to the other and back to the box. She opened the lid. Aww—it was a beautiful oval-shaped gold locket on a filigree chain.
“Now open the locket,” Lila said.
Allie flicked open the tiny latch. An itty-bitty photo of her babies, one she recognized was taken just a few weeks ago, was nestled inside. Tyler and Henry were smiling, Ethan was midlaugh, and Olivia had her big toe in her mouth, her trademark move.
Her heart squeezed. Her sisters were everything. “I love it,” Allie said, grabbing each MacDougal in a hug. “I absolutely love it. But I have to say I’m surprised you got me anything.”
Her sisters had made their feelings about her marriage to Elliot Talley crystal clear. Don’t marry a man you’re not in love with, Lila had said quite a few times. You have us! Merry had insisted even last night, when the triplets had gotten together for a “bachelorette party,” which meant dinner at Allie’s favorite restaurant for incredible Mexican food and margaritas. We’ll always help you with the kiddos, Lila had said. You don’t have to do this.
This was marrying Elliot Talley in about twenty minutes.
“Of course we did,” Lila said. “Because we love you and support you.” She took the necklace out of the box and put it around Allie’s neck. “I can never fasten these things,” she said, frowning. “I have fat fingers.”
Merry laughed and took over. “We all have the same fingers. And mine are not fat.”
Allie snorted. “Mine, either,” she said, wiggling hers in the air. The Irish friendship ring Elliot had given her as a symbol of their commitment when he’d proposed barely gleamed in the bright room. Lila wrinkled her nose at it. Hardly traditional, she’d groused the day Allie, newly engaged, had shown it to her sisters.
Allie didn’t need or want a diamond ring. She had one, the beautiful solitaire in a gold band that her late husband had given her six months before they’d married seven years ago. After Elliot had proposed, she’d moved the diamond ring and wedding band to her right hand, but they didn’t fit comfortably on any of her fingers. So she’d put them away, dropping to her knees afterward in a round of sobs that had shaken her entire body.
“Wait, what about something blue?” Lila said, shoving her long, curly blond hair behind her shoulders. “You don’t have anything blue.”
Blue. The face of police sergeant Theo Stark, killed almost two years ago in the line of duty, was vivid in her mind, the first time she saw him in uniform as a twenty-four-year-old cadet in the police academy. He’d joined right after three tours of duty in the army.
“Sure I do,” Allie said, sucking in a breath. “A two-fold ‘something blue.’ Theo’s memory. With me always.”
Lila’s face crumpled. “Oh, God, now I’m gonna cry.”
“Me, too,” Merry said and squeezed Allie in a hug, Lila smushing her way in.
“You’ll ruin your mascara,” Lila warned, stepping back and handing Allie a tissue. “You can’t marry Elliot with raccoon tracks down your face.”
Merry opened her mouth to say something, then turned away and put on her usual pleasant expression, and Allie knew exactly what her sister had wanted to say.
You can’t marry Elliot, period.
Allie had been dating Elliot, a kind, responsible tax accountant, for only three months. According to her sisters, dating was a stretch, considering they’d never had sex. Ten years her senior at forty-one, Elliot wanted a family, she had a ready-made one, and they got along great. Their relationship had the added bonus of increasing his business, since he seemed like a saint to everyone in Wedlock Creek, and the proposal had turned him into a hometown hero.
People felt bad for Allie Stark, widowed mother of baby quadruplets. For the first few months after they were born, she’d barely had to lift one baby, let alone figure out how to juggle four. Her family, neighbors, even total strangers in town had rallied around her, whispers of “that poor woman,” “those poor babies,” wherever she went with her huge choo-choo train of a four-seat stroller. Her freezer was still stocked with everything from casseroles to soups. She had an entire kitchen drawer full of gift cards to Baby Blitz. And babysitting offers, from overnights to a few hours to let her nap and pee and have a cup of coffee, had been aplenty. But six months in, Allie had known she had to start standing on her own two feet and learn how to take care of her children by herself.
Her sisters had been pushing her to date, to get back out there, but even if she could imagine being with another man, there had been no takers. Not one. Not a surprise, considering she came with four babies. So three months ago, when Elliot asked her out, she’d been so surprised and actually kind of touched and had said yes. He was something of a homebody, enjoying staying in and cooking interesting pasta dishes and playing with the babies. He thoughtfully bought them teething rings and chew books that could be read in the bathtub. He also hadn’t pushed her for sex, which she appreciated given her exhaustion. He’d said they’d move their relationship to that level when she was ready—and that if she were never ready, that would be fine, too. Allie had a few theories about Elliot’s lack of a sex drive where she was concerned, but when it came right down to it, she was in this for security for her children.
Her sisters did understand—anyone would understand—why she’d said yes to a lack of passion for a sense of security and a father for the quads. Allie did care for Elliot and she did want a father for the babies, someone she could trust, someone she could count on. And Elliot, as tax-accountant-desk-job-safe as Theo had been cop-on-the-street-dangerous, would never make her worry in that way she always had. And so she’d said yes. She’d finally accepted that Theo Stark, her husband of five years until she’d lost him and any hope of saving their rocky marriage two years ago, was gone. That acceptance had taken almost everything out of her.
And this wedding was what it was, so Allie hadn’t booked the famed and beautiful Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel, which attracted couples from all over the country. According to legend, those who married in the century-old chapel would have multiples in some way, shape or form, à la twins or triplets or quadruplets or more, through luck, science or pure happenstance. Allie’s late parents had married at the chapel thirty-two years ago and had triplet daughters. Allie had married at the chapel and had quadruplets—three boys and a girl.
The town hall, with its fluorescent lighting and drab interior, was a far cry from the chapel, with its heart-shaped bell atop the steeple, gorgeous stained glass windows and gingerbread tiers that resembled a Victorian wedding cake. One hundred sixty-two guests had gathered to watch her and Theo say their vows in the famed chapel. Today, it would be just her and Elliot, and two witnesses—the town clerk and the receptionist. Her sisters had popped in to wish her luck—and to give her the gift, apparently. Then they were going back to Allie’s house to babysit the quads, who were being treated to lunch by Allie’s neighbor, a wonderful grandmother of fourteen who’d raised quintuplets and had lived to tell the tale. She, too, had married at the chapel.
“Okay, we’re gonna head back,” Merry said. “We’ll see you at home around two.”
Allie nodded. The plan was for her and Elliot to treat themselves to a decadent lunch at Marcello’s, a great Italian restaurant here in town, and then go back to Allie’s house to jump right into life as the married parents of eleven-month-old quadruplets. No honeymoon this time around. Seven years ago, she and Theo had flown to Paris, staying only for a weekend, since they couldn’t afford much back then, and it was all the honeymoon she needed for a lifetime.
Her sisters gave her one final hug each, then headed for the door.
Allie stared at her reflection in the mirror and smoothed her special-occasion suit, thinking back to the stunning white strapless gown with intricate beading and just enough bling to make her feel like a princess. Whatevs, she thought. This suit makes me feel like an adult.
“Oh, one more thing, Allie,” Lila said at the door, with her trademark devilish grin. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Allie asked, eyebrow raised.
Lila put a hand over her heart. “Promise me. Us. Yourself—that you’re not going to change your name. You can’t be Allie Talley. You can’t rhyme.”
Merry let out a snort, then gave Lila a jab in the ribs.
Allie laughed. “Well, if I do change my name and become Allie Talley, at least it’ll make me laugh.”
Merry grabbed a giggling Lila out the door. Leaving Allie to stare at herself in the mirror, wondering what it was going to feel like to be Allie Talley, who that woman was. She had been Allie Stark for the past seven years—five as his wife, two as his widow. But life had a way of throwing monkey wrenches and curveballs and all sorts of shocks and surprises at people. You had to adapt, change the plan to fit the new now.
You’re the new you, a grief counselor had said at the bereavement group she’d attended for a few months. She hadn’t mentioned that to her sisters, that she herself was the “something new” for today; her reason for keeping it to herself had stolen her breath.
Because she’d give anything for her old imperfect life back, a second chance.
But she was “the new her,” so in twenty minutes she was marrying Elliot and becoming Allie Talley.
Allie Talley. She smiled, thinking of Lila, and a small laugh came out of her. She’d been about to make herself cry, but becoming the new her, becoming the rhyme of Allie Talley, had lightened the mood.
Badumpa.
Everything is going to be okay, she told herself. She picked up the locket from where it lay just under the V of her jacket and flicked open the latch. Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. Everything she did, she did for them.
But suddenly all she wanted to do was race out the door after her sisters.
* * *
I’m alive.
I’m not dead.
Scratch that—that’ll be obvious the second she sees you.
I had to fake my death.
I’ve been walking, talking, breathing, living on this earth all this time...
Sunglasses on, Stetson pulled down low, Theo Stark sat in a booth in the truck stop diner just outside the town limits of Wedlock Creek, waiting for a refill of his coffee and practicing in his head what he was going to say to Allie when he finally saw her again.
For the first time in almost two years.
On the drive up from southern Wyoming, he’d replayed what he’d say over and over. But the closer he got to Wedlock Creek, the more none of it sounded right. It was all the truth, of course, but when it came right down to it, his wife believed he was dead. And he wasn’t.
At first, he wouldn’t have to say anything. The fact that he was alive would be obvious.
God.
At just after one forty-five this morning, he’d gotten the call that had finally brought him back to life. The serial killer who’d turned Theo’s world upside down was now dead. The threat was gone.
And Theo could come out of the shadows.
Last year at this time, with the weeks counting down to the holidays, he’d wanted nothing more than to get that call so he could go home for Christmas. He’d been hiding out for months at that point, alive and well on a remote cattle ranch, when everyone believed he was dead. Living under a fake name, keeping to himself, earning just enough to get by and move on if necessary. But the months went on and on until, finally, the call he’d been waiting for had come. He was going home.
The waitress came over with the refill, and Theo ducked his head low, nodding a thank-you. He’d recognized the woman, who used to work in the coffee shop on Main Street. But he couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him and gasping. Since he was supposed to be dead, he figured anyone who did a double take would assume he was just a guy who looked a lot like the Wedlock Creek police sergeant who’d been killed in the line of duty. But he wasn’t taking any chances until he explained himself to Allie.
While the waitress poured, making small talk about the weather, he reached for the Wedlock Creek Chatter the previous customer had left on the table and pretended great interest in flipping through the free weekly newspaper. Anything to keep his head down and conversation to the bare minimum. The waitress left and he breathed a sigh of relief.
He was about to push the newspaper aside when a small boxed notice on the People in the News page caught his eye. His heart started to pound and he read the two-line notice again.
Then again.
Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.
Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.
Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.
No. No, no, no, no.
He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.
Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.
He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—
And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.
Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.
Or fake their deaths.
Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.
So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.
He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.
They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.
“Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.
Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.
Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.
As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.
She was in there.
Allie. His wife.
He sucked in another breath and thought about taking off the sunglasses and the hat, but there were people walking at the other end of the hallway. People he recognized.
The black-and-white utilitarian clock on the wall said it was eleven fifty-six. There was no time to figure out what to say, how to say it.
He knocked.
As the door opened, Allie, beautiful Allie, was smiling and saying something about needing help with a tie.
She’d been expecting her groom, he figured.
But then she saw him and froze and her smile faded.
And she whispered his name.
“Theo.”
