Back on Blossom Street

“I am?” I tried to recall what we’d been discussing. “I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking about everything that’s happened on Blossom Street.”

Margaret glanced at me. “It all started with you and A Good Yarn,” my sister said. “You set the tone for this neighborhood. People like it here.”

Praise from Margaret was rare indeed and I felt a surge of pleasure at her words.

Despite the rain and despite our disagreement about Colette, I knew we were going to have a good day.

CHAPTER

2

Alix Townsend

It was raining—again. Alix Townsend dashed across the street, already drenched by the rain that had been coming down steadily since the Thursday before. She needed a cigarette. Bad. After more than two years without one, she could hardly believe how intense the craving was. She felt blindsided by it. The damn wedding—that was the problem. A whole vocabulary of swearwords raced through her mind. In less than four months, on June second, she would become Reverend Jordan Turner’s wife, and frankly, that terrified her.

Alix Townsend a pastor’s wife! It was almost laughable. Although few people knew it, her mother was in prison for a variety of crimes, including forgery, passing bad checks and attempted murder. This wasn’t her first stint in jail, either. Tom, Alix’s only brother, was dead of a drug overdose and she hadn’t had any contact with her father since she was twelve. As far as she knew, he’d made no effort to get in touch with her. When it came to family, Alix definitely felt cheated.

She didn’t consider herself a fancy-church-wedding candidate, but somehow, almost without noticing it, she’d become immersed in this whole crazy mess. This … this sideshow of a wedding.

“Alix,” Jordan shouted, running after her, his feet pounding hard as he crossed the road and splashed his way through the puddles on Blossom Street.

Alix had visited Jordan’s office during lunch break. They hadn’t actually argued, although they’d come close. She hated what this wedding had turned into, hated having no control, hated that no one seemed willing to listen. Not even Jordan. When she realized he wasn’t hearing her, she’d rushed out of his office with a huge lump in her throat. The stinging tears surprised her as much as the craving for a cigarette.

She ignored Jordan’s shout. With the rain and wind, it was easy to pretend she hadn’t heard him.

“Alix!” he yelled again and a moment later caught up with her.

She slowed her pace and he fell into step beside her. “What just happened back there?” he asked. He was obviously confused by the way she’d hightailed it out of his office.

“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out.

“Why’d you leave like that? We were right in the middle of a conversation and all of a sudden, you’re gone.”

“You weren’t listening to me,” she said, looking up at him, not caring that the rain had drenched her short hair, dripping down her face and onto her chin.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he began. “I—”

“You don’t know?” she cried, struggling not to get emotional. “Shouldn’t I have some say in my own wedding?”

“You do.” He still seemed befuddled. “The last thing I remember was you telling me Jacqueline and Reese had decided to hold the reception at their country club.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” she asked him.

“I think it’s very generous.”

“It is, but …” Jacqueline and Reese had been wonderful—about everything. Alix owed them far more than she could ever repay.

She’d met Jacqueline in a knitting class at A Good Yarn, and after a rough start the older woman had taken Alix under her wing. Alix had signed up for that class in order to work off community service hours on a trumped-up drug charge; she’d decided to knit a baby blanket and donate it to charity. Her caseworker had approved the project and that was the beginning of her friendship with the Donovans.

Through Reese Donovan’s business connections and the Rotary Club, Alix had been able to attend culinary school. The Donovans had provided part-time employment, as well. She’d filled in as their housekeeper when needed, and they’d let her move into their guesthouse, where she still lived. Jacqueline and Reese were about as close to family as Alix ever hoped to have. They’d given her the love, encouragement and support her own parents never had, and Alix loved them in return. She’d asked their daughter-in-law, Tammie Lee, to serve as her matron of honor. Jordan’s brother, Bret, was to be his best man.

“From what my mother told me, Jacqueline had to call in all kinds of favors to get the country club for a Saturday in June,” Jordan said.

“I know.” The guilt was even stronger than her craving for a cigarette. “But, Jordan—the country club?”

Her fiancé placed his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of the rain.” He led her under the awning outside the French Café. The rain beat against it and the water fell in a solid sheet over the edge.

“Mom was really pleased when I told her what Jacqueline had done,” Jordan continued.

Alix lowered her head. Jordan’s mother was a subject best avoided. Susan Turner would’ve preferred a more traditional bride for her son. Her future mother-in-law hadn’t said or done anything overt, but Alix wasn’t stupid. She knew. Jordan was close to his parents, though, and Alix would never mention any of this to him.

“Kiss me.”

Jordan’s eyes flared wide. “Here? Now?” He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture window at the café filled with customers.

Alix nodded, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought. “And not a peck on the cheek, either. I need a real kiss.”

“All right.” He clasped her shoulders with both hands and bent down to cover her mouth with his. His lips were warm and moist as they touched hers, his mouth slightly open. Relaxing, she savored his taste, his feel. She did her best to remember that while a big fancy wedding wasn’t what she wanted, it would make a lot of people happy—people like Jordan and his family and Jacqueline and Reese. She’d do it; she didn’t have to like it. With that in mind, she slid her arms around Jordan’s neck and leaned into him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. She must love him if she was willing to go through with this craziness.

When he broke off the kiss, she sighed and instantly felt better.

“You have to talk to me, Alix,” he whispered, holding her tight, nuzzling her neck. “Tell me when you’re worried about something….”

“I did. You weren’t listening.”

“I was trying,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to call off the wedding? Is that it?”

“No!” Her response came fast and vehemently. “I love you. I want us to be married.”

He brushed the wet hair from her forehead, his eyes intense. “And I love you.”

She looked away because the love shining from his eyes confused her and made it difficult to speak. “As soon as you gave me the engagement ring, I should’ve known everything would change.”

“In what way?” he asked.

“Before … before, it was just you and me—and your teens, of course.” As a youth pastor, Jordan planned church-related activities with the teenagers in his congregation. Alix often tagged along to help. It was understood that once they were married, her role would continue in a larger capacity. That was fine; she enjoyed working with that age-group. She related to a lot of the temptations they faced in the world and found it gratifying that she was able to steer some of them away from making negative choices, choices she’d made as a teenager and come to regret.

Then the minute he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger, life as she knew it changed.

As soon as she heard the news, Jacqueline had instantly started talking about the wedding. In fact, for Christmas, Jacqueline had presented Alix with a huge hardcover book titled Planning the Perfect Wedding. At the time, Alix hadn’t given the actual ceremony much thought. She figured she’d marry Jordan with his family and a few friends in attendance, open gifts, eat cake, and that would be it.

Boy, was she wrong. The wedding was turning into a production, like a Broadway musical or something, with a dinner that cost more per plate than she’d earned in a week back when she’d been employed at the video store.

That wasn’t all. The dress—correction, gown—had become a major issue. Each one she’d seen came covered with expensive lace or hundreds of tiny pearls. Or both. Jacqueline had taken her to a boutique, and Alix had made the mistake of glancing at the price tag. She’d nearly fainted. People bought cars for less money than those dresses!

“Can’t we elope?” she pleaded, her face buried in Jordan’s chest. She knew the answer; still, she had to ask.

“Sweetheart, I can’t do that.”