A Christmas Wedding

Turning slightly, she stared at the bookcase near the door that held the many volumes that chronicled her life. Big John had been a huge stickler for details and an even bigger one for recording history. From childhood he’d drilled into her the importance of her place on the ranch, and from there, her place in history. It had become second nature to spend a few minutes every couple of days recording the events of her daily life in all their glory and monotony.

She’d promised Willow that her something blue could be her first journal—the one that told the story of Jesse’s and her relationship. As a teenager Willow had pored over the book, and Desiree had known, even before Willow ever gave voice to it, that she’d wanted to be swept off her feet as her mother had been so many years before. It had finally happened—later than it had for Desiree—but Willow had gotten her heart’s desire.

Desiree steeled herself as she reached for the lapis-blue journal Jesse had given her years before, told herself it was just a book. Still, her hand shook as she grasped the journal, and though she was determined not to open it, in the end she couldn’t help herself.

She turned the cover with trembling hands, read the dedication Jesse had written on the inside of the front cover. But before she could work up the nerve to read the first entry, a knock sounded and her daughter’s voice carried through the heavy wood door.

“Mom?”

Desiree opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low-pitched croak. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Come on in, honey.”

Willow entered, looking so beautiful it nearly broke her heart. She was still dressed in her robe, her hair and makeup not yet done for the wedding. But she was tall and elegant, her nails done to perfection and her brown eyes so full of hope.

Had Desiree looked like that once? Had the mere thought of Jesse brought a similar glow to her face? Of course it had—from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him until…

Until when? When had the glow faded? When had the small irritations of daily life worn away the joy and passion, the hope and anticipation, until all that was left was pain? And love—even as the glow of youth faded, her love for Jesse had endured. It had endured more than three decades, would have endured at least three more, if he hadn’t done this. If he hadn’t…

“Mom, are you okay?”

Desiree jerked. “I’m fine, baby.” She reached out a hand, ran it softly down Willow’s cheek. “Just thinking about how things are changing.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Desiree answered as Willow threw her arms around her. The fuzziness that had clutched at her since Jesse had tossed down the divorce papers finally cleared as the strain in her daughter’s voice registered.

Desiree pulled back, stared into her daughter’s eyes. “What’s going on, Will?”

“I’m just happy.” Willow raised an unsteady hand to wipe at her eyes, but her smile trembled at the corners.

Eyebrows lifted, Desiree stared at her youngest child. “That’s a pretty pathetic smile for someone who’s crying from joy.”

“Mama, don’t.” The request was almost a wail as Willow pulled away.

“Don’t be concerned when my only daughter comes in here looking devastated on what should be the happiest day of her life?” Desiree grasped Willow’s hands in her own.

“I’m scared,” Willow blurted. “I’m really scared.”

“Of course you are. That’s perfectly normal—”

“No, it’s not. Not like this.” She turned away abruptly, strode to the balcony and stared out at the ranch.

Desiree sighed, ran a hand through her own short, disheveled crop of hair as she searched for the right words. Yesterday they would have been right there, waiting for her to speak them. But today…today only emptiness remained.

“What if I’m making a mistake?” Willow’s voice was soft and trembly, so unlike her youngest child that Desiree had a moment of alarm.

“Do you think you are?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m here, talking to you.”

“Oh.” Desiree nodded. “I see.”

“What do you see? Tell me, Mama.” Willow’s movements were agitated. “I’m not like you—I’ve never been like you.”

Desiree snorted. “Of course you aren’t. Why should you be like anyone but yourself?

“Come sit with me, baby,” she murmured when her daughter didn’t answer, drawing Willow to the small love seat by the window. “Now what is this all about?”

Willow shrugged even as she buried her head against Desiree’s neck. “How did you know, so fast, that Daddy was the right one for you?”

Desiree stiffened, stifling her own pain. She wrapped her arms around her youngest child and rocked her slowly, as she had done when Willow was a child.

“I just did, sweetie. One look at him and my heart recognized him as mine.”

Willow shuddered. “It wasn’t like that for me with James. It was slow, unexpected. It crept up on me and then suddenly, one day…”

“You knew you loved him.”

“I guess.” Willow took a deep breath, pulled slowly away. “One day I woke up and realized that I should spend the rest of my life with James. He’s perfect for me—he calms me down, he listens to me, he—”

“Turns you on.”

“Mama!”

“Willow!” Desiree echoed her daughter’s shocked tone with some amusement. “Just because I’m almost fifty doesn’t mean I’m dead. And it’d be a really bad idea to marry a man you’re not attracted to.”

“I know that. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Shouldn’t I be one hundred percent sure? Shouldn’t I know, without a doubt, that this is what I want? You knew you wanted Daddy, you knew you could never be happy with anyone else. I just want that same kind of certainty.”

Desiree fought the little voice inside of her that wanted to yell, “And look where that’s gotten me!”

Biting back the bitter words, Desiree turned to stare directly into the troubled darkness of her daughter’s eyes. “Life isn’t always certain, Willow. You make the best decision for you based on what you think and feel at the time. You can’t tell the future and you can’t live your life second-guessing yourself.”

“But you—”

“Stop it.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, and Willow jerked back in surprise. Desiree sighed, reached up to smooth her daughter’s hair. “You’re not me. You’re not living my life. It’s absurd to expect things to play out exactly the same way.”

“I just want to be as certain as you were, as certain as Daddy was.”

This time she couldn’t stop the harsh laugh from exploding out of her. “Your father was nowhere near as sure as I was. Not by a long shot.”

“What do you mean? Your journals—”

“My journals are written from my point of view. Not your dad’s.” She stood and walked out onto the balcony, watching as the florist’s van drove up and Maria, their longtime housekeeper, went out to greet it.

“Willow, your father was very unsure about marrying me. Between the age difference and the money difference and your grandfather, he was certain he was making a mistake.” She turned to look at her daughter’s shocked face and this time her smile was genuine. “He figured we wouldn’t last six months, thought I’d cave to my father’s demands and the whispers of people around us.”