“I can’t let you do this,” she protested to Johanna, but it was to no avail.
“You can and you will,” the old lady returned decisively. “I promise you, you will not regret it, Alexis.”
Jennifer spoke up. “It doesn’t need a bit of altering. Amazing, really. We can have one ordered in for you within eight weeks.”
“This wedding is happening a week from Saturday,” Johanna said coolly, while Alex was still stupefied by the eight-week ordering time. “Go get changed,” she ordered Alex. “I’ll look after everything.”
Thirty minutes later they were in the car, heading west, the trunk loaded with maternity clothes and the back seat holding one very new, very extravagant dress, and one very nervous bride-to-be.
Connor was a smart man. And he knew better than to ask what in the world was in the garment bag that Alex had carried from the car and into the house. Alex was looking relaxed and happy, and even seemed a little excited as she scooted up the stairs with her wedding finery, presumably so that he wouldn’t see. It was endearing, really, despite the odd situation they’d put themselves in.
And for some reason Alex and Gram seemed to get on like a house on fire. Mealtimes were fun now, with easy banter and the two of them ganging up on him about wedding details. Honestly, he didn’t care. All he wanted was a small, nice ceremony. Something intimate and simple. The details he was more than happy to leave to the women.
Summer days were long, and it was a good thing, because he was so busy it kept him from thinking too much. Besides haying and the feed crops and looking after livestock, there were many more phone calls and e-mails lately, all dealing with the crisis. The U.S. borders were closed indefinitely to all Canadian beef—and other markets were following suit. Something, something had to happen soon. With every bill paid, the balance in the bank account got lower and lower. After his meeting he was no further ahead. Everything was at a standstill. Everyone was waiting for the verdict on the source of the disease. Everyone he knew was praying that their herd wouldn’t have to be slaughtered. And all the while the money he did receive domestically was a drop in the bucket compared to what he needed.
The one time he relaxed was in the evenings, coming in to Alex’s and Gram’s company. Their happy chatter and laughter lightened his load more than he wanted to admit.
Two days after the shopping trip, he escaped to the den to work on the computer. Grace Lundquist had been by with the account book, and it didn’t look good. He sighed, rubbing his temples as he rested his elbows on the desk. He wished he could put it aside and maybe watch some television with Alex and Gram. Resolutely he set his jaw. There had to be a way to work the numbers. He went over the columns again, wondering where he could save and what absolutely needed to be spent.
“Long day?”
Alex’s voice interrupted him, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him with just a few words from her lips. “The longest.”
“Can I come in?”
He swiveled in his chair, turned to see her hesitating in the doorway, her form backlit by the light from the kitchen. “Of course you can.”
She offered a small smile, stepped lightly inside. “I forgot to give you something the other day. It’s not much, but…”
She held out the bag containing the shirts. “I thought you could use a new supply.”
He took the bag from her hands, peering inside. “T-shirts.” He looked up, a smile smoothing the lines of worry from his face. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She sighed. “I couldn’t spend the whole day shopping and not bring something home for you. I only wish I could have…well, never mind.”
“They’re great. I appreciate the thought as much as the gift, Alex.” It had been many years since anyone had thought to give him a present “just because.”
Her eyes slid to the computer screen and the open books on the desk. “It’s bad, isn’t it, Connor? I can tell by the stress written all over your face.”
He didn’t even attempt to hide it as wrinkles marred his brow. “It’s bad. The whole industry is crumpling around us.”
“Will we make it? Won’t your trust fund money help?”
His throat grew so dry it hurt. She had said “we”, not “you”. He wasn’t sure if it helped knowing she was in it with him or not.
His ancestors had started with nothing and made this place work. His great-grandfather had persevered throughout the Depression when other farmers had abandoned their land, looking for work. It damn near killed him to admit, “I don’t know. It’ll help for a while, but I don’t know.”
She nodded, but he saw the flicker of uncertainty on her face. “Alex, no matter what happens with Windover, I made you a promise. I said I would help provide for you and your baby, and I will.”
“You always keep your promises, don’t you? Don’t worry about the baby and me. We’re all in this together.” She came even closer, close enough that he had to lift his chin to look in her eyes, see the faint flush on her cheeks.
She smiled down at him, her face soft with understanding. “If it’ll help, we can just have a Justice of the Peace here for the wedding. I don’t need all the trappings that Johanna seems determined to have.”
There was no way he was going to deprive her of a nice wedding. Not after all she was willing to go through to make this whole plan work. “It’s not that much when you look at the big picture,” he conceded. “A small, intimate affair is no problem. And secretly…” he smiled up at her “…I think Gram is having a marvelous time.”
She leaned back against the desk, resting her hips there. He saw the pouch forming at her waist and wondered at the tiny life growing inside her. When he looked up and met her eyes again, she was smiling. It was a smile of contentment, of happiness, of peace.
“He’s growing.”
“I noticed.” He realized she had called the baby “he” and wondered if she had some maternal instinct that told her it was a boy.
“Each day I feel stronger. Each day,” she said softly, “I know I’m happy I’m going to be a mother. That’s not something I expected. That’s something I can thank you for.”
“Me?” How in the world was he possibly responsible for that?
“I had no idea what I was going to do when I found out I was pregnant. When Ryan left me I…well, I certainly knew I was on my own. But you…being here…it’s given me something. I don’t know if it’s Windover, or the open space, or the kindness you and your grandmother have shown me…” She shrugged. “But I’m not afraid now. I don’t feel alone. Thank you for that.”
Instead of making him feel better, he felt the weight of increased responsibility. For several years now his whole life had been responsibility—running Windover single-handedly, finding a way to keep it. Now he was responsible for this slip of a girl, one who’d been hurt as much as he, and her unborn child.
“You look so tired,” she whispered, and her finger moved of its own accord, tracing along the edge of his face, tucking some errant hair over his ear. “Why do you put so much on yourself?”
“Because there’s no one else,” he replied, his voice weary and worn.
She tilted up his chin. “Not any more. Let me help you, Connor, like you help me.”
He reached down and touched her hand, gripping her fingers and pulling her down until she sat on his lap, while the chair leaned back with a resonant creak. Her hands fell instinctively over his shoulders, and wordlessly he looped his hands around her hips, holding her close.
She was warm, comforting, solid. Someone he could lean on and not fall. Her heart beat steadily against his