Proxy Bride (The Lindstroms Book 1) Page 16

  He hadn’t used the word love yesterday. He said he had “strong feelings” for her and was “falling hard” for her, but love wasn’t a word he had used to characterize his feelings.

  He barely knows you, Jenny. He can’t possibly be in love with you.

  And of course, when it all boiled down, neither of them was prepared to budge for the other. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hanging her head in confusion.

  This can’t be love I’m feeling. It must be something else.

  She padded into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror, touching her lips lightly where he had kissed her on Saturday night. She cocked her head to the side, considering her attraction to him. For the first time in Jenny’s life, her body had come alive, responding eagerly to Sam’s tender touch. Even now, she craved the touch of his hands laced through hers, the gentle swiping away of a tear with his knuckle, or the cradling of her face in his hands, as he had yesterday. She burned even more for the heat of his lips on hers, for the touch of his breath on her skin, and simply—pathetically, Jenny—for the comforting warmth of his arms around her.

  She stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing and restorative. She breathed in, leaning her head back, closing her eyes.

  Was that it, then, this terrible, wonderful feeling?

  Not love, just an intense physical attraction; in your inexperience, you are mixing up the two. Because love would make you trade Gardiner for Chicago, love would make you willingly leave your home as his mother had, love would conquer all your fears. Wouldn’t it? This can’t be love. Love would leave you irrevocably changed.

  She hadn’t changed; she was still sensible, grounded Jenny. She had told him no. She wasn’t the sort of girl who went running away with the first man who asked.

  Toweling off, she felt more confident and secure. She would take Ingrid’s vows, return to Gardiner, and resume her life.

  This was all probably just an infatuation. Yes, that was it.

  Once he was gone, her life would go back to normal, and she would know for sure Sam had just been a short, sweet infatuation. She would think back on their weekend together as she did on any pleasant memory.

  Later, as she left her apartment for Livingston, Jenny caught her reflection in the hallway mirror and paused to look at herself. She examined the face that stared back, and an unexpected realization rocked her, upsetting her careful logic about love versus infatuation. She was dressed exactly the same as she had been last Friday morning: blonde hair brushed shiny, loose and long down her back, and a simple gray sweater-dress from Sears.

  Outwardly, she looked the same, yet the girl looking back at her was a totally different person, fundamentally and irrevocably changed from the person she had been on Friday. She gasped softly and touched her fingers to her earlobes, her cheeks, her lips, her waist, her hips—all places conquered and claimed by Sam.

  Love would leave you irrevocably changed.

  The thought was uncomfortable, so she ignored it, grabbing her bag and keys and sailing out the door.

  But as she left, one last thought formed in her head:

  Before Friday, life had been pleasant, content, even fulfilling in its own way. Now she knew that her world had been a dull gray in contrast to the blinding, vibrant color that had painted her world the last few days.

  She swallowed, biting her upper lip in defeat.

  How do you go back to gray when you’ve seen your life in Technicolor?

  ***

  Sam waited in the chair at the top of the stairs.

  He glanced at his watch, then at the double doors in the lobby below. They still had twenty minutes before their appointment. He had no doubt she’d be on time.

  After a terrible night’s sleep, he conceded defeat at 7:00 a.m., got showered, got dressed, and got the hell out of Gardiner.

  He wished someone else could stand in for him as proxy today so he could just leave Montana and never look back, try to forget ever meeting Jenny, ever wanting her, ever feeling the intense ache of longing he had never felt for another person in all his life.

  Alas, a promise was a promise.

  He brushed some lint off the sleeve of his cashmere coat, wondering if she’d be wearing that ridiculous-looking puffy parka when she arrived. He wanted to stay focused on his anger toward her to ward off the confused sadness that kept threatening a hostile take-over, but her face invaded his mind, and he lost the battle, softening as he pictured her laughing, smiling, leaning forward to press her lips against his.

  Damn it, Jenny. Why won’t you come to me?

  He knew, of course, why she had refused him.

  After losing her mother, she held onto her family with an unwavering devotion, setting aside her dreams for them. Part of the reason he cared for her so much was her traditional values, which included a deep commitment to her family, so how could he ask her to break it? Then again, how could she ask him to move to Gardiner? It was impossible for him. He had a plan for his life—get a good education, find a job in finance, choose smart investments, show better and better returns, impress the powers that be, move up in his company, make bigger and bigger deals, live in a big house, marry a beautiful woman, have a few kids, and live happily ever after.

  What the heck was he supposed to do in Gardiner? Help her dad lead wilderness tours? Run a restaurant for tourists? Be a teller in a local bank? He grimaced in distaste. He’d be giving up on his dreams, just as she had.

  In his heart, he knew her feelings for him were genuine, which roiled his stomach until he thought he might be sick. It made the situation so much worse to know for sure that she cared for him. He stood up and shrugged out of his coat, taking a deep breath of cold air as the double doors opened and an older lady made her way to the information desk, nodding and smiling her hellos. He folded his coat and placed it on top of the chair, straightening out his suit jacket and tie. He looked at his watch again. Ten more minutes.

  If she didn’t care for him, he knew he would be able to leave without looking back; he was sure his infatuation would have faded quickly if it had been one sided. He’d find some cute thing in Chicago and take her out a few times, down peppermint schnapps shots with her at a holiday party, and smile as she licked the candy cane garnish suggestively. He’d take her home for hot, forgettable sex and do it all over again the following weekend. If Jenny didn’t have feelings for him, he’d have a better chance of moving on, and she’d eventually settle in the back of his mind as a passing infatuation, a quaint interlude, a sweet memory.

  He thought of her placing her hand over his heart and closed his eyes. He remembered her blue eyes, brightened with unshed tears, besieging him to understand. How long would those eyes haunt him? And how could he resume his old ways when his heart knew somewhere in Montana, there lived someone infinitely better, sweeter, deeper, and more worth having than the parade of meaningless relationships that, he was sure, waited for him?

  I will conquer this. I will eventually banish you from my head, Jenny Lindstrom. I will be free of you one day…

  The double doors whooshed open, and suddenly Jenny stood on the threshold. As if she knew where he’d be, she raised her head, and her eyes captured his with an intensity that made him gasp quietly. His languishing heart danced when he saw her face, and in spite of himself, he smiled at her, lifting his hand in greeting.

  …but, today is not that day.

  ***

  Seeing him at the top of the stairs was like turning her face to the full light of the sun after living in darkness since yesterday afternoon. She moved toward him with an unhesitating certainty, holding his eyes intently as she made her way up the stairs. When she got to the top, he opened his arms, and she fell into them wordlessly, gratefully, as an exhausted person falls into bed at the end of a terrible day. Tears welled up in her eyes as she laid her forehead in the crook of his neck, but she blinked the tears away, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She lost herself in the strength of his embrac
e, his familiar scent, the way his chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing. His arms enveloped her completely, and he rested his chin on her head, letting his breath out in a forceful sigh. She felt him swallow hard and leaned back to look up at his face.

  He was smiling at her in a sad, resigned way. His eyes weren’t laughing or teasing; they were tired and defeated.

  I know, she thought. Me too.

  He released her gently and cocked his head to the side. “Ready?”

  She nodded, swallowing down the lump in her own throat, returning his sad, resigned smile. Oh, Sam, I wish things could be different.

  He put out his hand, and she searched his eyes before taking it. She didn’t see hope there; she didn’t see much of anything. He was protecting himself. She looked back at his hand. It might be her last chance to hold it, so she took it in hers, savoring the muscled warmth, allowing him to lead her down the hallway to the clerk’s office.

  He released her hand to hold the door for her, and she stepped through and made her way to the same secretary who had been there on Friday. Sam stood next to her. She felt his fingers lace through hers under the counter as the woman looked up at them.

  The secretary adjusted her glasses and sniffed with annoyance. “So you got alarm clocks.”

  Jenny nodded. “We’re here for the—”

  “Double proxy wedding. Nordstrom-Svenson. I know.” She looked up at them over her glasses, her gaze shifting back and forth between them quizzically. She raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat before looking back down at her keyboard. “Humph.”

  “Ma’am?” Jenny asked.

  She didn’t look up from her keyboard. “You look different. That’s all.”

  Jenny glanced up at Sam in confusion, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re the same.”

  “If you say so.” The secretary cleared her throat again and wheeled her stool a short distance to a printer, waited a moment, then scooted back to them, handing Jenny the printout. She gestured back to the door. “Go back out, down the hallway. Third door, room 303. Judge Hanlon and the witnesses should already be there waiting. If not, take a seat, and they’ll be there directly.”

  Jenny swallowed. This was really about to happen. She was going to take vows with Sam. She knew they were for Ingrid, but it was all very real to Jenny, who would hear the words come out of her own mouth, and her misgivings made her tremble with the gravity of what she was about to do.

  Sam squeezed her hand again, pulling her away from the counter toward the door. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “I was right, you know.” They turned their heads back in unison to look at her. “Didn’t hurt you a bit to stick around for a few days. Did you some good.” She nodded once at Sam humorlessly, then resumed her typing.

  Jenny locked her eyes with Sam’s for a moment, and she could see the pain there. She knew differently.

  It had hurt him to stay.

  ***

  The witnesses were already seated in room 303 when Jenny and Sam entered. It was a very small room sparsely furnished with a rectangular conference table and six chairs. No artwork adorned the walls; they were blank except for a functional black-and-white clock fastened to the wall above the doorway.

  Sam sat down in an open seat on one side of the table, and Jenny took the seat opposite him. The female witness sat beside Jenny and the male witness beside Sam. They exchanged handshakes in greeting, then the witnesses resumed their quiet conversation while Jenny stared down at her hands on the table, the seriousness of this ceremony and her part in it turning doubt into panic.

  Wedding vows should only be said once to one person. You have no business doing this.

  Her heart started pounding, and she couldn’t seem to take a good, deep breath. She breathed in, closing her eyes, and then opened them while she breathed out, but it didn’t help. Still staring down, she saw Sam’s hand move toward her before she felt it take hers.

  “Jenny!” he whispered sharply. When she looked up, she saw tender concern etched on his handsome face. “Just look at me, okay? Just look at me.”

  She swallowed and nodded at him once, holding his warm, confident eyes in her nervous, frightened ones. She breathed in slowly until her diaphragm was finally full and let out her breath slowly. He mouthed it again slowly, with a calming intensity, releasing her hand. “Just look at me.”

  The door opened, and a white-haired man in his seventies entered, sorting through papers. He took the chair at the head of the table between Sam and Jenny.

  “Thanks for being on time, folks.” He rifled through the papers, and Jenny handed him the sheet the secretary had given to her. “Ah, yes. Okay. Here it is.” He put on glasses, reading the paper briefly, then turned his glance up to greet the witnesses.

  “Mary, John, good to see you both. Thanks for witnessing today. Ummm. Sam?” He turned to Sam, absentmindedly scanning the paper before him. “And Jenny?” She nodded once, still holding Sam’s eyes. “Have you folks ever stood proxy before?”

  “No,” Sam answered for them.

  “Okay, well, it’s painless and quick. Jenny, I’m going to ask you Ingrid’s vows, and you will simply answer twice with the words ‘I will.’ Sam, then I’ll turn to you on behalf of Kristian, and you’ll do the same. I’ll declare them husband and wife, and you’ll be free to go.” He signed something on the bottom of the paper, scooting it to Mary, who signed it and scooted it to John. John scooted it back to the judge with practiced efficiency.

  “Shall we get started?”

  ***

  “We are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses to join in holy matrimony Ingrid Nordstrom and Kristian Svenson, who have applied for and received a marriage license from this state.

  “Jenny, first to you. On behalf of Ingrid Nordstrom, will you have this man by proxy to be your lawful wedded husband, and with him to live together in holy matrimony pursuant to the laws of God and this state?”

  Jenny heard the judge say her name, but otherwise his voice was a faraway baritone of sound. Sam held her eyes fiercely, and she stayed focused on his beautiful face. His reddish-blond hair was tousled and wavy, and his brown eyes held her blue ones with unwavering care.

  “I will,” she whispered, and the corners of his mouth twitched up for the barest moment.

  “Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him both in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

  Her heart pounded as she really listened to the words, glancing down at the table in a moment of pure panic. A short tap-tap on the table in front of her made her look up into Sam’s eyes again, which reached out to her, his lips turning up in an encouraging smile. She lost herself in his eyes, allowing him to hold her up above the water line so she could breathe, so she wouldn’t drown. He mouthed the words, and she said them aloud:

  “I will.”

  He smiled at her then, and she knew her part was finished. She broke their eye contact and stared down at the table before her, exhaling raggedly, shoulders rolled forward in defeat.

  “Now, Sam. Will you, on behalf of Kristian Svenson, have this woman by proxy to be your lawful wedded wife, and with her to live together in holy matrimony pursuant to the laws of God and this state?”

  “I will.”

  His voice was breathy and emotional, and Jenny couldn’t help but look up. He must have been staring intently at her bowed head because her lifted eyes slammed into his. He swallowed, and his shoulders relaxed in relief, his eyes devouring hers, not letting her leave him again.

  “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her both in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  As Sam nodded slowly at Jenny with a heartbreaking tenderness, his lips tilted up in a sad, tender smile.

  “I will,” he answered, with eyes only for Jenny.

  “By the virtue of the authority vested i
n me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce Ingrid Nordstrom and Kristian Svenson husband and wife by double proxy marriage.”

  The judge scribbled on his notes as the witnesses filed out of the room. If Jenny or Sam had looked up, they would have noticed the judge pause at the door, looking back and forth between the young couple before smiling knowingly and closing the door silently behind him.

  They stared at each other across the table until Jenny finally stood up slowly, unable to look away from Sam, holding his eyes wildly, as though she might die if she let them go.

  He stood up too, moving around the head of the table with urgent purpose to stand before her.

  Reaching out to cup her face in his hands, his lips came down on hers in a hungry kiss. Tears flooded Jenny’s eyes, and they fluttered closed as she surrendered to him for the last time.

  ***

  Jenny’s heart was breaking.

  Sam held her to him like she was about to be ripped away by some evil force, besieging her, “Please come to Chicago.”

  She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her lips raw from kissing him, her hands flattened against his back. “I can’t, Sam. I’m just Jenny in western boots teaching kids, helping out at church, spending time with my dad and my brothers. I can’t just leave them in any real way. There’s no use in me visiting.” She leaned back and looked into his face. The words rushed out of her mouth: “Why do you have to be in Chicago?”