spires bound the crystalline-blue lake on the far side, the perfect backdrop for a hand-woven red willow arch decked out with a profusion of flowers. Guests were seated in white folding chairs. Zach’s niece led the way, tossing handfuls of white rose petals on a path of fresh green pine needles. Sally followed, taking measured steps in time with the string quartet’s elegant processional. Looking as handsome and relaxed in his black tux as he did in well-worn jeans, Zach waited for his bride. His brother, Sam—a little taller, a little darker, a little less at ease—stood like a sentry overseeing his charges. Daughter, son, wife, mother, brother—Sam’s eyes attended to each one. He was clearly the Beaudry caretaker. Funny, Sally thought. That’s Annie, not me.
Before she’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, Sally had been the seeker, the doer, the risk taker. She’d cared passionately, but she’d never taken care. That was Annie’s role. Careful, care-giving, selfless Annie.
Sally paused before the minister and looked the groom in the eye. Be good to her, Zach. Be the man she deserves. She pivoted and took her place, knowing she’d made her point. She felt Annie step up to fill the space she and Zach had left for her, but she couldn’t quite turn to watch Hoolie place her sister’s hand in Zach’s. It was enough to see the movement from the corner of her eye, where Annie had touched her for a tear.
It was happening. Annie was interlacing her life with someone new, becoming someone else’s next of kin. Sally clutched two handfuls of flowers and listened to identical promises exchanged in voices that complemented each other in a way she hadn’t heard before. It was a pure sound and a simple truth. Annie and Zach belonged together.
And they stood together, hand in hand, while Hank played an acoustic guitar and sang “Cowboy, Take Her Away” in a deep, resonant voice that was made for a love song. He’d said his gift was his song, and he sang to the couple as though no one else was there and every note, every word had been written just for them. Sally was enchanted. Her beautiful sister, her new brother, the music and the man who made it—she wanted to suck it all in and keep it alive within her in a way that the video camera could never do.
At the end of the song, Hank said, “Kiss her, Zach.” And he did, cheered on by friends and family, who showered them with white rose petals as they retreated down the path. The guests followed, and the violinists made merry music at the back of the line as it wended its way up a gentle slope between stands of tall pines. When they reached the lodge’s gravel driveway, Zach swept his bride up in his arms and carried her across the path and up the steps to the front porch, where he set her down and kissed her again. Women sighed. Men whooped. Cowboy hats sailed skyward.
Annie and Zach were hitched.
“You’re a lucky man.” Sally raised her glass of sparkling water in toast.
“Yeah, I know.” Sam put his arm around his new wife, Maggie. “I hit the jackpot.”
Maggie looked up at him. “You did?”
“Trusted you and got myself a whole family.”
“I think Sally’s talking about winning the lottery,” Maggie said. “It’s crazy. Real people don’t win the lottery.”
“Well, it was complicated,” Sam said. “It was Star’s mother’s ticket—our daughter, Star—but she died before she could claim it. In fact, we thought the damn thing was lost in a car accident, but it turned up, kinda like…” He waved his hand as though words failed.
“Miraculously,” Maggie supplied.
“To put it mildly,” Sam said. “It’s been a year, but it still doesn’t seem real. We’re trying to manage it sensibly. You don’t want to go crazy. You want to put some of it to good use now, give some away, make sure there’s plenty left for the kids. I’ve never known any rich people, never thought I’d like them much.”
“He won’t give up his job,” Maggie said.
Sam laughed. “She won’t, either.”
“I’m part-time now, but our little clinic needs nurses, and I’m a good one. We just moved into a house we built on Sam’s land. It’s a gorgeous spot.” Maggie made a sweeping gesture. “Kind of like this, but the lake is smaller and the mountains are bigger. You have to come for a visit.”
“Where’s Hank?” Sam asked, searching over the heads of the guests. “Man, that guy can sing. He about killed my brother with that song.” He grinned at Zach. “He didn’t leave yet, did he?”
Did he?
Sally hugged her new brother-in-law. “Where’s Hank?”
“I’ll tell you a little secret about ol’ Hank. He don’t like compliments. He does his thing, and then he disappears for a while. He sang at a funeral once—bull rider, wrecked his pickup. Hank tore everybody up singin’ over that kid. And then he disappeared. I found him playin’ fetch with Phoebe.” Zach glanced over the balcony railing. “He’s around.”
“Hey, cowboy.” Annie joined the group, entwining her arm with her new husband’s and beaming up at him as though he’d just hung the moon. “Take me away.”
A skyward glance assured Sally that the moon wasn’t up yet. The sun had slipped behind the trees, but there was still plenty of light for searching the grounds. She didn’t have to go far. She found Phoebe first. The dog greeted her with a friendly bark, and the man followed, emerging from a stand of pines near a picnic table. He carried his jacket slung over his shoulder, white shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, black hat tipped low on his forehead.
Sally scratched Phoebe behind the ears and caught a little drool in the process. Hank tapped his thigh, and the dog heeled. With a hand signal, he had her sitting.
“Impressive,” Sally said.
“She’s willing to humor me because you’re not as appealing as you were last night. If you were splashing around in the lake she’d be all over you.”
“And you?”
“The only part that didn’t appeal to me last night was the water.”
“You were wonderful,” she said, and he questioned her with a look. “Today. Your music. You play beautifully, and you sing like—”
“Thanks.” He swung his jacket down from his shoulder. “It’s a good song.”
“It’s a lovely song. Perfect. I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
“Aw, c’mon. You gotta love those Dixie Chicks. I had to change a couple of words to make it work.”
“You made it yours. Theirs. Annie’s and Zach’s. That’ll be their song now.” Feeling a sudden chill, she hugged herself and rubbed her bare upper arms. “What a gift, Hank. That’s something they’ll take with them throughout their journey together. Their song.”
“You’re layin’ it on a little thick, there, Sally,” he teased as he laid his jacket over her shoulders.
“Never. I’m no gusher. If anything, that was an understatement. My little sister just got married, Hank. If I could sing, I’d be…” She adjusted the jacket and began to sway. “You know what? I
