One thing hadn’t changed: she was as beautiful as he remembered. The long blond hair that entranced him back in school was cut to a sensible crop just off her shoulders. The crazy, dangly earrings she’d favored were now replaced by small gold knots. She didn’t look old by any means, but she didn’t look young, either. Now a quiet grace filled her features. There had been a time when he felt he knew everything about her, but had he really? This morning it felt as if he knew next to nothing.
When would they get more time to talk about this? He was here for only forty-eight hours—and this felt like it would take weeks to untangle.
“It’s stunning,” Josh said, mostly for Violet’s sake, but the scenery really was breathtaking. If all these wedding-ready amenities were Jean’s doing, he was impressed. “You built all this up recently?”
“The whole town’s pitched in to create what we’ve got now,” Jean replied. “Rob Falston from the hardware store built the gazebo. Dave and Maureen Rodgers laid the flagstone aisle from stone their son gave them.” She gestured toward the falls. “Of course, no one takes credit for the natural beauty and atmosphere of Matrimony Falls—that’s God’s doing.” She leaned in. “But even God’s green grass can stain a white dress and be tricky in heels, so we added the stones.”
“See?” Violet smiled. “I told you Jean thinks of everything.” His sister held up the swatches of fabric—the wedding party’s colors—and the three lengths of ribbon the florist, Kelly, had given them yesterday. “See how it all works together, Josh?”
He could see that. He’d just grasped the full extent of it two meetings ago and had a whole lot of other things on his mind now. “Very pretty, Vi.”
Jean gave him a look that told him he hadn’t entirely hidden his level of distraction. “There are so many details to a wedding,” she commiserated. “It can get a bit overwhelming. We hope to add another wedding planner at the end of the year so that we can keep up the individualized attention to each bride as we grow. But you, as our first, get my full attention.”
Violet grinned even wider. Josh really was happy for her. They had only each other now, with the father they shared and both their mothers gone, so he wanted to help—logistically and financially. It was just that Jean and Jonah had completely blindsided him.
“Why don’t you go stand at the top of the aisle, Violet, and take in the view,” he suggested to his stepsister. “I always look out from the podium an hour before I give a big speech. It makes it feel familiar, and you’ll be less nervous when you stand there on your wedding day.”
“Great idea,” said Violet, who handed Josh her notebook and turned to walk up the aisle to the trellis that marked the bride’s entrance into the clearing.
When Violet was a dozen yards away, Josh took half a step closer to Jean. While still keeping his smiling gaze on his stepsister, he leaned in and said, “When can I see him?”
Her sigh was enormous. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I’m his father. When can I see him?”
“Try to understand how difficult this is. You can’t just show up in his life, Josh. We need to think about this, figure out how to introduce you in a way Jonah can understand and cope with. He’s five years old. Most of this is way over his head.”
Josh ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I can’t believe I have to figure out a way to introduce myself to my own son.” He looked at her. “Have you said anything to Violet?”
“Of course not. Have you?”
“Are you kidding? I have no idea how to handle this. Or what to say, if anything.”
Violet came back down the aisle, then stood with one hand on her hip, her gaze tacking back and forth between him and Jean. “Okay,” she said slowly. “What’s going on here?”
Josh’s first thought was You’d have to be blind and deaf not to see what’s going on here, but now that felt like a terrible, tasteless thought to have. “Um... Vi, I...”
Jean took charge of the conversation. “The truth is, Violet, that your brother and I have...a bit of a history.”
Violet’s eyes popped open wider. “What kind of history?”
“In college. After. We were...together.” And the award for colossal oversimplification goes to...
“You and Mayor Jean?” Violet’s eyes opened wider, if that was possible. “Wait...wait, she’s that Jean? Wow. What are the odds?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for the past eighteen hours,” Josh replied.
“You know,” Violet said, “I think I’ll just head on back to Kelly at the flower shop and go over these colors again. Or order more centerpieces. Leave you two kids to settle things.” Being three years older than Violet, Josh took issue with the “you two kids” remark, but not enough to say anything.
“Do whatever makes you happy,” he told his stepsister.
“Or takes a lot of time,” she added, smirking. “Remember we’ve got lunch reservations to taste the entrées at eleven thirty.” Violet looked at Jean. “You’re welcome to join us, you know. I expect you could tell me a few great stories about my stepbrother here.”
Her suggestion would take the awkward level off the charts, and Josh wondered if Violet didn’t realize that, or simply didn’t care.
“You’re sweet to offer, Violet, but I’m sure Hailey can take perfect care of you.”
“See you at lunch, then,” Josh said with tightly forced cheer. Violet would have a long list of questions, surely none of which he knew how to answer quite yet.
“Bye.” Violet took one last look at them as she started on the path that led back to town. “You. Two. In college. Wow.”
Josh heard Jean push out a breath just as he released his own exhale once she was out of sight. “Wow indeed.” He took a step toward Jean. “I mean it, though. We’re only here until tomorrow afternoon. You’ve got to let me meet him.”
Jean leaned against the gazebo. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I think it’s best if he meets you without knowing who you are just yet. He needs time to adjust to the situation. I can barely handle it as it is, much less find the right way to explain it to him on short notice.” She looked up at him. “Can you handle that? Meeting him first as Josh Tyler, brother of the bride, instead of Long-Lost Dad?”
Long-Lost Dad. Words Josh still couldn’t believe applied to him. The list of ways he felt unready to be a father could fill a phone book at the moment. He ran his hand down his face. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But how do I...speak to him? Or him to me?”
“The same way lots of people do—through me.” She waved her hand in a silent “hello.”
“And some things are universal. A smile, a wave, a handshake—” she brightened with a sudden idea “—or a milkshake. Why don’t you meet us at Marvin’s ice-cream parlor at two thirty?”
“I
