To Love, Honour and Betray(61)

“For better or for worse.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him again, in clear and complete defiance of the hospital staff. She felt the hard, satin strength of his lips, felt the heat of his tongue brush against her own. She wanted to kiss him forever. And she could. She was his wife….

Callie pulled back with a horrified gasp, her eyes wide.

“What is it, querida?”

“I signed the divorce papers yesterday!” she wailed. She gave a choked sob as she threw her arms around him. “Oh, Eduardo. We’re divorced!”

He blinked then slow joy lifted his handsome features, like the rise of the first spring dawn after endless cold winter. He gave a low laugh. Lifting her chin, he stroked her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Oh, my love. That’s the best news you could have given me.”

She blinked in shock. “It—is?”

“Of course it is.” He smiled down at her, then leaning forward, he whispered, “This time we’re going to do it right.”

It was a warm evening in late July as Callie stepped out of her parents’ farmhouse to the porch, where her father was waiting in the twilight.

Walter Woodville turned then gasped as he saw his eldest daughter in her wedding gown. “You look beautiful, pumpkin.”

Callie looked down shyly at the 1950s-style, tea-length gown in ivory lace. “Thanks to Mom. She did the alterations from Grandma’s dress.”

“Your Mama always makes everything beautiful. And so do you.” Tears rose to his eyes as he whispered, “I’m so proud to be your father.” His voice was suspiciously rough. Clearing his throat, he held out his arm. “Are you ready?”

She walked with him the short distance across the gravel driveway. The rising moon glowed across the wide ocean of her father’s barley fields. The night was quiet and magical. Fireflies glowed through the sapphire night. As they went toward the barn, she could hear the cicadas at a distance, but even their eerie singing wasn’t enough to drown the loud drumbeat of her heart.#p#分页标题#e#

Clutching her father’s arm with one hand, and a bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies in the other, Callie looked back at the farmhouse. Her childhood home was a little careworn, with yellow paint peeling in spots. But it was snug and warm and full of good memories. She looked at the swing on the porch, at her mother’s red flowers in pots. So many memories. So much love.

“I just hope we do everything right,” she whispered.

Her father smiled. “You won’t.”

“Then I hope we do half as well as you and Mom.”

He put his hand over hers, his craggy face sparkling with tears. “You will. You two were made for each other. He’s a good one,” he said gruffly.

Callie resisted the urge to laugh. Her father had a new appreciation for Eduardo since their three days up at the fishing cabin in Wisconsin. Any man who could face Callie’s father, her four uncles and six male cousins, and Brandon, all with guns and hunting bows, was clearly man enough to be Walter’s son-in-law. The way Eduardo had humbly asked permission for his daughter’s hand in marriage hadn’t hurt, either.

Somehow, even Brandon and Eduardo had managed to bury the hatchet. The story she heard afterward was a bit muddled, but apparently while they were at the cabin Brandon had nearly shot Eduardo in the foot with his hunting rifle. Callie was rather dubious about how this equaled friendship, but afterward the two men had drunk beer around the campfire. “Marrying you two Woodville sisters, we realized we needed to be allies,” Eduardo said with a grin, and Callie wasn’t sure whether she should be offended or not.

Eduardo had won Jane’s approval even more easily, simply through his vigorous appreciation for her cooking and fruit pies. “Although,” her mother had said coyly, “a few more grandchildren wouldn’t hurt.”

Eduardo had looked at Callie with a wicked grin, even as his voice said meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”

At the thought, Callie’s eyes welled up. She was finally sure about a question that had distracted her for days. She could hardly wait to tell Eduardo …

“Don’t cry!” her father said, aghast. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat to dab at the corner of her eye. “Your mother would never forgive me if she thought I said something that smeared your makeup.”

“I’m not crying,” Callie wept. Blinking back tears of his own, he patted her hand and led her past the outdoor reception area, which had a temporary dance floor lit up by torches and surrounded by coolers full of beer and the finest champagne. They reached the barn, and Callie stood in the huge open doorway in her wedding gown beside her father, who was beaming with pride.