“Oh, yeah. Who is it?”
His father pointed at the other side of the room, where Jacob Dennison sat in his wheelchair.
“Mary Jo, look,” he said, and nodded toward Dennison.
“Oh, Mack.”
When their last guest had entered the hall, Mack took Mary Jo by the hand and led her across the room. Dennison smiled up at them. “What a fine young couple you make.”
“It’s such an honor to have you at our wedding,” Mary Jo told the old man in a tremulous voice.
“I wouldn’t want to miss this. You two gave me a priceless gift by returning the letters I wrote Joan. Reading them brought back memories I’d long forgotten, memories I want to pass on to my children and grandchildren. This is a piece of my history—of their history, too. I will be forever grateful to you.”
Mary Jo bent down to kiss Jacob’s cheek.
“Now,” he went on to say, “I wish for you the same happiness Joan and I had together. May your life be filled with love and may you always be as happy as you are this day.”
Mary Jo smiled tearfully and looked at Mack. He tightened his hand on hers.
Dennison glanced at the wedding cakes. “I don’t suppose you’d mind cutting me a piece of cake, would you?”
“I would love to,” Mary Jo told him.
They made their way through the crowd toward the wedding cakes. When they were almost there, Mary Jo paused and placed her hand over her heart. “What Jacob said? I am happy, Mack, so happy.”
“I am, too.” This was no exaggeration. Mack wasn’t even sure how to describe the emotion that suffused every part of him. He felt both calm, supremely calm, and ecstatic, surrounded by his family and friends, surrounded by happiness.
He and his father exchanged a smile. Roy wasn’t a man who smiled often or freely, but he did now. Mack felt his approval, his support. His mother was mingling with guests, completely in her element. His two sisters sat at a table, their heads close together, chatting about heaven knew what. Gloria continued to hold the sleeping Noelle.
Linnette was obviously pregnant now and due in another six weeks. Pete seemed content, talking to one of Mack’s firefighter buddies.
Mary Jo cut the large, tiered cake and after they’d posed for pictures they delivered the first slice to Jacob Dennison. Ben and Charlotte sat with him and had been joined by Olivia and her husband, Jack Griffin. Grace and Cliff Harding were at the same table.
Corrie and Charlotte took over cake duty, much to Mack’s relief, with the assistance of Emily Flemming, the pastor’s wife.
Noelle woke then and wanted to be held, so Mack took the baby in his arms and carried her around the room. Then he and Mary Jo went to sit with her brothers for a few minutes. Mel, Linc and Ned were all enjoying wedding cake, tasting and comparing the different varieties.
“I can hardly believe my baby sister’s married,” Linc said to no one in particular.
“Isn’t it time for us to go?” Mary Jo whispered to Mack. “Before my brothers start crying in their cake?”
“We aren’t crying,” Mel insisted.
“Well, I’m not giving you a chance to get started,” Mary Jo informed them. “Besides,” she said, smiling up at Mack, “we need to leave for our honeymoon.”
Thirty-Six
“I don’t want her here!” Jolene shouted loudly enough to be heard on the opposite side of the house.
“Jolene,” Bruce snapped. He knew Jolene wanted Rachel to hear every word, which she probably had. The tension between them was driving him to the point of madness. He was trapped in a seemingly hopeless situation, and anything he said or did only made matters worse.
“I don’t want her living here,” his daughter continued.
“Rachel is your stepmother and my wife,” he said with barely restrained anger. “That’s not going to change, so you’d better adjust your attitude.” Bruce had tried to let the two of them work this out themselves. Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened. He didn’t understand how all this crazy, competitive jealousy had gotten so out of hand, although he was well aware that Jolene had played the major role.
At one time she’d loved Rachel almost to the point of idol worship. They’d been close from the day they’d met, when he’d taken Jolene to Get Nailed for a haircut. It was through his daughter that Bruce had gotten to know Rachel.
Bruce slumped onto his recliner in the living room and wished this senseless bickering would end. Rachel had told him before they were married that Jolene needed more time. He hadn’t listened. He’d wanted the three of them together as a family, so he’d rushed things and brushed aside Jolene’s doubts and Rachel’s fears. Now they were all paying the price.
No one was happy, least of all Bruce. Since their argument the night of the dinner, he’d been sleeping in the spare bedroom. That was a week ago. A week without Rachel in his bed. He missed her and wanted her back where she belonged. With him. He’d made overtures to that effect, but Rachel had ignored them.
“Dad,” Jolene demanded. “You’ve got to do something.”
Slowly he raised his head. “About what?”
“Rachel.”
“Rachel is my wife.” He wasn’t going to argue with his teenage daughter.
Jolene’s eyes narrowed. “She isn’t even sleeping with you. The two of you hardly talk anymore.”