Page 32 of The Marriage Sham
Chapter Seventeen
Frances
I’m conflicted. Torn. Indecisive.
I want to believe Fen, I really do. Regarding Colette, I actually do believe what he told me last night. It would be just like her to force her way in and take, take, take. But it’s more than that. I’m simply unsettled with opening my heart. Last night was a wakeup call that I’d already let Fen in so much that he could absolutely demolish my heart with a single act.
I’m scared.
My heart tells me to give in and let Fen sweep me off my feet. My brain is cautioning me to learn my lesson already. So I tell Fen I have work to do, and off I go to the coffee shop. I bring my laptop, because I actually do have work, but in the absence of Granddaddy being able to help me, I feel the pull to confide in Harold and Betty. I need someone to talk to about these conflicting thoughts.
I’m three bites into a heavenly thing called a chicken pesto panini when Betty approaches my table and sits down.
“Between you and Fen, you’re keeping my business alive.” She’s obviously teasing, but her smile is warm. “He was in here yesterday looking a bit more torn up than you right now. What’s going on, sweetheart?”
Setting down the sandwich, I drop all pretense of being a happy newlywed. I can’t do it anymore. “Betty, what if I told you that Fen and I only got married to make Granddaddy happy?”
Her grey halo of hair tips to one side as she considers my words. After considerable silence, in which I’m squirming in my chair, she answers me, “I’d say two things. First, that’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Two people wanting to give an old man peace of mind. And second, I’d say you’re foolin’ yourself.”
I bite my lip and try to decipher what she means by that. “Fooling ourselves that it’ll work?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Oh no. Fooling yourselves that you don’t actually want to be married.” Leaning her elbows on the table, she continues in a loud whisper. “I’ve seen quite a few people in love, so I know what they look like. And mark my words: that boy Fen is up to his eyeballs in love with you.”
Betty sits back and lets me absorb. Which is good because her words are bouncing around in my head, not landing anywhere they make sense. Could he already be in love with me? He never said that. He just said he wanted to be married to me for real.
“But—“
“And don’t you sit here in my coffee shop and tell me you don’t love him right back, Frances Ledbetter.”
Wow. Betty is fierce. I look away for just a moment, catching Harold’s eye a few tables over where he’s clearing some dishes. He tips his head toward Betty, his implication clear: listen to the wise one.
Betty pulls my gaze back to her when she squeezes my hands in a tight grip. “The marriage may be fake, but the love isn’t. Grab it with both hands and don’t look back.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There’s really nothing else to say. Her absolute conviction gives me the courage I need to follow my heart.
Harold sits down, his hands now holding a picture frame. He sets it gently on the table and lets me look my fill. My face splits into a wide grin and tears fill my eyes. It’s a picture of Granddaddy and me when I was only four or five. My hair’s in lopsided pigtails, and I’m holding his hand while we walk down the street. I’m looking up at him like he hung the moon. Funny, even as an adult now, I still feel that way.
“I took that picture one day after watching you two walk into the coffee shop just like that, day after day. Figured I should document that look you have on your face right there. Total trust and complete love. You don’t get that kind of love without going through some heartache. Sometimes the heartache is in the beginning, sometimes it’s at the end. Either way, you can’t escape it. But it doesn’t make the love any less real.”
Betty pipes in, “So the question is: do you have the courage to feel the heartache and still grab onto that love? I bet your Granddaddy would say you do.”
And there, in the middle of Lover’s Landing, with tears streaming down my face, I finally admit that I love Fenwick Whittington.
* * *
I race up the stairs,determined to find Fen and break the news.
But on the front door, I find a note, similar to the one I’d left him last night.
Not yet. Meet me tomorrow morning at nine A.M. outside. Wear comfortable shoes.
I spin around, but don’t see him anywhere. Clutching the note to my chest, I head inside deciding to spend the day with Granddaddy instead, my brain whirling with all the possibilities for tomorrow. If I know Fen, and I do, he’s got something perfect planned. Something sweeter than all the pastries at Lover’s Landing.
* * *
Fen is waitingfor me by his truck outside the house the next morning. I had a heck of a time figuring out what to wear to this mystery date. I finally settled on a long blue sundress and comfortable silver sandals. My hair is up in a messy bun, and I’m wearing several long necklaces that bounce around with each step I take. Falling in love has made me want to embrace a dreamier, more bohemian side of me that I never knew existed. I hope Fen is ready for all the crazy he’s taking on with me.
When I reach him, he straightens up and wraps me in his arms, whispering, “Good morning, Sunshine,” in my ear. He pulls back before I’m ready, but gives me a kiss that makes me want to spend the day alone with him, not out and about in public. Before I can tell him about my change of heart, he’s escorting me around to the passenger side, helping me in, and shutting the door.
