Breena winced as her heels click-clacked against the polished marble. If she had arrived on time, her footsteps would have blended with the rest of the pre-wedding din. Grabbing the first available seat—on the aisle, second pew from the back—she heaved a relieved sigh and sat. This is the lumpiest cushion I’ve ever…
“ ’Scuse me, miss,” drawled the tall stranger beside her, “but you’re sittin’ on my Stetson.”
As the flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks, Breena handed the flattened black felt hat to him.
“Well,” he said, turning it this way and that, “it used to be my Stetson….”
“I-I’m so sorry. I never even saw it. I…”
He shot her a playful half grin. “It’s all right.” As if to prove it, the cowboy winked. “I was thinkin’ of gettin’ me a new one, anyway.”
A white-gloved hand reached up from behind and tapped his shoulder. “You’re a guest in the house of the Lord, for goodness’ sake,” an elderly woman warned. “Show some respect and be quiet!”
Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he shot Breena an “uh-oh, we’re in trouble now!” expression and dutifully faced forward. She did the same as her seatmate tried unsuccessfully to reshape his mangled headpiece.
This has definitely not been your day, Breena Pavan!
First, her hair dryer’s motor blew up, forcing her to let her short dark curls air dry. Then the power went out altogether, and she had to apply her makeup by the light of the tiny bathroom window.
She was halfway to the church when she realized she’d left the wedding gift on the hall table, and on the way home to get it, her right front tire decided to go flat.
She had managed to get the spare on without incident, but as she tucked the jack back into the trunk, her knee brushed the license plate, snagging her panty hose. She might have made it to the church on time…if that first drugstore had carried anything other than leotards.
Unfortunately, things had started going wrong long before she got out of bed this morning. Take yesterday, for example, when she realized she’d misplaced the invitation to Todd and Sandra’s wedding. It had taken several phone calls to find someone who knew when and where her old school chums would be getting married. “One o’clock, St. John’s,” Todd’s harried sister had said.
Breena glanced at her watch. Unless it had suddenly gone the way of her hair dryer, she was only ten minutes late. No one seemed to have noticed her tardiness, and once she had a chance to replace the cowboy’s hat, all would be right with the world again.
At least, as right as her world could be….
She settled back and listened to the preacher’s clear voice, reverberating from every rafter in the cavernous wood and marbled space as he read from Genesis: “ ‘…she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh….’ ”
The bride and groom exchanged vows, shared their first kiss as man and wife, and turned to face the congregation. She hadn’t realized Todd was so tall. And when did Sandra put on all that weight around her middle? The church had been decorated with white roses and daisies, and gigantic pink satin bows hung from the end of each pew. If I ever have a wedding, Breena thought dreamily, I hope it’s as pretty as this one.
As the congregation stood, the newlyweds linked arms and proceeded up the aisle toward the back of the church. It wasn’t until they drew near that Breena realized…
…they weren’t Todd and Sandra!
It had never occurred to her to ask Todd’s sister which St. John’s….
She hung her head and closed her eyes. Only you could end up at the wrong wedding.
But why should she be surprised? Ever since she’d attended that faith rally with her college roommate, it seemed that nothing concerning religion had gone right for Breena. She slumped onto the seat and hid her face in her hands.
The cowboy sat down beside her. “Are you all right?”
Breena shook her head. No, she answered silently, I most certainly am not all right. In fact, there’s so much wrong with me, it’d take a ream of paper to list everything that…
“Can I get you anything? Tissue? Water, maybe?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Please,” she heard him tell the folks on his other side, “feel free to step around us; seems the lady’s feelin’ a mite dizzy….”
She felt humiliated, embarrassed…but dizzy? Well, going to the wrong church was a dizzy thing to do….
“I noticed you came in alone,” the cowboy said. “Same here. Something came up, and my date had to cancel at the last minute.”
If she didn’t know better, Breena would have said he was gearing up to ask her to replace his date! But why would he do that, when she’d mashed his hat and gotten him scolded?
“We could go in my car, pick yours up afterward. Or I could follow you, if you’d rather….”
She’d never seen bigger, greener, longer-lashed eyes on a man in her life. A thin streak of bright white gleamed in his coal-black hair. And that mischievous, slanting smile made him GQ material, for sure.
“So what do you say?”
Still focused on the dark mustache arching over his lips, Breena licked her own lips. “Um, say? To what?”
Chuckling, he repeated, “To joining me at the reception.”
Again the warmth of a blush colored her cheeks. “I, uh, I’m afraid I can’t.”
Tucking in one corner of his mouth, he shook his head. “Figures.”
Blinking, she raised her eyebrows.
“Ain’t it just my luck to have a li’l gal who’s prettier than the bride sit down next to me…and she’s already spoken for.”
“It isn’t that, it’s just…” Be quiet, Breena; you sound like a little ninny! She’d ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time again, and now she was gearing up to ramble like a raving lunatic.
She had no business even considering his invitation. He was obviously a devout Christian. She could tell by the way he’d closed his eyes during the ceremony, nodding and whispering “Amen” and “Praise Jesus” when the minister’s words touched his heart. With her history, Breena knew better than to involve herself with a man like that.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she blurted. And for the next five minutes, Breena held his attention as she told him about her erratic, unlucky, unbelievable morning.
“Sounds like my afternoon…I suffered a hat-mashing and a tongue-lashing in a five-minute stretch.” He grinned. “You look smashing, by the way….”
Breena returned the smile. “So you see,” she concluded as if he’d never interrupted, “I’m supposed to be at a different wedding, at a different St. John’s.”
“Which one?”
It was a simple question that ought to be followed by a simple answer. Breena sighed, knowing full well she had no idea which St. John’s Todd and Sandra had been married in. She cast a forlorn glance at her watch. And they’re definitely married by now! She shrugged one shoulder. “If I knew, I’d…”
He tucked in one corner of his mouth and frowned, thoughtfully stroking his thick mustache with thumb and forefinger.
He’s probably thinking up a good excuse to make a quick getaway, Breena told herself.
His laughter began gradually, quietly, then bubbled up and boiled over like stew in an unwatched kettle. The delicious sound echoed through the now-empty church, bouncing back to wrap around her like a warm, friendly hug.
“That’s some sense of humor you’ve got there. Ever consider becoming a stand-up comic?”
What would you think if you knew I wasn’t joking, Mr. Perfect? she wondered, smiling wryly.
“Sorry,” he said, extending a hand. “Forgive my bad manners. The name’s Keegan. Keegan Neil.”
The way he was pumping her arm up and down, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if water started trickling from her fingertips.
“And you are… ?”
“Oh. Um. Breena.” She wriggled free of his grasp. “It’s nice to…”
“Breena,” he repeated. “Interesting name. Sounds Irish.”
Smiling slightly, she nodded. “My mother was born on the Burren.”
“And my ancestors hail from Edinburgh. Breena,” he said again.
He had the deep, rich voice of a Galveston radio disc jockey. She’d always been partial to baritones…and Southern accents….
“Is it a nickname for Sabrina?”
She shook her head. “Nope. It says ‘Breena’ on my birth certificate.”
“Short and sweet and to the point. Just like its owner.” He gave an approving nod. “I like that.”
Breena either had a fever or she was blushing.
“This other wedding,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “did the invitation say you could bring a guest?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it did.”
“So the other bride and groom are expecting you to show up with an escort?”
Another nod. “I invited a friend, but he woke up with an ingrown toenail.”
Keegan’s eyes and smile widened. “He…what?”
She shrugged the other shoulder. “An ingrown toenai—” The merriment on his face told Breena he’d heard her just fine the first time. He couldn’t believe such a thing could waylay a man.
“No, really. His toe is all swollen up—twice its normal size,” she explained, “and every step is torture. He didn’t think he’d be much fun if…”
By now, Keegan was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Without warning, he placed both hands on her shoulders. “Breena, go with me to the reception. Doesn’t matter one whit which one. You choose.” Another chuckle popped from his lips. “ ’Cause you’re the most fascinatin’ woman I’ve met since I left Texas.” He paused. “That ain’t entirely true, and I can’t tell a lie, ’specially not in church.” His left eyebrow rose. “You’re the most fascinatin’ woman I’ve ever met, period.”
Before she knew what was happening, Keegan had sandwiched her hands between his.
“Say you’ll spend the rest of the day with me. I’ll promise not to bite.”
If you knew the truth about me, Mr. Good Christian, you wouldn’t be so interested in spending one more minute with…
Grinning, he jammed the now lopsided Stetson onto his head and poked out his elbow, inviting her to take his arm. “Shall we?”
Breena hesitated, because in truth, she wanted to spend more time with him. She tucked her hand into her pocket. He appeared to be a good man, a kind man. She guessed him to be twenty-nine or thirty; his eagerness to get to know her better told her he was probably looking to settle down, raise a family. He needed a good and kind woman, a Christian woman to help him accomplish that. And after what happened to her all those years ago in college, well, Breena knew for certain she wasn’t that woman.
He was still standing there, arm extended, waiting patiently for her response. He deserves an answer. Deserves far more than that. “I can’t,” she said, regretfully.
His tantalizing smile disappeared and both brows dipped low in the center of his forehead. “Why?”
She lifted her chin. “Are you ‘born again,’ Keegan?”
“Yeah, of course….”
“A steadfast believer?”
He frowned. “I reckon you could put it that way, but I still don’t understa—”
“Then you don’t belong with the likes of me.”
His eyes narrowed. So did his lips. “I hate to repeat myself, but why?”
“Because…” Oh, just spit it out, Breena! “Because a man like you has no business hanging around with someone who’s been rejected by God, that’s why!” Snatching her purse from where she’d laid it on the pew, Breena left the way she’d entered…heels click-clacking across the shining marble floor.
“Breena. Breena, wait….”
Keegan watched helplessly as the door closed behind her.
Rejected, he repeated, scratching his chin, by God?
It was a concept he simply couldn’t comprehend. He’d been involved in the church for as long as he could remember, and never had anyone said such a thing.
During his elementary school years, Keegan had organized the collection of food to feed needy families at Thanksgiving and Christmas. In high school, he’d helped build a homeless shelter. As a college student, he’d worked with inmates at the state penitentiary. If those men—some of whom had committed murder, rape, armed robbery—could be forgiven their sins, what in tarnation gives her the idea she had been rejected by God?
Keegan headed for the door, the heels of his boots resounding in the unoccupied chapel. The noise reminded him of the sound her skinny-heeled shoes had made as she’d run away. She had such pretty little feet, such curvy calves. And the biggest, brownest eyes I ever did see….
He’d looked evil in the eye enough times in that Texas prison to know a sinner—repentant or otherwise—when he saw one, and—Keegan snorted to himself—It’s not like she killed somebody or somethin’. Her eyes reflected the bright, sweet soul of a child. Yet there was more…something faraway, something sad… Wonder what that’s all about?
Why not ask her? He could look her up in the phone book, give her a call, convince her that no one with eyes like hers could have done anything to cause God to reject her. He could ask her…if he’d thought to get her last name.
Still, there was one way he knew he could help her: prayer. Again he pictured her lovely face, her friendly smile, her sparkling eyes, and knew he’d be praying for more than her well being and peace of mind…he’d be praying for God to help him find her.
Breena…Even her name was lovely….
Something in her had called to Keegan, and something in him had answered. Breena had been in his life for thirty minutes, at best; she’d been gone for perhaps thirty seconds…
…and already he missed her.