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  Speak Now

  Chautona Havig

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  Copyright © 2012 by Chautona Havig

  Kindle Edition

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chautona Havig lives in a small, remote town in California’s Mojave Desert with her husband and eight of her nine children. When not writing, she enjoys paper crafting, sewing, and trying to get the rest of her children educated so that she can retire from home education.

  Edited by: Haug Editing Services

  Interior fonts: Times New Roman

  Art font: Daddy Long Legs and Alex Brush

  Cover photos: Braelyn Rae Photography

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  Cover art by: Chautona Havig

  The events and people in this book, aside from the caveats on the next page, are purely fictional, and any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental and I’d love to meet them!

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  All Scripture references are from the NASB. NASB passages are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (registered), Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation

  ~For Michele~

  It took me long enough, but here it is. Happy Birthday. I still can’t believe how much you like this book. It’s the last of mine that I would have imagined you hounding me to finish, but you did and I did. I hope the parts that you haven’t yet read are satisfying.

  Thank you for your friendship. You are such an encouragement to me. Can’t wait to finally meet you! It’s about time.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter One

  A low murmur rippled through the sanctuary in harmony with the soft, deep strains of a string ensemble—everyone waiting in anticipation for the ceremony to begin. Several guests smiled, and even more frowned as a man ushered two small children into their seats just moments before the musicians ended the prelude. As he pulled a toddler with lopsided pigtails and large bows onto his lap, the processional began. Smiles and a few chuckles erupted as the maid of honor walked down the aisle, and the little girl exclaimed, “Daddy! That’s a be-u-uful bride!”

  Embarrassed, the father hushed his child and whispered something in her ear. Cara smiled at the little girl and winked as she passed by their pew. Seconds later, she stood at the front of the room. The guests glanced behind them, the anticipation almost palpable. People waited, ready to spring to their feet and greet the bride when the ushers flung open the doors.

  Cara, distracted by the enchanting child, ignored her cousin Julia in favor of the little girl. The guests, all watching the bride in her exquisite gown, missed the little drama played out in the fifth row. The child started to exclaim again, but the father stopped her. He clapped a hand over the little one’s mouth and then gently removed it, placing one finger to her lips. The child pulled his ear down to her level as she pointed to Cara.

  Surprise filled the man’s face. His eyes scanned Cara as he shifted his child in his arms, moving the weight higher on his shoulder and searching for whatever obviously entranced his child. Cara smiled briefly at him and turned to adjust Julia’s train as she reached her groom.

  Though the ceremony passed in a blur for Cara, each time she glanced at the man and his children, she found him struggling to keep his wriggling son and entranced daughter from disrupting the service. Did he have a chance to enjoy it at all? Thoughts raced through her mind, distracting her from the ceremony until at last, the minister declared Julia and Trevor husband and wife.

  As the groom kissed his bride, Cara glanced back once more to see the child’s reaction. Instead, two pairs of eyes met hers from across the sanctuary. The child’s showed unqualified admiration, but the man’s looked almost mournful—wistful. She didn’t know whether to give him a conspiratorial wink or a sympathetic smile.

  The moment evaporated in an instant. The congregation, excused by the pastor, began filing out row by row, first to last. The guests found themselves crowded in the vestibule, waiting for the receiving line. The man shuffled his daughter from side to side while holding onto his son’s hand. From her position at the front, he looked exhausted and the celebration hadn’t yet begun.

  As they approached the best man and maid of honor, the child exclaimed in delight once more, “She’s so be-u-uful!”

  Cara took the child’s hand and smiled. “You are very good for my ego, little lady. I’m Cara. What’s your name?”

  Without a trace of shyness or hesitation, the child gestured dramatically, “I’m Riley. That’s Bryson and he,” the child threw her arms around her father’s neck, kissing his cheek with evident adoration, “is my bestest daddy in the world. Grownups like you call him Jonafan.”

  “I’d better be your only daddy, Ry.”

  Nodding wisely, she grinned at Cara. “He is.” Another nod. “My only daddy. Isn’t he han’some?”

  Cara blushed and glanced at the embarrassed father. Leaning closer, she whispered softly into the child’s ear, “If you promise not to tell…”

  “Oh, I do!”

  Jonathan Lyman’s deep but soft chuckle washed over woman and child. “Appropriate words for the occasion, Riley.”

  “Hush. This is between Riley and me,” Cara insisted, barely giving Jonathan a glance. However, in that glance, she saw something that intrigued her. He had noticed that she’d brushed him off and it bothered him. He wanted that glance.

  Cara leaned in closer, cupping her hand around Riley’s ear. “Your daddy is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen.” Stepping back and feeling extremely foolish, she gave Riley a serious look. “Remember, you promised not to tell.”

  Riley nodded solemnly, but her wide grin told Jonathan, and anyone else watching, the verdict had been favorable. Just as he moved to hug the groom, Riley screeched, “I won’t tell. I won’t ever.”
<
br />   Just then, the quiet little boy at his side tugged his arm. “Daddy, I gotta go. Now. I really gotta—”

  “All right, Bry…” He smiled at the happy couple. “Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  At the bathroom door, shrieks of horror echoed through the vestibule, followed by indignant shouts of, “—but I can’t go in the boys’ bathroom! I can’t! I’s a girl!”

  The acoustics in the vestibule amplified Jonathan’s forced, quiet tones enough that the entire room heard him say, “You go into the men’s room every time.”

  “But not when she’s watching!”

  The crowd tittered. Taking her cue in the form of a nudge from the bride, Cara slipped from the receiving line and hurried to Jonathan’s side as he attempted to pull the shrieking child, hands clutching at the doorjamb, into the bathroom. “May I take her? We’ll be over there greeting the guests.”

  After throwing her a grateful look, Jonathan slipped into the bathroom to help relieve his son’s discomfort and recompose himself. While Bryson carefully rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and dried them, Jonathan took a deep breath and struggled to control his emotions. Steady man. Just get through the day.

  ~*~*~*~

  “May I join you for a little while?”

  Jonathan started when he heard Cara’s voice behind him. “Of course, but—”

  “It’s the pretty wedding lady! I forgotted—”

  Jonathan interjected with the absent-minded correction of parents everywhere, “Forgot.”

  “Yeah. I forgot your name.”

  Cara slipped into the chair next to Riley and leaned close to the little girl. “My name is Cara.”

  “Miss Cara. Remember, Riley, you call her Miss.”

  Across the table, Cara gave him a slow smile. “I think I’m now forever grateful that my father insisted on Cara instead of Carrie.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Bryson. “You’re a big boy. I think you’re probably about five?”

  Bryson’s large, blue eyes widened. “Soon. Daddy says my birthday is soon, but sometimes that means in a few days, and sometimes it means years, so I’m not sure when.”

  “Next month. Your birthday is in…” Jonathan did some mental before continuing, “three weeks, four days, six hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty two, thirty one, thirty—”

  “Daddy!”

  “The sixteenth of next month.” Jonathan glanced at Cara’s face, waiting to see the look of a caged animal trying to flee. It never surfaced. Cara remained focused on Bryson as she asked about how they celebrated and what present he’d want that no one would ever get him.

  “A lily.”

  Tears filled Jonathan’s eyes, and he berated himself for his lack of control at moments such as these. Each time he thought he’d accepted his loss, a glance at his mother, or his father-in-law’s face, or an innocent remark by one of his children pushed the knife back into his heart. No matter how much he seemed to wiggle it out, something always seemed to drive it back in—something like a sweet comment from his son.

  “Why would you like a lily?” Cara’s surprise seemed to delight Riley.

  “For Mommy! We take them to Mommy.”

  “Well, you are a special boy. Not every young man would ask for a gift to give his mother instead. Where is she today? I bet Julia would let you have some from the church.”

  Riley’s sweet little voice, chipper and cheerful, exclaimed, “In heaven. She’s lucky. We have to wait, but she’s already there.”

  To his surprise, Cara didn’t blink twice. One hand reached automatically for Bryson’s hand, and the other pulled Riley a little closer. “That is wonderfully lucky for her.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I have a confession, though.”

  Bryson, choking back tears for a mother he remembered enough to miss, leaned closer. “A confession? Did you do something wrong?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s wrong. You tell me. I confess that I feel a little sad to think she isn’t here where she can hug you and tell you stories. Can I do that for her today?”

  “That’s not wrong. That’s perturbing others and we’re supposed to do that. My Sunday school teacher says that Jesus wants us to perferb—preterb—”

  “Prefer. Preferring one another,” Jonathan interjected as he surreptitiously wiped at his tears between chuckles.

  Riley, not happy that her Miss Cara now appeared to ignore her, said, “Of course you can tell me stories. Let’s go sit on the couches and snuggle up, an’ you can tell me all the stories you know. If I fall asleep it’s ‘cause I’s tired. I always falls asleep when Daddy tells me stories.”

  Cara glanced across the table and met Jonathan’s eyes. “May I? Things are going to get pretty loud in here soon. Jules has a room set up down the hall with things for the kids to do; there are even couches and pallets for—” She visibly changed words mid-sentence. “—resting. She has some of the teens from her church watching the kids so that the parents don’t have to worry.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “No, I don’t, but may I?”

  Something in her face showed a certain gentleness he’d never seen in anyone else. She somehow managed to convey compassion and care without pity. “Of course. Thank you.”

  A few steps from the table, she turned and waited for him to catch her eye. “Try to enjoy yourself. It’s a wonderful day.”

  ~*~*~*~

  The song switched to a slow country number, much to Jonathan’s amusement. His nephew, Trevor, hated country music. A voice near his ear made him jump. “Julia! Why aren’t you with Trevor?”

  “My cousin needs someone to dance with. She doesn’t date, so half the men in this room won’t even ask her to dance, and the other half are taken.”

  “Well—”

  “Good. Come on.”

  Leaving him no chance to protest without a scene, Julia steered him to one side of the room—the side opposite from the one he expected— the side where her cousin Linda stood looking desperate. He’d met Linda at a picnic the previous month. The woman’s raucous laughter; a blouse that had to be three sizes too small, exposing much more of her cleavage than any man had a right to see in public; and her inability to keep silent for more than a few seconds, had worn him out before he had a chance to take the first bite of his meal.

  Reliving that horrible afternoon left him distracted. He glanced at his watch as Julia pushed him toward a woman—one with her back to them—one he thought he recognized. Tapping the woman’s arm, Julia asked to excuse her cousin from a conversation. Cara turned to see who’d summoned her and smiled—gently. The word returned to mind with every action, every look, every word. He felt surrounded by gentleness in her mere presence.

  “I—” He hadn’t been prepared to ask. Somehow, he’d expected Julia to force them together. As it was, his new niece had managed a perfect disappearing act. “I wondered if you’d care to dance.”

  She didn’t make a move toward him, but she smiled again. “I would. I would love to dance.”

  An awkward few seconds ticked past until he realized that he hadn’t actually asked her. Praying that the darkened room hid the rising red in his face and neck, Jonathan held out his hand and asked, “Shall we?”

  “Thank you.”

  The response startled him, leaving him wondering how to respond. “It’s truly my pleasure.”

  They danced without speaking. Though neither danced well, they moved comfortably to the music until it ended. Jonathan had heard of companionable silences. Books are littered with descriptions of people so comfortable in their own skins and with each other that verbal communication is unnecessary. However, before his dance with Cara, and despite an almost aching desire for it, he’d never truly believed it existed.

  At the edge of the dance floor, he led her to the bar and offered her a glass of sparkling cider. “I’d ask you again, but these quick numbers are beyond my abilities. I’m afraid I’d embarrass both of us.” />
  Cara studied his face for a moment as though to ascertain his genuineness. “Perhaps you’ll ask again when a slower song comes along.”

  He watched her, curious. How did she manage to be so forthright without slipping into flirtation? “In the meantime, would you like something from the hors d’ oeuvres table?”

  She nodded. “While you do that, I’ll see how your children are doing. Be back in a minute.”

  Without a word or a look to intimate that she was worthy of notice for this attention to his children, Cara slipped from the room. He’d never seen anything like it. Women sometimes showed interest in his children to impress him, but she clearly didn’t care what he thought of her. She cared about the children’s welfare.

  He found them a table and brought her a glass of sparkling juice to go with her assortment of gourmet finger foods. Jonathan knew his actions would bring him scrutiny from his whole family. The phones and emails would tear up the lines over the next week, but at that exact moment, he didn’t care. The day had promised to be awkward, painful, and long, but instead, he found himself enjoying the day. Cara had managed to make the reception, thus far, enjoyable and with no expectations—a gift for a man like him.

  As Jonathan snapped from his reverie, he realized that she’d seated herself across from him and taken a bite of food. “I’m sorry, how rude of me.”

  “You were somewhere else. And your children are fine. They’re going to wake up Riley in half an hour so she’ll still sleep for you tonight.”

  The statement lay comfortably between them. It was as though the table was a lane with porches rather than a tennis court. Rather than a “ball in your court” to lob back at your partner at regular intervals, they each sat companionably on their own porches and stepped across the lawns from time to time to chat if desired. The thought amused him. Porches versus courts—how whimsical could he get?

  Jonathan watched her between bites. Though discreet, he didn’t hide his observation. They toasted with the rest of the guests and ate their cake. At the bouquet toss, when Cara chose not to join the other ladies, Jonathan finally spoke. “No bouquet?”

  She shook her head. “I’m silly, I know, but I only want one bridal bouquet and someone else’s isn’t it.”