How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

“I’d say that’s true. If that’s what God has for you and Skye.”


Grant walked to the far end of the barn and looked out at the paddocks beyond the open doors. “If that’s what God has for you and Skye.” If marriage was what God wanted for them, then everything would work out. The things he worried about now wouldn’t matter anymore.

Chet arrived at his side.

“When I’m with her,” Grant said softly, “I don’t have any doubts. Except about my dancing.” They both chuckled. “When I’m with her, all I want is to stay with her. To be with her all the time. To hear her laughter. To listen to her talk . . . about anything. She’s interesting and funny, and we like the same music and books. We both like the outdoors. She’ll always want to own horses and so will I. Having them will probably keep us strapped for cash, but neither of us will care. We don’t have expensive tastes. It’s like—” He shrugged. “It’s like we were meant for each other.”

“Maybe you are.”

Grant finally cracked a smile. “But you’re not going to tell me what to do, are you?”

“No.” Chet shook his head. “You’ll have to wrestle through your questions with God. I’m not in the matchmaking business.” He chuckled again. “But I will tell you this: when I fell in love with Kimberly, I didn’t think it was going to work out between us. Unlike you and Skye, we had lots of differences that seemed certain to keep us apart. But God has a way of cutting through the stuff we think is impossible. He’ll do the same for you, if you’re listening to Him.”

“And you don’t think this has happened too fast between us?”

“It all depends, I suppose. But I’ve known more than one couple who fell in love in a matter of days or weeks and who are still married after thirty or forty or even fifty years. I know another couple that courted for years, and they were divorced before the first year was out. I’m not saying you should rush. I’m saying there’s no set timetable. God’s timing is what matters. Not yours.”

Strange, the calmness that fell over him. As if all of his questions had been answered. As if all of his worries had been swept away.

“Thanks, Chet. You’ve been a big help.”



Skye rode River out of the arena and walked him toward the lean-to. Once there, she dismounted and quickly set about removing his saddle and bridle.

“You’re going to be a champ,” she said as she slipped his halter on. “Aren’t you, boy?”

The horse’s ears flicked forward and he turned his head away from her. She had to follow right along with him in order to fasten the buckle. That’s when she saw Grant walking toward her.

An already perfect day got instantly better.

“Hey, Skye.” Small clouds of dirt rose behind his boots as he walked.

“Hey, Grant.” Her heart did a little trill in her chest.

They had spoken on the phone several times since his last dance lesson, but this was the first she’d seen him in person in several days. It surprised her, how the sight of him made her feel.

“River looked great out there,” he said, stopping nearby.

“You saw?”

“Some. I stayed in my Jeep. Didn’t want to take a chance of disturbing him.” He paused. “Or you.”

One more thing to love about Grant. He knew better than to interrupt a horse in training. He was willing and able to be patient.

She said, “I thought you were working all day at the Leonards’.”

“I am. But I wanted to see you before I start cooking again.”

She didn’t know if she should be delighted or worried. Was it something urgent? Or was it something he’d rather not say over the phone? Such as he couldn’t go to her parents’ home for Sunday dinner. Her mom would be disappointed if that was what he’d come to say.

“Come here, you.” He took hold of her upper arms and drew her to him. “There. That’s better.” He embraced her, holding her close.

“I’m all horsey.”

“I like horsey.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“And gritty.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He lowered his head so their lips could meet. A long, slow, luscious kiss.

River snorted hard, spraying them both.

They broke apart. Neither of them spoke. Then, in unison, they laughed.

“River,” Grant said, “you’re a real killjoy.” He reached for Skye’s left hand and drew her away from the lean-to and the horse. “I’ve got something important to say, and I need your full attention.”

She sobered. “Okay. You’ve got it.” Her mouth went dry, and she found it hard to swallow.

“Skye Foster, since the day I met you, I haven’t been able to think straight.”

Now she didn’t seem able to breathe.

“But I feel like I know you better than some people I’ve known my whole life. I told you last Sunday that I wanted to see where things might go between us. That’s not quite true anymore.”

“It isn’t?” she whispered.

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