How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

Grant arranged for time off from both of his jobs and was on the road to Montana before dawn the next morning. It was a little better than a six-hour drive, taking the route through the mountains and not counting any stops for fuel or food. He pulled into the barnyard of the Nichols family ranch just after one o’clock in the afternoon.

Before he could close the door to his Jeep, his mom was running toward him from the house. “Grant! Grant’s here!” she shouted to anyone within hearing distance. In the next instant, she was hugging him. “Oh, son, you’re home again. You’re home. It’s been too long.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?” she asked as she drew back from him.

“It was a last-minute decision. Spur of the moment.”

His dad appeared out of the barn. A second or two later, Vince came around the corner of the house. More hugs were exchanged. More questions about his impromptu visit. His answers were evasive, although honest.

He might have fooled his parents as per the nature of his visit, but not his older brother. “Care to tell me what’s up?” Vince asked as soon as they were alone in the room they’d shared as boys.

Grant dropped his duffle on the bed. He’d had all those hours of driving to think about what had happened with Skye. Not only what had happened yesterday but from the first moment he’d met her. Thinking hadn’t solved the dilemma. Maybe talking about it would. Maybe.

He sat on the bed. “I met a girl,” he began.

After that the words poured out of him. Vince listened, never trying to interrupt. Not even once. He didn’t make a sound until Grant ran out of words. All he said then was, “Wow.”

“‘Wow’? I was hoping for something more than that.”

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a bonehead. How’s that for something more?”

Grant wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Look, bro. I know being part of a big family isn’t always easy. And being the oldest two kids meant a lot of stuff fell on our shoulders, yours and mine, when we were growing up. But you’re no prize, you know. Yeah, you’ve turned your life around in the last few years. I’m proud of you for it. But you’ve got more work to do in that head of yours. You think Mom and Dad had too many kids? You think your brothers and sisters all married too young and had their own kids too fast? Who made you the judge?”

Wasn’t Vince ever going to draw a breath?

“Maybe you oughta take another look at this family, Grant. Yeah, we’re big and noisy. Yeah, at any family gathering there’s probably at least one baby crying and another needing a diaper change. But there are also husbands and wives there, supporting each other, loving each other, helping each other. Because of the examples of our parents, we’ve got strong marriages that we keep working on so that they’ll stay strong. And there isn’t a single one of your brothers and sisters who wouldn’t do just about anything for you if you needed them. If you were in trouble, there’d be an entire tribe coming to your rescue. How many people in this world are lucky enough to say the same?”

Defensive, Grant said, “I never said I didn’t love and appreciate my family.”

“Then start taking note of your blessings. And then check with your brain and your heart to see if you even know what you want anymore. Don’t stay a bonehead. Grow up!” With those words, Vince strode out of the room.

“What got him so riled?” Grant muttered.

He tried to get angry over his brother’s outburst, but he failed. In fact, something in his gut told him they were the words he’d driven all the way from Kings Meadow to hear.



Skye pressed her face against Snickers’s neck. She would have wept, but her tears had run dry after four days of doing little else but crying.

Grant’s last words to her had been that he would call.

He hadn’t called.

He hadn’t come to his dance lesson on Monday night.

And yesterday she’d learned from Chet Leonard that Grant had gone to Montana. For a few days? Or for good?

“Skye.”

She gasped softly. Now she was hearing voices. No, now she was hearing his voice.

“Skye?”

She spun around, and there he stood—black hat, rumpled cotton shirt tucked into the waistband of his jeans, boots covered in a fine layer of dust.

He took a step forward. “Can we talk?”

“If you want.” She turned toward the gelding and stroked his neck.

“My brother called me a bonehead. He was right. I am one.”

After all the crying she’d done in the past few days, the urge to laugh took her completely by surprise. It even maddened her. She looked over her shoulder and followed him with her eyes as he walked to the opposite side of Snickers.

“I was wrong not to sit down and talk it through, you and me, right then, Sunday night. I panicked, I guess. I love you, but all of a sudden I saw my whole world spiraling out of control.”

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

“No. You misunderstood. That’s not what I meant.” He ran a hand over his face. “Man, I’m making a mess of it.”

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