A Wedding on Lilac Lane by Hope Ramsay (best book clubs .txt) 📕

Thank goodness. They already had too many kids to deal with.

She took a big breath, but her heart wouldn’t stop rocking in her chest. “Do you want me to direct the choir?”

“No. I’m only saying that it might be more challenging for you.”

Ah, yes. Because she was a perfectionist—the very thing Rev. St. Pierre had been suggesting that she give up to become her best self.

She smiled. “No. I’m happy where I am. I gave the people at Heavenly Rest my word. I started that choir, and it might be small and amateurish. And those people know nothing about reading music. But we make a joyful noise every Sunday. And the congregation is so happy about it. I can’t walk away from that.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

He didn’t sound sure.

“I’m sure. But the thing is, are you sure? Is this about me worshipping at one church and you at another? Because if it is, then I need to make something clear. I love you. I want to be with you. But if you think I’m leaving Heavenly Rest, where my momma has worshipped her entire life, then you need to think again.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s not about that. I honestly thought you’d jump at the chance to take over the choir at Grace Church.”

She could even understand why. “No. I’m happy where I am.”

“Good. Because I’m not. Next Sunday, I’m coming to church with you. I want to hear this extraordinary choir.”

“Jim, you don’t have to—”

“No, I think I do. I think I need to send a message to everyone in this town that my fiancée has made up her mind.”

“I love you, Jim.”

“I love you more.”

“Oh, wait…” Her heart refused to stop pounding.

“What?”

“What about Dylan?” she asked. “You can’t abandon him. He’s been going to Grace Church all his life.”

“Uh, well, maybe. I’ll talk to him.”

“No. We need to keep things the way they are, okay?”

“Honey, are you sure that’s wise?”

No, she wasn’t. But taking this stand seemed necessary. If Jim changed churches, she could almost hear what the Methodists would say about her. And even worse, every instinct told her that Dylan would be hurt.

Creating a new family where there hadn’t been one before was turning into a difficult problem.

Chapter Fifteen

When the last dish was dried and put away, Ella knocked on Granny’s door to check up on her. She’d gotten into her pajamas and was settled down into her bed reading a book.

“We cleaned up the kitchen.”

Granny looked up from the page. “Together?”

Ella nodded and tried not to blush. “He’s surprisingly helpful in unexpected ways.”

Granny’s lips twitched in a tiny smile. “I’m sure he is. His father probably trained him well. Jim is handy to have around the house.” She gestured at her new curtains and blinds. “It would have cost me a fortune to hire a handyman to install those.”

“Yeah, I think Jim is terrific.”

Granny nodded.

“Um, about the party. Dylan and I were talking while we did the dishes, and I’m going to try to convince him that a beach party is the way to go.”

“Good for you.”

“I’m going to pack a picnic and show him how beautiful the beach is at sunset.”

“Oh, really?” Granny looked over the rims of her glasses. Her stare was surprisingly acute.

Ella blushed. “Yeah, I know. I’m not exactly a cook, but…”

“You’re planning to cook the food for this picnic?” Granny’s focus sharpened further.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I have the use of Ashley’s kitchen. Why not?”

“Oh, well, that’s true. But you know, Ella, if you want to convince Dylan that this is a good idea, the food is going to be important.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ve been surfing wedding sites on the internet, and I saw this idea on Martha Stewart of a fried chicken and champagne party. And it seemed so…I don’t know, Southern or something. I’m not a Southerner, but…what do you think?”

“I think you need my fried chicken recipe. I’ll email it to you tomorrow morning.”

“Granny, your fried chicken is the best.”

Granny beamed a smile. “I know. It’s the secret ingredient. And for Brenda’s sake, I will share this recipe with you. But you have to promise never to tell Ashley Scott about it.”

“I promise.”

Granny settled back on the pillows and adjusted her glasses. “Sugar, is Dylan driving you home? It’s late.”

Ella nodded. “He insisted.”

“Of course he did.” Granny smiled again. “Turn the alarm on when you leave. And call me if you have any questions about the recipe.”

Five minutes later, Ella found herself ensconced in the soft leather seat of Dylan’s fully loaded Honda Accord—the quintessential millennial-mobile. Boy, this was a far cry from Cody’s fifteen-year-old pickup truck. She didn’t want to compare Cody to Dylan, but she found herself doing it anyway.

Cody was attractive in that dangerous, bad-boy way. He was also adept at delivering lines that turned females into mush, and he was pretty damn hot in bed. He’d lured Ella away from home with his sweet-talking ways and extracted endless second chances from her despite his peccadilloes. Until tonight, she’d never met a man who was better at apologizing.

But maybe Cody had met his match, although Dylan’s approach was inventive. He hadn’t said much more than “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t made big promises he couldn’t keep. He’d just whipped out a dish towel and helped her dry the casserole dishes.

His helpfulness had been novel and unique. It made her burn in an unholy way. She sank down in the luxurious leather and forced herself not to look at his hands on the steering wheel. Like his father, he had incredibly long fingers.

Ooops. She was staring at them, idly wondering how they might feel against her skin. She pulled her gaze away, focusing instead on her fingers intertwined in her lap. The silence became oppressive as raw desire raged through her.

Was she curious about him as a lover because he was forbidden?

Maybe.

For thirteen years, she’d remained loyal and faithful to a man who was unworthy of it. She’d been