Page 43 of The Wedding Run (The Wedding Letter #1)

Libby

I wander around my apartment, feeling unsettled and needing a distraction from thoughts of Luke.

Finally, I dig my phone out of my purse, but a quick search shows I don’t have Aunt Barb’s number.

There has always been a rift between her and Dad, and I’m not sure why.

We never spent much time together, and eventually, we lost touch.

I find my old phone book in the back of my closet, and I dial her number, hoping it hasn't changed.

When she answers, I ask, “Barbara Collins?”

“Yes? This is Barb.” Her voice sounds older and a bit deeper, but still strong.

“Hi, Aunt Barb. It’s me, Libby.”

“Well, butter my buns! Libby! How are you, Sugar? Oh, Lord, is something wrong? It’s not your daddy, is it?”

“Oh, no, Dad’s as right as rain.”

“Thank the good Lord. And your sisters?” she asks.

“They’re all good. How are you?”

“I’m getting older. But considering all my kiddos are married, and they’re popping grandbabies out like a gumball machine, I’m grateful.”

There’s a pause as she waits for me to give my reason for calling. Once I begin explaining the letter Momma wrote, the story pours out of me.

“My oh my,” Aunt Barb declares when I pause long enough to breathe. “I remember your momma writing those letters. It was her way of holding on, of staying for you girls.”

I feel my throat tighten, and I can’t say anything.

“I’m guessing your daddy told you I attended your wedding.”

I’m shocked but not surprised. Aunt Barb has always done whatever she wanted. Even though I didn’t invite her to the wedding, I’m sure she heard about it one way or another.

“Your daddy always had his own ideas about how you girls should be raised. I worried he didn’t have what it took to care for three little girls. But your Momma never fretted a day. She knew your daddy would be there through thick and thin.”

“He was,” I say. “He still is.”

“Surely you’re aware your daddy doesn’t like me much.”

“Dad’s never said a word against you.”

“He’s a gentleman, for sure. When your momma passed, I told Mike I didn’t think he was in any shape to care for you three.”

I can feel my heart pounding as I ask, “Did you try to take us from him?”

“Raising kids. Grieving a wife. It’s a lot. Mike was a young man, and it wasn’t like you were all—” She stops suddenly. “Well, it was a lot.”

“We were all what?” I ask, pressing the phone tightly against my ear.

“Your Uncle Jimmy always says my mouth is bigger than a big-mouth bass. And he’s right. He surely is. It was great to hear your voice, hon.”

The phone goes dead, leaving me with questions and doubts. As my thoughts drift back to Luke, I feel a tightness in my chest and realize I’m even more alone.