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Prologue

Lucy ~ 8 years old

“Do you, Lucy Landers, take Mr. Bear to be your husband forever and ever?” My best friend, Emmalee, waits for me to answer. It’s her turn to play preacher. She’s good at it because she always knows what to say.

“I do.” My Southern drawl is extra pronounced as I imagine I’m the happiest, prettiest bride this side of the Mason Dixon line and look down to my scruffy brown teddy bear. His once chocolate eyes stare up at me, covered in a fresh coat of dark green paint. He looks so spiffy wearing my daddy’s best tie.

“Do you, Mr. Bear, take Lucy—”

“No, Magnolia, don’t eat the daisies,” my oldest cousin, Charlotte, whisper shouts, scolding her little sister, prying white petals from her chubby grip.

“I told you she was too little to play wedding.” I break character, pushing the white lace out of my face, and remind them all what I said the moment she came crawling after us on the porch.

“Well, Mama said it’s too nice to stay inside. And Aunt Ruby and Granny Opal have a lot of catching up to do. We haven’t been here since last summer.” Charlotte always plays mother hen just because she’s older. By two whole years. Whoop-dee-do.

“She’s the cutest little flower girl, aren’t you, Maggie,” Briar, our other cousin, coos at her as she snaps a picture of Magnolia and the ring bearer with my grandma’s old Polaroid.

“And Mr. Whiskers is the best ring bear.” She waves the photo like a fan, and our old gray tabby cat just licks himself in response.

“Bearer,” I correct her. “Bear-er.”

“Bear. Er,” she repeats dramatically.

“Well, I think they are doing a fine job,” Charlotte announces, playing peacekeeper.

I look at Emma and roll my eyes. She knows how serious I take playing wedding. Especially when it’s my turn to be the bride.

It’s almost sunset—I can tell by the way the pink magnolia petals are starting to turn a glowy orange. We need to get this show on the road.

“We better hurry. Momma said head back to the house before dark.” And the grove is a good walk from my grandparent’s old farmhouse up the hill.

“What happened to the groom’s eyes anyway?” Briar teases, testing my patience. “They look like mud and slime mixed. Especially that left one.” Her head cocks to the side. “It’s dripping.”

“They’re hazel. I don’t know if they have that color in Aurora Hills, but it’s pretty popular round here. It means brown and green mixed.” I would stomp my foot the way Momma says I do when I’m real mad, but I can’t. My dang heels are sunk down into the grass and stuck ’cause this wedding is taking longer than church when a visitor comes to preach.

“Yeah, it’s hazel,” Emma echoes defensively.

“I know what hazel means. It’s just why does your bear have his perfectly fine eyes painted?”

“Because it’s the color of eyes Lucy’s husband will have someday.” My bestie once again comes to my rescue.

“You girls and your fairy tales.” Briar laughs until Charlotte elbows her in the ribs. “I’m never getting married.”

“Well, I am. I plan to marry Jake Foster, and we’re going to live happily ever after.” Charlotte blushes. I envy her. She knows what true love is. He’s her boyfriend back home.

“At least he’s a real person. Not a silly bear.” Briar, always bursting bubbles. “Anyway, aren’t there any boys in this town that can play wedding? Emma, where is Dean?”

“My brother won’t play wedding. He’s too old,” Emma tells her.

“Hmm, too bad. Him and his friend are both kind of cute. Not my type, but better than a bear with booger eyes, if you ask me.”

“Well, no one asked you,” I remind her.

“Let’s just finish and get back. The cupcakes should be cooled off.” Charlotte gets the wedding back on track with the promise of sugary treats.

“Do you, Beau Bear, take Lucy Landers to be your beloved wife forever and ever?” Emma continues.

“I do,” I mumble under my breath for him. Charlotte unties the paper rings from the ribbons around Mr. Whiskers’ neck.