Chapter 1: The Wedding of Fools and Liars

My childhood sweetheart? He’s a cripple.

Guess what? I made him that way.

I’m a fool. No, really—ask anybody.

And him? He made me this way, too.

The two families sat down and hashed it out: one’s got a limp, one’s a little off—might as well put us together.

So that’s how it happened: me—always a bit spacey; him—limping along.

We stood up there, in front of everybody and God, said our vows, and just like that, we were married.

The church was packed that day—every pew groaning under the weight of neighbors and kin. The scent of lilies tangled with the musty hymnals, and the pastor’s voice bounced off the rafters while we stumbled through our vows. My palms were sweaty in his; his grip was steady, but he winked at me, and for a heartbeat, it felt like we were just two kids playing house again. I could barely breathe.

But after the wedding? Turns out I’m sharp as a tack, and he walks just fine.

We caught each other’s eye and, at the exact same moment, blurted out:

“You were faking it?”

The words tumbled out, tripping over each other, and we both cracked up—half from relief, half because it was just plain ridiculous. For a second, we just stared at each other, then shook our heads, grinning like a couple of kids caught cheating at cards.

Someone hollered from the crowd, “Did you two… last night…?”

After the wedding, I went to stop by my mother-in-law’s.

She looked us up and down, clearly wanting to say something but biting her tongue.

While she talked, my mind wandered back to before the wedding.

Back then, Mom had actually brought out this little illustrated booklet—

and patiently explained the pictures to me—

which made my whole face burn with embarrassment.

She’d parked me on the old corduroy couch—the one that always smelled like popcorn and wet dog—and whispered, “Taylor, honey, you need to know these things.” She flipped through the pages, cheeks pinker than mine, pointing and mumbling, “Every woman should know what to expect on her wedding night.” I couldn’t look her in the eye for a week after that. Can you believe it?

On the day of the wedding, my face was still burning as I left home—we were getting married the same day, my cousin and I.

Mom said my cousin was marrying a brave young Army captain.

I didn’t know who she was marrying, but I was happy for her.

Two daughters married off in one day:

one to a lively young Army man,

one to a book-smart cripple.

The crowd outside the house was so thick you could barely squeeze through.

My aunt was all smiles, but my mother clung to my hand, not wanting to let go.

The porch was jammed with folks in their Sunday best, little kids darting between legs, and the air was thick with chatter and the smell of fried chicken and coleslaw drifting from the backyard. My mother’s grip on my hand was like a vise, her eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. I could hear my uncle hollering for more folding chairs out back.

“My daughter’s a little slow. Once you’re married off, no one will look out for you.”

“What if he gets tired of you? What if you’re thirsty? Hungry?…”

The more she talked, the more worked up she got. My aunt, meanwhile, looked like she was about to jump out of her skin, glancing nervously at the clock, and as soon as the groom showed up, she hustled my cousin into the limo like she was sneaking a pie out of the kitchen.

Mom’s voice shook, her thumb rubbing little circles on my knuckles. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Taylor. Don’t let anyone push you around.” My aunt was all business—her hands fluttered as she fussed with my cousin’s veil, eyes darting everywhere but at me. “Let’s not keep the captain waiting,” she whispered, practically shoving my cousin out the door.

In the daylight, the young captain rode up on horseback—dashing, sharp, and full of swagger.

The crowd was practically buzzing with envy.

Everyone said my cousin was marrying up.

But my mind just went blank—like, bam.

The sun flashed off the captain’s brass buttons, his uniform so crisp it could cut, and his horse prancing like it knew it was in a parade. Even the old men at the end of the drive stopped chewing their toothpicks to stare. My heart did a weird little flip, and for a second, everything went quiet except for the clop of hooves on gravel.

“How could it be Wyatt?”

When I was little, I was engaged to him.

After I became a fool, Old Colonel Wyatt came to break it off.

Of all people, now my uncle and aunt are his in-laws?

I could almost hear that old porch swing groaning under Colonel Wyatt’s weight, the way he frowned over his coffee, shaking his head as he handed back that little silver locket that was supposed to mean forever. Now here he was, back in our yard, part of someone else’s story.

My aunt saw me freeze up.

She shoved me aside and started hollering for someone to hurry the car along.

Everyone thought I, the fool, was jealous of my cousin, and they watched me, waiting for a show.

Wyatt froze, too, then dismounted and came over, reaching for my hand, asking why I wasn’t getting in the car.

“Doesn’t he know who he’s marrying today?” I thought, a little stunned.

My aunt blocked me, forcing a smile and saying:

“Hey, son-in-law, the bride’s already in the car—don’t mix them up.”

The wedding planner leaned in and whispered something to Wyatt, and his face just fell.

He stared at me for a long moment, silent.

“Think of the big picture, son.”

Finally, after the crowd started grumbling, he seemed to make up his mind. He gave me one last, long look, then turned and rode off, leaving the limo way behind.

As my cousin’s car disappeared into a little red dot on the horizon, the crowd’s gossip kicked back up, louder than ever.

Jackson Lee showed up, stubborn as a mule—coming on foot with that uneven gait to fetch his bride.

The onlookers started whispering and snickering:

“I heard this girl was once engaged to that Army guy, but now she’s marrying a cripple—ain’t that a shame.”

“Well, what can you do? The Army man’s wife can’t be a fool. Bless her heart.”

“You don’t know the half of it—the cripple was once engaged to a senator’s daughter. Now he’s marrying a fool. Hard to say who got the short end of the stick.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard…”

The words stung, drifting over the fence and through open windows. I could see neighbors on their porches, shaking their heads, and Mrs. Green from down the street whispering behind her hand. That kind of talk sticks around long after the wedding cake is gone.

Hearing all those nasty comments, the elders in my family looked embarrassed and slipped back inside.

I snuck a look at Jackson.

He stood in the warm sunlight, like a lone oak on a distant hill—apart from everyone else.

He heard every mean word, but his face was calm, eyes smiling, like he was above it all.

Hmph. Shallow folks.

If my Jackson weren’t limping, not even a hundred soldiers could hold a candle to him.

Besides, he’s not getting a raw deal marrying me.

I straightened up, feeling a spark of pride. Let them talk. Jackson Lee was more of a man than any of them, and I wasn’t about to let their gossip ruin our day.

“The senator’s daughter just has a powerful dad—am I really any worse than her?”

“Does she care about him the way I do?”

I huffed, hopping down the steps so Jackson wouldn’t have to limp up and down so many stairs.

My aunt scoffed, saying I really was a fool—couldn’t take my eyes off her son-in-law a minute ago, and now I was rushing to marry the cripple.

Jackson pretended not to hear, quickly limping over to steady me.

“Fool, watch your step!”

“Cripple, I walk steadier than you!”

We’d been bickering since we were kids, and our wedding day was no different.

“Today’s not like other days. Stick close and don’t wander off, you hear?”

He seemed worried I’d run off, gripping my hand tight and carefully helping me into the car, never letting go.

With every roll of the car, he limped along twice as fast.

Hearing his stumbling footsteps made my heart squeeze.

This Jackson Lee really is a fool—why didn’t he just ride in the car the whole way?

My mother’s crying faded away behind us, replaced by my mother-in-law’s warm laughter.

She’d watched me grow up and never minded that I was a little slow.

She wrapped me up in a hug that smelled like cinnamon and fresh laundry, whispering, “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.” For a second, it felt like everything might turn out okay.

We greeted the elders and toasted with wedding champagne.

I was a bundle of nerves.

When I get nervous, I always mess up what Mom taught me.

Without thinking, I pounced and pinned Jackson to the bed.

I pressed down on his good leg, making him yelp in pain.

“Taylor, are you really a fool?” he hollered.

“Would I be a fool if it weren’t for him?”

If he hadn’t been up in that tree with his slingshot as a kid and nailed me in the head, I wouldn’t have chucked a rock at him and knocked him out of the tree.

I wouldn’t be a fool, and he wouldn’t be a cripple.

I wouldn’t have missed out on being an Army captain’s wife, and he wouldn’t have lost his shot at being the senator’s son-in-law.

We wouldn’t be lying here now under the warm, red wedding quilt.

Looking at his flushed, angry face, I felt a little hurt.

“Is he still thinking about the senator’s daughter?”

I’d heard the senator’s daughter had loved him since she was a kid. After Mrs. Zane broke off the engagement, she stopped eating for days and still refuses to marry anyone else.

Jackson looked at my clueless face and sighed.

He flopped down beside me, voice all tight and careful:

“Go to sleep. I’m not like those rough Army guys. We bookworms don’t take advantage of fools.”

“Hmph, you’re the real fool, limpy!”

He really didn’t know a thing.

“Didn’t your mother teach you anything before the wedding?”

The next morning, in the main hall, my mother-in-law looked at us, eyes sparkling with curiosity, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“So, did you two… last night…?” she asked again, voice full of meaning.

I’ve always been blunt, so I blurted out:

“I did what my mom told me, but he didn’t know what to do…”

My mother-in-law almost dropped her coffee.

Jackson, hearing this, limped over and slapped a hand over my mouth.

She gave him a long, meaningful stare, clearly wanting to say more but holding back.

Jackson sulked for days after that, saying I was always talking nonsense. He’s lame, not helpless. Now he’d never live it down.

But when it came time for our visit back to my parents’ place, he still got up at the crack of dawn, insisting we beat my cousin and her husband there.

I didn’t get it—what was there to compete about?

This time, Jackson didn’t walk. He had the biggest SUV in the family ready, loaded up with gifts for the visit.

We squeezed into a tiny space together. The car bounced along, and I kept bumping into his arms.

He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around me.

His hug was warm and clean. I dozed off in his arms again.

I only woke up when I heard a street vendor shouting about caramel apples.

I demanded one, of course.

Not long after we got out of the car, we ran into a group of his old college buddies.

I was clutching the caramel apple he’d just bought me, my mouth a sticky mess.

They pointed and laughed:

“Our college’s golden boy married a fool—what a waste. If you hadn’t fallen out of that tree, you’d be the senator’s son-in-law by now.”

“It’s all that fool’s fault.”

“My dad says the senator’s gonna marry his daughter off soon. She’s waited for you all these years—must really love you.”

Jackson’s eyes darkened, his mind clearly somewhere else.

A big, chubby guy slapped his shoulder and leered at me:

“Look at her—does she even know what to do at night?”

The group snickered, mean as ever.

Wham!

Out of nowhere, Jackson socked the guy in the face. Next thing I knew, they were brawling.

But Jackson’s leg slowed him down, and soon he was pinned to the ground, taking the worst of it.

I dropped my caramel apple and rushed over, biting the guy’s arm as hard as I could.

He howled and kicked me to the curb.

Seeing that, Jackson somehow found the strength to knock him down and started swinging, wild and furious, impossible to pull away.

Maybe hearing about the senator’s daughter getting married had really gotten to him.

The fat guy, huffing and puffing, started yelling for help down the block.

A flash of a woman’s dress darted by in the shadows.

“Why does that figure look so familiar?”

But Jackson was still pounding on the guy, so I couldn’t think about it more. I squeezed out some tears and started bawling—he was about to take the bar exam, and this was the worst possible time for a fight.

Hearing me cry, Jackson suddenly stopped, rolling off the fat guy.

The group scrambled to help their battered friend up and hurried off.

Watching them leave, Jackson pulled me into his arms, tight as ever:

“If anyone ever tries to mess with you again, I’ll take care of them!”

We’d barely made it back to my parents’ house when my cousin showed up.

Firecrackers went off outside, and all the elders rushed out, shoving me aside to fawn over Wyatt like he was their own blood.

Only my mom ran to hug me, holding on tight.

My dad glanced at Jackson’s leg, sighed, and slipped back inside.

“Taylor, why are you crying? Did someone pick on you?” Mom asked, seeing my tear-stained face, all worried.

Wyatt caught her words and his face hardened. He pushed through the crowd, glaring daggers at Jackson.

He snapped, cold as ice, “If you don’t like her, just end it—don’t bully a fool.”

All the elders stared, stunned.

Jackson snorted, not even bothering with a reply.

“No, the big bad dog scared me, so Jackson fought it off. I cried because I was scared.”

I rolled up Jackson’s sleeve to show the bruises from the fight, waving my hands to explain we’d run into a pack of wild dogs and he got hurt protecting me, so I cried out of worry.

Jackson shot Wyatt a look, then pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my tears:

“Silly wife, I’m not hurt at all. You’re my wife—if I don’t protect you, who will?”

A storm brewed in Wyatt’s eyes as he clenched his fists.

My cousin forced a smile, grabbing Wyatt’s arm:

“Wyatt, you always said we’re husband and wife—my family is your family—but my sister has her own husband now, so let’s not worry about her.”

She shot me a glare and told my parents:

“Uncle, Aunt, this jade brooch was a gift from the governor when my husband earned merit. I wanted to give it to my sister, but since she’s a fool, what if she breaks it? How would we explain that to the governor?”

My aunt’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the hairpin:

“Exactly! She never goes out—what does she need something so nice for?”

My cousin shot me a look, all smug, and started to walk away—only to trip and fall, hard.

The jade brooch shattered on the ground.

In the shadows, I caught Jackson quickly pulling back his bad leg.

I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I’d imagined it.

Jackson grinned wickedly at my cousin:

“Can’t even hold onto a brooch—better watch your step so you don’t break your neck.”

My cousin’s face turned scarlet, pointing at him:

“How dare a gimp talk to me like that? I’m an Army captain’s wife!”

I hated anyone calling him names, so I put on my best innocent face and asked:

“Sis, there are tons of Army wives in this city—where do you rank? But he’s the best-looking guy with a limp in the world!”

Then I kissed Jackson on the cheek.

He froze, then wiped his face, grumbling that I got caramel apple all over him, but his cheeks were red as tomatoes.

My cousin blushed, fuming.

Some of the elders muttered, “Enough, enough, don’t argue with a fool.”

They set up a potluck in the back to entertain Wyatt.

The kitchen was a mess of clatter and laughter, the table groaning under potato salad, casseroles, and pies. The grown-ups busied themselves with food, but I caught my mom sneaking worried glances our way.

“Hmph, a gimp and a fool—what a pair.”

My cousin huffed and stormed out to the backyard.

Wyatt gave me a look I couldn’t read, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.