Stupid Cupid
an excerpt

Chapter One

“If she plays that song one more time, I’m going to scream like a banshee!”

Karissa had nothing against “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” but Miss Willard had played it through at least half a dozen times. She was fairly certain the old lady had been born on that organ bench and would most likely die there. For pity’s sake, surely by now she knew a few other songs that would be appropriate for a funeral!

She cast a weary glance toward the prim organist with her customary, tight white bun and the face of a thousand wrinkles. How old is she anyway? I’m pretty sure she was at least 90 when I was kid!

An impulsive grin danced at the corners of her lips, and she raised a hand to cover it even as she bit down hard on the offending body part. What on earth would people think if she burst out laughing at her own mother’s funeral? Get it together already, Karissa May.

Her gaze drifted away from the rail thin organist and bounced determinedly off the beautiful, flower-draped coffin. Thank God Mama had requested a closed casket! The private family viewing the night before had been hard enough. She couldn’t imagine trying to get through this service with her sweet mother displayed up front like a mortician’s trophy.

Across the aisle, Jenna wept softly, her beautifully coiffed head resting on Dr. Bob’s broad shoulder. Of the two May girls, Karissa’s sister had always been the delicate one, and dapper Dr. Bob Clevenger was the perfect foil for his wife’s femininity. Karissa watched as he wrapped Jenna in a comforting hug on one side, while resting his other arm across the back of the pew behind their four-year-old twin girls. She realized why her brother-in-law had chosen just that position when one of the girls – Was that Cassie or Carrie? –snickered and whispered something in her sister’s ear. Dr. Bob tugged none too gently on a long blond ponytail, instantly achieving silence in the family row.

Down that same pew, Jeremy was dry-eyed but pale as paste. His fingers wound tightly through those of his dainty little wife, whose round belly proclaimed their pending parenthood. Dressed in Marine regalia, and bearing himself in rigid military posture, Karissa’s brother looked every inch the strong, silent type, and she couldn’t help a little twinge of sisterly pride.

Other than Karissa herself, her pew was empty. There simply hadn’t been room for another body across the aisle, and since she had no husband, boyfriend, or pony-tailed twins, the logical choice had been for her to be the one apart from the family. Neither Jeremy nor Jenna seemed to have noticed the separation of siblings, or that Karissa – after five years of caring for their invalid mother to the exclusion of everything else in her life – now sat alone while last words were spoken over the parent they had all adored.

“Mind if I sit here?”

At the whispered question, Karissa looked up – way up. Her gaze traveled past a broad chest and massive shoulders into a pair of smoky gray eyes under a thatch of not-quite-shaggy black hair. Without waiting for an answer, he slid into the pew next to her and she hurriedly scooted over to make room for him.

“Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find the church.”

She nodded, wracking her brain for the man’s identity. One of Jeremy’s old pals? No, she was sure she would have recognized any one of her little brother’s friends – especially one the size of a small mountain. An old beau of Jenna’s? That didn’t sound right either.

“How late am I?”

She shook her head slightly and held her thumb and forefinger just slightly apart. Despite the seemingly endless repetition of Miss Willard’s favorite funeral hymn, the service had actually only begun a short time ago.

“Great! Then I don’t feel quite so bad.”

Would he never shut up? She could almost feel curious eyes boring into the back of her neck. He was speaking quietly, but still … he was speaking!

Deliberately, she edged away from him just a hair. She would love to simply turn her back on the big guy, but she’d look rather ridiculous facing away from the podium and her mother’s casket.

Pastor Paul Porter was warming to his subject, the stale reading of the obituary finished. “Miss Margie was a faithful member of this congregation for many years.” He smiled, looking out across the somber audience. “And I don’t believe I ever saw her without a smile, even after she became too ill to get out of bed. Now, I believe I can safely say this lady wouldn’t want us all drowning in sorrow today. Miss Margie would much rather we rejoiced in her graduation to Glory!”

A strange little half-laugh, half-sob caught in Karissa’s throat, and she dabbed at the pesky tears. She had sworn not to cry in public, and besides, Pastor was right. Mama hadn’t wanted a gloomy affair. She had, in fact, specifically requested a farewell party. She swallowed the sob and pinned a bright smile on her face.

But Mountain Man was hissing into her ear. “Who does he think he’s fooling?”

Karissa gasped, but it was lost in the stranger’s rude chuckle. “That old biddy forgot how to smile years ago, and she was suspicious of anyone who did know how!” A crooked grin accompanied the unexpected wink he bestowed on her. “I can’t imagine the old dame anywhere near Glory or Amazin’ Grace!”

Shocked beyond words, Karissa glared at the stranger. How dare he come in here and state such falsehoods about her mother? Who was the big oaf, anyway? Well, she couldn’t very well make a scene in the middle of Miss Margie May’s last farewell. Instead, she sent him a scathing glance that should have turned him into a popsicle before fixing her outraged gaze on the preacher.

“ … but Miss Margie wasn’t letting us off that easy.” Pastor Porter’s warm laughter rang out in the quiet room, and Karissa found herself grinning again, despite her annoyance. She could only imagine the shocked expressions of the crowd behind her as the preacher refused to bow to tradition, speaking instead with the warmth and humor she had heard her mother request for this occasion. How she’d love to turn around and see their faces, but that would probably be pushing it a bit. “… she marched right up front, shook one finger at the congregation, and hollered, ‘Shame on us! How dare we call ourselves Christians? We all need to get on our knees right this minute and just hope God will forgive our sorry souls!’”

Now she heard a few chuckles behind her. Good. This was more Mama’s cup of tea.

“Who’s Miss Margie?”

It was Mountain Man again. Karissa turned to face him, at the end of her rope. But the confusion on his face stopped her. She vaguely registered that he was actually kind of handsome, in a weirdly rugged kind of way, before he spoke again.

“Someone should have made sure the preacher at least knew her name.”

“Her name was Margie!” Karissa heard the irritated hiss in her own voice. She no longer cared, despite the curious stares and subtle frowns from her family across the aisle. “Would you please hush?”

“Sorry.” He actually had the nerve to pat her hand before turning to face forward again, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Livid, Karissa folded both hands into tight fists, wishing she could use them to turn his ridiculous smile upside down.

She was just beginning to relax again when he leaned her way. “Who’s the lady in the picture?”

“What picture?”

“The one on Aunt Betty’s casket.”

A flash of awful understanding zipped its way through her brain, and for a moment she simply could not find her voice. When at last she did, she leaned toward her puzzled neighbor and opened her mouth to speak, only to be horrified by a gurgle of uncontrollable laughter. She quickly snapped her lips together, shoulders heaving. Please, God, just let everyone think I’m overcome with tears!

He gave her a moment before tilting his head toward her, his eyes still firmly fixed on Pastor Porter, who was bringing the service to a close at long last. In his horrified whisper, Karissa heard the same terrible understanding she had already experienced.

“Say it ain’t so.”

She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she knew she would laugh out loud. There’d be no stopping her. Desperately, she peered around him and across the aisle, where Jenna and Dr. Bob were both openly staring at her. Their disapproving expressions should have sobered her, but for some reason, they had exactly the opposite effect. She turned away and took several deep breaths, finally gaining control of herself before sneaking a peek at the man beside her. He studied the photo of Karissa’s mother as if hoping to change the face he saw there. Finally, he turned to look at her again. She decided those gray eyes of his were about the most expressive pair of peepers she had ever seen.

“That’s not Aunt Betty up there, is it?”

She shook her head, amazed to find herself feeling sorry for him.

“Who, then?”

She drew a deep breath. “My mother. Margie May.”

“Your … mother?” He groaned as loudly as the occasion would permit. “Oh, no! Oh, no!”

"There will be no funeral procession.” That was Pastor, making a final announcement. “Miss Margie requested no accompaniment of friends and family to the graveside. She asked that you all plan to meet her, instead, on the other side of Jordan.”

It was over. At long last. Mountain Man extended a hand, his expression so abject that Karissa couldn’t hold back an impetuous giggle. Impulsively, she grabbed his big paw and pulled him along as she dashed down the side aisle and out the door that was, thankfully, mere feet away. It was suddenly imperative that she not have to speak to all the dear friends and family who would be lining up to express their condolences. For once, Jenna and Jeremy could take the heat, and she would deal with all of them when she was emotionally able to do so.

Breathless, she paused in the parking lot and looked up at the big man following her like a friendly puppy.

“Who are you?”

His glum voice reminded her of Jeremy’s – when he was ten years old and in serious trouble. “Just the biggest knucklehead around. Hey, I’m sorry about intruding on your mother’s funeral like that.”

She choked back another burst of inappropriate merriment and shook her head. “No, I need a name. What’s your name?”

Puzzled, he eyed her as if he expected her to sprout horns. “Clay. Clay Gallagher. Why? You plan on pressing charges or something?”

“I’m Karissa May.” She grabbed his hand and shook it hard. “There – now we know each other. Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”

At his startled expression, she glared at him. “I need coffee, Clay Gallagher. I need it now – and you owe me that much, Buster, after crashing my mother’s funeral like that! Which one of these cars is yours?”