Jessamine grimaced. “I fear, after today’s spectacle, there will be gossip. Nothing I could write would persuade the townsfolk she didn’t interrupt your wedding.”
Philomena stared at her, a cunning gleam in her gaze. “Perhaps you should write an article. It would be truthful but paint her in a tragic light, as she wasn’t as fortunate to have the sense I did to marry for love and to cherish what had been given to her.” She flushed as Jessamine gaped at her.
“That’s brilliant,” Jessamine murmured. “If you ever want to work in the newspaper business with me, you only have to ask.”
Laughing, Philomena placed a hand on her husband’s chest. “Oh no. I’ll be far too content working with my husband at the café.”
Jessamine stared at them speculatively a moment, before bustling away.
A few moments later, Ewan strolled over, waiting his turn to wish the newlyweds well. He now held his daughter, and he smiled when she gurgled something and then drooled all over his pinky finger. “She’s teethin’, aye?” he said. “Congratulations.” With a glance behind him, he saw no one waiting, so he paused, as though settling in for a long winter’s chat.
“Ewan,” Peter said, with feigned impatience.
“Aye, I ken what ye’re to say. Ye canna believe one such as I has so much time to spend with ye.” He nodded. “Dinna fash. Ye can consider it yer wedding present.” He winked at Philomena, who burst out laughing. “I told ye that ye would be married soon.”
Peter smiled, unable to hide his relief at holding Philomena in his arms. “You did. And you were right.”
“Now what did ye say to my Jessie so that she heaved our wee blessin’ into my arms an’ raced away to find paper an’ pencil? She had the mad look about her that she gets when the need to write overwhelms her.”
Smiling with a hint of pride, Philomena murmured, “I gave her a story idea. One to counteract whatever that woman might say.”
“Ah, the deserter?” Ewan asked. “I heard Jessamine mutterin’ about a deserter. Makes sense now.” When Frederick approached, Ewan winked at the couple, then ambled away, calling out greetings as he moved outside to follow the other family and friends.
“What was that about?” Frederick asked, as he hugged his brother and his new sister-in-law. “You know Ewan enjoys meddling, but he has a heart of gold.”
“I’ve discovered that,” Peter said wryly. “Thank you, Fred, for helping us.”
Frederick shrugged. “Always.” His simple response provoked tears, and Philomena sniffled. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Tompkins.” He followed Ewan, leaving them alone in the kitchen for a moment.
Peter watched his brother depart, filled with gratitude and love for his youngest brother. He had always depended on Frederick to keep the ranch running, while he gallivanted about with Cole, but Peter realized now how much he relied on Frederick’s stalwart nature and support. He knew he would never forget his youngest brother’s attempt to protect him from their vindictive mother today. Pushing away thoughts of his mother, he focused on his wife. “Mrs. Tompkins,” Peter murmured. “I love the sound of that.”
She smiled, resting her head on his chest. “As do I.” Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He sobered, gazing deeply into her eyes for a long moment. “Nothing and no one would ever have kept me from marrying you today. I realized that this morning.” He kissed her softly. “You are nothing like my mother, and I am nothing like my father …” He broke off what more he would have said, as Harold called out to them to quit dawdling.
“We have plenty of time for just the two of us,” she whispered, kissing him again.
“Not plenty,” he said, with an adoring smile, his hand caressing the soft mound of her belly. “Soon we’ll be three.”
At her delighted giggle, he led them outside to join the party.
In a small field behind the big MacKinnon house and near the small cabin that Slims and Davina occupied but would soon vacate, Peter stood, watching as his family and friends celebrated. Children ran around; tall tales were spun, and laughter was ever present. For the first time since he was a boy, he felt like he was where he was meant to be. The urge to leave and to wander had been quieted, and a resounding peace filled him.
“You look like a man who’s conquered the world,” Ben said, as he approached.
Peter smiled at the friendly man who had married his cousin. Although he didn’t know Ben well, Peter had heard the story about Ben saving Jane from an inveterate gambler. Peter had trouble believing Ben himself was the well-known, infamous gambler called Quick Draw Charlie. However, Peter knew from his many travels that appearances could be deceiving. “I feel like one.”
Ben chuckled. “Enjoy the sensation. Problems and squabbles will soon arise.” He smiled. “You’ll have sleepless nights aplenty soon too, with a little one added to your family.”
Peter shrugged. “Am I naive to say I look forward to those? I’m eager to share this life with my bride.”
Smiling at his wife as Jane joined them, Ben shook his head. “You aren’t a fool.” He kissed Jane’s head, murmuring, “Hello, beloved.”
She nestled into her husband’s side. “You promised you wouldn’t tell him without me.”
“I haven’t,” Ben murmured.
“Tell me what?” Peter asked, fascinated at the easy display of affection by them and by all the couples gathered here today. Peter had seen such affection between his grandparents, but the cold, bitter anger that permeated his parents’ relationship had made him believe such devotion was rare.
“Where are you and Philomena to live?” Jane asked. She smiled, as she watched her cousin squirm. “In the bedroom beside your grandparents’ bedroom?”
He flushed. “It will prove a bit awkward, until my grandparents are resettled at the ranch.”
“A bit?” Ben asked, with a snicker. “Ewan did say you were the king of understatements.”
Peter shrugged. “I can do nothing else right now. I don’t have the money to buy a home, and I can’t ask Frederick to take out a loan on the ranch for my share, when the ranch is finally doing well. I refuse to put the ranch, or Frederick, in jeopardy.”
Jane beamed at him. “I knew you were a good man. Like your brother.” She looked to her husband, who nodded subtly. “We have a wedding present for you and Philomena. A home we never use.”
Gawking at them, Peter shook his head. “You can’t gift me a home.”
“Why not?” Jane asked. “We’re not using it. We have no tenants for it. It’s yours.” She smiled as though it were the most obvious, logical thing to say.
Peter stared around, as though ensuring he wasn’t dreaming. After a long moment, he focused again on his cousin. “Truly? A home for us?”
Jane beamed at him. “Yes, a home. I know how wonderful Aunt Irene and Uncle Harold are to share their home with you, but you need your own place, with room for your family to grow. Plus it wouldn’t hurt to have more privacy, and to be farther away from the café. You’ll spend so much of your time there anyway.”
“How do you have an extra house?” Peter stared at them in wonder and amazement.
“Oh, as to that …” Jane waved around her arm and laughed self-consciously. “Ben is a gambler and beat his cousin in a match for the ages.” She leaned forward to whisper, “But don’t tell Ewan that. He believes he had the game for the ages when he won Fidelia.” With another wave of her arm, she continued her tale. “Anyway I secretly bet on Ben winning. And, with that bet, I beggared the owner of the Watering Hole.”
“What?” Peter stared from one to the other.
“Jane knows she should never bet again. If I’d lost, we would have been beggared,” Ben said.
Ignoring Ben’s concerns, Jane said loyally, “Ben would never have lost. He’s too talented. Anyway we now own the Watering Hole and a few homes around town. We already have our own lovely home near Alistair and Leticia, and two of our other homes have tenants. This one
has been vacant too long.”
Peter let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know why you’d want to do this for me, for us.”
Jane gripped his arm. “You’re family, Peter. I never thought I’d have family like this.” She looked out to the field, where everyone was joyous.
Peter cleared his throat and then pulled her close. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough.” She kissed his cheek and walked away, arm in arm with her husband. Peter watched them join the others, overwhelmed by his family’s generosity.
Philomena watched her husband talking with his cousin Jane a moment, before an exuberant Mildred ran toward her and threw her arms around her waist. Laughing, Philomena held her close and kissed her head, stroking her hands over the girl’s silky black hair. “Oh, thank you,” she murmured. “How did you know I needed a hug?”
Mildred tipped her head back and beamed at her. “Everyone always needs a hug.” She smiled again, as though her logic were the most obvious. “Better?”
“Better,” Philomena said with a tender smile, as she released Mildred, who raced away as fast as she had approached to chase after her cousin, Hortence. Philomena’s smile became more guarded as she saw an attractive woman watching her closely. A strand of blond hair was loose down to the woman’s shoulder and the child she held tugged at it, earning a grimace. “Do you want me to hold her?”
“Would you?” She handed over the squirming bundle, who peered up at Philomena as though she were exotic and settled for a moment. “I’m Leticia, and this is Catriona. Soon she’ll want down to race after her siblings and cousins.”
“As she should,” Philomena said, laughing when Catriona tugged at her nose. Although she made faces and focused on the child in her arms, Philomena attempted to converse with Leticia. “Forgive me, but I’m uncertain who you are in the midst of everyone.”
Leticia smiled. “I’m married to Alistair MacKinnon.” She pointed to a tall handsome man with brown hair, who laughed at something Ewan said. “He’s the middle brother and works with Cailean at the livery.” Her smile softened as she stared at her husband. “Only Ewan can make him laugh like that.”
Philomena watched the men. “I suspect Ewan has a talent for putting everyone at ease and lightening their burdens, with his ability to evoke joy.” She flushed as Leticia stared at her intently again. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I had no right.”
“Of course you did. You’re part of the family now. And I’ve never heard anyone so succinctly describe Ewan before.” Leticia watched as her often fussy daughter settled in for a nap on Philomena’s shoulder. “I can take her. She’ll grow too heavy for you.”
Philomena stared at Leticia with a mixture of resignation and sorrow. “I’d like to hold her, if you don’t mind.” She looked around. “Although I would like to sit.” She followed Leticia, as she led them to a few chairs put outside for the wedding party. She sat with a sigh, settling the now comatose girl in her lap. “What a little angel.”
“She is,” Leticia said. “Just as your child will be.” She nodded when Philomena flushed with mortification. “You will be a wonderful mother.”
“How can you not think badly of me?” Philomena whispered. “I’m mortified.”
Leticia lost her battle with a grin and then shrugged. “Almost every one of us experienced some sort of drama at our weddings. And all of us have had strong marriages.” At the unspoken question between them, Leticia sighed. “For my first wedding ceremony with Alistair, my living husband, who I had thought dead, marched up the aisle to protest my new union.”
Philomena goggled at her. “That can’t really have happened,” she breathed.
Sighing and taking a few deep breaths, Leticia nodded. “Oh, it did. It most certainly did.” Her gaze sought out Alistair, and she calmed at the sight of him holding their son, Angus, in his arms. “I thought I’d never be with the man I loved. That I’d lose Hortence. But it all worked out, and I’ve never been happier.” She stared at Philomena. “Ignore the imperfect and embrace all you have that brings you joy.”
Philomena sat with Leticia for many moments, comfortable in the silence between them, as she held little Catriona and watched the wedding festivities. Soon she knew she would be in the middle of the celebration, as she and Peter cut the cake and danced. For now, she relished this peaceful interlude.
Peter led Philomena up a short rise on a well-trod path from town. “I have a surprise from Jane and Ben.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. After another few minutes of walking, he stopped.
Philomena looked at a cabin and then down at the town, a short distance below. “Why would you bring me to a cabin on the hill? I thought we were to spend tonight in the room at the bakery, while Sorcha and Frederick stayed with your grandparents.” She sighed as she looked down below her. “The view is beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he whispered, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Come. Let’s explore.
She tugged on his hand, trying to keep him from pulling her along, as he opened the door. “Peter, we can’t just barge into someone else’s home,” she hissed. She followed him, as he entered the simple two-room cabin with kitchen and living area in the front room and a door leading to the bedroom. She knew a privy would be in the back.
Against her will, she looked around the house with envy at the touches of a well-loved home everywhere. Wildflowers were in a jar on the table; curtains at the side of the windows would grant privacy, and two comfortable chairs encouraged settling in for storytelling or moments of quiet introspection. The small stove would be perfect for home-cooked meals and to keep the house warm, and the house was stocked with dishes and everything needed to begin a life. “Whoever lives here is fortunate,” she whispered, unable to hide the envy in her tone.
“They are,” he said, with a broad smile. When he saw her abject misery, he frowned. “Mena? Why are you upset?”
She threw herself into his arms. “I’m selfish and spoiled. Forgive me.”
“You are neither of those things.” His hands stroked her back. “What is it?”
“I know how fortunate we are to have a home to live in. That your grandparents are generous to have us live with them, and to share their home with us.” She sniffled. “But I was wishing this could be our home.” Her voice broke on our.
“It is, my love,” he said, with a broad smile. “It is.” He nodded as she stared at him incredulously. “Jane won this home and a few others, when she made a bet on her husband. They don’t need or want it, and she wants us to have it.”
“Can we afford the rent?” Philomena asked.
“No,” Peter said in a soft voice, his hands cupping her face. “It’s ours, Mena. We’re not tenants. We now own this.”
She stared at him in wonder. “We own this?” A tear leaked out, and she gripped his hand, holding her cheek. “How is your family so generous, and my own brother won’t even …” She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
“Oh, love,” he murmured, as he pulled her close. “That’s his shame, my darling. Not yours. Not ours. He has failed you and everyone in town by not showing any capacity for forgiveness.” He paused, as he sighed. “Although you don’t need forgiveness. You’ve done nothing wrong. Loving me is the smartest thing you’ll ever do.”
She giggled, her hold on him tightening. “It is,” she agreed, arching up to kiss him.
His breath caught at the incandescent joy in her gaze. “Dance with me.” He hummed a melody, shuffling them around their small living space, without a care in the world, everything he ever wanted within his arms.
Chapter 12
A few days after the wedding, Philomena walked into town in the direction of the café, glowing with happiness as her new life took shape. Irene had insisted on continuing to make the breakfasts for the café, while Philomena focused on lunch and dinner. With her pregnancy, she was more tired than before, and she appreciated the lazy mornings before the busy days. Although she missed having Peter w
ith her, she also enjoyed her moments alone.
Now, after her solitary morning, she walked into town to join her husband and her grandmother in the café. For Irene declared that she was now Philomena’s grandmother and wouldn’t hear of anything less. As Philomena had never known her grandmothers, she had been overwhelmed with Irene’s generosity. However, as she saw Irene interact with the large MacKinnon family, Philomena had begun to understand that generosity was second nature to Irene.
Distracted by how much her life had changed in the past few weeks, Philomena paid little attention to those she passed, merely nodding as she approached the café. When someone dared grab her, she gasped and stopped walking, gazing at the man. “Morris!”
“Sister,” he spat out. “I heard all about your infamous wedding.” He stared at her with contempt. “It appears you were played for more of a simpleton in April than you admitted.” He leaned forward, his eyes glowing with anger. “And you then led me on a fool’s errand to ensure we ended up in this backwater town, all so you could reunite with that miserable cheat.”
“He’s not a cheat,” she said, as she wiggled in an attempt to free her arm from his punishing hold. “He’s my husband. I love him.”
“Love?” He shook his head. “You ‘love’ him because he’s one of the wealthiest men in town. You don’t know what love is.”
A resounding smack echoed around them, as she slapped him across his cheek. He released her, backing up a step. “How dare you?” she cried out. “You, who believe that love is a sum of duty, self-contempt, and self-restraint. That isn’t love, Morris. That’s a pathetic attempt to cling to your allusion of control.” She took a deep breath, her eyes a fiery gray. “You do not control me. You don’t even love me because you don’t know what that means.”
“I gave you everything,” he snapped.
“Everything but your compassion. Your understanding. Your acceptance. Without those, you can’t have love. My body had a home and clothes and food. But my soul was starved for affection and kindness. Reading your books of sermons would never fill that void.”
Runaway Montana Groom: Bear Grass Springs Book 12 Page 16
