by Leah Atwood
Watching with interest, Maeve saw Candace stand beside her husband and give his hand a squeeze. They’re going to make it, she thought, noting how they subtly supported each other.
Sam shook his head, his disbelief still evident. “I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but you know how few people will show up. Why cause the family further grief?” He turned to look at her. “Unless you would like a wedding party?”
“Having you as my husband is what’s important.” Secretly, she would have liked a party for the recreational aspect, but not at the family’s expense if it would only cause difficulties.
“Hear me out, Sam. I know any changes in the town’s perception of this family have to start with me since I’m the root of the problem. So, I went to town yesterday, introduced Candace as my wife and made personal apologies for my past behavior.”
“And they accepted it, just like that?” Sam sounded incredulous, as if it were impossible to make amends that easily.
“Some did, some didn’t, which I can’t fault them for. However, the guest list includes the Simpsons, the Danbury family, the Maddox family, Doc and his family, the McCades and maybe a few others who weren’t able to give a definite answer.”
“McCades as in Rand McCade? That man hates me.”
A blush actually crept up Patrick’s neck. “It’s not you. When he first arrived in town, I stole some money from him and when I was caught, told him you asked me to.”
Maeve saw the vein in Sam’s neck bulge. She put a hand on his arm to calm him down before he said something he’d regret.
When he spoke again, the words were choked out. “I hope that part of your amends was setting him straight on the truth.”
“Yes, I told Rand everything and explained I didn’t want my family suffering because of my past deeds. We had a long talk while Candace visited with Lettie and the babies. At the end of our conversation, he said it took a lot for a man to come apologize like I had. I don’t think we’ll ever be good friends, but he agreed to come to the party.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Sam rubbed his jaw.
“Say you’ll allow me this small token of restitution and come to the party,” Patrick urged.
“What do you say, Maeve?” Shifting his gaze, Sam left the decision to her.
It sounded so promising, once Patrick elaborated on the details. “I think it could be a healing point between this family and the community.”
Sam’s attention went back to his brother. “Looks like we’re having a party.”
Chapter 13
It was a vain thought, but Maeve wished she had a full mirror to see how she looked in her new dress. She twirled around, admiring the swooshing of the skirt. Ma Holden was a miracle-worker. Taking pieces from three old dresses, she’d been able to combine them into one, so Maeve would have a new dress for the party, which was only an hour away. Her mother-in-law had even lent her a prized possession to wear—a pearl necklace that had been an anniversary gift from her husband years ago.
The door opened, a blustery gust blew in. “The weather isn’t looking too promising.” Sam hurried inside and to the hearth, rubbing his hands.
“Do you think it will hold off until after the party?” She refused to fret over it for her sake—even if it was only the Holden family in attendance, she would have an enjoyable time—but she really wanted this night to restore the relationship between the family and the Weatherton community.
“Hard to say. Darker clouds are moving in and the temperatures are dropping.” He shrugged out of his coat then walked back to the door and hung it on a nearby peg. As if he’d just noticed her wearing something new, his eyes looked her over, and he grinned. “You are beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She blushed, pleased, but still unaccustomed to his blatant admiration. “Your clothes are pressed and laying on the bed.”
“Do you really think people will show up tonight?” Moving to the bed, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth was contorted into a contemplative frown. He sat down and began removing his boots. “I find it hard to believe after years of scorning and avoiding us that the town will suddenly accept us back into their good graces.”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to think so. Patrick says they will be there and I’m choosing to believe him. For those who come, it’s a step in the right direction.”
Sam sighed. “I wish I had your faith.”
Her heart hurt for him because she knew how much the town’s abandonment of the family had affected him. He perceived it as a personal failure of his as he felt responsible for the family since his pa died. He tried so hard, always striving for perfection and took it out on himself when he neglected to meet his extremely high expectations. She wished she had absolute assurances to give him, but all she could offer was support and her own hope.
Two hours later, the party was in full swing. To Maeve’s delight, the Holden house was full of guests who’d come to celebrate her and Sam’s nuptials. Fifteen families had shown up, more than anyone had anticipated. The atmosphere was so upbeat no one was bothered by the cramped quarters. Excitement and joy filled the house, more than Maeve had experienced since arriving at Weatherton.
At the moment, she sat on the settee, next to Lettie Morgan. To her delight, she’d discovered the woman had also come west as a mail-order bride.
Lettie bounced a baby on her knee. “I’m glad that Patrick organized this party. I’ve wanted to meet you since I heard of your arrival, but my husband requested I stay away. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t argue much with him about it because I’d heard the stories of Patrick.”
“I can only imagine. In reverse roles, I’m sure I would have done similar.” Maeve smiled at her, telling her there were no hard feelings.
“I hope we can put that all behind us now, and I would love if you and Candace, even Liza, were to come visit one day. One can never have too many friends out here. I’m been fortunate to meet some wonderful ladies, but you understand the plight of a mail-order bride.”
Maeve couldn’t help but laugh. “I think our experiences have been vastly different.”
“I doubt as much as you think. Unless I’m completely off, I will say yours turned out well.” Lettie winked. “The glances you’ve sent Sam when you thought no one was looking haven’t gone unnoticed.”
A flush heated Maeve’s face. “I am happy. Sam’s a good husband.” The baby cooed, speaking in an unintelligible baby language. “What is her name?” she asked, nodding toward the infant girl.
“This is Naomi.” Lettie smiled broadly. “Her twin, Danny, is with Rand.”
“She is beautiful.” Touching her stomach, Maeve couldn’t wait for the day she had her own children.
“Thank you.” Lettie stood. “I should go rescue Rand because Danny will be hungry soon. But first, promise me you’ll come visit at the first opportunity.”
“I will, just as soon as this bout of weather clears up.”
Shortly before the guests had arrived, the sky opened, pouring out buckets of precipitation. With the onset of darkness, the temperature dropped lower, and the ground became an icy mess. Maeve was glad for all the guests who’d come, but she was concerned for their safety going home. As much as she was enjoying the party, maybe she should talk to Sam about ending it early.
She went to find him, wanting to be by his side anyway. They’d had a continuous stream of well-wishers all night, yet they seemed to be constantly pulled apart and separated. When she finally spotted him, he was by the fireplace, speaking with Flynn Foster, the town doctor. Making her way to him, she was stopped several times by people wanting to talk. She kindly conversed with patience until Candace came to her.
“May I speak with you privately?” Candace whispered.
The intensity in her eyes told Maeve that it must be important. “Pardon me,” she told Matilda Danbury. “Is everything okay?” she asked Candace when they were by the front door, the least populated area of the house.
“All of a sudde
n I feel sick and dizzy—I must have eaten something not agreeable with my stomach, or I am coming down with something. What should I do? This party is so important, but I can barely stand.”
One careful look at her and Maeve knew Candace wasn’t exaggerating. Her skin was pallid, and she looked miserable. “I’ve not heard of anything going around, but you definitely don’t look well. The weather is constantly getting worse, and I’d thought about asking Sam to send folks home early. If I do, then you can return to your cabin without feeling guilty.”
Candace teetered and leaned against the wall. “Are you positive? I feel so terrible, causing a problem.”
“It’s no problem at all. Let me talk to Sam. In the meantime, why don’t you find somewhere to sit down? I’ll send someone to you with a cup of tea.”
Before Maeve could venture off to find Sam, the door flung open. In walked a woman with a determined gait. Her flaxen hair was perfectly styled, but there was a wild gleam in her eye. One by one, the guests noticed the newest attendee. The house quieted substantially, but curious and speculative glances were being shared among everyone.
The woman looked familiar. Wracking her memory, Maeve tried to recall where she’d previously seen her. Then she remembered. In town, on the way to the wedding. This woman was Rosalie Beard, the woman to which Patrick had been caught being unfaithful.
“Not good, not good at all,” Maeve muttered under her breath.
“What’s not,” Candace asked, her voice low and weak.
Maeve didn’t have a chance to answer.
“Patrick Holden, you good-for-nothing rapscallion,” Rosalie yelled out, effectively silencing what few whisperers remained. “How dare you ruin me and make a fool out of me and then think you can worm your way back into the good grace of this town.”
Sam and Patrick were making their way through the crowd.
“I don’t think this is the time nor the place.” Patrick’s tone was adamant, firm, and not pleasant. “Tonight is about my brother and his wife. I would ask you to respect that or leave.”
“Why, certainly. I’ll leave as soon as I tell everyone just how despicable of a man you are.” In her rage, her arm flew up, hitting a lit lamp hanging near the door. Consequently, the lamp was knocked off and struck Candace. The glass which enclosed the flame shattered against her arm. Patrick jumped to her but not before the remainder of the lamp struck the floor, instantly igniting the entry rug as oil met fire.
Chaos ensued. People moved every which way. Men ran to extinguish the fire, but it was spreading too quickly. Women and their children frantically sought an exit. Rosalie stood in stunned silence.
“To the back of the house,” Ma Holden shouted above the pandemonium. “There’s a door in the rear.”
Someone grabbed Rosalie and dragged her away. Candace had fainted and Patrick was carrying her through the house.
“Let’s go,” Sam shouted, grabbing Maeve’s hand. They ran outside, the last ones to leave.
Too busy escaping flames, Maeve didn’t watch her step. She lost her footing coming out of the house and tripped. She felt the heat coming closer, but she couldn’t get up on her own.
Sam tugged on her, not realizing the extent of her injuries.
“I can’t get up,” she yelled.
In the next second, she was being scooped up in Sam’s arms. He carried her a safe distance from the house, to where everyone was gathering. “Lucas and Benjamin—support Maeve and get her to wherever Doc ended up at. Stay with her until I get back.” He handed her over, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry, Maeve, but I have to organize the men and get this fire out before it spreads any further. The rain and ice should help, but we need to extinguish it.”
Everything had happened so fast. The men formed a line to pass buckets of water, but it was useless to save the house, which was completely engulfed in flames. The best they could hope for was stopping it from reaching the barn and other outbuildings.
Lucas and Benjamin, both taller than her despite their younger years, supported her, enabling her to walk, as they searched for Doc Foster.
“He’s in Patrick’s cabin with Candace,” Liza told them. “Is she going to be all right?” Tears were pouring over from her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Maeve answered with honesty. That Candace had felt so sick earlier was bothersome enough, but what effects would the fire and broken glass have?
“We can get you to the cabin,” Lucas spoke with confidence.
Why did she feel like she was abandoning the family by retreating to the cabin? “No, I’ll stay right here,” she answered defiantly, ignoring the misery of the cold wetness. When all was said and done for the night, Sam would need her, and she intended to be waiting for him, offering any and all support that she could.
Chapter 14
The charred remains of the family home lay in ruins, completely unsalvageable, disallowing Sam’s hope that this was a nightmare from which he could awaken. In the morning’s dusky glow, there was an eerie air around the ashes. All his dreams, crushed by a fluke accident. Last night, as he had lain in bed, sorting out what had happened, there was a moment when he wanted to blame Patrick. After all if Patrick had never been unfaithful to Rosalie then she never would have come to the party and caused a scene.
But he’d quickly reassigned the responsibility to fate. He couldn’t even blame Rosalie, because, despite her enraged state, he’s seen the stunned look on her face when the fire had started. It was a terrible accident, pure and simple, despite the complications it caused for his family. The sheriff had asked if the family wanted to press charges against Rosalie, but they unanimously declined.
They would extend forgiveness like the town had to Patrick. It was the right thing to do.
Footsteps approached him from behind. He pivoted away from the burnt frame and saw Maeve hobbling to him, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Sympathy and love emanated from her.
“Why are you off your feet? Doc said no walking for at least a week.”
“That’s impractical, and I needed to see that you’re okay.”
He wasn’t, but he’d find a way to be. “I keep wishing I’d dreamt it all. There’s nothing left—we’ll have to start completely from scratch.” How were they even going to find the money to rebuild the house? They were barely getting by as it was. Dreams of bringing the ranch back to its former glory would be put on hold again.
“But the fire didn’t reach the barn or other buildings. You can build up around those and be thankful for the lack of damage in those areas.”
As usual, Maeve helped him see things in perspective. The storm, which at first had seemed a nuisance, was credited with preventing the fire from spreading. Without it, the night could have turned more disastrous. “It’s a miracle no one besides you and Candace were hurt. For that, I am grateful.”
“Speaking of, I was about to go check on Candace. Would you care to join me?”
“I was going to head into town and see how Ma and the children are, but I can wait.” Once the fire was extinguished last night, the Simpsons had offered their home for the Holden’s to stay at until another arrangement could be made.
“We won’t stay long. Doc Foster said she would need lots of rest over the coming weeks.”
They walked to the cabin where Candace and Patrick lived. Sam knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Patrick called.
They entered and saw Patrick sitting at Candace’s bedside, changing her bandages. Sam winced when he saw the raw, puckered skin. He’d seen a lot of things in his life, but nothing that had affected him so much as seeing her wounds. If Maeve had been standing a foot over, it would have been her with deep cuts and burns on her entire arm.
Candace was lying flat on the bed, squeezing her eyes, presumably to shut out the pain. Her lips contorted, and Sam could almost feel her pain, such was the nature of her expressions. Even Patrick looked pained with so
mething akin to guilt. Surely, he didn’t blame himself? Although, if he did, Sam could understand why. In the recess of his mind, he worried this might set back the progress Patrick had made. He prayed not.
“How are you?” Maeve had gone to the bed and sat on the edge.
“Better,” Candace answered weakly. “Relatively.”
Sam stood back, observing the interaction between his wife and Candace. Maeve had such a gentleness to her and an uncanny ability to put anyone at ease. She was serious, but fun. Practical, but tender-hearted.
And she was his, to share their lives together. If something had happened to her, worse than a sprained ankle, he didn’t know how he would have handled it. Losing his dream of the ranch was nothing compared to the thought of losing his wife.
He joined Maeve at Candace’s bed, standing between his wife and brother. Clasping one hand firmly on Patrick’s shoulder, he showed his support. Patrick glanced back at him, understanding the meaning of his touch. The bond of brotherhood, of being twins, would help get them through this rough patch.
Next, he tapped Maeve’s shoulder, letting his fingers linger. “I need to leave soon.”
“I’ll go with you.” She stood up, and Sam promptly slipped an arm around her, alleviating weight from her ankle.
“No. Doc Foster will tan me alive if I bring you into town.” One way or another, he would convince her to stay home and rest.
“At least let me send some coffee with you. The air is still frigid.”
That was easier than he’d thought it would be, which worried him that she was in more pain that she was letting on. “I’d like that.”
