Heartland Wedding

by Renee Ryan

  “I was.” He took a quick glance over his shoulder, then cleared his face of all expression. “But they have to return to their home, something to do with a sewing project.”

  “I see.” Except she didn’t see. Not really. “What were you talking to them about?”

  “Nothing special.” His shrug was filled with his usual lazy confidence, but his eyes held secrets. “I was just being friendly.”

  Friendly? Rebecca narrowed her gaze in suspicion. Something was different about Edward this morning, something she couldn’t quite describe. “I didn’t realize you knew the Morrow women.”

  He shrugged again. But this time, an off-center smile spread across his lips. “I know them well enough.”

  “Hmm,” she said. And then she remembered the night of her wedding, when he had complained over the fact he couldn’t provide her with a new dress for the occasion. “Oh, Edward. You weren’t ordering me clothing, were you?”

  “Ja. Ja. That’s it.” He gave her a tentative half nod. “I was ordering you a dress. Ja. That’s what I was doing.”

  No. She could see the guilt written all over his face. Her faithful, steadfast brother wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, either.

  But to what end? Edward never kept secrets from her.

  Until today.

  Looking slightly nervous, he let his gaze wander slowly away from her. And then it merged with Winifred Morrow’s timid stare.

  He smiled at the girl, broadly, the big, silly grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. Winnie blushed in return, sucked in a short intake of air, then quickly lowered her head.

  Rebecca blinked at the revealing exchange.

  Did Edward have his eye on the dressmaker’s daughter? It was not an unpleasant thought. Winnie Morrow was a nice girl, painfully shy and a little ordinary with her light brown hair and commonplace features, but nice. Really nice.

  Rebecca hadn’t expected this. Of course, she’d always wanted her brother to find love one day.

  Had that day come? Had the sermon pushed Edward to make a move in Winnie’s direction? Was her brother attempting to build a new life like the pastor had suggested?

  Rebecca wondered if she and Pete would be able to do so, as well.

  She gazed at the cemetery again. Her heart constricted as Pete lowered to his knees in front of a gravestone, his proud shoulders slumping forward.

  Pain. Rebecca felt genuine pain on her husband’s behalf. The force of emotion was so fierce she staggered back a step.

  “Don’t worry.” Edward patted her hand again. “Pete doesn’t strike me as a man comfortable staying rooted in the past. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

  But would he come around to her? And if he didn’t, would their marriage become nothing more than two polite people coexisting side by side?

  She’d never thought of friendship as a prison. Until now.

  “I mean it, Rebecca. Stop worrying. Have a little faith. The Lord has a plan.”

  The Lord has a plan.

  Edward was the second person to remind her of that truth in less than a week. But what if God’s plan didn’t include a fairy-tale ending for her and Pete? Could she live in a home lacking in love?

  Lord, please don’t condemn me to that sort of misery again.

  Seemingly unaware of her troubled thoughts, Edward wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her against him. He leaned heavily on her, indicating he wasn’t yet fully healed.

  “Pete has a lot to sort through,” he said. “But he will sort through it.”

  “Oh, Edward. I just want him to be happy. No. It’s more than that.” She stepped out from under her brother’s hold. “I want to be the one to make him happy.”

  Grinning, he chucked her under the chin. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re married to the man.”

  Unwilling to make light of the situation, Rebecca scowled at her brother. She knew her wish to be the source of Pete’s happiness made her selfish, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She couldn’t help the way her dreams started and ended around her husband. There was pain in admitting that, in admitting that she was falling in love with a man who was still in love with his dead wife.

  “Quit frowning, Rebecca. I have no doubt you’ll make Pete happy.”

  She wasn’t so sure, not if the past few days were any indication. But her marriage was not yet a week old. It was too early to lose hope, too early to accept that friendship was all she could have with Pete.

  Rebecca was many things, but she was not a quitter.

  And truly, what had she done to make a life for her and Pete? Nothing. She’d done nothing. Nothing except fret. And worry, worry, worry.

  Well, there were a few things she could do immediately. Things that centered around the dismal little house she now called home.

  Yes, that was it. She’d focus on their home. One miserable room at a time.

  Angling her head toward the cemetery, Rebecca squinted to get a better look at Pete, but Edward moved in front of her, cutting off her view.

  “Stop spying on him.”

  Embarrassed, she lowered her head and twisted her hands together at her waist. “You’re right. He deserves his privacy.”

  “Ja, he does. And besides…” Edward paused until she lifted her head again. “There’s a house full of boarders and guests, me included, who want a hearty Sunday dinner.” He pulled her into a quick bear hug. “How about making a few of us happy?”

  Smiling at last, she gave him a good-natured tap on his nose. “Selfish man.”

  “Only when it comes to my stomach.”

  “Then we had better seat you in the first round.” There were so many mouths to feed on Sunday afternoon, Rebecca did so in two sittings, sometimes three.

  Edward rubbed his belly with glee. “Now you’re talking.”

  She laughed, content to see him feeling better, even if he leaned far too much to his left as he set off across the street to the boardinghouse.

  Following a few steps behind him, Rebecca sent one final glance in Pete’s direction. He looked deeply engrossed, dragging his hand over the pristine gravestone before him.

  There was such sorrow in his movements. Her heart ached for him.

  But as much as she wanted to rush to his side, she knew she had to follow Edward’s advice and give her husband time.

  For now, she would concentrate on the house full of hungry people waiting for a hot meal. People, as Edward so eloquently put it, she could make happy right away.

  Pete had no idea how long he stared at Sarah’s gravestone. Minutes? Hours? He’d lost all sense of time after he’d lowered to his knees and set about telling her goodbye.

  Unfortunately, the words wouldn’t come.

  Rocking back on his heels, he lifted his gaze to heaven and begged for help. Lord, show me the way. Reveal to me the first step.

  He gazed at the sky for several more moments, but still no words came to him. No clarity. Only soul-deep anguish.

  And a rush of irritation.

  He was tired of the grief. Tired of the sorrow. He wanted…

  He wanted…

  Freedom.

  That was why he’d come to Sarah’s grave this morning, not because he wanted to be free of her, but because he wanted to be free of the guilt that came with his final memories of her.

  One small step. That’s all he needed to take. Then maybe the next would come easier.

  He leaned forward and dug a hole in the hard, parched earth. His hands shook throughout the process, but he kept at his task. Ripples of dust swirled around his hands, blurring them in a brown haze. But he soon had a small hole in reward for his efforts.

  For a long moment, he simply stared into the shallow depths. Despite the heat, his skin felt ice cold. His heart felt numb in his chest.

  With hands still shaking, he pulled out Sarah’s necklace from a pocket in his jacket and coiled the thin chain into the ground. He began refilling the hole with a fierceness in his
movements. He practically clawed at the dirt.

  There was uncharacteristic desperation in him now. But he didn’t know where the emotion came from.

  And still no words came to mind. Telling Sarah “goodbye” seemed too simple, trite even.

  Perhaps if he stopped thinking about the end and started at the beginning, he could finish what he came here to do.

  His mind remained barren.

  But finally, after concentrating, the truth of the matter hit him and he understood why the words stayed mute in his mind. He and Sarah had never been suited, not really, despite the happiness they’d shared in the early days of their marriage. The realization made his breathing come in hard, painful pants.

  Pete had been acquainted with Sarah all his life, but he’d never truly known her. She’d been adored by everyone in their small town back in Massachusetts—pampered and coddled by her parents, favored by her teachers and friends.

  With her rich black hair, pale, ivory skin and deep green eyes, she had been the beauty of Belville. And when she’d finally noticed Pete, when she’d turned her affection to him at last, he’d given her no chance to change her mind.

  Frowning, he picked up a stone and rolled it in his fingers. The dirt covering the rock felt hot and dry against his skin. Bleak. Like his long-ago dreams of a happy marriage with the beautiful Sarah Ross.

  Here he was again, four days into a hasty marriage with a woman he hardly knew. Dare he hope this marriage might have a happier conclusion?

  He couldn’t face the possibility that he might fail Rebecca, too. She didn’t seem to want much from him, not as much as Sarah had needed in the end.

  Pete had to remember that Rebecca was stronger than Sarah. Both in mind and body. And that they were united in their desire to stay in High Plains. Would that be enough? Or would he—

  He swallowed, disgusted with himself.

  He was brooding.

  Pete hated brooding. No good came from it. He forced himself to focus on the reason he’d come to the cemetery in the first place.

  It was time to say goodbye to Sarah. Even if all he could see in his mind was the image of her last hours.

  A shadow blackened the sun overhead, complementing Pete’s foul mood. And then a craggy voice broke through his concentration. “Pete, don’t do this to yourself.”

  Pete blinked. A quick spark of hope flickered in his heart at the sage words spoken in that familiar, quivering voice. He wanted to follow the command, but a wave of despair stole his ability to think clearly.

  “You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

  Pete kept his gaze averted. “Yes, I do, Doc. You know why.”

  “You weren’t the only one in the room when Sarah died. I was there, too.”

  Which was why Pete had avoided contact with the man over the past year as much as possible. Looking into Doc’s regretful expression only reminded Pete of all he’d lost that night. But now he was trapped as Doc stood over him, addressing the one issue he wanted to avoid most.

  Pete craned his neck and looked into Doc’s weathered face.

  They stared at each other without speaking.

  Sorrow lurked in Doc’s tired, red-rimmed eyes. His thick mane of gray hair poked out in several directions as though he’d been combing the white mass with his fingers.

  The man looked exhausted.

  At eighty-two, he should be enjoying a peaceful existence, bouncing a few grandchildren on his knee. Instead, he worked eighteen-hour days, tending to the sick and injured of High Plains. He faced death daily. Sometimes hourly. The work was too much for one man, especially one of such an advanced age.

  “You look more tired than usual,” Pete said.

  “I am.” He gave a heartfelt sigh and stepped to his right. The sudden shift sent a blinding ray of sunlight into Pete’s face. He squinted. Thankfully, Doc moved back into a position that blocked the sun and Pete opened his eyes again.

  “I have to admit—” Doc let out a weary sigh “—I hope Zeb finds my replacement soon.”

  The statement took Pete by surprise. “You don’t mind that he put an advertisement for a new town doctor in the Kansas Gazette?”

  “Mind? On the contrary.” He plowed his fingers through his hair, his hand shaking slightly. “I encouraged the boy to start the search almost as soon as I arrived in High Plains. This town needs a young man full of energy, not an old, run-down horse like me.”

  Pete heard the fatigue underlying Doc’s words. “I’m not sure ‘run-down’ is the correct assessment. Not from what I’ve personally seen. You’re an honorable man,” Pete said. “I’m glad you were with Sarah in her final hours.”

  He meant every word.

  “I’m sorry she died—” a shadow crossed Doc’s features “—in so much pain.”

  “I am, too. But you did everything you could that night. I’ve never thought otherwise.”

  Yet, Pete found himself swallowing back a wave of condemnation all the same. Not at Doc. At himself.

  He was no longer able to keep his fears silent, not from this man. A year had been too long to wait to speak of this. And now Pete’s inner turmoil outweighed his outer dignity. He released the last scraps of his pride.

  “Doc, I have to know the truth. Did I do everything I could?”

  “Of course you did.” The answer came too quickly.

  Pete looked at the tiny grave next to Sarah’s, the one that housed his infant son. Too much loss had come into his home. “Could I have done more to save them? I don’t mean that night. I mean, before.”

  “Pete.” Doc lowered to the ground slowly, his bones creaking every inch of the way. “Sarah was not a happy woman in her final days, you know that.”

  Of course he knew that. Pete had been the sole cause of her unhappiness. He’d brought her to High Plains. He’d insisted she give their move a full year when she’d begged to return to Massachusetts after a month. At least in Belville Sarah had had friends. And family. Lots of family.

  Here, she’d only had him.

  He hadn’t been enough.

  “Do you think unhappiness was the reason the baby came early?” he asked quietly. “If I’d taken Sarah back to Belville when she’d first asked, would she be alive today?”

  “I don’t know, Pete.” Blowing out a shaky breath, Doc rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Modern medicine doesn’t have all the answers. Sarah was never a physically strong woman.”

  Not like Rebecca.

  Pete drew back from the thought. It wasn’t fair to compare the two women. It wasn’t right.

  “Was carrying my child too much for Sarah? Was she too weak to bear our son?” The question was a valid one. One he’d avoided asking for a long time, even in the privacy of his own mind. But the truth could not be denied. Sarah had been tiny, nearly half the size of Pete.

  “You know the realities.” Doc brushed dirt off his sleeve and grimaced. “Childbirth is dangerous for a healthy woman. Your Sarah was not a healthy woman.”

  Pete’s throat constricted, growing tighter and tighter with each swallow. “Are you saying the baby killed her?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying. It was probably a combination of factors that killed your wife. Her lack of physical strength. Her unhappiness.” Doc shot him a sorrowful look. “Perhaps even the harsh conditions here on the frontier played a role. But the journey back East would have been a strain on her, as well. I don’t believe she would have survived it.”

  Pete heard what the older man was trying to say in his roundabout way. The land on this side of the Mississippi had been too brutal for Sarah’s delicate nature. By bringing her to High Plains, by creating a life that left her so unhappy, Pete had aided in her death.

  And that of his son.

  “Thanks, Doc.” He rose slowly, his joints protesting after staying in one position for so long. “You’ve cleared things up considerably for me.”

  “Wait.” Doc hastened to his feet and grabbed Pete’s arm. His grip was surprisin
gly strong. “I don’t like that look in your eyes. I’m afraid you didn’t hear what I said at all.”

  Pete lowered his head. “I heard you.”

  “No.” Doc’s voice turned anxious and his grip grew tighter. Painfully so. “Sarah’s death was not your fault.”

  It didn’t matter how fiercely Doc said the words or how tightly he grasped Pete’s arm, he knew the truth.

  Sarah’s death was his fault, and consequently so was his son’s, all because of his desire to make a new life for them in High Plains.

  He would not repeat the same mistake with Rebecca. He would keep their relationship based solely on friendship, nothing more.

  After all, if he didn’t build up her hopes, then he wouldn’t let her down. And if he didn’t let her down, then she wouldn’t have cause to become unhappy with him.

  He knew his logic wasn’t entirely sound. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that. But Pete couldn’t figure out any other solution that would protect Rebecca from suffering Sarah’s same fate.

  “Pete,” Doc began. “You can’t—”

  “I have to go.” Realizing how cold he sounded, he softened the harshness in his voice. “We’ll talk again. Sometime soon.”

  Or perhaps they wouldn’t. Pete wasn’t sure there was anything else they needed to say to each other. At least, not about Sarah. Or his son.

  Right now, Pete needed to be anywhere but in this cemetery, surrounded by all he’d lost. He needed to walk, to think, to let his thoughts settle. Maybe then he would know what to do about Rebecca and their marriage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rebecca made it home well before dark, only to discover the smithy closed. Pete was nowhere in sight. Disappointment tapped a painful rhythm against her ribs. Her husband must have changed his mind about wanting to share a meal with her today.

  The wind chose that moment to whip straight into her face. Surely that explained the tears leaking out of her eyes.

  Readjusting the basket of food in her grip, Rebecca set her shoulders against the attack and tried to think what to do next.

  In an attempt to avoid her dreary home a little longer, she decided to check on her brother.