Heartland Wedding

by Renee Ryan

  A few moments later, she found him sleeping. Soundly.

  Good. He needed the rest.

  Before turning to leave, she studied the tarp that had been flung over the massive hole in the roof. One good rainstorm and Edward would need to sleep in a boat rather than a bed.

  That would not do.

  She needed to arrange better accommodations for him, assuming her stubborn, proud brother would agree to move.

  Not looking forward to another argument, Rebecca decided to tackle the subject tomorrow. When both of them were feeling stronger.

  Unable to put off the inevitable any longer, she circled around to the back of the main house. A hot surge of uneasiness made her breath come in erratic spurts. Nevertheless, she must be brave. She must go inside.

  Balancing the basket of food on her hip, she worked open the door with her free hand.

  As always, her heart pinched tight in her chest as she stepped inside the house and shut the door behind her.

  Despite the bright sunny day, the kitchen sat in shadows. Drab grays, blacks and whites danced around the dreary room.

  The grim sight chilled her to the marrow.

  Trying not to be discouraged—a staggering feat—she set the basket on the kitchen table.

  A folded piece of paper instantly caught her eye.

  Pete had obviously left her a note. That was something to rejoice in, she supposed, but her eyes filled with tears of distress. And shame.

  She gave the paper a long, intent stare, puzzling over what to do with it. Dragging her finger across the unrecognizable letters, her humiliation dug deeper. If only she could read in English. Speaking the language was hard enough, learning to read it was simply out of the question. At least, for now.

  Despite her embarrassment, Rebecca unfolded the note and peered at the symbols scrawled boldly across the page. Even on this small piece of paper, Pete’s striking presence was undeniably large. Rebecca sighed. She could no longer deny the truth.

  Her husband had truly captured her heart. She loved Pete, as a wife loves her husband.

  A jolt of pleasure shot through her at the realization, followed by a painful churning in her stomach.

  What if he never returned her feelings? What if his love for her turned out to be as lukewarm as her parents’ had been?

  No. She was finished with this constant, nagging doubt. She was not a spineless woman willing to accept her fate without a fight. She was a child of God, loved by Jesus, blessed by her Heavenly Father. That meant she was worthy of love from her earthly husband, as well.

  All she needed to do was give Pete a reason to move in her direction, and away from the past.

  Resolve firmly in place, Rebecca forced her shoulders to relax and set the paper back on the table. She gave the kitchen a full inspection. If she wasn’t mistaken, the room had grown drabber. Well, no matter, there was one thing she could do immediately. Clean.

  Not more than an hour into her project, poised on her knees with scrub brush in hand, Pete charged through the back door.

  His footsteps stopped abruptly.

  “Rebecca. You’re home.” His voice was flat. And yet, she heard the controlled emotion beneath his words, the hint of defeat in his tone.

  Something had changed since she’d seen him bent over Sarah’s grave.

  Had he decided he could never love again? Was his heart so committed to Sarah and their child that there could be no room for Rebecca?

  Afraid to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes, she set her brush on the floor and spoke directly to his feet. “I thought it was time to start cleaning my new home.”

  “I see that.”

  She wondered what had happened to make him sound so…restrained.

  Marshaling her courage, she sat back on her heels and forced herself to smile up at him. “I’m glad you’re home. I was worr—” Her words backed up in her throat. “You haven’t changed clothes since this morning.”

  He looked down and shrugged. “Guess not.”

  Her heartbeat stuttered at his detached tone. Her first instinct was to pretend she hadn’t seen him walk around the church, to pretend as though this day was like any other.

  But she was tired of pretending. Tired. Tired. Tired of it.

  “Have you been at the cemetery all this time?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. “I mean—”

  “You didn’t get my note?” His voice was calm enough, but his gaze was as distant as a stranger’s, as if he was consumed with private, painful thoughts he could never share with her.

  She tried not to despair. “Yes. I got your note. But I—” she swallowed back her cowardice and admitted the truth “—I’m afraid I can’t read. Not in English.”

  That got his attention. His eyes widened, but he only looked at her for a long, breathless moment. She couldn’t tell if it was shock, or pity, or simply disappointment on his face when he spoke at last. “But you said you wanted to read to me.”

  Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “Wanting and doing aren’t the same thing.”

  “No, I don’t suppose they are.”

  “I’m sorry I misled you.” Every word she spoke was soaked with shame.

  “It’s fine, Rebecca. Not something to be concerned over. I never expected you to read to me in the first place.”

  She dipped her chin. “But I want to.”

  “That’s enough for me.” He touched the top of her head. The quiet gesture, more than the words, soothed her. The humiliation that had tightened in her throat relaxed.

  When she had her breathing under control, she looked up again. “I brought your dinner home, just like I promised.” She glanced toward the kitchen table.

  He didn’t follow the direction of her gaze. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Rather, he kept staring at a spot on the floor a few inches short of her knees. From her vantage point, she could see that his face was bleached of color and slightly contorted. He was back to the stranger she’d first married.

  Something had clearly upset him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she couldn’t read.

  Terrible possibilities ran through her mind. Had he been unable to let go of Sarah? Was he going to stay rooted in the past? Would he—

  No. Speculation was pointless. She was married to this man. She was his wife.

  That gave her certain rights.

  “Pete.” She rose slowly to her feet, quickly drying her hands on her apron along the way. “What’s happened? You’re…different.”

  Lips pressed tightly together, he turned his back to her.

  “Please, Pete. Tell me what’s wrong.” She lifted her hand, but let it drop to her side without touching him. “Tell me what’s occurred since I last saw you at the church.”

  With clipped steps, he paced through the kitchen, ignoring her completely. Thankfully, he didn’t leave the room, as she half expected.

  “Pete?”

  He yanked out a chair and sank into it with a loud thump. “I didn’t work in the smithy today.”

  Yes, I figured that out already. But instead of commenting on the obvious, she said, “You didn’t?”

  She waited for him to respond. When the silence grew thick between them, she searched his face for any sign of emotion.

  His coal-black eyes revealed nothing.

  “Pete?” she said again, knowing her voice had a desperate ring to it now. “Did you—”

  “I went searching for the twins this afternoon.”

  She hadn’t expected that. “By yourself?”

  His vacant gaze locked with hers. “I needed to search for them, to prove they were still alive.” He lowered his gaze. “There’s been enough death in my…” He cleared his throat. “In this town.”

  “Oh, Pete.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, unsure what to make of his mood, especially in light of this new information. He’d gone in search of life, after he’d faced the reality of death at the cemetery.

  Her fingers f
lexed on his shoulder. “Did you find something?”

  “Yes.” His hand shook slightly, but he dug into an outer pocket of his jacket without hesitation.

  She watched in horror as he pulled out a child’s shoe, one most commonly worn by young boys like Alex Henning. And…And…

  “I found this northeast of town.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “You…you don’t think…” Was it Mikey’s?

  Hand steadier now, Pete placed the shoe on the table. “I found it about a mile out of town, under a bush near the river bank.”

  He clutched the shoe in a hard grip.

  Rebecca closed her hand over his, resisting the temptation to lean over and plant a soothing kiss on his forehead. But, glory, he looked so defeated.

  She felt the same way.

  In an attempt to hide her alarm, she released his hand and placed her fingertips across her mouth. But when Pete said nothing more, she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Do you think the shoe belonged to, I mean belongs to Mikey?”

  “I don’t know,” he said in a halting tone, his hand shoving the shoe toward the center of the table. “But I know who will.”

  “Emmeline.”

  He nodded.

  Rebecca stepped away from the table and looked out the lone, dingy window in the kitchen. Although the glass was smudged with year-old grime, she was able to gauge the sun’s placement in the sky.

  “There’s still plenty of time to ride out and back to the Logans’ new cabin before dark,” she said aloud.

  Pete stood, his chair scraping on the floor as he shoved away from the table and picked up the shoe. “I’ll head out now.”

  He took two full steps, then stopped before he took the third. “Will you come with me, Rebecca?”

  How could she not?

  “Of course I will.” She took the shoe from him and turned it over in her hand. “Pete, what if…what if this shoe is Mikey’s? What does it mean?”

  He peered at her with troubled eyes. “It could mean anything. However—” he placed a gentle hand on her arm “—let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t even know if the shoe belongs to the boy.”

  He was right. They didn’t know. “There’s one sure way to find out.”

  He opened the door and waved her forward with a broad sweep of his hand. “After you.”

  “No. It can’t be. It just can’t be. But it is. It is Mikey’s shoe.” Emmeline Logan collapsed against her husband. “Oh, Mikey. Poor, poor little boy.”

  Her grip went limp. The shoe rolled off her fingers and landed on the ground with a hard thud.

  In the ensuing silence, Pete exchanged a helpless glance with Rebecca. And then another with Will. No one seemed to know what to say. Especially Pete.

  He hadn’t expected Emmeline to react so violently after examining the shoe.

  Why not? Hadn’t he felt similarly distraught when Clint had given him Sarah’s cameo?

  Lord, please let this discovery be of little significance. Let this be nothing more than a missing shoe found.

  “I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he said, regret coating his voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Eyes fixed on the fallen shoe, her response came out barely audible. “It’s not your fault, Pete.”

  “That’s right.” Will’s gaze filled with worry as he clutched his pretty wife against his chest and locked gazes with Pete over her head. “You did the right thing bringing it here. Anything could give us the clue we need to finding the twins, even if it’s hard to handle at first.”

  “I should have waited until tomorrow to bring it by,” he said.

  “No. No.” Emmeline struggled free from her husband’s arms. “You were right to come this afternoon.”

  She bent to pick up the shoe again, but her legs wobbled under her and she tumbled forward.

  Pete reached for her. Will was quicker. With one swoop, he wrapped his wife in the band of his strong arms and pulled her against his chest. “You need to sit, darling, and catch your breath.”

  Everyone fell silent as Will guided the trembling woman to one of the two rocking chairs on the front porch.

  In the next moment, Rebecca rushed forward and dropped to her knees. “Emmeline. Take a breath,” she said in a gentle tone. “You have to breathe.”

  “Please.” The woman clutched Rebecca’s hands in desperation. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Bess about this.”

  Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Rebecca rolled her gaze toward Pete.

  He nodded his encouragement.

  “Tell Bess what? All Pete found was one of Mikey’s shoes. It could mean anything.”

  “She’s right, Emmeline. Let’s not panic before we consider all the possibilities.” Will maneuvered around the back of his wife’s chair and proceeded to brush his fingertips across her forehead.

  When she didn’t relax right away, he bent over her and murmured soothing, unintelligible words in her ear.

  She didn’t seem to be listening to him, but every so often she would nod her head at something he said. With each passing second, she visibly calmed.

  The interaction between husband and wife spoke of familiarity, of affection, of shared intimacy that went far beyond the physical.

  Pete hadn’t realized how much he missed the understanding that came from a deep loving relationship. He’d lost that sort of closeness with Sarah months before she’d died, which had made her passing that much harder to stomach.

  But this wasn’t about him, so he battened down all thoughts and emotions that didn’t pertain to the situation at hand.

  Will eventually straightened to his full height and tracked his gaze from Pete to Rebecca, then back to Pete. They shared a resigned look.

  “Like Rebecca said,” Pete said to Emmeline’s bent head, “the discovery of Mikey’s shoe could mean anything.”

  “Agreed.” Will gave him one firm nod, then continued to stroke his wife’s hair in an absent manner.

  She leaned into his hand and sighed.

  Feeling as though he was prying into an intimate moment between husband and wife, Pete looked away.

  Will cleared his throat. “Start at the beginning, Pete. Where were you when you found the shoe?”

  “I was walking along the riverbed, about a mile and a half northeast of town.”

  “Northeast of town,” Will repeated, rubbing the back of his hand across his face. “That’s close to where the bulk of the wagon train was when the tornado hit.” Unspoken was the fact that Emmeline’s father had foolishly continued on after the rest of the wagon train had stopped, leading their wagon right into the path of the storm.

  “You would know better than I would.” Pete shot Rebecca a quick glance, but she wasn’t looking at him. “I never made it out of town that day.”

  “Right.” Will’s gaze turned thoughtful. “The shoe has probably been in that same spot since the storm.”

  “That’s my conclusion, as well.”

  Still kneeling in front of Emmeline, Rebecca made a sound of distress. “But Pete, I thought you and the others have been searching for the twins for more than a month. Wouldn’t you have found the shoe before today?”

  “Not necessarily.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward. “We could have missed it in the dark.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  “We need to keep this discovery between the four of us,” Will decided. “At least for now. No need to concern anyone else until we can decipher what this discovery really means.”

  The words brought Pete’s thoughts back to this morning’s sermon. The pastor had all but begged the congregation to keep up their hope and to start living with their minds focused on the future. If it were up to Pete, especially in light of the pastor’s request, nobody else would hear about the shoe. Ever.

  However, the decision wasn’t his to make. “We’ll leave that up to you and your wife.”

  “In the meantime,” Rebecca said, “we’ll pray
for the twins and their continued safety.”

  “Would you pray now?” Emmeline asked, her voice squeaking with the dry, raspy sound of barely contained grief.

  “Of course.”

  Rebecca lowered her head and prayed softly. In fact, she spoke so quietly Pete couldn’t make out her words. He shut his eyes, anyway.

  Please, Lord. Please hear all of our prayers for Mikey and Missy.

  In a louder voice, Rebecca ended her prayer with “We ask this in Christ’s name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Emmeline repeated in a quivering voice.

  Pete opened his eyes to see the two women staring intently at each other.

  “Thank you, Rebecca.”

  “My pleasure.”

  The women squeezed hands, then Rebecca turned her gaze to him. For a moment, everything around them seemed to stop. He wanted to soothe Rebecca’s distress, but he couldn’t build false hope. Not until they had more information.

  Feeling helpless, he broke eye contact and looked quickly to his left. The sun had dipped dangerously close to the horizon.

  “We should head home before it gets too dark,” he said.

  “Of course.” With a rustle of skirts, Rebecca rose, but she continued holding her friend’s hands. “Will you be all right if we leave you now?”

  “I…yes, thank you. I have Will.” She smiled up at her husband. Even in her sorrow there was an element of peace in her eyes.

  In return, Will placed his palm on his wife’s cheek and smiled. “You do, indeed.”

  As he watched the outward display of love, Pete felt his shoulders stiffen, and the beginnings of some unnamed emotion filled him.

  Compelled, Pete turned his attention toward Rebecca.

  But she wasn’t looking at him. She was watching the Logans intently. And then, slowly—gradually—she twisted her gaze to him.

  A band of emotion tightened around his chest. For once, Pete knew exactly what his wife was thinking.

  She wanted what Will and Emmeline had. She wanted a real marriage filled with love, trust and affection.

  He waited for the wave of fear to come, waited for the unbearable pain of failure to overtake him. When the emotions arrived—as he knew they would—his heart tapped two solid thumps against his ribs.