The Bad Luck Wedding Cake

by Geralyn Dawson

  “Ah, Emma.” Trace’s voice was rough with emotion. “It breaks my heart you had to go through that. Your mama and I didn’t know the ship sank. We didn’t know you’d be so worried.”

  “We were scared to death,” Katrina exclaimed in an accusing tone.

  Tye pushed away from the doorjamb and strolled into the room. “What did happen, Trace?”

  His brother’s lips twisted in a grim smile. “Jenny got stubborn and apparently saved our lives, that’s what.”

  The woman in question smiled a 1adonna’s smile. “Remind me to remind you of it when the shipment arrives.”

  Shipment? Tye quirked a brow at his brother.

  Trace nodded. “The day we were due to leave she meets a native woman and falls head over heels for the lady’s dress.”

  “Now there’s a picture,” Jenny said ruefully, frowning at her baby-filled belly.

  Grinning, Trace lifted his hand to pat her stomach. “Anyway, my Jenny balks at boarding the ship. She wants to travel inland to the woman’s village and purchase Caribbean cloth for Fortune’s Design. She refuses to listen to reason, so I write a letter for you explaining our change in plans and give it to the ship’s captain. He promised to telegraph, too, in case the letter took too long getting home. With that supposedly settled, Jenny and I rattle away in a rickety wagon bound for an island village whose name I never did learn to pronounce.”

  Tye grimly added, “And the ship sailed off to sink.”

  A moment of silence filled the room as the occupants considered the vagaries of fate. Then, with eyes rounded in wonder, Maribeth broke the silence by saying, “Maybe you should make another wedding dress out of the cloth you bought, Mama. Talk about good luck.”

  “What I think I’ll do is say extra prayers for those poor people who lost their lives.” Glancing at Tye, she added, “Maybelle Davis told us the news about the ship’s loss. It came as quite a shock.”

  After that, they spent some time discussing the rest of their trip and catching up on all the happenings back home. Tye chafed to explain about the Wests, but didn’t want to drag all that baggage out in front of the Blessings. Of course, from the looks of things, it might be a year or more before they let their beloved parents out of their sights.

  Occasionally Tye thought about Claire, wondering why she’d made herself scarce. Once or twice he started to go look for her, but he couldn’t quite make himself leave his brother. Hell, I’m just as bad as the girls.

  Having heard the news of her employers’ safe return, Mrs. Wilson blew through the front door in a whirlwind of happiness. As Jenny repeated their story to her, Trace wandered over to where his brother stood. “Something tells me we’ll be telling this tale till we’re sick to death of it.”

  “Why don’t you give an interview to Wilhemina and let her print it up in the newspaper?” Tye suggested. “That would ward off a few of the questions, anyway.”

  “Good idea. I might just do that.” He paused, his gaze drifting back to where his wife sat surrounded by his children. A pained grimace etched his face. “It must have been hell for them.”

  “Emma took it the worst. She didn’t completely believe me when I told her you were all right.”

  His brother shot him an intense look. “You felt…?”

  Tye shrugged. “For me, the connection never disappeared. Faded, maybe, during the bad years. But since I’ve come to Fort Worth it’s grown as strong as when we were boys. I knew you were safe. I knew you’d come home when you could.”

  Trace blew out a sigh. “Thank you, Tye. For everything, but especially for making my ‘death’ easier on the girls.”

  Emma approached as her father spoke. “I always believed you, Uncle Tye. It’s just that sometimes I got so very scared I didn’t think straight.” To her father, she said, “Uncle Tye took care of us real, real good, Papa. Why, he even saved us when our wicked grandmother tried to steal us away to New Orleans.”

  “What?” Trace’s gaze snapped toward Tye. “What wicked grandmother? Surely not…”

  Had Tye his druthers, he’d have eased into that story a little differently. “Afraid so. Once news of your demise got around, George and Beatrice paid us a little visit.”

  “How the hell did they find us? Except for the letters we exchange through my attorney about the Louisiana property, I’ve had no contact with them since Constance died. How did they find me?”

  Tye winced. “I’m afraid that’s my fault.”

  “What happened?”

  “Papa,” Emma cried, pouting her lip. “Don’t get upset. Please, don’t get upset.”

  Chastened, Trace gave his daughter a hug even while his eyes demanded an explanation from his twin.

  Tye twisted his mouth and scratched behind his ear. “It’s a long story.”

  “You’re not gonna tell him about the spelling bee plan, not already,” Maribeth protested. “He just got home. I think we should at least get one day before the punishment starts.”

  “Spelling bee plan? Punishment?” Trace eyed his daughters sternly. “What in heaven’s name have you Menaces done now?”

  “Blessings,” Tye corrected automatically. “They’re your Blessings. And Maribeth, don’t worry about punishment. I can’t explain about your grandparents without talking about the spelling bee, but I’ll make sure your father understands that as far as punishment goes, I’ve taken care of it. You three have been through enough.”

  Trace’s sternness melted into amusement. “You’re going to protect my daughters from their own father?”

  Shrugging, Tye replied, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “But you’d do it.” With a laugh, Trace clapped him on the back. “If I read you right this story is better told without an audience. How about you and I adjourn to my office? I feel the need for a cigar coming on, and my wife turns green in the face at the scent of smoke these days.”

  A keen sense of anticipation hummed through Tye’s veins as he followed his brother toward his office. Crossing the foyer, he hesitated and glanced up the stairs. Briefly he considered asking Trace to wait while he located Claire. She was part of the Blessings’ shenanigans and she could help relay the story.

  Besides, a part of him wanted her with him during this momentous conversation. She knew the truth about him, and he’d like to have her at his side witnessing the moment when he finally earned his redemption.

  But, he realized, if he asked her to join him, then he’d have to explain about the wedding right off. He’d have to tell the story backward. It was probably simpler to keep the telling of this tale between brothers for the time being.

  So minutes later, settled into deep leather chairs, cigars in one hand, whiskey for Trace and plain water for himself in the other, Tye started the story with his nieces’ misbegotten efforts to make a match between their uncle and Loretta Davis. Trace just about busted a gut laughing during some of it. He buried his head in his hands during other sections. Twice Tye thought he saw tears in his brother’s eyes.

  The difficult part came when he spoke of the Wests’ arrival. “When the girls were missing and I found Beatrice’s letters to you in Emma’s room, I felt I had no choice but to contact them. But I never dreamed they’d show up later in Fort Worth trying to take the Blessings away. Such a possibility never once occurred to me.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought of it either,” Trace agreed. “So what happened? How did you, to use Emma’s words, ‘save them from their wicked grandmother’?”

  Tye pursed his lips and studied his fingernails. “Well, little brother, I got married.”

  Trace dropped his cigar in his lap. “You what?”

  “I got married. It neutralized the most serious arguments the Wests had against my continued guardianship of your daughters.”

  “Married. Are you saying you got married just to save my children?”

  Tye shrugged, wanting to downplay that aspect. “Partially, yes. Of course, my bride got something out of it, too. Sh
e had her own set of troubles that marrying me solved.”

  “Good Lord, Tye, I think I left you with my daughters too long. Sounds like some of their mischief-making rubbed off on you. Who? Who is she and what did she get?”

  “You know Claire. Claire Donovan, your tenant?”

  In the process of brushing ashes from his lap, Trace froze. “You married Claire Donovan?”

  “Yes. Sort of.”

  A slow grin blossomed across Trace’s face. “You ‘sort of’ married Claire Donovan?”

  Uncomfortable with his brother’s reaction, Tye stumbled a bit through the explanation. “It’s not a real marriage, but…well…an arrangement. It was convenient for both of us.”

  “I imagine you did find marriage to that beauty…” he stressed the word “…convenient. Most men would.”

  “Now, Trace, it’s not like that.”

  “You mean you’re not bedding her?”

  “Well, uh…”

  “Yes?” he asked, smirking.

  Tye stubbed out his cigar. “Hells bells, Brother, that’s none of your damned business.” Trace’s chuckles soon turned to guffaws that pricked Tye’s temper. “Why don’t you stick that Havana back in your mouth before my fist takes a notion to fill the spot, all right?”

  Emerald eyes twinkling, Trace said, “Sometimes I amaze myself. I predicted this, you know. I told Jenny that Claire was dangerous to your bachelorhood. Damn, but I like being right.”

  The smug expression on his face drove Tye over the edge. “Well I wouldn’t trumpet too loudly if I were you. That’s what started all this trouble to begin with. The Blessings heard you say I should marry Loretta Davis, so they set about making it happen.”

  “You said you married Claire, not Loretta.”

  “That’s right. But your daughters wanted me to marry Loretta, and it was that misguided matchmaking that led to the foolishness that caused me to wire the Wests, which brought them to town and me to the damned altar.”

  All seriousness, Trace asked, “You didn’t want to marry Claire?”

  Tye wasn’t certain how to answer that question, and his uncertainty pricked his temper. “No, I sure as hell didn’t. The woman’s not normal, and she has me tied up in knots. What I wanted, Brother dear, was to defeat Beatrice West I wanted to protect your children. I wanted—God help me—to do something for you that was so important, of such value, that it balanced the scales and made up for what I did to hurt you.”

  “Constance,” Trace spat, laying it out between them like a filthy rug.

  “Yeah, Constance.”

  Trace rattled out a vicious stream of cuss words long enough and vile enough to turn the red light district of Fort Worth blue. “If you’re not dumb as a box of rocks. You don’t think saving Jenny’s life last winter was of value to me? Hell, Tye, you busted the scale on that one. And besides, did I not accept your apology? Did I not come right out and say I forgave you for that mess with Constance?”

  Tye lurched to his feet and pounded his fists on the desk. “But I can’t forgive myself, Trace. I can’t forgive myself.”

  Trace waited a full twenty seconds before he said, “You blockhead. So you let Constance fool you. You let her lead you along by the pecker. That was years ago. It no longer matters. Constance is dead, and we need to leave her that way.”

  “I know. It’s just…”

  “Listen to me, Tye. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been before. Jenny has given me that gift. Last winter you saved her life and the life of the child she carries, and got yourself shot up in the process. This spring you saved my daughters from a fate almost as deadly, and got yourself tied up in matrimony in that process. Don’t you think that’s enough? Don’t you think you’ve atoned? I sure as hell do. You’ve more than made up for the hurt you caused.”

  Absolution and atonement. It’s what he’d wanted for so very long. “You are happy now, aren’t you, Trace?”

  “With my girls and my Jenny and a new baby on the way? Damned right I’m happy. I’m ecstatic. And it’s due in a big part to you. Can’t you see that?”

  Yes, he could. And it terrified him. He had his absolution, he’d made his amends.

  But the guilt and shame that had weighed him down for years still clung to his back like a stone coat.

  Trace continued, “I’m happy, Tye, and I believe that if you’ll let yourself, you can be happy too. Claire Donovan could do for you what Jenny has done for me. If you’ll let her, that is. If you’ll let go of the guilt.”

  Tye didn’t acknowledge him because he barely heard him speak. Trace’s absolution. His own atonement. It wasn’t enough. Goddammit, it wasn’t enough.

  Cold to the depths of his soul, Tye shuddered. For him, redemption obviously wasn’t in the cards.

  ***

  CLAIRE WAS a good cook; adventurous with spices and methods of preparation, and always willing to learn from the various people who passed through her life. As a result her personal collection of favorite recipes spanned a dozen different cuisines, from French sauces to Italian sausage, Indian curried rice to Mexican retried beans, and many others in between.

  While she’d grown up baking for business, when it came to cooking she tended to plan her menus according to mood. Weather affected her choices, as did her emotions. She made thick, spicy Louisiana gumbo on rainy days. She fried chicken when she was in pain. High moods and happiness meant soufflés and meat sauces; confusion, corn tortillas and vegetable sauces.

  Tonight, as she voluntarily prepared the welcome-home celebration dinner for Jenny and Trace McBride, she dredged chicken pieces in flour and waited for her grease to heat. It was a fried-chicken kind of night.

  Unwilling to intrude upon the family reunion, she had retreated to her room until Tye came to get her, hours after Trace’s return from the not-quite dead. He’d acted strange, happy for his brother’s safe homecoming, but detached and distant in a way different from ever before.

  For their part, both Jenny and Trace accepted her warmly, welcoming her to the family and thanking her profusely for the help she’d given Tye in caring for the girls. When Claire suggested moving out of Willow Hill and leaving the family to their reunion, Trace wouldn’t hear of it. “You are family,” he told her. “You and my brother move one bag out of my guest room and I’ll just send my Jenny to fetch you back. Believe me, y’all don’t want to mess with Jenny, especially not these days.”

  Uncomfortable in the face of their graciousness while her husband acted with such reserve, Claire had seized upon the idea of fixing dinner, which allowed her the opportunity for escape. Or so she’d thought.

  Five minutes earlier Jenny McBride had waddled into the kitchen begging for a before-dinner snack. She now sat at the kitchen table, her feet propped on a pillow on a second chair, eating an apple and half a roast beef sandwich even as she eyed the chicken Claire added to the heated grease in the skillet.

  “Mmm…I love that smell,” Jenny rattled on. “I can’t wait. I haven’t had fried chicken since long before we left home. For the first half of this pregnancy, greasy food made me sick. In fact, most food made me sick.” She paused to take a bite from her apple, then sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve more than made up for it since. I fear I’ll never get my figure back, that I’ll never fit back into my clothes.”

  “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I don’t doubt caring for four children will whittle your waist away in no time.”

  “I do hope you’re right.”

  Claire waited a moment before saying, “Speaking of clothes, I should confess I made free with one of your creations. Tye and the girls…well, never mind, that doesn’t matter.” She paused, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m afraid I wore your wedding gown when I married your husband’s brother.”

  “You did?”

  To Claire’s surprise, delight painted Jenny McBride’s face.

  “That’s wonderful. Now your marriage will be blessed with good luck just like mine.” She paused in the midst of biting in
to her sandwich to sweep Claire with a critical, dressmaker’s measuring gaze. “The dress must have fit you to a tee. I bet Tye’s eyes all but popped out when he saw you. Where did you marry?”

  “St. Paul’s.”

  “Oh, that’s a beautiful church. If only you had waited a few more days, Trace and I could have been there. I hate it that we missed it.”

  If they’d waited a few days, Tye wouldn’t have needed to marry her, Claire thought. Her family would still be in financial trouble, and she’d be preparing to marry Reid Jamieson. “Life is all about timing, I guess,” she finally replied. Good timing and poor timing.

  “Do you love him?”

  The personal question caught her off guard. “Love him?” she repeated, turning the sizzling chicken. “I uh…well…it’s complicated.”

  “Actually, it’s not.” Jenny McBride licked her fingers. “It’s a very simple, yes-or-no answer.” She waited, watching Claire expectantly, until Claire surrendered.

  “Yes, I love him. I love him very much. But it’s—”

  “Obvious the two of you belong together,” Jenny interrupted. “This is truly the best news. We’ll all be so thrilled to have Tye here in Texas. You are going to stay here, correct? He won’t move you back to Charleston?”

  “I don’t know what Tye plans to do.” She feared his plans had little to do with her beyond ending this marriage. Oh, why couldn’t we have had more time.

  Claire could tell by the look on her sister-in-law’s face that she had plenty more questions to ask. Thankfully Maribeth and Katrina arrived with an offer to set the table and do any other dinner chores Claire might have. “I’ll do Emma’s share,” Maribeth said. “I don’t mind. She’s having a hard time letting Papa out of her sight” Lowering her voice confidentially, she added to her mother, “I think she’s been scared that Uncle Tye was wrong about you and Papa being alive.”

  Katrina stood in front of the growing platter of fried chicken and sniffed deeply. “Yummy, yummy. That smells almost as good as your raisin muffins, Auntie.”

  Jenny agreed. “Between the chicken and whatever it is you have baking in the oven, Claire, my stomach is growling out loud.”