Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  She stared at the words. “Lord, it is strange. I don’t understand why this is happening. I thought Hugo and Cordelia were falling in love, and I was so happy for them. It was bad enough when I thought Garret didn’t return my feelings, but for him to be betrothed to Cordelia—it just makes my heart ache. It’s so selfish of me. I should be thrilled for them, but all I feel is so lonely and empty. Was this part of Christ’s suffering? To be single and watch others find the contentment of love and marriage? Until now, there’s never been anyone who stirred my heart. Now my heart is breaking. I don’t know what glory there is for You in this. I don’t see any joy in it. Help me to understand, Father.”

  Garret gave Cordelia some of the new Bayer headache powder from Germany. She’d managed to weep herself into a migraine, and Mr. Deeter kindly walked her home after leaving the post office in the hands of Percy Watkins, the postman, who had finished his deliveries for the day.

  Garret didn’t care about keeping the store open; he wanted to track down Rose and explain matters. In just those few seconds he’d seen her, her beautiful green eyes had gone huge with shock, and her face—her pretty face—had turned white as the wicker basket she usually carried.

  He hadn’t had a chance to get to Rose. Mrs. Blanchard had plowed in like a yacht under full sail. She’d not come alone either. Mrs. Busby and Leigh Anne’s grandmother were in her wake. Mrs. Blanchard stabbed him in the chest with her forefinger to accentuate her words. “How dare you upset our Rose!”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You most certainly did, young man. I heard it from an eyewitness. Bad enough you did it at all, but in front of that poor child!”

  “What? Now wait a minute.”

  “Don’t you deny it. Poor little Prentice saw and heard it all. You’ve been an utter cad, and we will not stand for it, will we, girls?”

  “No. Never,” Mrs. Busby hastened to agree.

  Leigh Anne’s grandmother edged around and squinted at him. “I expected better of you. You’re no green-behind-the-ears boy; you’re a grown man. There’s no excuse for dallying with a woman’s affections—especially someone as sensitive as Rose Masterson.”

  “I agree.” His quiet, confident words didn’t register. The women had come to speak their minds, and he figured he might as well let them. It would take less time than trying to defend himself. Mrs. Kiersty came in, caught the drift of the conversation, and gave him a heated look that could have boiled an egg.

  “Hugo and Cordelia belong together. They both have children. I’ve been coaxing them into each other’s arms ever since Christmas, and if you’ve ruined it for them and those darling little children, I’ll never buy so much as a grain of salt in this store again,” Mrs. Kiersty announced.

  “You’d be bored to distraction with any of the demure younger girls.” Mrs. Blanchard gave up poking him in the chest—she jabbed at his arm instead. “Oh, I admit, I wanted you to sweep my Constance off her feet. It didn’t take long for me to realize the two of you simply wouldn’t suit. You need a woman of Rose’s spunk.”

  “Amen.” He nodded.

  “It’s not fair to judge her by her ramshackle appearance,” Mrs. Busby quavered tearfully. “Her apron might be smudged, but it’s because she’s always cooking for someone or minding a child to help out.”

  “She has a gentle touch,” he said softly.

  “God looks on the heart, young man,” Mrs. Lula Mae Evert declared.

  “I’m glad He does, and Rose has the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met; but I’m a man, and I’m more than pleased to look at her outward appearance. She’s a charming woman.”

  “Well, then, if that’s not your problem, then let me say: Time was, I felt scandalized at her willy-nilly, disorganized ways.” Mrs. Sowell tapped him on the chest with the handle of her parasol. “But Rose’s house would look neat as a pin if she wasn’t always off helping someone else.”

  “Because she dusts for Mrs. Sneedly and washes Old Hannah’s windows?” Garret held his ground. “Or because she spends all sorts of time minding her herb garden so Doc has curatives for folks?”

  The women fell silent and exchanged baffled looks. Garret folded his arms akimbo. “You ladies don’t need to champion Rose Masterson. I already have my heart set on her, but I had hoped to tell her so before the rest of the community knew.”

  “Then why did you give Cordelia a ring?”

  “Cordelia was just trying on a ring so I could get the right size for Rose.”

  “Boy, do you all look like a flock of gossiping hens.” Percy Watkins smirked from the post office.

  “You all love Rose and were protecting her,” Garret said diplomatically. “You’ve been her family, and I appreciate how you rushed to defend her. It does my heart good to see you all care for her so much, and as soon as I can declare my love to her instead of telling it to half of Buttonhole, we’ll all celebrate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some quiet time to pray and decide how to unravel this mess.”

  “I could go to her,” Mrs. Kiersty offered.

  “I’ll handle this myself.” His tone brooked no argument.

  Garret fasted from his evening meal and prayed instead. Shortly thereafter, he headed toward Rose’s house. A single light shone in the kitchen, but that proved she was home and awake, so he knocked on her door.

  Rose barely opened the door a crack. Her nose was red, and her eyes held an ache that made his heart twist. She said nothing at all.

  “Rose, we need to talk.”

  She shook her head.

  Garret pushed the door open a bit farther. “Rosie—”

  “I’m having my devotions.”

  “Come out on the veranda, and we’ll share them. We haven’t prayed together for a week and a half.”

  “No. Good-bye, Mr. Diamond.”

  “Garret. My name is Garret.”

  She tried to shut the door, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead of struggling, she walked away. He could see her pick up her Bible and carry the lamp to the back part of the house.

  Garret intentionally left the door open. He crossed the street, spoke with Hugo, then came back with a big washtub and a shovel. The moonlight and street gaslight fixture illuminated Rose’s yard quite adequately. He went to the fence and started to work. The shovel bit into the ground.

  “Garret Diamond, you stop that this very minute!”

  Chapter 20

  Rose stood in her doorway and stared at him in horror. It had taken every shred of her resolve and faith not to fall apart when he came to the door. Tears burned behind her eyes, and her nose tingled with suppressed emotion, but she’d managed to be civil and told him to leave. Barely. She’d wanted to run away from him; she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms. Honor and dignity forced her to turn and walk away. The sound of digging in her yard brought her back though.

  “Quit that!”

  He ignored her. A hefty swoop, and the shovel bit the earth. He stomped on it a few times, then wiggled and removed the shovel, only to repeat the action in the dirt just inches to the right.

  Rose ran out and grabbed his arm. Anger gave her strength. “Stop this. You can’t do it. You can’t. I won’t let you.”

  “You already gave me permission.”

  Affronted by his galling lie, she shot back, “I most certainly did not!”

  “I have the note you sent me. You gave me permission to do whatever I felt was appropriate for the Secret Giver. You even said you’d be a full partner. Well, partner, you’re donating these plants, and I’m giving my strength.”

  “You’re not giving; you’re taking away. You know how much these mean to Cordelia. Destroying them won’t erase her memories of Jonathan. Don’t do this. It’ll hurt her.”

  Garret forced the shovel into the earth yet again, but he let go of the handle and wiped his hands on the sides of his trousers. “Cordelia is like a sister to me, Rose.”

  She wanted to believe him, but he’d given her every reason not to. She’d seen
him place that ring on Cordelia’s finger. Rose looked at him in silence. Meeting his eyes was almost impossible.

  His hands cupped her face—just the way they had when he’d kissed her. A cry tore from her chest as she tried to jerk away, but he didn’t let go.

  “Rose, it’s you I love. Didn’t my kiss tell you that back at the bazaar?”

  “That kiss,” she whispered brokenly, “was nothing more than a moment of madness.”

  “Then I’m headed for a lifetime of insanity, because I’m counting on marrying you.”

  “You can’t mean that. I saw you put that ring on Cordelia’s finger, and she was thrilled. She said it was beautiful.”

  “I had two ulterior motives. Hugo asked me to see if there was a special ring she liked. Yes, he aims to propose.”

  Rose could barely understand what he said. Everything was so mixed up. A confused mind and an aching heart were a deadly combination.

  “That’s why I’m digging up the bindweed, Rosie. We’re going to transplant it over to Hugo’s yard. It’s his way of letting Cordelia keep a bit of her past while making new memories with him.”

  “Oh Garret—that is so precious!” How wonderful it is for Cordelia to have a man love her like that. With her next breath, Rose couldn’t stop the purely selfish thought, But why can’t Garret love me with that same kind of burning devotion?

  “Hugo and Cordelia’s courtship isn’t the most important thing happening. Listen to me, Rose. The main reason I had Cordelia try on a ring was so I knew what size to get for you.” He slipped his hand into a pocket and withdrew an ornate band with a sparkling diamond. “Rose Masterson, I’m head over heels in love with you. Marry me. I need you in my life—you’re already in my heart. Be my helpmeet, my wife.”

  Her breath caught. She wanted to say yes so badly. Oh, how she wanted to. Instead, she forced herself to whisper, “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know all I need to know. You have a heart as big as heaven.”

  “I—I’m different. I can’t keep my gloves or apron spotless, and my hair’s always a fright. I’m not supposed to know it, but they call me and my house ramshackle. Did you know that?”

  With his thumb, Garret brushed away the single tear she hadn’t managed to blink away. He slowly, tenderly twirled his forefinger so some of her escaped wisps of hair curled into a ringlet by her left temple. The action made her weak in the knees.

  “You’re perfect the way you are, Rose. Your beauty is in how you don’t fuss with the details and how you radiate with joy over everything. Your gloves are smudged because you hug grubby little boys who don’t have a mother. Your apron is smeared because you cook and bake and cut flowers for others. Those aren’t flaws, sweetheart. They’re badges of love.”

  “You’re just trying to be honorable. Of course you want a woman who is young and pretty and—”

  Garret shook his head. He gazed at her steadily. “There are young women in town, and they’re pretty in their own ways; but to me, they’re all pretty boring, too. I want a woman with spirit and depth. I’ve fallen in love with a woman who is every bit as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. I want you, Rose.”

  “But you don’t know.” The anguish she felt rang in her words.

  He rested his forehead against hers as he invited, “Then tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. I don’t for a second believe God would give me this love for you if He wouldn’t also give us strength to overcome any obstacle in our path.”

  “Could we sit down?”

  “Sure, sweetheart.” He walked her to the veranda and sat beside her on the small oak bench.

  Rose steeled herself for what was to come. The lawyer hadn’t spared her feelings when he’d explained her financial status. “There are two kinds of men—those who will want to marry you because of your money and those who won’t want anything to do with you because you’ll unman them when they discover you could buy and sell them a thousand times over.”

  Garret crooked a finger under her chin and turned her face up toward his. “Folks here assumed you’re an orphan and were never married. Is that right?”

  “I’ve never been married. For that matter, my daddy never approved of anyone who came calling, so I’ve never been courted.” She felt heat scorch her cheeks. “Until the bazaar, I’d never been kissed.”

  “There’s only one man who’s ever going to kiss you again, Rose. I’m that man.”

  Raw possession rang in his tone. Instead of making her feel afraid, it actually calmed her and gave her the courage to tell him a little more.

  “Daddy’s business necessitated a move to Georgia, so when he and Mama passed on, I was essentially on my own.” When Garret didn’t respond and continued to wait for her to say more, Rose tried to ease into the topic as carefully as she could. “I do have an aunt up in Boston. Other than that, Buttonhole is my family.”

  “Before the war,” Garret responded, “my family was in the shipping business—the Newcombs. I have a few distant cousins in Boston. What’s your aunt’s last name?”

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. Her focus shifted downward.

  “Rose,” he asked very slowly, “is your last name really Masterson?”

  After a prolonged silence, she grudgingly admitted, “It’s Masterson-Cardiff. I chose to shorten it when I moved here.” She glanced up to see how he was reacting to that news.

  Garret stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the heiress of the Cardiff railroad fortune? Rose, you could travel the world and live in luxury, yet you choose to live in Buttonhole, Virginia?”

  She pulled away from his touch. “It’s where I’m happy.” She braced herself for his reaction. He was too generous and honorable to be a greedy fortune hunter. That meant he was going to decide they were unsuitable matches after all.

  Garret stretched his long legs out, cupped his hands behind his neck, and leaned his head back. The whole bench shook with his deep, throaty chuckle.

  That was the last reaction she’d expected from him. Rose twisted on the bench and demanded, “Just what is so hilarious?”

  “I was just thinking how much fun we’re going to have. Sweetheart, the emporium is booming. I’ve made more of a profit in three months than the previous owner made in a year and a half. We can live very comfortably on what I make, and we can use the rest to play Secret Giver from now until the cows come home.”

  Rose stared at him in astonishment. He didn’t care. He honestly didn’t care that she had money or that tidiness eluded her. Then something in his expression shifted. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “As long as we’re trading secrets, there’s something you ought to know.”

  She gulped, then lifted her chin. He’d had faith and love enough to stand by her. Well, she had faith and love enough to do the same for him. “You said with God’s help, we’d make it through whatever obstacles lay in our path.”

  He let out a big sigh. “Rose, I’m just going to say it straight out.”

  She mentally braced herself for whatever dreadful information he needed to share.

  “I hate peaches.”

  She blinked at him in utter amazement. “You hate peaches? Is that all?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I’ve tried every trick in the book to be with you, and I’ve managed to avoid eating your peach stuff most of the time. I just can’t imagine you spending all of that time and energy to make me peach cobbler when I’d rather have something else.”

  “What else would you like?”

  His large, warm hand cupped the back of her neck as he leaned closer. “Your kisses are all the dessert I ever want or need.” His breath washed over her, and Rose shivered at the delicious thrill of knowing he loved her. “Tell me you’ll marry me,” he said.

  She scooted closer. “I love you, Garret. I’d be honored to be your wife.”

  “Then I’m ready for some dessert.” He kissed her until her toes curled in her shoes, then slipped
the ring on her finger.

  Four weeks later, Rose wore her mother’s wedding gown. Cordelia was the matron of honor, and Hugo served as best man. Proud as could be, Zeb Hepplewhite walked Rose down the aisle to Wagner’s “Wedding March”—played on the harmonica by Prentice.

  No one mentioned that the bride’s gloves had a smudge or that the groom’s cuff links didn’t match. Somehow it just seemed right. Mrs. Jeffrey and Cordelia had spent half the morning and an entire card of hairpins to anchor Rose’s hair and veil into place. Zeb decided he needed a peck on the cheek before he gave her away, and the veil tilted a bit to the back while her hair shifted to the right.

  “Would you like my wife to help fix you?” Reverend Jeffrey whispered.

  Garret shook his head and took Rose’s hand. “This is my girl. She doesn’t need to be fixed because she’s just right the way she is.”

  “Hair looks like Miss Rose now,” Prentice said as he shoved his harmonica in the pocket of his new pants. “But are you sure that’s who’s under all of that?”

  Garret raised his brows. Reverend Jeffrey shrugged, and Rose laughingly nodded. Garret lifted the veil and told her, “I have a feeling we’re not going to always follow convention, but we’ll always follow Christ and live in love.”

  They said their vows and sealed them with a kiss. The church’s new bell pealed for the first time to celebrate the marriage, and the newly-weds went off to honeymoon in an undisclosed location.

  Two months later, Mr. and Mrs. Garret Diamond returned from their honeymoon. Rose gasped as they drew up to the house. Gone was her old, tilted, peeling fence. In its place was a beautiful white picket fence. Someone had planted yellow climbing roses along it.

  A fresh coat of paint covered the house, the gardens were all weeded, and the inside of the house was spick-and-span. No one admitted to having any part in these projects. Mr. Deeter shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “God’s the source of everything. Folks ‘round here know it.”