Even for her wedding, Blythe had kept to her own unique style. Not for her the fashionably tight waists and balloon sleeves or the tightly frizzed and coiffed hair. Instead, she appeared like a medieval princess from a fairy tale in a Renaissance-style gown of silvery-white satin, which brought out the color of her pale gray eyes. Bands of the same color velvet and silver lace edged both sleeves and hem. Her hair flowed long and loose in a pale waterfall down her back.
Sophia picked up the veil and set the circlet on Blythe’s head, arranging the ruffles of lace. She stepped back to survey her friend. Once again, she clapped her hands before touching the gray pearls around Blythe’s throat, her eyes growing misty. A wedding gift from Peter, the necklace showed how well he knew his bride-to-be, for they looked far better on her than traditional white pearls would have. She tapped Blythe’s wrist where she’d tucked her grandmother’s handkerchief into her sleeve.
“Something old.” Her friend caught on. “Something new. I’m wearing the earrings you lent me, so that’s borrowed, and I have a blue garter around my leg. I have all four covered for good fortune.”
Let me go down first and greet everyone, Sophia wrote. Give me fifteen minutes. By then, the fuss over my illness and appearance will have died down, and you’ll have everyone’s attention when you appear.
Sophia lifted the veil to cover Blythe’s face and then arranged the lace to fall gracefully. She stepped back, nodded in satisfaction, and blew her friend a kiss.
Blythe reached up to touch Sophia’s cheek in acknowledgment.
Drawing her own black veil over the loathsome bonnet to hide her face, Sophia left the room, walked down the hallway, and descended the grand staircase.
On the half-landing overlooking the lobby, she paused for a moment, remembering her previous visit. She’d stood in this very spot when she’s seen Caleb enter the hotel with Maggie on his arm, although the two were not engaged at the time. She’d spread her arms, called a greeting, and blown kisses—a typical dramatic Songbird entrance. The memory saddened her.
Only a few people were in the lobby. An elderly man sat in a blue velvet wing chair reading the paper. Two women, who looked similar enough to be mother and daughter, headed for the restaurant. The women gave her curious looks, but the man never took his eyes from the newspaper.
Sophia walked down the side corridor that led to the heated conservatory situated along the back of the hotel and commanding a view of the garden. Inside the warm room, she noticed the potted palms and wicker furniture had been pushed to the back wall. Red-flowered geraniums bloomed in blue flower boxes spanning the front windows. A fern-and-white-rose garland bedecked the top of the wide expanse of glass overlooking the garden. Glass panes curved above them to form an arching roof, which let in sunshine and showed the vivid blue sky. A cut glass vase of white roses sat next to a cross on a small wicker table—apparently a makeshift altar—in the front-center of the room. The fragrance of the roses combined with the spicy scent of the geraniums.
A group of people, broken into masculine and feminine clusters, gathered in the middle of the room. Mrs. Norton had on the same blue dress she’d worn at her son’s wedding, and her daughter-in-law Delia was in a striking olive-green gown. Sophia’s sister Lily wore purple, with amethyst jewelry. She held Adeline, also in frilly purple. Tiny Charlotte Baxter, in the arms of her mother Maggie—Caleb Livingston’s fiancée—looked adorable in rose pink. Maggie wore the same shade. The women focused their attention on the two babies, who’d been born only a few days apart.
Reverend Norton and his son Reverend Joshua seemed in serious discussion with Caleb, Tyler, and Peter. All of the men wore suits.
Sophia’s mind flashed back to last evening—to Kael, her lumberjack, wearing only pants held up by suspenders and a wool plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. No jacket at all. Does he even own a suit? Once again, Sophia could feel the hard muscles of his arm around her, and she shivered in delight at the memory.
Bracing herself for their reaction, Sophia pulled back the veil. She crossed the floor, patterned in tiny mosaic tiles, to reach the others.
They all turned to face her.
Sophia, watching for their reactions, saw the expressions of shock quickly hidden by welcoming smiles.
Adeline let out a gurgle at the sight of her aunt and waved her arms and legs.
Can she possibly remember me? No. She’s probably just in a happy mood.
At first, Lily’s face lit up but, as her gaze took in Sophia’s changed appearance, she was overcome with emotion and burst into tears. She handed the baby to Tyler and rushed to Sophia, giving her a tight hug. “Dearest, dearest sister. I’m so sorry about your illness and your voice.”
Sophia squeezed her sister, and tears came to her eyes.
“I’ve been so worried.” Lily gulped out the words. “So far away and not knowing what was happening. Nothing I could do to help. Thank God, you pulled through.”
Tyler—a medium-sized man with rugged features—shifted Adeline to one arm and moved to place his other around his wife, in the process leaning over to kiss Sophia’s cheek. “Welcome, sister. I think if you hadn’t decided to come to Sweetwater Springs, I’d have hauled off to Chicago and brought you here for Lily’s peace of mind. Now she can fuss over you to her heart’s content, and we hope and pray you’ll have a full recovery.”
Sophia and Lily gave shaky laughs and pulled apart a few inches.
Tyler patted his wife’s back. “Now, now, darlin’,” he drawled. “This is a happy day. So dry your tears, or you’ll have Blythe thinking you’re displeased with her marrying Peter.”
The other two couples held back until Lily and Sophia let go of each other and dried their tears, with handkerchiefs pulled from their sleeves.
Lily delicately blew her nose. “Oh, dear. I can tell this will be an emotional day.”
The elder Reverend Norton, a man with the austere features of a prophet and crystal blue eyes, moved forward to take Sophia’s hand. “A blessed emotional day, my dear Miss Maxwell. We give thanks to have you restored to us.”
Mrs. Norton, petite with graying hair pulled back in a tight bun and a sweet, wrinkled face, moved next to embrace Sophia. “You have been in our daily prayers,” she said in her gentle voice.
“And the prayers of the congregation in church,” added her son, Reverend Joshua. He had the same crystal blue eyes and features of his father, and his smile was as warm.
Delia didn’t say anything, only giving Sophia a hug and a kiss.
Maggie handed baby Charlotte to Caleb and hugged Sophia, too.
Aside from her family, Sophia didn’t know any of them well, but their genuine love and concern touched her. She felt more goodwill in this room, among new acquaintances, than she did at gatherings in Chicago with people she’d known for years. Knowing someone well doesn’t make them friends. She thought of her understudy and rival, Judith Deal, and other unpleasant people in the opera company. She knew them far better than she wanted.
Peter, who’d been casting surreptitious glances at the door, exclaimed, “There’s my beautiful bride.”
Everyone turned to see Blythe standing in the doorway, a vision of renaissance loveliness, not just from her wedding attire but also because of the joy illuminating her face.
A lump rose in Sophia’s throat.
Everyone moved to form a makeshift aisle, leading to Reverend Norton, who stood next to the table with the roses and the cross, a prayer book in his hands. He beamed at Blythe.
Sophia had seen that loving expression on the elder minister’s serious face at three previous weddings—those of Lily to Tyler, their friend Julia Boswell to Sam Ritter, and Reverend Joshua and Delia Bellaire. He’s such a good man. She wouldn’t mind at all having a chance to hear him preach every Sunday.
Caleb strode to Blythe and held out his arm. “To echo Peter…you look beautiful, my dear, Blythe. Allow me to escort you to your groom.”
His compliment reminded Sophia of
last night, of how Kael had, indeed, made her feel beautiful again. A lovely gift. She had a fleeting vision, imagining the two of them about to be married. Then she shook her head, suppressing such wild fantasies, and focused her attention on her friend, vowing to keep thoughts of a handsome lumberjack out of her mind.
Blythe took Caleb’s arm and paused a moment, looking around the room. At the sight of the roses, she made an exclamation of pleasure and smiled at everyone. But then her gaze focused on her groom. Her smile trembled and then widened.
His eyes tearing, Peter stared back at his bride, his smile warm and loving.
Tears pricked Sophia’s eyes. This point in the ceremony was when she would have sung, and she ached with the need to raise her voice in tribute to the love between her friends. She wondered if Blythe missed having music at her wedding ceremony.
A quote from Pride and Prejudice came to her mind—taking Mr. Bennett’s words to his daughter, Elizabeth, upon her engagement to Mr. Darcy, Sophia adapted them for this moment. I could not part with you, my Blythe, to any one less worthy.
* * *
After the wedding luncheon at the restaurant, which Caleb closed to the public for the occasion, Sophia bade the newlyweds an emotional good-bye. First she kissed Peter on the cheek, and then with tears in her eyes, she hugged and kissed her best friend, before drawing the black veil over her face and leaving the restaurant to head out of the lobby.
Lily and Tyler, carrying his sleeping daughter, followed Sophia from the hotel.
Once outside, Lily was about to link arms, but Sophia shook her head and moved a few steps away. Walking arm-and-arm with her sister across the street to the livery would lead to speculation. They’d already resolved that any inquiries to Tyler or Lily about her identity would be deflected with a simple statement of, “A loved one is visiting who wishes privacy at this time.”
Oliver, released from school, ran toward them. In one hand, he held the end of a leather strap buckled around a bundle of books that bounced against his thigh with each step. He rushed over as if to give Sophia a hug. At the last minute, he seemed to remember that he wasn’t supposed to know her and skidded to a halt. “I’m so glad you’re better, Aunt Sophia!” he said in a loud whisper. “Ma says I can hug you later when we get home. And Pa says, even if you can’t talk, I can do your talking for you, since I talk so much, anyway.”
With a smile that she knew couldn’t be seen through her veil, Sophia ruffled his hair. Dearest Oliver. One blessing to come from her illness would be spending time with the boy who’d played such an important part in his father’s courtship of Lily. The Maxwells had wholeheartedly taken the child into their family.
Sophia climbed into the wagon seat next to her sister. Tyler had thoughtfully stuffed burlap bags with straw, probably because, on her last visit, Sophia had threatened to ship out velvet cushions.
Oliver had his own pile of straw bags in the back of the wagon, in the small space left after all Sophia’s trunks were loaded. For the first few moments of the drive, he knelt behind the seat and chattered away to Sophia about his pony, the Falabellas, and the litter of newborn barn kittens. Magnanimously, he promised one to Sophia to “have for your very own.” Soon, though, he grew tired, curled up, and took a nap.
Once out of town, Sophia pulled back her veil. Unable to chat like she’d done on all the other rides to and from the ranch, Sophia whiled away the time by playing with her niece, whom Lily had set in her lap. She scrunched funny faces, showered the baby’s soft cheeks with kisses, and allowed Adeline to grab the jet mourning necklace, hanging from Sophia’s neck, and chew on a fat bead.
Lily looked on with fond delight.
Sophia knew how much her sister had suffered after her riding accident at age that resulted in a broken hip and pelvis, believing she couldn’t bear children, and thus couldn’t marry. Dr. Hamb’s pronouncement of Lily’s condition had brought great pain to their whole family and devastated her sister, who had already known how much she wanted to be a mother.
For the first time since Sophia received the physician’s diagnosis about her voice, she questioned his opinion. Hope trickled through the numbness caused by the loss of her voice. What if Dr. Hamb is wrong about me as he was about Lily?
As soon as the feeling arose, Sophia squashed the emotion, knowing if the doctor were proven right, the dashing of her hopes would be a devastating disappointment. But still, she made a mental note to be examined by the doctor in Sweetwater Springs—the one who’d given Lily a different prognosis.
Finally, they drove through the wide grazing lands of Green Valley Ranch, and Adeline fell asleep in Sophia’s arms, giving her a chance to gaze at her niece. The baby looked like an angel, and Sophia wondered if she’d grow up with talents and ambitions. Contrary to the lives and choices of most women, would Adeline seek a place in the wider world as her mother and aunts had done? For Sophia had no doubt when Emma finished her nursing studies, she’d leave home and find work somewhere, perhaps in another part of Chicago, or in Sweetwater Springs, or maybe elsewhere in America, or even abroad.
Just as Adeline’s weight became too much for Sophia’s right arm, the ranch buildings came in sight. She gently shifted the baby to her other arm.
Smiling, Lily glanced over. “For such a little thing, she certainly can get heavy.”
Sophia gave an emphatic nod.
Lily touched the baby’s foot. “Oh, Sophia! Motherhood is everything I dreamed it would be. To have Oliver and Adeline—” she patted Tyler’s leg “—and my dear husband.”
He grinned at her and winked at Sophia.
“I never thought I could be this happy.”
Tyler nudged Lily. “Tell her your news.”
Her sister’s eyes lit up. “The illustrated book, Wildflowers of the United States, will finally be available for sale in October! There’ll be people all over the country viewing my illustrations of Montana. Can you imagine?” She clapped her hands together. “Mrs. Sebastian Regis-Smith, the woman who commissioned the book will be sending me an advanced copy a few weeks early. We’ve known for a while, but I wanted to wait until you recovered to tell my family the news.” She scrunched a wry face. “The book didn’t mean anything to me when your life was in danger.”
Sophia widened her eyes and placed a hand on her chest to show her excitement. As soon as her arms were free and she could use the pencil and pad, she’d write Lily a promise to buy a book for each of her friends, as well as all the members of the opera company. She silently laughed, imagining Warwick’s face when she gave him a book about flowers.
Not that he’s a friend. Now that she thought of it—his grandiose plans, his insistence she perform a role that wasn’t right for her—Sophia wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see the man again. Actually, I’m certain I don’t want to ever see him again. What that meant for her career if her voice recovered, she didn’t know. And right now, sitting next to her sister and holding her niece in her arms…remembering Kael Kelley and a special kiss last night, Sophia didn’t really care.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the wagon rolled toward the area between the house and barn, Patches and Dove raced over, wagging their tails and barking a welcome. Cowboys drifted from the barn and corral. Mrs. Pendell emerged from the house and headed toward the wagon. Sophia knew from her sister that they had worried and prayed for her during her illness. Now sworn to secrecy, they were happy and excited she was here for a long visit.
When Tyler reined in the team, set the brake, and tied off the reins, dogs and people converged to Sophia’s side of the wagon.
Adeline awoke and started to cry.
Sophia handed the baby back to Lily.
The cowboys jostled for the position nearest her.
Hank, long and lean with a pointed chin, was the first cowboy to reach her and extend a hand to help her down, beating Aaron and his younger brother, Billy—both medium-sized in stature, who had tan, even features and dark brown hair. “Glad you’re well, a
nd we have you back safe with us, Miss Maxwell.”
She graciously smiled, inclined her head, and accepted his help.
Once she was on the ground, brown-eyed Aaron, an attractive cowboy in his mid-twenties wearing a red bandana tucked around his neck, elbowed taller Hank out of the way and extended an arm to Sophia. “If I may escort you to the house, Miss Maxwell?”
Young Billy, who looked about seventeen and had joined his brother Aaron at the ranch a few months ago, seemed too tongue-tied to come close.
Sophia suppressed a laugh. On her previous visits, the cowboys had been too shy in her presence to do more than mumble and only speak when they had to. She supposed their concern for her survival and prayers to overcome her illness might have made her seem less intimidating and more approachable.
Habakkuk Pendell, the elderly ranch foreman, was the last out of the barn, hurrying over to the wagon as fast as his bowlegs could take him. He gave Sophia a grin that crinkled his seamed skin. “I knew you were too smart and sassy, not to mention too darn pretty, to be taken away from us.” He pushed Aaron’s arm away from Sophia. “Age before beauty,” he said to the cowboy with a cocked eyebrow.
Stout Mrs. Pendell, the Dunns’ housekeeper and cook, sailed up to Sophia from the direction of the house. “My husband is right. Habakkuk never doubted you’d be here visiting us again.” She leaned in for a hug and then stepped back. She surveyed Sophia and tisked. “Good thing you came out here.” She shook her wooly white head. “You’re too thin. I’m going to fatten you right back up. I made your favorite dinner, including some peach cobbler for dessert. I know how much you love that.”
Oliver woke up and scrambled over the side of the wagon, landing in a puff of dust. “There was a wedding. But I didn’t get to go,” he announced, but no one responded. The focus was on Sophia.
Singing Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 7) Page 16
