Rose squirmed in her chair but said nothing. Cora could read the horrible truth in her granddaughter’s averted gaze.
She felt cut off at every single turn. By God, Luke and his new wife would fix it so that Rose forgot her own mother and had nothing more to do with her grandmother. Well, she wouldn’t stand for it. She’d bring her girl back to her hearth and her arms if it was the last thing she did today.
She stood over Rose and put her face in the little girl’s. “Let me tell you something about your Miss Emily, Rose. She may be fancy, but she likes to gossip, just like the rest of us. She told me a secret that your father told her. I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know, especially you. But I think your mama would want me to tell you. She was going to tell you when you were grown up a little more, I’m sure. ”
Rose stared at her fearfully, the half-eaten cookie on the plate in front of her forgotten. “What?”
“Your Miss Emily told me that Luke Becker isn’t your real father.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Luke isn’t your father and Emily Becker is the one who told me so. Your real father was a wonderful man, a doctor from Portland, but he died before you were born. Your mama was a respectable widow but Luke badgered her until she finally relented and agreed to marry him. He said he’d take care of her and be a father to you.” Cora shook her head. “He acted like I couldn’t take care of my own child. He’s been pretending to love you all this time. Lying all this time. I never knew it. He’s just a stranger. The only person around here related to you by blood is me. And I’ll always love you.”
A look of abject terror filled Rose’s face, and the bloom faded from her cheeks. Cora felt a twinge of remorse about that, but in the end, it would all work out for the best. Thank heavens Rose was too upset to ask for more details.
“I don’t believe it! I am too his daughter. Daddy wouldn’t lie like that. He loves me—he told me so!”
Cora feigned great regret. “I wouldn’t have thought so, either. But that’s what Emily told me. You trust her, don’t you?”
“N-no, I mean, yes, but—”
“Oh, Rose, honey, I know this is awful news.” She reached out and stroked the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you should stay here tonight?”
But Rose jumped up from the table, sobbing. “N-no. I need to go home! I need to find out why—” She ran out the back door, faster than Cora could move.
Cora went to the porch and called after her. “Rose! Come back here!” But all she could see were Rose’s dark braids flying behind her as she ran down the road.
Another twinge rippled through Cora’s bulky frame, this time one of worry. But the girl would be all right. Cora may have started a mighty big fight, but in the end she’d win. Luke had no legal right to keep Rose and when the truth came out, she felt certain that Judge Clifton would see it the same way.
~~*~*~*~~
Luke pulled the wagon into the road that led to the house. Behind him was a load of fresh-planed lumber to build the new henhouse. Bill Whinters, who owned the sawmill in town, agreed to give Luke credit until harvest time. He hated going into debt, but they had to have chickens and eggs, and credit was a fact of a farming life. Luke took a poorer grade of lumber to keep the cost as low as possible. And he’d made a deal with Bill to give him whatever he could salvage from the fallen oak. That helped keep the price down too.
The planks in the wagon had some knot holes in them but he figured it would be cheaper to patch them than to pay the difference for first quality wood. After all, chickens would be living in this place, not the family. If Luke kept the weather and predators out, that would be good enough.
The whole transaction had taken longer than he’d expected, and he knew Emily would be putting dinner on the table in a few minutes. He had just enough time to take care of the team and get washed up.
As he pulled around to the barn, Emily came rushing out to meet him. She was dressed in a soft, fawn-colored dress and she’d pinned her braid into a pretty knot at the back of her head. At first he thought she was just giving him another enthusiastic greeting—he could get used to those really fast. But her expression told him something else was going on.
She came out to the wagon. “Luke! You didn’t see Rose on the way home?”
He frowned down at her, the lines still in his hands. “No, why?”
“Oh, I was hoping she was with you. I told her to be home from Cora’s by four o’clock and it’s past five. She knows we eat at five-thirty.”
“Has she been home at all?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since she left for school this morning.” Emily wrung the corner of her apron in slender hands that shook.
He lifted his gaze and scanned the fields, as if he’d find her out there. But all he saw were plowed and planted rows. “Maybe she stayed late at Cora’s. I’ll go over there.” Somehow, he suspected that Cora was involved in this, and her place seemed like the logical place to start looking.
“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Dear God, she’s all right, don’t you think?” Emily’s face was a study of worry.
“Sure, she’s fine,” he said with a lot more confidence than he felt. “She probably just lost track of time. Or she’s checking on the ducklings down at the creek. Kids are that way.” He reached down and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll go get her and bring her home.”
Emily nodded, and looked a little relieved. “All right.”
Luke turned the wagon around in the barnyard and headed out again, this time for Cora’s farm. He still had three good hours of daylight left if he needed them to search for his girl. But he knew he wouldn’t. He’d get to Cora’s and Rose would see the wagon and come running out, looking shame-faced and sheepish. He’d give her a little talking-to and make sure she apologized to Emily, and that would be the end of it.
But he kept a vigilant watch as he drove to Cora’s, looking for any sign of glossy, dark hair, or the flashing movement of a new pale-blue dress covered with a clean, white apron. He peered through the dense undergrowth that was still green from the rainfall, and over the tops of wild lupines that were nearly as tall as Rose. He saw nothing.
Finally he pulled into the road that led to Cora’s place. When he neared the house, he saw that the door was open, but his girl didn’t come running out. He set the wagon brake and wound the lines around the brake handle.
As he jumped down, Cora came out with her arms crossed over her chest, her very stance defensive and belligerent. It was the same one he’d seen so many times before, he felt as if he were reliving a bad dream. Except this time, his daughter was somehow involved. And this time, if Cora gave him trouble, she was in for the tongue-lashing of her life.
“Cora, I’m looking for Rose.”
She uncrossed her arms. “Didn’t she come home?”
“No. Is she here?”
“Of course not. She left here about two hours ago. She was upset.”
He crossed the yard and climbed the porch. “Upset—what about?”
“She told me what Mrs. Becker said to her.”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Cora, I’m not in the mood for guessing games. What are you talking about?”
“Well, I thought you knew. Rose said that Mrs. Becker told her the truth about you—that you’re not her father. She left here crying and said she was going home. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen and just ran off.”
Luke felt as if the painted planks beneath his feet tilted suddenly. “Rose told you that?”
“She did. I thought it was a cruel thing for your wife to do to the poor child.” Cora’s mouth flattened into a thin, white line. “She didn’t need to know that, although Mrs. Becker seemed to think it was best.”
Something about this all seemed wrong to Luke, like parts of a watch that wouldn’t go back together. How could Emily do such a thing? Why would she? Then he remembered the night in the kitchen when he’d told Em
ily the story of Brad Tilson. She hadn’t agreed with his decision to keep it from Rose.
. . . shouldn’t you tell her?
. . . what would it do to her to find it out from someone else? It’s a risky secret to keep.
Emily was stubborn, and believed she knew it all when it came to teaching young girls. Well, this time she was wrong. Dead wrong. He didn’t know what possessed her to tell Rose such a private thing.
Right now, all Luke knew was that his daughter was missing, and according to Cora, Emily might be the reason why.
He spun on his heel and ran back to the wagon. Cora called after him but he didn’t hear what she said. He couldn’t hear much of anything except the blood rushing through his head, driven by fear and anger.
As he lashed the horses to get back to the farm, the lumber slid around in the wagon bed behind him, and one plank bounced out. But Luke didn’t stop. He couldn’t think of anything except Rose and one other horrible fact. He’d been betrayed again.
Emily had betrayed his trust, just as Belinda had.
~~*~*~*~~
Emily sat on the porch watching the road, but she couldn’t see very well from there. Every few minutes she ran down the drive to the fence, looking for Luke, looking for Rose, but she found neither. At last she gave up going back to the porch and climbed to the top fence rail to wait.
And the waiting was torture. God, it was like the fire in Chicago, not knowing if your world was about to end, or that everything would be all right. Or the moment when Alyssa had been hit. She’d prayed that her sister was alive, but she knew it couldn’t possibly be true. Luke had said Rose was fine, but her heart told her something was horribly wrong.
Where was that girl? Was she with Cora, as Luke had said, or was she lost or hurt? Emily’s head throbbed with worry. Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of Rose. The wild lupines that grew along the fence line, the twittering little birds in the trees, Cotton’s grave next to the fallen oak—Rose’s imprint was on this land and on her heart.
At last, when she thought she could bear it no longer, she saw Luke’s wagon racing up the road. But he was alone in it, and he was lashing the team like the devil was after him. Oh, God, it must be something bad—
She climbed down from the fence and ran after the wagon as he drove it into the yard.
When she caught up to it, she was breathless and dizzy. “Rose—she—wasn’t at—she’s not with—”
“If she’s not here, I don’t know where she is.” He barked it out, impatient, angry.
“What did—what did Cora say?”
He jumped down from the seat and advanced on Emily. The look on his face was so fearsome, she backed up, and stumbled over a rock half-buried in the soft dirt. “I’ll tell you what she said. She said that Rose told her she knows I’m not her real father.”
She tried to clutch her heart with her hand. “Oh, no! Did Cora tell her that?”
“No, Emily, you did. And after I told you I didn’t want Rose to know.”
She could not have been more surprised or hurt if he’d slapped her. “I did no such thing!” But it was as if he couldn’t hear her.
“I trusted you with my daughter, the one person in this world who has made my life worthwhile, and this is where it got me.” His handsome face twisted into a hideous mask of rage and frustration. “Damn it, I offered you a home and my protection when I could have left you standing on that dock in the rain. This is how you return the favor? Did you think you think because you taught at some fancy girl’s school you know more about how to raise my daughter than I do? Well, I may have bungled it the last few years, but I’ve been part of her life since she was a baby. I know her better than anybody. You’ve known her barely a season. One more thing. Nobody hurts my daughter. Nobody.” His smoke-colored eyes had turned black, and Emily expected him to actually strike her.
Instead he turned and began walking back toward the road.
She stood there stunned, her feet planted in the yard as if his harsh words had nailed them in place. He was leaving. She sprang into action and trotted after him, hard pressed to keep up with his long strides. “Where are you going?”
“Where the hell do you think I’m going? I’m going to look for my girl!”
“Please—let me come with you. I want to help.”
He spun on her again. “You’ve done enough, teacher. Goddamn it, I never should have accepted you in your sister’s place! I should have figured out a way to pay your fare back to Chicago, and get you as far away from us as I could.”
He hadn’t touched her, but Emily felt as winded as if he’d kicked her in the stomach. She stopped running after him and watched as he strode away as rain began falling again.
~~*~*~*~~
Back in the house, Emily took the wedding ring off her little finger and gently laid it on the kitchen table. Then she dragged up the stairs and went to the room she had occupied when she arrived. Her clothes and belongings were still in that room, along with her trunk and her canvas Gladstone bag. She moved like an automaton, scarcely aware of her actions as she crossed from the wardrobe to the bed, laying out her things, from the bureau to her bag, carefully folding each garment, and tucking away each belonging. She would leave here as soon she knew what had happened to Rose. How could she continue this sham of a marriage and stay with a man who did not trust her? Who believed that she was capable of hurting a child, and who so obviously had no feelings for her? Oh, she’d tried to fool herself for a while, telling herself that he cared, that their time together at night meant something to him. But he’d never stated anything as plainly as he had just moments ago.
I never should have accepted you in your sister’s place.
It was the same refrain she’d heard all her life. She would never be what her sister was. Oh, she could dream about it, pretend for a little while in the dark with Luke, but the truth was, she was tall, gawky Emily, who used manners and rules as her only shield against being hurt. But even that shield had been taken away from her. In the end, the one man who should have believed she would never violate such a confidence had so little regard for her or her integrity that he thought her capable of betraying his trust.
When she opened her trunk, she lifted out the bridal gown and veil, because they must be packed on top. Like pouring salt into an open wound, Emily opened the clouds of tissue paper surrounding the veil and looked at it. She’d always believed it would be her lucky charm. Now she knew think that it was her curse. She was cursed for wanting something she did not have coming to her, for wanting to be something she wasn’t. It had been in her hands for a few precious days, only to be yanked away again. But just as Dickens’s Jacob Marley was bound in death to carry the chains he’d forged in life, so was Emily bound to carry this gown and veil with her.
Tears ran like rivers down her face, blurring her vision, but she kept working, pausing only to swipe at her eyes with her sleeve. She had enough money to make it to Portland. Once there, she would sell the dress and the veil for passage to Chicago. Maybe then, she would be free of her chains. Maybe she’d also find a sort of peace, as long as she didn’t try to be more than she was.
As she laid the items in her trunk, she found the pink satin hair ribbon that she had given Rose and that Rose had rejected. She draped it across her open palm and looked at it. So many hurts had been piled upon Emily here. She’d been willing to brave them through because she thought that Luke and Rose had needed her. And she’d had hope.
The ribbon her sister had given her was one of the few keepsakes that she still had. She’d left everything else behind in Chicago to come out here, including her sister’s grave. After the accident, Emily had gone to visit Alyssa at Rosehill Cemetery a few times because she’d had no one else to talk to.
Emily’s head came up suddenly at the thought. Rose might be thinking the same thing—that she had no one else to talk to. And Emily knew exactly where she would go in such an event.
She had found Rose at the cemetery onc
e before. Oh, the poor thing—there was a chance, a good chance—
Emily abandoned her packing, leaving the Gladstone bag and her trunk open. Charging downstairs, she dashed through the hall and the kitchen. Pausing to scratch a quick note to Luke, she then flung open the back door, and ran outside into the rain.
~~*~*~*~~
“Rose! Rose, can you hear me?” Luke was nearly hoarse from calling his daughter. He’d left on foot to comb the dense vegetation along the roadsides, and then began to regret it. If he found her and she was hurt, he’d have no way to transport her. The creek edge had yielded no sign of Rose. Even the ducks had abandoned the ferns near its swollen waters.
He was soaked to the skin and the cloudy sky meant that it would get dark sooner than he’d originally considered. Where could she be? he wondered anxiously. Where would she run if she didn’t go home?
He had retraced every foot of the route between the farm and Cora’s, and he’d found no sign of her. He didn’t know what to do except go home, change clothes, and get a search party going. He needed help. There was too much area for one person to cover, and alone, he might miss something. When Belinda had fled that night, he’d waited too long to go looking. He vowed not to repeat his mistake with his daughter.
As he trudged back to the farm through the mud, it occurred to him that he might even get Red Bailey to bring his bloodhound along. But it would all take time, and he felt like that was the one thing he didn’t have. Every hour that Rose was out here—somewhere—was another hour that she might be hurt without help, or lost and scared with no one to turn to.
Unless, of course, she had come home. With that possibility looming before him in the rain, he picked up his pace and hurried to the house. When he got there, he saw that the back door was standing wide open.
He took a couple of running steps forward. “Rose? Emily?” But there was only silence. He trotted into the kitchen and found no one there. He called out again. “Emily?”
The Bridal Veil Page 26
