The Bridal Veil

by Alexis Harrington

  Upstairs in Emily’s bedroom, he found her trunk pulled to the middle of the room, and open, empty dresser drawers. Draped over the trunk lid was a cloud of some kind of white fabric with a headpiece attached. Luke realized that this must be the veil she’d told him about.

  He put a finger on the delicate fabric, and remembered the shy hesitation in Emily’s voice as she’d revealed her belief the veil would make her beautiful. In a sudden cascade of memories, he thought of all the things Emily had done to help Rose. Covered in chicken shit, her first concern had been to ask him about Rose’s lessons. Then, she’d braved Cora’s wrath by using Belinda’s tablecloth as a tent to save Rose’s lamb. And last night, Emily had sat with Rose, listening to her girlish fancies about satin and lace gowns.

  An icy hand of reason closed around his heart. Why the hell should he believe what Cora had told him? Why had he been so willing to accept as truth what she’d said, when he had years of experience with her manipulation and lying? God, he’d said horrible things to Emily, all based on what Cora had told him. What if it wasn’t true?

  What if—well, the answer to the what if was right here before his eyes. Emily was packing to leave. The only two people he cared about might be lost to him this very minute, thanks to that damnable bitch, Cora Hayward, the fact that he’d waited too long to stand up to her, and that he’d held Emily back at arm’s length because of his guilt over Belinda. He’d never felt more helpless in his life.

  “Christ, get hold of yourself,” he said, shaking off the inertia.

  He went back downstairs, to try to decide what steps to take next, when he saw Emily’s ring and note on the kitchen table. His heart stumbled in his chest at the sight of the wedding band he’d given her and she’d just returned. He’d never even bothered to replace it with one that fit her elegant hand. He was a fool. He snatched up the paper, afraid of what he would find there. Instead, he smiled.

  “Gone to cemetery to bring Rose home.”

  How she knew where to look, Luke had no idea. But in some ways, Emily knew Rose better than he did.

  He ran out to the wagon again and jumped up to the seat. He’d left the team out in the rain, something he never would have done under any other circumstances, and he felt rotten about it. He had a lot of things to make up for, if his hunches were right.

  “If it’s any comfort to you, I’m just as wet and cold as you are,” he told the horses.

  He urged the team down the road which was getting soupier with every passing hour. Darkness would be upon him soon. As he passed the Manning place, he saw Chester in his oilskins, moving his sheep to a higher pasture. Chester flagged him down.

  “Gotta move the flock, Luke. If you’ve got stock near the creek, you’d better get them away from it.”

  “Chester, can your boys move the sheep?”

  “Well, I s’pose—”

  “I need your help. Emily and Rose are at the cemetery. I’m worried that they might get in trouble with that bridge.”

  “God almighty, what a time to go payin’ respects to the dead!” He turned and called one of the boys out in the field. “Morris! You, Morris! Get Willie to help you move them sheep. Tell your mother I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then to Luke, he asked, “Have you got a rope back there?”

  “Yes, and this lumber if we need it.”

  “All right, then.” Chester clambered up to the wagon seat, his stiffly-healed broken leg obviously hindering him. But he was willing, and Luke was grateful for it. He’d been a good neighbor and a good friend.

  He slapped the lines on the horses’s backs and they lurched forward toward the cemetery. Gripping the lines, Luke said a silent prayer for only the second time in his life, but it was the same one he’d said the night that Rose was born.

  Please let my wife and child live.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Emily’s wet skirts wrapped themselves heavily around her legs, impeding her progress as she hurried along the muddy road. She had an ache in her side and her feet squished inside her soaked shoes. But at least the cemetery was up ahead, and she was almost positive she’d find Rose soon.

  She crossed the narrow log bridge that spanned the creek and noticed that the water was running high and fast. They’d had so much rain, and there had been that conversation she’d overhead at the social about mountain runoffs being high this year. The sky was low and gray and darkening, completely obscuring the view of the Columbia River that was usually visible from here on a clearer day.

  She turned into the cemetery gate and looked for the elm tree that sheltered Belinda Becker’s grave. Just as she suspected, she saw Rose’s small figure huddled at her mother’s headstone. Relief made Emily’s knees like soft rubber.

  “Oh, dear God,” Emily intoned. “Rose!” She ran to the grave and found Rose wailing with her cheek resting against the chiseled letters of Belinda’s name. “Rose, sweetheart, you have to come home!”

  Rose looked up at her and Emily saw such heartbreak in her small face, such disillusionment, that she thought her own heart would break as well. “Go away! I thought you were my friend—I believed you all those times you said my daddy—Mr. Becker—really loved me!”

  If Emily lived another hundred years, she would never forget the horror of this moment. Luke could be blamed for taking Cora’s word over hers—after all, he should know better. But Rose was only a child and thought that her grandmother loved her. She believed the lie she’d been told. How could she conceive that Cora really loved no one, not even Rose? Emily could barely fathom it herself.

  She crouched next to Rose, trying to shield her from the weather but it was nearly impossible. Although the elm helped a little, the wind drove the rain at them as they huddled there. Rose’s dark braids hung heavy and wet from her head, and her new dress and apron were sodden.

  “We’ve got to get out of here now, sweetheart. Let me take you home. We’ll talk there and get this all straightened out.”

  “I don’t have a home! Daddy isn’t my father, you aren’t my mother—I don’t have anyone except Grammy.” Rose wrapped one arm around the headstone. “And Mama.”

  Emily sat down next her, heedless of the wet grass. “Luke Becker may not be the man who gave you life—you aren’t related by blood—but he loves you with all his heart. He loves you much, much more than my own stepfather loved me.” The child seemed unimpressed with this. “Rose, listen to me—I don’t know what your grandmother told you, but she shouldn’t have said anything. Luke didn’t want you to know because as far as he’s concerned you are his daughter. In all the ways that truly matter.”

  “She said that you told her about me. You told her that Daddy isn’t my father.” A gust of wind came up and blew her words across the headstones.

  Cora’s lie was as complicated as the proverbial tangled web. Emily shook her head and raindrops fell from her hair. “I never told anyone anything. It wasn’t my place. At first I disagreed with your father’s decision to keep the secret from you, but in the end, I believed he was right. Do you love him less because you aren’t related to him?”

  “N-no.” Rose swiped a hand across her eyes, smudging her face with mud and tears.

  Thank God, Emily thought. The child was more reasonable than some adults she knew. “Your grandmother was wrong to tell you what she did. She’s known all along that Luke is your stepfather, too, you know.”

  Rose sniffled. “She has?”

  “Yes, but I think you owe it to your father to let him explain it to you. He’s the one who knows it best, and this all happened years before I came to Fairdale.” She took Rose’s icy hand in her own. “But remember one thing—both of us, Luke and I, love you very much. We want you to be safe and happy, and to have a good life. Do you believe me?”

  A poor, drenched little urchin, Rose considered her with solemn reddened eyes. At last she nodded.

  Emily smiled at her and reached out to touch her cold cheek where the carving had left a sharp mark. “Good, I’m glad. No
w, please, let me take you home. It’s miserable out here and it’s going to get dark soon. Plus your father is beside himself with worry—he’s out looking for you now on foot. We didn’t know what happened to you when you didn’t show up at the farm.”

  There was no point in telling the girl that her grand hope for family and home had fizzled away, and that she’d be leaving on the first steamboat she could arrange passage on. Rose had been traumatized enough for one day. Still gripping the girl’s hand, she stood, and Rose gained her feet as well.

  Emily put her arm around her thin shoulders and pulled her close, and steered them toward the road. The rain began falling harder, and as they approached the log bridge, Rose looked down and then held back.

  “What’s the matter?” Emily asked over the wind and rain.

  “The creek is awful high—”

  “I know, that’s why we must cross quickly so we can be on the home side. We don’t want to be wandering around out here in the dark.”

  “Well, okay—”

  With Emily still holding onto Rose, they both stepped on the bridge at the same time. “It’s not very wide. We’ll hurry.”

  With just two more paces to go, suddenly the bridge heaved a tremendous groan and one of the support beams came away. Screams echoed off the hillsides, muffled only by the low clouds. Emily tumbled first and Rose followed. Emily twisted Rose so she would break the girl’s fall and in the process, scraped both hands on a log. They bounced down the short slope, roots, pebbles and vines grabbing at them, slowing their fall. After what seemed an eternity, they landed on a dirt shelf, stranded between the road above and the rushing water below.

  Dazed, Emily sat up and immediately reached for Rose. Mud streaked the girl’s face, and leaves dotted her hair. Emily cupped her shoulders and studied Rose for injuries. “Rose! Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I think so.” She looked around, at the log that had dropped into the creek, and at the sheer wall behind them covered with ferns and grass. “Maybe I can climb up to the road and get help.”

  Emily was doubtful, but a girl Rose’s size might make it up. “All right, I’ll give you a boost.” She interlaced her fingers. “Step here in my hands and see if you can grab that root sticking out of the dirt up there.

  Rose put her foot on Emily’s hands and Emily pushed with all her might to lift the girl high enough to grab the one handhold within their reach. Puffing and straining, she grunted, “Can you get it?”

  “Y-yes,” Rose grunted in reply, “but it’s all wet and muddy and it keeps slipping out of my hand.”

  “All right, come down.” Emily lowered her with a great exhale. “We don’t dare risk losing our balance and falling into the water.”

  Rose was muddy and had grass stains on her wet dress. “How are we going to get out?”

  “Your father is looking for us right now. He’ll be here, don’t worry.”

  Rose leaned her head against Emily. “This is how my mama died.” Fear laced her voice as she wrapped her arms around Emily’s waist. “In the rain. Grammy said so.”

  Grammy was full of hot gas, Emily had long ago decided. She returned Rose’s embrace, trying to soothe the girl with long strokes on her back. “No, honey, your mother died of pneumonia. That’s a sickness of the lungs. Rain can’t kill anyone unless they drown somehow. When we lose someone we love, through death or for some other reason, all we can do is keep them in our hearts and go on living.” They were brave words, but Emily wondered if she’d really be able to follow her own advice. She glanced down at the raging, swirling water and thought, oh so briefly, that life without Luke wouldn’t be worth much. But almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was gone again. She would have to be strong, but she was already strong. Hadn’t she discovered that about herself over the last few weeks? And she would be unhappy, but she would go on. She would try to find meaning in life again.

  Without Rose.

  Without Luke.

  Emily felt her eyes well up and she struggled against it. She couldn’t fall apart now and scare Rose. Emily had had no one to depend upon for so long, she knew she could count on herself. She must be strong for them both.

  “What’s that?” Rose cocked her head.

  “What?” Emily asked. “I don’t hear anything.” Then over the sound of the creek and the wind and rain, she heard a distant voice. It rose and fell with the gusts.

  “Emily! Rose! Where are you?”

  “Oh, thank God! It’s Luke!”

  They both started yelling at once.

  “Here we are!”

  “Daddy, we’re down here! Down here!”

  In a moment, two heads emerged over the edge of the fallen-away bridge. In the gathering gloom, Emily recognized Luke and Chester Manning.

  “Don’t you worry, ma’am. We’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.”

  “Are you hurt?” Luke called down.

  “No, we’re all right. Just dirty, wet, and cold,” Emily answered.

  “I’m coming down to get you. Rose first, then you, Emily.”

  Emily waited with her heart in her throat as Luke lowered himself down the hillside to their little perch. Watching his long lean body as he carefully threaded his way over the mud and roots was a special torture for Emily. She knew that she would never be held by those strong arms again, or cradled against that broad chest. Or ever hear him tell her he loved her. When he touched down, in the fading light she saw that he was just as wet and dirty as they were. He’d tied the end of a rope around his waist, and now he untied it and secured it around Rose.

  “The other end of this is tied to the wagon. Chester!” he called. “Here comes Rose! Back ‘er up!” From above and below, Luke and Chester guided Rose as she reached the road.

  Emily watched anxiously until Chester reached over, grabbed the girl, and lifted her the rest of the way.

  When Rose had both feet safely on the ground above, Luke turned to Emily. He gripped her shoulders in his hands while rain poured off his head. The storm seemed to fade away and all she saw were his dark eyes, all she felt was his hands on her once more.

  “Emily, Emily, God I was such a fool! I saw the ring on the kitchen table. You can’t leave us. I never should have listened to Cora. That wicked-hearted old bitch could have gotten all of us killed with that lie she made up. Please—” he said, squeezing her shoulders and looking into her eyes, “—please try to forgive me. And please don’t leave us. I’m begging you, as a man and as your husband. I love you and I need you. So does Rose.” He released her shoulders and took her hands, kissing them through the mud and scraped flesh. “Until this moment, I wasn’t sure if I could love anyone again. After I lost Belinda, I couldn’t imagine caring for another woman. But I can’t let you go.”

  Emotion and reaction set it, and Emily began shaking like someone with St. Vitus’ dance. She leaned against him for a moment, relieved, exhausted, elated. “Luke, it’s all right, it’s all right. I forgive you. I’ll stay. Dear God, I’ll stay. I’m so glad you don’t hate me.”

  “Hate you,” he repeated. “Honey, I have two shining lights in my life, two—you and Rose. I know I said awful things—I was worried and scared for Rose, and I—”

  Emily put her hand to his lips. “Hush. None of that matters now. Let’s just go home.”

  He kissed her hands again and nodded. Then he tied the rope around her waist and had Chester back up the wagon to pull her up. When all of them had been lifted from the creek, the two men stacked Luke’s lumber order across the road, about thirty feet from the edge of the drop off.

  “We can’t do anything about the other side. We’ll just have to hope that no one comes along in the dark and falls off into the creek,” Luke said.

  Just as full darkness settled over the land, all four of them were safely back in the wagon and headed toward the Manning farm.

  “By God, wait until that town council gets an earful of this,” Chester grumbled as they reached his place. “I’ll give ’em
an ass-chewin’ they won’t likely forget. By the time I’m done with them, they’ll not only offer to build a brand new bridge, Luke, they’ll be begging to name it after the Becker ladies. We’ll get them to replace your lumber for that henhouse, too, and with first-grade stuff.”

  From the back of the wagon, Luke barely listened. He just kept his arms wrapped around Rose and Emily, kept them tucked against his heart.

  Jennie Manning was waiting for them on her front porch, and when she learned what had happened, she had her children bring out blankets and hot coffee.

  “Are you sure you won’t come in?” she fretted. With her shawl wrapped tightly around her, she waded through the mud to the wagon to check on the Beckers herself. “I hate to send you off like this, wet and cold.”

  “Jennie, we appreciate it, but we’ve had a really terrible day.” Emily glanced at Rose, then Luke. “We we want to get home and clean up.”

  She nodded, obviously understanding, but worried just the same. “All right. But please be careful, and take care of yourselves. I’ll come by tomorrow and see how you’re doing.”

  They all waved goodbye and Luke got the wagon rolling again, this time for home.

  This time, for good.

  ~~*~*~*~~

  “This is where you belong,” Luke said, as he entered Emily. The bed creaked under the weight of their bodies and his slow rocking. “You are the love of my life, and this is where you belong. In my arms and in my heart.”

  They had washed and eaten and both shared the task of putting Rose to bed. Luke had given his daughter an extra hug, and promised to talk all she wanted in the morning. Then, to reaffirm their love and their lives, Luke had brought Emily to the shadowy stillness of his bedroom to make slow, sweet love to her.

  She gasped with pleasure and a feeling of completion as he joined her. “Yes,” she responded, rocking her hips toward him. “And this is where you belong. Always in my heart.”

  Emily had never felt so alive, so certain of the purpose of her existence, as she was at this moment. She had been born to love Luke Becker and to be loved by him in return.