Bluebonnet Belle

by Lori Copeland

  “I wasn’t shot!”

  “The doctor was almost killed!”

  “Not by me. That was Grace.”

  “From now on, I don’t want to hear of you packing a gun. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what’s this rot going around about Pinkham’s tonic? I’ve never heard such drivel—you aren’t responsible for that, are you? Charley Black is downright scary lately!”

  “No,” she said honestly. “I’m not responsible for that.”

  Beulah was.

  “Selling Pinkham’s hogwash, fighting a pistol duel over Henry Long,” he muttered, slathering the biscuit with butter he shouldn’t have. “What next? Set your hair on fire and run cross-eyed through the town square?”

  A rapid-fire staccato knocking drew April from the kitchen at a run the next morning. Expecting to find a messenger with a dire emergency, she was relieved to see Beulah, who rushed in before April could get the door all the way open.

  “Where’s the fire?”

  “Raymond asked me!”

  “Asked you what?”

  Beulah was dancing in place as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. “Asked me to marry him!”

  “To marry him!” She grabbed her friend’s arms, and they danced around the kitchen together, laughing and crying at the same time.

  “When?” April asked when they were finally able to talk.

  “May.”

  April’s mind was racing. She was deliriously happy for Beulah, but it was obvious she had to take control of the situation. Beulah was so excited, she wouldn’t be a bit of help.

  “You need a dress.”

  “Yes, and I don’t have much time to have one made! What will I do?”

  “Let’s not panic.” April paced the foyer, trying to formulate plans. “Datha can help. She’s very good with a needle, and since she’s not able to do much around the house, she’d be happy to sew your dress. Now, we’ve got to talk to Reverend Brown, reserve the church, see about flowers, bridesmaids…”

  “You’ll be my maid of honor. You can wear the green dress you wore at Thanksgiving.”

  “But I’ve worn it!”

  “Only once. It’ll be perfect. Raymond is going to ask Gray to be his best man.”

  “He is?”

  “Uh-huh. Oh, my goodness!” Grabbing April’s waist, Beulah swung her around the room again. “I’m getting married!”

  The following weeks were a flurry of activity as Datha cut and sewed an ivory silk dress with an Empire waist and lace insets. April busied herself in wedding plans and preparations, purposely filling every minute so she wouldn’t think.

  She was happy for Beulah—deliriously happy. But, oh, why couldn’t Gray look at her the way Raymond looked at Beulah? She knew—she knew—he did not love Francesca. He never spoke of her, and her frequent visits appeared to annoy more than please him. Did April dare ask his feelings for the spoiled, worldly debutante from Dallas?

  “I’m going to Burgess,” she told Riley that evening. “I want a new dress for Beulah’s wedding.”

  “Thought she said you could wear the green one.”

  “She did, but I want something new. After all, I’m the maid of honor, and I want everything to be perfect.”

  “Hogwash. You’re buying a new dress to impress Gray Fuller.”

  “Guilty,” she admitted, “for what good it will do me.”

  “Don’t count yourself out,” he advised.

  She paused, whirling to confront him. “Why? Do you know something? Has he said anything to you about me? Does he—”

  Grandpa threw up his hands. “Hold on! All I meant was before you give up, don’t you think you should let the man know how you feel? He’s not a mind reader.”

  April paused, her hand on the stair railing. “No, that wouldn’t be proper.” She hurried on up the stairs.

  Scratching his head, Riley grunted. “Since when did that make any difference?”

  The clock downstairs chimed three. April lay awake, thinking. She was happy for Beulah, there was no question of that. It was just that…she was jealous. That was it, though she hated to admit it. Jealous.

  She wanted Gray. More than anything she’d ever wanted in her life, she wanted the good doctor. She wanted to marry him, be the mother of his children, grow old and die with Gray Fuller.

  And a mere dress wasn’t going to accomplish her goal.

  She could buy a hundred dresses and never catch his eye.

  What she needed was a plan, not a dress. A plan to make him see her. April Truitt.

  Smiling, she wiggled deeper beneath the covers, suddenly very sleepy.

  Life was so much simpler when you figured out the basics.

  Morning dawned with sunshine glinting off heavy frost. April hitched up the carriage and added a couple of heavy blankets to keep her warm on the ride to Burgess.

  Driving through town, she saw Gray coming out of his office. She pulled the carriage to a halt and waved at him. “Good morning, Dr. Fuller!”

  “Where are you off to this morning?” he asked, coming over to the buggy.

  “Burgess. To buy a new dress for Beulah’s wedding.”

  “I was just going to the hotel for coffee. Care to join me?”

  “I can’t stop for coffee, but I woke up this morning with a raspy throat. Can you look at it?”

  He frowned. “Me?”

  Unable to meet his eye, she handed him the reins. He tethered the horse, then lifted her down as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  Their eyes met, and she noticed he held her a bit longer than necessary. Not that she was complaining.

  What was she doing? This was insane. She didn’t have a raspy throat. How was she going to explain that?

  She wasn’t the sort of woman to entice an unsuspecting man. She needed to leave now, while she could, before he saw through her sham.

  Opening the door to his office, he allowed her to enter first. She stood in the waiting area, unsure of her next move.

  Gray walked straight through to the examining room. “May I take your cloak?”

  “My cloak?”

  “You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

  Her heart pounded. “Okay.”

  She lifted the collar closer to her neck.

  He gestured toward the table that stood in the middle of the room. “Have a seat.”

  Her feet felt as if they were made of lead. Buckets of it. Her shoes were new, and slick. She had to be careful on the wooden floor or she would fall and make a bigger fool of herself.

  She took tiny steps across the room, watching as Gray’s tall frame bent over and picked up a stool.

  “You’ll need this to reach the table.” He positioned the stool.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  April was mesmerized by his presence. “Thank you,” she repeated, barely above a whisper.

  Gray abruptly turned away, and she wondered what had gone through his mind to make him react that way to her. Maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for him. She certainly didn’t have Francesca’s exquisite beauty.

  Lifting her skirt, she stepped on the wooden stool and lost her footing. A scream escaped her throat, then darkness momentarily overtook her. She woke in Gray’s arms.

  Concern filled his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Her sight was blurred slightly. “I must have bumped my head.”

  “Yes, you did. Can you stand up?”

  “I think so.” Excruciating pain shot through her when she tried to stand. She leaned against him, grabbing her leg. “My foot!”

  The power in his strong arms, as he easily lifted her off the floor, and laid her on the examining table, amazed her.

  His gaze never left hers. He was close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath fan her cheek, detect that heady aroma that belonged only to him.

  He backed away. “I’m sorry, did the stool trip you?”

 
; Henry had never affected her this way. “I think it’s my shoes. They’re new.”

  Clearing his throat, Gray moved to the end of the table. “Let’s take a look at that bump on your head.”

  “I have a bump on my head?”

  “I don’t see how you could escape it.”

  Loosening the hairpins allowed her tresses to fall free. He eased his fingers through her hair in a search for the bump.

  She closed her eyes and enjoyed his professional probing.

  “Do you feel anything?”

  She experienced a myriad of emotions: excitement, fear—guilt. But why? She hadn’t done anything. His mere presence brought out feelings she had never experienced.

  “April?”

  She opened her eyes to find his face only inches from hers. Her gaze lingered on his mouth, then shifted upward. Something elemental showed in his eyes, so intense it reached deep into her soul. A slight whimper of wanting passed her lips as the space between them became shorter and shorter. Her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes in anticipation. Then the warmth of his body was suddenly gone.

  Before he moved away, she caught a glimpse of the scarlet color his face had acquired. He reached into a cabinet and removed a bandage.

  “Yes, well, we’d better take a look at that ankle, then the throat. My advice would be to cancel your trip to Burgess, Miss Truitt. I don’t think you’re in any shape to go anywhere today.”

  “I suppose not….”

  He chatted as he examined her ankle, then wrapped it.

  “You never mention family. Do they live in Dallas?” she asked.

  “Mother died when I was eight, and my father brooded a great deal. He never got over losing her. We lived near Dallas. Branch Creek. Ever hear of it?”

  “No. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “No…just me.”

  “Is your father alive?”

  “He died while I was in medical school.”

  Finished, he rolled her stocking back into place with the informality of a man who’d done it before. Many times. “There, it should be healed in plenty of time to wear your pretty new dress.”

  Taking her hand, he helped her off the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient due in a few minutes.”

  Her knees were still quivering from the fall.

  As she opened the door to leave, Gray said softly, “About that raspy throat.”

  Turning around slowly, she met his gaze. “Oh…”

  “Gargle with saltwater twice a day.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Closing the door, she leaned against it weakly. So much for her ruse. He’d seen right through it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Beulah Ludwig’s wedding day dawned sunny and warm. Wildflowers dotted the shores.

  April got to the church two hours early, certain she’d forgotten something. Something so colossal, so enormously important, it would make Beulah’s happiest day tantamount to the burning of Atlanta.

  She stood in the center aisle, critically studying the altar profusely banked with greenery and two dozen candles waiting to be lit.

  Two hours. In two hours Beulah and Raymond will walk down the aisle and pledge themselves to one another.

  “I wish it were me,” she whispered.

  Then, feeling as if the selfish wish would rob her friend of some of her glory, she amended, “No, I wish it was me, too.”

  She wanted Beulah to be happy. She truly did. But she wanted Gray Fuller.

  There were men in Dignity looking for a wife. Keith Williams, Zack Myers, Logan Booker…oh, who was she trying to fool? She didn’t like any of those men, and Christmas would come on the Fourth of July before she would ever marry one of them.

  Beulah arrived, a bundle of nerves.

  “I can’t do this,” she said for the tenth time. “Mama is so nervous, she can’t help me with anything. She and Papa are pacing in the foyer. My stomach feels like a volcano about to erupt.”

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t let it erupt right now,” April murmured around the hairpins in her mouth. “You’re going to have to stand still so I can finish your hair and get this veil on.”

  “Can you believe it? I’m getting married. And to a perfectly marvelous man who thinks I’m perfect. Me. Perfect.” Her round face filled with hysteria. “Do you think there’s something wrong with Raymond—like maybe he’s blind and hasn’t said anything?”

  “No, I don’t think Raymond’s blind. Now, stand still.”

  Beulah stared in the looking glass, dismayed. “I look—”

  “Perfectly marvelous,” April said. “And if you don’t quit fidgeting, your veil is going to fall off when you walk down the aisle, trip poor Raymond, and he’ll be laid up with a broken leg on the honeymoon.”

  Beulah stood still long enough for April to finish pinning the last curl, and position the long veil on top.

  “There. Now, aren’t you pretty?”

  “Oh, April,” she cried softly, her hands covering the lower half of her face. “I never thought—I really don’t look so awful, do I?”

  “Beulah Ludwig, you look ravishing.” April hugged her, knowing that after today things would never be quite the same between them. Beulah would have a husband to look after, and she…well, she would go on taking care of Grandpa for as long as he needed her. Bittersweet tears stung her eyes as she clung tightly to the bride-to-be, desperately wanting to hold on to the past, but knowing that she was losing a part of her best friend.

  “Thank you,” Beulah whispered.

  “For what? You’re the dearest friend a girl ever had.”

  “Dash it…I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” But cry she did. Tears rolled down her cheeks, blending with April’s.

  “I know, I told myself the same thing.”

  “It won’t be so bad….”

  “No, of course not. You’re not dying, you’re just getting married.”

  “Sure. Not dying, just getting married…”

  They rocked in each other’s arms, reluctant to let go, knowing that when they did, they would never come back to this hour, this precious moment, when they said goodbye to their youth.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, silly. Go, be happy.”

  The small chapel was overflowing. April waited in the coat closet with Beulah, the only place in the church a bride could dress for her wedding, until the pastor knocked lightly on the door.

  “Ready, girls?”

  “Girls?” they mouthed, breaking into giggles.

  “Someone needs to tell him we’re women,” Beulah whispered. “He still thinks of us as six-year-olds!”

  They giggled again.

  “We’re ready, Reverend Brown.” Opening the door, April gave her friend a look of assurance and slipped out.

  Gray was waiting in the chapel doorway for her. His commanding appearance took her breath away. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with a snow-white shirt and black tie. His hair, still a shade too long, was brushed back off his face, with soft curls lying against his shirt collar. She had the absurd urge to smooth them over his ears like a hovering mother.

  He offered his arm as she approached.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself.”

  “How is the bride holding up?”

  “Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  He smiled. “The groom paced off half his shoe leather and quoted me the price of every piece of equipment and pharmaceutical product available on the East Coast. That’s nothing compared to the Ludwigs. I thought I was going to have to use smelling salts on them.”

  April managed to laugh, wondering if he really thought she was beautiful or if it was just something to say. Did she look pretty? Did her hair, drawn up into a loose nest of curls atop her head, and fastened with a ribbon that matched her peach-colored dress, look all right? Was the sing
le pearl strung on a delicate gold chain around her neck appropriate?

  As she took his arm, she realized she was trembling.

  “Don’t worry, no one’s going to bite—unless he’s invited to.”

  She glanced into his eyes, feeling very fragile. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He patted the hand that wasn’t grasping a quivering sprig of greenery.

  “Not now, Miss Truitt. Right now we are going to get Beulah and Raymond married.”

  A smiling Reverend Brown waited at the altar as April walked slowly down the aisle holding tight to Gray’s arm. Wedding bells pealed overhead from the steeple as Edna Folsom played the “Wedding March.” Edna wasn’t very good on the organ, but she was dedicated. The strains of the music, though not perfect, brought tears to the eye.

  As they parted at the altar, Gray lightly squeezed April’s hand before stepping to Raymond’s side.

  The guests rose, waiting expectantly as Beulah and her father stood framed in the doorway.

  Beulah was radiant and smiling, her eyes focused on Raymond as she started down the aisle. Datha had done a wonderful job in such a short time on the ivory silk wedding dress. It flared and nipped and tucked exactly where it should. A strand of pearls, a gift from the groom, nestled around Beulah’s neck. Her dark hair was lifted back and up from her face into a swirl, capped by a crown of lace cascading into a floor-length veil.

  She carried a bouquet of flowers Datha had fashioned with bits of lace and ribbon.

  Candlelight bathed the altar in golden flickers. As Beulah approached, the glow surrounded her in a golden light that brought tears to April’s eyes. It was as if God looked down—and smiled in approval.

  When the bride reached the groom’s side, April looked at Gray and their gazes joined. With a dazzling leap of imagination, she pictured him slipping a wedding ring on her own finger, then dashing down the aisle with her to begin a life together.

  The ceremony was brief but poignant. Vows were made and exchanged in hushed reverence. Beulah and Raymond pledged their love with emotion-filled voices.

  Then the moment they’d all been waiting for arrived: Reverend Brown pronounced Beulah and Raymond husband and wife, and a trembling bridegroom lifted the veil of his bride and kissed her.