Brodie was right; she was wearing herself thin. If she didn’t slow down and take some time to relax, she might not make it to her wedding. She stifled a yawn. “I hear you, Brodie. Really I do. But so much depends on me at this point in my life. How can I turn my back on Alma Lee when she’s coming along so well? Or not keep my word to Ruth Ann?”
“I think I might have an answer to that, honey,” he said. “My father’s been itching to get back to work.”
She gasped. “Oh, Brodie, do you think that’s wise?”
He nodded. “He’s well enough now and bored as hell. Not to mention driving my mother mad.”
She giggled again. “My mother thinks your mother is a saint.”
“Well, her halo is fading rapidly.”
“So, what’s the plan then, if Sean comes back to work?”
“I was thinking, for now, he could take on the office patients. It would give him set hours, more of a controlled entry back into the job. And it would free you up to work only house calls and two days at the clinic.”
She smiled. “I think such a schedule just might work out to everyone’s benefit.”
“I thought so myself.” Then he added with a mischievous grin, “And then come the evening, you’ll be all mine.”
They all sat down to a delicious dinner. Betsy served venison stew and homemade rye bread. A peach cobbler for dessert finished the meal, accompanied by a steaming cup of herbal tea. After Betsy’s three boys were tucked into bed, the two youngest wanting Uncle Brodie to give them a piggy-back ride to their rooms, the adults sat down to talk.
“Have you chosen a maid of honor yet, Cassia?” Betsy inquired.
“The other night we had dinner with Nora and Cameron Dodd, and I asked her to stand up for me…to be my matron of honor.”
Betsy nodded. “I figured she’d be the one you’d ask, as the two of you were inseparable growing up.”
She took a sip of her tea, placing the delicate china cup carefully back upon its saucer. “And I can’t tell you how sad I was to be away when she and Cameron were wed.”
“I’m sure, had you been here, Nora would have chosen you to stand up for her as well,” Betsy concluded.
She sighed. “I’m sure of it too. We always talked of such things as girls. I’m just sorry I let Nora down.”
“You did nothing of the sort,” Betsy countered. “Besides, you were there to deliver her baby, and the way I hear it from Maggie Granger,” she added, “you saved Nora and her son.”
She shrugged. “I was just doing my job.”
“Nonsense,” Brodie chimed in. “You went above and beyond, as you always do.”
Betsy giggled. “I’d say your husband-to-be doesn’t admire you much,” she teased. Then she leveled her gaze on Brodie. “And dare I ask who you’ve chosen to be your best man?”
Brodie arched a brow. “It certainly can’t be Tucker, not with his pending circumstances. By October he’ll be settled in San Francisco, helping his father-in-law run a ranch and taking care of a wife and baby.”
Betsy frowned. “He did make a mess of things, didn’t he?”
Brodie nodded. “I’d say it wouldn’t be all that horrible if he loved Jessica, but I don’t believe that was ever the case.” He sighed. “And I have a feeling it never will be.”
“Poor Jessica,” Betsy muttered.
Brodie downed the rest of his tea before answering. “Well, let’s at least hope Tucker will be a good father.”
“So, then… Who will stand up for you?” Betsy probed further.
“I’ve contemplated asking Paul Rhinehart, a young lawyer from Atlanta I met in Boston. He boarded at Widow Danfield’s boarding house with me. We shared a bathroom and had many late night talks.”
“Hopefully not while in the bathroom,” his brother-in-law, Michael teased.
They all laughed.
“No, not in the bathroom, although come to think of it, that was the only place Widow Danfield wouldn’t have been able to hear us.” He arched a brow. “That woman was a champion at being nosy, as well as the town gossip. She could have put Maggie Granger to shame.”
Michael shook his head. “That bad, huh?”
“Sadly enough, yes,” Brodie said.
“And has Paul agreed?” Betsy inquired further.
“I haven’t asked him yet,” Brodie said. “I believe once we’ve set a concrete date, I’ll write him.”
Shifting to the edge of her seat, Betsy glanced at Cassia. “Have you a time in mind?”
“October when most of my family living overseas can attend,” she said. Turning Brodie’s way, she smiled. “And the earlier the better, so I’ve been told.” She reached for his hand. “How does the first Saturday in October sound?”
He smiled. “Sounds swell to me.
She returned his smile. “Good, then it’s a date.”
“And I shall write Paul this evening,” Brodie said.
“Now that a date’s settled, I want to know all about your gown,” Betsy began.
“Brodie, how about we let the women talk of the wedding preparations over tea, and we move to the parlor to enjoy a whiskey,” Michael interrupted.
“Sounds like a plan,” Brodie agreed. “Besides, I’m not supposed to know anything about the gown, isn’t that right, honey?” He glanced at Cassia with a mischievous gleam in his emerald eyes.
It was Betsy who answered. “Oh my, bad luck for sure if any details are spilled.”
She frowned. “I thought it was only bad luck if a groom saw the gown before the wedding.”
“No. He’s not to know a thing,” Betsy corrected. “That first glance of the bride coming down the aisle must be the groom’s first look. The impact is far greater, more romantic that way.”
“Then come away, Brodie.” Michael stood to make his way to the cupboard where he kept the whiskey and reached for a couple of shot glasses. “We wouldn’t want you spoiling the impact.”
“Heaven forbid.” Brodie chuckled and followed Michael.
Betsy moved to sit beside her, occupying Brodie’s seat. “I’ve learned from my mother that Olivia Beachum is sewing your gown. Is she using a pattern?”
Cassia took another sip of tea. “No, I wanted something unique, mine and mine alone. And Mrs. Beachum is doing a splendid job. She’s incorporated all my ideas and wishes into a gown that will be so amazing. Well, the whole process is so exciting.”
Betsy smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “Oh, Cassia, I can’t wait now until October. What about Nora? Is Mrs. Beachum making her gown too?”
“No, Maggie’s making Nora’s gown in a very pale blue.”
“And is your gown pure white?”
“No, more of an off white. The shade is called “candlelight,” and the fabric is satin, lace bordering the neckline, sleeves, and the hem.”
Betsy’s eyes widened. “Have you made the headpiece yet?”
“No, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” She downed the rest of the tea.
“I only ask because the veil I wore to wed Michael was my paternal grandmother’s. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of it being one of only a few items Mama could bring to America?”
Cassia nodded. “Along with the tea cups, saucers, and the engagement ring.”
“Yes, and the veil is an off shade of white. It’s of the finest Irish lace, so delicate and beautiful. It could be your something old and something borrowed if you chose to wear it,” Betsy offered.
She reached out to affectionately squeeze the other woman’s hand. “Oh, that would be so wonderful. Thank you.”
“If I show it to you now, would you be able to tell if the shade matches the gown?” Betsy said.
“Yes, I’d be able to tell.”
Betsy stood, motioning for Cassia to follow her up the stairs. “I keep the veil safely tucked away in the hope chest at the foot of our bed, wrapped in blue tissue paper. I’m the only one so far to wear it since its travels. Shailyn preferred to wear a picture hat on her wedding d
ay.”
They had to pass Michael and Brodie sitting in the parlor on their way to the staircase. One quick glance at Brodie—brows furrowed and lips pinched together—brought a sinking feeling to the pit of her stomach. She tried to catch his eye, but he was too intent on what Michael was saying to notice she passed by. What could the two men be discussing that would put such a strained, worried expression upon Brodie’s face? With Betsy urging her toward the top of the stairs, she wasn’t able to hear what Michael was saying, but his words seemed to frighten Brodie right out of his skin. It didn’t take but a second to realize whatever Brodie was hearing, greatly upset him. And in turn, upset her and made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. She tried her best to focus on what Betsy was conveying, the story she was telling about her own special day, and the history of the veil as she lifted it from the cedar chest and removed the blue paper wrapping. But Cassia’s thoughts were on Brodie. Obviously, the men were speaking about something very serious and troublesome, but what could it possibly be? And why did the bad news affect Brodie so horribly?
“Do you think the veil will match?” Betsy broke through her thoughts.
She gasped when Betsy placed into her hands the most exquisite lace veil. With Brodie and Michael’s conversation forgotten, she examined the remarkable headpiece. “Oh, Betsy, this is so elegant. I’ve never seen such intricate tatting, such fine lace, in all of my days.”
Betsy smiled. “I know. The handiwork is perfectly exceptional. Now, can you tell if it will match the gown’s material?”
“Yes. It will match,” she said, her heart racing with excitement. Running her finger over the design, she added, “I don’t think there are enough wonderful words to describe how magnificent this veil is, and you honestly don’t mind me borrowing it?”
Betsy shrugged. “What good is it just sitting in my hope chest when it can be worn on the head of a beautiful bride?”
“Oh, Betsy.” She reached over to hug her sister-in-law to be. “I could not be luckier or as happy. Again, thank you so much.”
When they finally made it downstairs, the veil again wrapped in the blue tissue paper and carefully placed in a small carry bag, the men were discussing a lighter subject. Brodie, now looking more at ease, stood when she entered the room, sliding over on the sofa to make room for her.
“And from the look upon your faces, you must have told Cassia our good news,” Michael surmised.
“Hush now, Mike. This is Brodie and Cassia’s evening. Our news can wait a bit longer to be told,” Betsy scolded.
“Nonsense,” Brodie chimed in. “Good news is welcomed at any time…especially now.”
“Yes, please tell us,” Cassia added, wondering if Brodie needed good news especially now because of his emotional discussion earlier with Michael.
Betsy smiled, moving to sit on the arm of Michael’s chair. He placed a loving hand upon her thigh. “We’re expecting a baby.”
She felt her heart leap with joy for these two marvelous people. “Oh, Betsy.” She made her way to the other woman and once again embraced her.
Brodie stood, nearing Michael to shake his hand. “Congratulations!” As he hugged his sister, he bombarded her with a series of medical questions. “Have you been examined yet? How far along are you? Are you having morning sickness, paying attention to eating well, and getting enough rest?”
Betsy blushed and held up a halting hand. “Hold on, Brodie. You know, I still can’t get used to discussing such things with my brother.”
Brodie arched a brow. “I’m a doctor, Betsy, and I want to make sure my sister is taken care of during her pregnancy.”
“I can answer all those questions,” Michael said. “We have one of Willow Creek’s finest doctors on the case. The baby is due a few weeks before Thanksgiving, so she is four months along, definitely she has morning sickness, eats fairly healthy when she isn’t feeling sick, and most nights she is in bed by nine in the evening.”
“Oh, hush, Mike,” Betsy scolded again. Leveling her gaze at Brodie, she added, “After birthing three babes already, I’m sure, by this time, I know how to take care of myself.”
“Yes, but you see for the very reason you have three other children to contend with, you’re spread thin, and that causes me to worry.” Brodie hugged his sister. “And let’s face it; you’re not getting any younger.”
Betsy pulled back from the embrace and playfully slapped Brodie on the arm. “I can run circles around you any day, even while expecting.”
After Cassia helped Betsy clean up, ignoring her adamant protests, the time arrived for them to leave. She hugged Betsy goodbye at the door. “Thank you so much for the delicious dinner and the loan of a beautiful veil. I will take extremely cautious care of it. Who knows, that little bundle of joy you’re nurturing just might be a girl who will one day wear the veil herself.”
Betsy smiled. “I love my boys, and I gladly welcome another, but a girl would be so grand, for sure.”
On the ride back to Eagle’s Landing, Brodie seemed preoccupied. Not wanting to appear meddlesome, she chose her words carefully. “Did you enjoy the evening as much as I did?”
“I did, thank you, my love.” He kept his eyes alert to the dark surroundings.
She tried again. “You and Michael always seem to get along so well.”
Brodie shrugged. “Not hard to do, since we’ve basically grown up together. After all, the McCrea’s and the O’Clarity’s came to America together, remember?”
She nodded. “But he’s also such an interesting conversationalist. His line of duty, as Willow Creek’s sheriff, certainly gives him fuel for talk.”
“And given me fuel for worry,” Brodie mumbled.
Now, the opening was made for her to dig deeper without seeming nosy. “What exactly are you worried about?”
“Something Mike told me sets hard with me,” he finally admitted. “And I want to talk further on it with you, but…”
“I’m listening,” she said, her curiosity growing.
He sighed heavily. “Because you had such a good time tonight, I didn’t want to ruin your evening by having it end on an upsetting note.” He turned to look at her. “So, I thought I’d wait until tomorrow to warn you.”
Her heart immediately raced. “Warn me about what?”
“Mike’s working a case,” he began. “A very disturbing case…more so than usual.”
She swallowed hard. “And what does this case have to do with me?”
“A man by the name of Becket Attwater has escaped from a Nevada asylum for the criminally insane,” he continued to explain. “This maniac has already covered a tremendous amount of ground. He’s made his way to Phoenix and murdered two women there. The authorities found their naked bodies, compromised, strangled, and floating in the river.”
She gasped, glancing cautiously to the darkened land they passed. Suddenly the serenity of the night turned ominous and frightening. “And does Michael think Attwater is headed this way?”
“Yes, Cassia, he does.” Brodie reached out to hold her hand.
She held tightly to the warm, safety of his grasp. “God, Brodie, what if…if…”
“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “I could think of nothing else but you riding that bike all over Eagle’s Landing, sometimes late at night, while Mike was telling me all this.”
Now she realized why Brodie looked so strained, so upset during his conversation with Michael.
“And I believe Mike was worried for you too, that’s why he confided it all to me.”
She inhaled sharply. “What can be done? I must go on house calls. It’s my job to be there when I’m needed.”
“I don’t want you out at night, for that I’m certain,” he stressed clearly, his voice slightly shaken with his adamant request. “As far as the day, Ruth Ann’s with you when you go to the clinic. There’s strength in numbers. Mike said all the victims were women who were alone, taken at night. Perhaps we can work something out where Ruth Ann can al
so go on house calls with you, advance her medical training. She’d probably like that.”
“No doubt, as she begs me for more time in the field,” she admitted.
“I know you go to help Alma Lee every morning, and I don’t expect you to give that up.” He squeezed her hand affectionately. “I admire your dedication, and I wouldn’t want you to leave the situation before Alma Lee’s ready to go it on her own.”
“Especially now, to abandon her when she’s making such progress… Well, it’s not something I would want to happen.”
“So, I will take you and put your bicycle in the wagon. From there you and Ruth Ann can go about your day.” He frowned. “Does Ruth Ann have a bicycle?”
“Yes, John Tyler restored an old one for her to use.”
“Good, then you two can get around swiftly,” he deliberated. “And when I’m finished my day, I’ll swing by the Boyds’ residence to pick you up.”
“What about my gown fittings with Olivia Beachum?”
He frowned. “There’s plenty of time from now until October for you to continue your fittings, isn’t there?”
She nodded. “Olivia’s a fast worker. In only a short time, she’s made good progress, so I suppose further fittings can wait a bit.”
He glanced at the road ahead. “Mike’s really on this, Cassia, so I have no doubt Attwater will be apprehended soon. But until he is, I’d like us to stick to a plan and ride on the side of caution.”
She eyed the trees at the side of the road. “What sort of action will Michael and his men take to warn the public?”
“He’s already placed a wanted poster in the post office and is holding a town meeting in Willow Creek tomorrow night. He’s also going to call your father and will ask him to make an announcement in church on Sunday for everyone to gather later that evening at the parish center,” he explained. “As I understand it, Mike will deputize a few of our town’s men. Of course his brother, Patrick and his father, Mickey, will want to be part of this, as they both have excellent investigator skills and law enforcement credentials. And along with the other men, there will ultimately be a force available to comb the area for this fiend and be legally authorized to take action upon apprehension.”
The Last Bloom Page 20
