Western Winter Wedding Bells

by Cheryl St. John, Jenna Kernan

  “Will you play your fiddle for us after supper?” Owen asked.

  “It’s a violin,” his sister corrected in an exasperated tone that led Chloe to believe the error was one her brother made deliberately and most likely often. “And yes, it would be my pleasure.”

  The delicious meal was followed by a peach cobbler with cinnamon-flavored cream poured over the top and steaming cups of rich dark coffee.

  Chloe hadn’t enjoyed a dinner this much since she’d accompanied Lillith’s older daughter, Pamela, to the ranch years ago and been seated at a table much like this one, where the siblings teased each other and their parents did their best to hold dinner conversation over the hubbub. Besides being served tasty food, the company had been thoroughly entertaining.

  If she’d stayed home, Miss Sarah would have eaten already, so Chloe would have had the same sliced cheese and fruit and eaten alone in the silent kitchen.

  “I always loved coming to the ranch with Pamela,” Chloe told them. “I have good memories of those visits.”

  “You were friends with my sister?” JoDee asked in surprise.

  Chloe nodded. “We attended school together.”

  “She was friends with Richard for a time, as well,” Lillith remarked.

  JoDee raised an eyebrow at that information. “Why?” she asked.

  Embarrassment dipped in Chloe’s chest and heat rose upward to her cheeks.

  “Your brother has his charms,” Lillith said. “He was always a handsome young man.”

  “Richard paid attention to several young ladies,” Chloe quickly explained to JoDee. “We were never exclusive.”

  “Pamela said the girls were always fawning all over him,” JoDee said. “Was Georgia one of those others?”

  “No, dear. Richard met Georgia when he went to university,” her mother replied.

  Owen finished his coffee. “Chloe and I have work to do,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing. “It was a good meal, Mother. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You know you could come to supper every night.”

  “I know.” He stood behind Chloe, waiting for her to place her napkin beside her plate and rise.

  “Thank you,” she told his mother. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a meal so much.” She glanced over her shoulder at Owen. “I should help your mother clear the table and do the—”

  “Nonsense,” Lillith interrupted. “You two go do your business. JoDee will help me.”

  JoDee opened her mouth, but Lillith added, “If she wants to prove she’s mature enough for those new dresses she talks about incessantly.”

  The girl clamped her lips together and reached for Owen’s empty plate. “You two go on. I have this.”

  “I’ll bring you coffee later,” Lillith told Owen.

  He led Chloe out of the dining room and toward a parlor with a large rectangular pedestal table against one wall where he’d dropped the newspapers earlier. After turning up the wicks in the wall lamps, he lit them.

  From a flat box, he took a sheaf of stationery, a pen and a bottle of ink, then he pulled two cushioned armchairs close and gestured for her to take one. Funny how his innocent gesture made her stomach flutter.

  Chapter Five

  Seeing how comfortable Owen was in his mother’s home, Chloe realized at that moment there was a lot she didn’t know about him. He’d been gone from Red Willow for quite a while, but he’d been back for at least two or three years. In that time she’d run into him at an occasional dance or in the mercantile, but they’d never gotten well acquainted.

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Above my workshop. There are two good-sized rooms up there. Plenty of space for me.”

  “I smelled your workshop,” she said. “How do you ever get a good night’s sleep?”

  He chuckled, surprising her. “I keep the windows open a lot, even in the winter. And it only smells like that when I’ve been using the finishes.”

  “No insult intended,” she added belatedly.

  He shrugged. “I’m used to those smells, but I’m aware of them.”

  “Did you finish those doors you were working on?”

  “Stayed up late a couple of nights to get them done and then delivered and hung them.”

  “Who were they for?”

  “Rancher this side of Windsor. He has a pretty spectacular log home with custom features.”

  “He must be one of your best customers.”

  “He is. I’d like to have a place like his someday.”

  Chloe glanced up from the page of advertisements she was reading. That was the first personal thing he’d ever said to her, the first glimpse into his usually private thoughts. “There’s no reason you can’t build your own place, is there?”

  He shook his head. “I will one of these days.”

  “I’ll bet it will be something to see when you do.” She looked back at the newspaper page, refocused her thoughts and stifled a yawn. “You’re tired.”

  “I’m all right. This shouldn’t take us too long.”

  He opened the bottle of ink and dipped the pen. “Here’s a glassmaker in Indiana.”

  His handwriting was neat and legible. After half an hour, Lillith brought them coffee and JoDee entered, opening a case and removing a violin. After setting a music stand on the rug and adjusting sheets of music, she ran the bow across the strings in a warm-up. She then stood with perfect form, the instrument tucked under her chin, one foot with toes pointed forward, the heel of the other against that instep.

  Owen capped the ink bottle and turned his chair and Chloe’s so they could comfortably watch his sister.

  The exquisite sounds JoDee coaxed from the violin were more beautiful than anything Chloe had ever heard. She watched the girl’s fluid dexterity with growing appreciation. Lillith listened with her eyes closed, occasionally opening them to smile softly at her daughter.

  Chloe stole a glance at Owen beside her. He listened with a relaxed and proud expression on his handsome face. At Chloe’s look, he gave her an easy smile as if to ask, “What do you think?”

  “She’s amazing,” Chloe said softly.

  “I’ve been checking into a conservatory for next year.”

  Watching JoDee play, Chloe wondered what it was like to have attention and concern lavished upon her. Her family had obviously encouraged her from a young age. It was evident that the young woman was the apple of this family’s eye, and deservingly so. She was sweet and smart and incredibly talented.

  “Your daughter is a special young lady,” Chloe said to Lillith.

  “All of my children are special in their own way,” Lillith replied.

  Richard was her son, so of course she loved him, but Chloe had yet to recognize any of his redeeming qualities. She arrested her unkind thoughts.

  Chloe lifted her gaze to Owen’s and wondered if the half smile he wore meant he suspected what she was thinking. She gave him a sheepish grin.

  After three stirring musical pieces, JoDee gave an impressively low curtsy, and they applauded her. “Excuse me now,” she said politely. “I have a lesson to finish.”

  Once she’d left the room, Owen turned their chairs, seated himself and resumed making notes. Lillith glanced over at Chloe, where she sat. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving on Thursday?”

  Chloe had been so busy she hadn’t given the holiday much thought, which she considered a blessing. Hopefully, she’d be equally occupied during the weeks leading to Christmas, as well. “I suppose I’ll fry a couple of slices of ham for the two of us,” she replied. “We don’t normally go out of our way much.”

  Lillith appeared mortified at the idea. “You will do no such thing,” she said emphatically. “You will come eat dinner with us. I have a fat goose waiting for the occasion, and I’ve been preserving filling for the pies since midsummer. Tell her about my pies, Owen.”

  “She makes the best pies in three counties,” he said. “Really. You should join us.”
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  “I couldn’t leave Miss Sarah,” Chloe objected. “Besides, you have plenty of family to cook for, and I’m not—”

  “Nonsense,” Lillith argued. “Miss Sarah will join us, as well. I wouldn’t enjoy my day if I knew the two of you were right next door eating alone.”

  “I’m quite used to occupying myself on holidays,” Chloe told her. Besides not wanting to feel like an intruder, the other thing that skewed her thoughts about joining their lively and entertaining festivities was imagining the day spent with Richard.

  “Well, not this one, you won’t. You’re joining us, and that’s the last I will hear of your argument.” Lillith stood and rearranged the pillows on the plush divan. “I’ll leave the two of you to your endeavors now, but I will see you Thursday around midday, Chloe.”

  “Thank you,” Chloe told her. “And thank you for a lovely supper. I had a good time.”

  The woman’s kind hospitality moved her. Chloe had been invited to people’s homes on many occasions, but she’d rarely felt as welcome as she had this evening. Lillith Reardon wasn’t putting on airs or feeling sorry for her. Chloe didn’t get the impression that Lillith had performed a charitable act and felt benevolent about taking in an orphan or a spinster for a meal.

  Lillith simply enjoyed having people around her table and was an instinctively motherly woman.

  “What can I bring to dinner?” Chloe asked as the woman headed toward the doorway. Lillith and Owen had already bragged about the woman’s pies. Chloe could bake, but she doubted her pies would be needed.

  Lillith paused and turned back. “How are you with dough? We can always use another basket of dinner rolls on the table.”

  “I’d love to bake rolls,” she replied with a smile.

  Lillith beamed with pleasure and left the room.

  Glancing aside, Chloe caught Owen studying her. She wanted to ask him how his brother had grown into the man he’d become when his mother was such a kind and generous woman. Instead, she asked, “What did you do when you left Red Willow during those years?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I kicked around the country for a while. Mostly I stayed clear of cities and found places in the mountains where it seemed like no man had ever set foot before. I saw the Rockies in Wyoming, Montana, Idaho. Spent a winter in Saskatchewan. I hunted and trapped mostly. Sold furs and pelts and did a little mining.”

  She imagined him off on his own, wintering in the extreme climates and eating over a campfire. He was a quiet person, but setting out alone was a choice she had trouble understanding. “What about wild animals?”

  “They mostly leave you alone if you leave them alone.”

  “Weren’t you ever afraid?”

  “Not really. When you’re using your wits to survive day to day, life is pretty simple. Uncomplicated.”

  “But you came back.”

  He nodded. “My father got sick.”

  “Would you have come back if not for that?”

  “I never intended to stay away indefinitely. My brother could’ve handled things, and my mother has the girls. I wanted to come home. I’d had a lot of time to think, and there were things I needed to do.”

  She wanted to ask what those things were, but she didn’t have any right to pry into his privacy. “Well, I know your mother is thankful you’re here.”

  He nodded. “Probably.”

  She deliberately moved her gaze to the list on the table. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He didn’t say anything. Her heart rate increased. She stole a look at his face.

  He was watching her with a soft expression, his eyes more like warm honey than cinnamon tonight. “Did you ever want to leave?” he asked.

  She considered his question for a moment. As a very young girl she’d foolishly imagined going after her mother and finding her. She’d daydreamed scenarios where the woman was overjoyed to see her and accompanied her back to Red Willow. But all those imaginings had ended up with Chloe returning to her home.

  This place was all she knew. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go.”

  Owen had always dreamed about leaving Red Willow. The earliest plans he could recall involved enduring school so he could set out on his own. But even without a family tying her to this place, Chloe was content. There was much to be said about contentment, he decided.

  “I think we’ve exhausted the ads in these papers,” he said. “This list should do nicely.”

  “I’ll send the telegrams first thing tomorrow,” she assured him.

  “Good. I have the man coming to start the roof. Can’t be completed soon enough with the weather so uncertain.”

  “More snow would fall inside.”

  He rubbed at an ink stain at the joint of his index finger. “Yes, but the real problem would be ice and snow on the roof, making it too treacherous for the workers.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She gathered up the newspapers. “Will you be returning these?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll put them in the kitchen. My mother has a hundred uses for newspaper.”

  “I really like your mother. She’s lovely.”

  “She’s a special lady,” he agreed. He gestured to the doorway that led to the foyer. “Let’s get our coats and I’ll walk you home.”

  “It’s right next door,” she answered with mild surprise.

  “You never know what could be lurking in the side yard.”

  She stood and walked ahead of him toward the front door. “I’ve never run across anything lurking in the side yard.”

  “How would you know? It’s dark.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me?”

  He took her cranberry wool coat from the tree and held it so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. Again he noticed her fair hair against the black-tipped brown fur. “Not at all. But those rabbits get pretty hungry this time of year.”

  She laughed, and he liked the musical sound. After pulling on his jacket, he led her outdoors. It was a cold, crisp night, every star in the heavens winking brightly.

  “No sign of snow yet,” he said. “The weather’s in our favor.”

  They approached her house.

  “You’ve painted your home its original colors,” he said. “How did you know which colors to use?”

  “I scraped away layers of paint in several places,” she replied. “I was pretty convinced I was right about the colors, and then I thought to ask Mr. Gregory.” She gestured to a dark house across the street.

  The man who lived there had to be nearly a hundred. Occasionally Owen mowed his grass, and talking to him, he’d learned that the man had lived on the property nearly all his life. His house had belonged to his parents before him. Again Owen was impressed by her inventiveness and integrity regarding the preservation of old workmanship.

  Chloe took a key from her pocket. The windows of her house were dark. “Looks like Miss Sarah has gone to bed,” he said.

  “She retires early.”

  “Want me to walk inside with you?”

  Chapter Six

  “I’ve entered my house in the dark plenty of times,” Chloe assured Owen, and he supposed she was right about that. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner this evening. I don’t know when I’ve had a better time.”

  They stood on the shadowed porch, the silence of the night cloaking them in intimacy. The evocative scent of her hair reached him. Completely inappropriate thoughts chipped away at his common sense. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. How was it Richard hadn’t fallen hopelessly in love with her and wanted to marry her? “Good night, Chloe.”

  “Good night.” She turned the key in the lock and within seconds had closed herself inside.

  Owen retraced his steps, turning to study the dark, silent house. Finally, an upstairs window glowed from the lamp inside the curtains. He thought of this cheerful woman who loved people entering a silent house and spending her days and evenings with only a
n unfriendly boarder for company. But Chloe didn’t seem unhappy. Far from it, in fact. She appeared quite content.

  He walked out to the street and looked back up at the house and the backlit window.

  Maybe Richard had been in love with her. Maybe in spite of his feelings for Chloe, he’d chosen to marry Georgia because of her family money. The choice sounded like one his brother would make without flinching. But Owen would likely never know.

  Why hadn’t Chloe married someone else? he wondered now. He couldn’t imagine that Richard had broken her heart and spoiled her for anyone else. But then feelings were unpredictable and women more so. He had more pressing things to concern himself with.

  Owen turned and headed for his shop.

  The man Owen had hired brought an entire five-person crew, who assembled scaffolding and tore the roof down to bare wood and replaced all the damaged and rotted wood before spreading tar paper and laying shingles.

  The sound of their hammers gave Chloe goose bumps as she stood in the yard beside the church and watched the activity with joy in her heart.

  A buggy slowed to a stop on the street out front and Frank Garrison, chairman of the town council, climbed down. Chloe met him halfway.

  “Looks as though things are well underway,” he said.

  Chloe stood beside him, and together they looked upward to see the men pounding nails into the shingles. “Owen hired these men, and they work as fast as lightning. I’m going to head home and prepare lunch for them.”

  “I thought I’d better come see the progress for myself,” he told her.

  “You might as well see the inside while you’re here,” she told him and gestured toward the double front doors.

  Owen had finished replacing all the windowsills and had spent most of the week tearing out ruined floorboards and replacing them, then sanding and staining. All the pews had been moved to one end of the sanctuary and securely stacked to leave as much open space as possible. Owen glanced up from his task and got to his feet to greet Frank.