* * *
After dinner, Win lost no time excusing himself and heading to Rachel’s. He felt like a miserable worm for pressuring his sister and Slade to marry. He wasn’t God; he now realized how things worked out wasn’t up to him. As he’d sat at the dinner table, listening to Blythe relate the pact she and Slade had made, Win had felt sick to his stomach.
She’d been so...resigned. As if her upcoming nuptials were the best she could ever expect from life. That was at least partly his fault. He should have been more compassionate, less judgmental, but he’d been so worried about what people were thinking and what they might be saying about the Granvilles that he’d pushed her too hard.
Now she was committed to a relationship that didn’t look very promising, to say the least. As Big Dan Mercer, Colt’s deputy, would say, Win felt lower than a snake’s belly.
The simple truth was that things often happened that were beyond one’s control. Blythe’s situation was not her fault. Because she was the baby of the family everyone had shielded her to some extent, but both times she’d found herself in hot water it was because she’d followed her heart. Her very tender heart. Once for love, the second for decency and humanity.
It wasn’t her fault Devon Carmichael was a schemer and a bigamist. It wasn’t her fault a storm had come up while she was tending Will Slade, or that people were quick to judge without looking at all the circumstances, or that society had such rigid rules of conduct.
He let himself in the back door of Rachel’s surgery and went directly to Will’s room. The lumberman looked much better this evening and was actually sitting in a chair while he ate his supper from a small drop-leaf table.
Will looked up when Win entered, a wary expression in his eyes. “I assume Blythe told you our news.”
“She did.”
“So I guess you’re happy now.”
“I’ll be happy if my sister is.”
“Happy wasn’t part of the deal,” Slade said. “You wanted me to give her my name and make an honest woman of her. I’m doing that.”
“Blast it all, Slade! She’s my sister! Using her to get your ex-wife out of your life is pretty low.” Win, who never lost control, was almost yelling. “She’s a wonderful woman. She deserves happiness and love.”
“You need to make up your mind what you want, Granville. Blythe knows what she’s getting into. She’s fine with it, and by the way, we’re both using each other to get what we want. What we need.”
Win stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. Slade was right. He did need to make up his mind what he wanted. About a lot of things.
He pinned Will with a hard look. “Be good to her.”
“I’ll take care of her. By the way, the wedding is tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock. At Hattie’s.”
Win spun on his heel. “So soon?”
“There’s no use waiting.”
Slade was right. There was little more Win could say. With the results of his interference staring him in the face, he was reminded of something Libby always said: be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.
* * *
When Win left, Will threw his napkin on top of his plate of half-finished food. Once again he’d let his dislike for Win Granville color his exchange about the agreement with Blythe. Instead of trying to make peace, he’d been his usual pigheaded self. That needed to change, but he and Granville were both stubborn cusses, and that didn’t bode well for the future.
He wondered what a future with Blythe would hold. He suspected she was nothing like Martha, thank goodness. What was she like? Was she the timid girl who refused to meet his eye and chewed on her lower lip when she was troubled, or was she the spunky woman who’d stood up for her actions and given him what for when he’d asked why she hadn’t gone to town for help instead of staying with him at the house? Was she the fancy city girl who’d gotten off the train in December, or the woman who’d taken it upon herself to care for his dog while he was sick?
Most important, was there any chance for them to find happiness in a marriage starting with everything against it?
Time would tell.
And despite everything, his bruised heart leaped at the possibility.
Chapter Eight
Blythe’s wedding morning dawned sunshiny and warm, something she’d always wanted for her special day, and from the look of things, the only one of her dreams that was ever likely to come true. Her marriage to Devon had not only been a hurried event but a secretive one. They had said their vows before a justice of the peace in a shabby office building, wearing their traveling clothes.
She’d had no music, no flowers, no reception where family and friends dined on fancy fare and wished the newlyweds a happy life. Instead they had gone straight to a hotel. He had taken her to dinner that night, but that was all the celebrating there’d been.
As she and her mother headed to Hattie’s, Blythe couldn’t rid herself of how beautiful Allison and Colt’s wedding had been. The ceremony had taken place in the church and the reception had been held at Libby’s. Allison had looked stunning in the creamy winter-white gown Blythe had designed for her. Everything had been perfect. The pair had held on to each other’s hands, their love reflected in their eyes as their gazes clung throughout the ceremony.
Blythe would have none of that. Not even the special gown she’d been designing for the past year. She would wear the gray silk she’d worn to the Garrett wedding. She and Will would not look at each other the way Allison and Colt had. There would be nothing to remember this day by except that she’d made a bargain with a stranger in order to salvage what remained of her reputation.
When she and her mother walked into the parlor at Hattie’s an hour before the ceremony was to begin, Blythe paused in the doorway, forced to rethink her feelings. Though there hadn’t been much time to do anything fancy, what the ladies of Wolf Creek had managed to put together in such a short time was amazing.
She let her gaze drift around the room. Ferns, probably borrowed from every lady in town, stood on pedestals with marble tops. Tapers sat in silver, crystal and pressed-glass candleholders atop the piano and on the mantel. Chairs had been brought in from the dining room for extra seating, which was routinely done on the days Hattie’s piano students held their recitals. Though it was too early for most flowers to bloom, someone had found some brave daffodils and mixed them with French mulberry and English ivy.
The dining room table was covered with an ecru crocheted cloth and held a delicious-looking array of cookies someone had baked. Slices of coconut pie with mile-high meringue, probably from Ellie, sat on floral china saucers. A magnificent silver coffee service that Blythe recognized as her mother’s resided at one end of the table for easy access.
As she stood taking in all the details, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She glanced at her mother and saw that Libby’s eyes were moist, too.
“This town has some wonderful people.”
Blythe nodded, unable to speak.
“Oh! You’re here!”
Hattie Carson, the owner of the boardinghouse, stepped through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel.
“Everything looks wonderful, Hattie,” Libby told her. “I can’t thank you enough for letting us hold the ceremony here on such short notice.”
“That’s not a problem, Mrs. Granville,” Hattie assured her, giving her a pat on the arm. “It is my business, after all.” She turned and let her gaze roam the large parlor. “It does look nice, doesn’t it? The ladies always manage to make even the smallest event special.”
She turned to Blythe and gave her shoulder a pat. “You look a bit anxious, my dear, but you don’t need to worry that pretty little head of yours. Everything’s taken care of but a couple of small details.”
Blythe sighed in relief knowing that she didn’t have to worry about anything but showing up, but the truth was, it wasn’t the wedding arrangements that had her a “bit anxious.” It was the knowledge that in an hour’s time she would be the wife of a man she barely knew, one she didn’t think liked her very much. She would be expected to leave with him and, according to their pact, spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. It was a terrifying notion.
She gave Hattie a weak smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Carson.”
“The arrangements are very simple. I’ll play the ‘Wedding March’ while you come down the stairs and Brother McAdams will do the ceremony. Colt will be Will’s best man. He didn’t know who would be giving you away. Do you have someone?”
“Yes,” Blythe said. “Edward Stone.”
“I couldn’t have chosen better myself. Cilla Garrett has volunteered to play a few pieces while the guests are having their refreshments after the ceremony, if that’s all right with you,” Hattie said, directing the statement to Blythe.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Blythe said, touched by Cilla’s gesture. “It’s sweet of her to offer.”
“She said she wanted to pay you back for designing that pretty dress last summer.”
“I was happy to do it.”
“I know you were, dear, and let me tell you...that young lady has come a long way in a few short months. I’ve never seen such changes in a person before, and I’ve never had a student who took to the pianoforte the way she has.”
Hattie tossed the towel over one shoulder. “Come with me,” she said, gesturing at the two women. “I’ll show you where you can change. Allison sent Brady to let me know she’d be here in just a bit to do your hair. By the way, Bess, Will’s mother, couldn’t make it. There wasn’t enough time to make arrangements.”
“That’s too bad,” Libby said. Secretly, Blythe was glad to put off meeting her new mother-in-law. She’d found out from Rachel that Will’s father had died years before.
They followed Hattie through the foyer and up the curving staircase. The older woman opened a door on the right-hand side of the wide hallway and preceded them into a bedroom decorated in sunny yellow, creamy white and the palest of greens. Blythe thought it might be the happiest room she’d ever seen.
“Will sent word he’d be here by one thirty.” The smile that crinkled Hattie’s wrinkled face and twinkled in her eyes was as unexpected as it was sweet. “Said it would probably take him that long to scrape off his whiskers after not shaving for so long.”
Recalling his untidy, rather rakish look, Blythe didn’t doubt it. Her mental image of her husband-to-be made her head throb in sudden anxiety. Will was the exact opposite of Devon in every way, from physical attributes to mannerisms and speech. Will was all forceful, powerful male who didn’t take any nonsense from anyone. He certainly wouldn’t take any from her.
Another rush of panic swept through her. What on earth was she doing? Was there any way to get out of it without causing another scandal? The room began to spin and she pressed her fingertips to her temples.
“Oh, dear!” Hattie said. “Grab her arm, Mrs. Granville. She looks a little faint.”
“Blythe! Blythe, sweetheart, are you all right?”
Blythe felt her two companions take her arms and guide her toward a small slipper chair sitting next to the fireplace. She sank into it and someone pushed her head down. Why? Oh, yes, she’d heard that helped restore blood flow to the brain or something.
“Take deep breaths, my dear,” Hattie commanded. “You’re going to be fine. This happens every now and again. It’s just a bad case of megrims. The whole notion of marriage can be overpowering when two people are in love, much less when they’re marrying for reasons of convenience the way you and Will are.”
Good grief! Though her intentions were nothing but the best, Blythe couldn’t believe that Hattie dared to put into words what everyone in town must be saying. It was so humiliating!
After a few moments the light-headedness passed and, with a last cleansing breath, Blythe sat up straight and rested her head against the back of the chair.
“Are you all right?”
When Blythe opened her eyes and saw her mother’s concerned face near hers, she felt like crying. She’d never intended to cause her mother any worry. She’d never intended for any of this to happen. She gave a slow nod. “I think so.”
“Here, my dear,” Hattie said, holding out a clean, damp cloth. “Put this on your forehead. It will help.”
“Thank you.”
Blythe placed the cool cloth on her forehead and tried to will the hundred and one thoughts churning inside it to go away. She was committed to this marriage, wasn’t she?
“You don’t have to go through with it, Blythe,” her mother said, even though Hattie was still in the room. “You know we’ll stand behind you if you change your mind.”
Blythe met her mother’s troubled eyes. “I know you will, but I promised.”
“People will understand. Even Will.”
“I know it’s none of my business,” Hattie said, “but since I’m here listening to everything you say, I’d like to tell you that even though you’re worried, you don’t have to be about Will.” She smiled. “You probably don’t know it, but he’s my nephew. Bess and I are sisters.”
Blythe wasn’t the least surprised. No wonder Will had been able to talk Hattie into holding the ceremony here on such short notice.
“He was brought up right, but you know how young people are sometimes. They go off the rails once in a while and you can’t talk a lick of sense into them.”
Hattie might have been speaking about her, Blythe thought. “I’m guilty of that myself, Mrs. Carson,” she said, knowing in her heart that no one could have said a word about Devon to make her believe he was anything but what he’d presented himself to be.
“At least you admit it. Eventually most see the error of their ways, and I truly believe Will has. Basically, he’s a good, hardworking man, and he was hurt something awful by that wicked Martha. It’s no wonder he took to drink for a while or that he’s so distrustful of women. Not that I condone his actions, you understand.”
“Of course I do,” Blythe assured her.
Hattie blushed to the roots of her graying brown hair. “Like I said, it’s none of my business, but if you ask me, the two of you have a good chance of making this marriage work. I see kindness and gentleness in you, and that’s what he needs, and I see a lot of strength in him, and that’s what you need. Someone to stand up for you. Take care of you. My advice is to be kind to each other, and see what happens. You both might be surprised.”
* * *
The tall, broad-shouldered reflection staring back at Will from the cheval mirror in his aunt Hattie’s downstairs bedroom showed a man divided. On the outside, he looked well-dressed. Some might even say he looked refined in his dark suit, carefully tied cravat and polished Sunday shoes. But anyone who looked closer would note the tightness around his mouth and the tenseness in his eyes.
His heart was racing and his palms were sweating. His legs felt as if they might buckle at any minute. He would rather be in the woods facing a nest of copperheads than the woman who would walk down the stairs in mere moments.
Once again, Martha had put him in a tight spot and, once again, he’d done something foolish. Marriage. Again. To a woman he barely knew. A woman whose brother wanted to put him out of business. What had he been thinking when he’d spouted off the comment about him and Blythe deciding to get married? Had he been thinking? He’d lost his mind, that’s what he’d done. There was no other explanation.
He scrubbed a hand down his clean-shaved face. Martha’s constant excuses for her behavior and persistent entreaties of forgiveness were like water drip-drip-dripping on a stone. At least this time he hadn’t turned to the bottle. That was
good, wasn’t it?
Will began to pace the bedroom. Since his proposal, or whatever it had been, the previous day, he’d had several people tell him that despite the circumstances, he was getting a good woman. Allison had raved about how Blythe’s dress-designing talent had helped her catch Colt’s eye, and how Blythe had unselfishly volunteered to make the gown for her wedding on New Year’s Eve.
He’d heard what a wonderful teacher she was, even though that wasn’t her calling. He’d heard she was a good aunt to the Gentry children; she had a kind and tender heart, was a good Christian, daughter and sister.
If she was everything they claimed, all he could think was that she deserved someone better than he was. After all, she came from wealth and was destined for bigger and better things than marriage to a small-town sawmill owner. But thanks to that kind heart they said she had and the fury of Mother Nature, she would be stuck in a little house in the woods with no way to pursue her dreams, tied to a man who could give her little but a roof over her head and food to eat. He felt a sudden desire to march up the stairs and tell her that maybe they should think this through...
A knock sounded at the door and, without waiting for an answer, Colt stepped inside, a slight smile on his face. He’d been smiling a lot since he’d married Allison. “It’s almost time. Are you ready?”
“No.”
Colt’s smile vanished. “What do you mean, no?”
“What do you think would happen if I backed out?”
Colt’s hands curled into loose fists. “If you’re serious, and I hope you aren’t, I think that poor woman upstairs would crawl in a hole and never come out, and I think you’d qualify as the biggest good-for-nothing coward in Arkansas and that it would give me the greatest pleasure to knock you into next week.”
Will actually flinched. “Ouch! You don’t mince words, do you?”
“That’s what friends do.” Colt wasn’t smiling. He walked over and put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is a really rotten situation, but here is where we are, and I truly believe that if you let this girl down, you’ll be the one who loses standing in the community, not her.”
Wolf Creek Wife Page 10
