by Penny Zeller
“I think Rosemary would appreciate that,” said Zach. “She’s a godly woman—one of the most loving, caring people I’ve ever met. She’s like a second mother to me, and I think you’ll come to see her that way, too, in time. If she knew you were upset, she’d feel badly, herself.” Zach paused for a moment, then said, “McKenzie, if you want, I’ll draw you a bath.”
All she wanted to do was escape to her room and sleep. “Thank you, Zach, but I think I’ll have a bath tomorrow, instead. I’m quite tired.”
“I imagine you are. I’d be happy to draw a bath for you tomorrow, then.”
As she stood in Zach’s arms, she wondered whether she should lift her arms to hug him back. Her stomach felt strange, and she figured it was due to the eventful day and the tumult of emotions it had brought. In the end, she decided to keep her arms where they were. Something about feeling secure in Zach’s arms made her decide against making even the slightest movement.
“Are you as nervous as I am about our wedding tomorrow?” Zach asked.
“Yes,” McKenzie admitted. If only he knew just how nervous she was! Of course, she was more concerned about what she needed to do when she found Kaydie than the ceremony itself.
Zach grinned. “I imagine everyone gets nervous before getting hitched.”
McKenzie nodded. He was right. But not everyone had as many things to be nervous about as McKenzie Worthington did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
That night, McKenzie sat on the bed in her new room, trying to block out her bleak surroundings and fight the tears that threatened to fall. Her shoulders sagged hopelessly as she longed for the life she left in Boston.
McKenzie thought of her bedroom at home—the same room she’d had ever since she’d been a little girl, and the same room she would keep until the day she entered into marriage with a suitable Bostonian bachelor. Her room was three times the size of this one, but it was cozier, too. She missed the fireplace, complete with a grandfather clock on the mantel, and the burgundy wing chair with its brass studs. How many times had she sat in that chair to lace up her boots in the morning or to brush her hair before turning in at night? The walls were papered with a rich, paisley print of burgundy and yellow hues, and the polished, wood floor was covered with a plush Oriental rug. She had a wide, comfortable bed with a wrought-iron headboard, a private bath area, and a spacious closet to house all of her frocks and gowns. Every week, Nellie or Biddie would fill the vase on her bureau with fresh flowers from the garden outside. In the wintertime, dried flowers replaced the fresh ones, and they were kept in perfect condition. Nellie and Biddie also took great pains to be sure McKenzie’s room was dusted and the furniture was polished regularly. They made her bed, drew her baths, and did everything they could to make her comfortable.
McKenzie sighed at the memory. This room had just enough space for a bed, a small, wooden table, which, McKenzie supposed, was meant to be a desk, and a bureau with two drawers. At least a washbowl and pitcher had been placed on the bureau—they would be helpful when she felt the need to freshen up. But the walls were neither painted nor papered, and the window was covered with a threadbare-looking, brown blanket. A tattered, faded quilt had been spread across the bed, and McKenzie had already noticed that the straw mattress would be anything but comfortable. There was nothing beyond the bare essentials—no decor, nothing homey.
McKenzie stood up and walked over to the window. How she wished either Nellie or Biddie was here right now to draw her a warm bath. She especially loved how Nellie always brought her a steaming cup of tea to sip while she bathed. Now, so many miles from home, there was no Nellie, no Biddie, and no tea.
While McKenzie knew that this room was probably used only by the occasional guest, she wished some time had been set aside to make it warmer and more welcoming. The closet-sized space had scarcely more character than a prison cell, in her opinion, even though she’d never been inside a prison, much less a cell. Yet, this would be her room for the duration of her stay in Pine Haven, for she doubted very much that she would ever move into Zach’s room, as he likely expected her to do starting tomorrow, when they were married.
What had she been thinking when she’d decided to answer Zach’s advertisement? Her life had been close to perfect, or so it seemed in hindsight, and, now, it was topsy-turvy, thanks to her plan to rescue her sister. Maybe Kaydie didn’t even want to return to Boston. Maybe after McKenzie located her, she’d want to stay in Montana. Then what? It would all have been for naught. Even if she did follow McKenzie back to Boston, would this sacrifice be worth it? Would Kaydie, so timid and lacking in common sense, again follow her heart and have to be rescued once more?
McKenzie returned to the bed, crying softly as she let down her hair and brushed it with the pearl tortoiseshell comb her mother had given her for her tenth birthday. She determined that she would adhere to her time frame to find her sister and return to Boston. Any longer than that, and she wouldn’t survive the harsh surroundings of a dismal life she neither desired nor would ever find acceptable.
McKenzie put on her nightgown, climbed into bed, and laid her head on the pillow, then reviewed the day’s events in her mind. First, there was the bumpy ride on the uncomfortable stagecoach. Second, her first glimpse of Pine Haven and the depressing realization that the town had no dress shop, nor any other marks of civilized society. Third, meeting Zach face-to-face, followed by another bumpy ride, this one in his wagon. Fourth, the incident with Rosemary, the embarrassment from which McKenzie knew she would never recover. She decided right then to dislike Rosemary with all the effort she could muster. Finally, her discussion with Zach on the porch, where she heard him deliver an explanation of the error in her ways with more sensitivity than she’d ever seen in a man. She recalled the way he’d put his arms around her to console her, and how, though she would never admit it to anyone, she had enjoyed the comfort he’d provided.
McKenzie closed her eyes and imagined traveling back to her home in Boston. She pictured her elegant, two-story home with the pointed roof, which she loved. The rounded porch in the front, and the additional porch on the right side, which made summer evenings so pleasurable, especially when seated on the porch swing built by Manuel, with the calico cushions sewn by Biddie. The five thick, white pillars on the front porch, and the four pillars on the side porch, which lent to the extravagance and superior craftsmanship of the enviable home. McKenzie sniffled at the thought of her parents’ bedroom, with the private balcony that extended over the front door. She and Kaydie had spent many afternoons there, playing Rapunzel. In her mind, she strolled around the manicured gardens and shrubs, which Manuel took such pride in maintaining. She imagined entering through the front door and walking into the parlor, with its four fireplaces and walls lined with portraits and paintings. Her eyes alit with fondness on the Oriental rugs, the gold-framed mirror, the exquisite, winding staircase that led upstairs, and her mother’s beloved piano, stately situated in the corner. She saw the long, rectangular table in the dining room, where the family dined and entertained guests.
McKenzie would never want to invite guests to Zach’s house. There was no back kitchen entrance for the hired help, nor any area where the staff could sit during a meal and wait to be summoned to refill the water goblets or clear the table. This area was a place to which McKenzie had escaped many a time to sit and visit with Nellie or Biddie while they tended to their chores. Although they were paid to do so, McKenzie wanted to believe that they listened to her and helped her sort out her life’s problems because they cared. Had they been here at this moment, she would have shared with them the depressing thoughts that obsessed her regarding her new life.
Closing her eyes tighter and willing herself to fall asleep, McKenzie thought of how, tomorrow, she would become a married woman. She only hoped all this would be worth it. Wherever you are, Kaydie, this is for you, she thought before drifting into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Early the next morning, Z
ach hitched up the horses and headed into town. He still couldn’t believe that in a few short hours, he’d be a married man. Lord, please let this be Your will, he prayed silently. He’d known McKenzie such a short time, and yet, after several months of correspondence, and now, with her here, he felt like he knew her as well as he could, given the circumstances. Besides, God willing, he had a lifetime to continue getting to know her.
Along the way, Zach pulled over, got out of the wagon, and used a shovel to fill in the hole in the road that had rattled McKenzie on her first trip to the ranch. Then, he loaded the shovel back into the wagon and continued to the church, laughing to himself all the while. Who would have guessed that Zach Sawyer would be wearing his Sunday best on a day other than Sunday? He was willing to put up with the itchy, uncomfortable clothes two times this week, though, for it wasn’t every day that a man got married.
At the thought of marriage, his mind traveled back to a conversation he’d had as an eleven-year-old with his father while they were fishing.
***
Zach swung his legs over the dock and held his fishing pole tight. Maybe today would be the day he’d finally catch a fish. How many times had Pa taken him fishing, and he’d caught nothing? Yes, he knew today would be different.
“What are you so deep in thought about, son?” his father asked.
“Oh, I was just hoping that today will be the day I catch a fish,” Zach answered, smiling up at his father.
“I think you just might be right. But, if you’re not, don’t be discouraged. There’ll be plenty of other times for you to catch that fish.” Joseph Sawyer patted his son on the back.
“Pa, was Ma kind of like a fish?” Zach asked. He wasn’t sure where the odd question had come from, only that he wanted to ask it.
“Your ma? Like a fish?” His father chuckled. “If she were an animal, I guess I’d think of her as more of a doe than a fish.”
“No, Pa, I don’t mean that!” Zach was suddenly embarrassed.
“What did you mean, son?” His father turned to look at Zach, giving him his full attention.
“I mean, before you and Ma were married, how did you try catching her as your wife?”
His father chuckled again. “I see what you mean, now. Well, your ma didn’t grow up in the best of homes, so she lived on her own from an early age. She began caring for my aunt’s children as their live-in nanny when she was fourteen because my aunt had become quite ill. That’s when I first met her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen—and the sweetest I’d ever met, too. She loved my cousins as if they were her own children. She read to them, bathed them, fed them, and taught them all about our Lord.”
“So, did you ask her to marry you right then?” Zach asked. In all the stories his parents had shared with him, he’d never heard one about how they’d met.
“No, not right then,” his father said with a laugh. “I was two years older and so busy working for my pa. We were very poor, and, as my pa’s only child, I had a lot of duties fall to me, especially since Ma had passed on only a year before. When your ma turned sixteen, I decided it was time for me to start courting her. I knew I was the most blessed man alive. Everywhere we went, folks loved your ma. I’ve never heard one ill word come from her mouth in all these years we’ve been married. She’s not perfect, but she’s always had that gift of holding her tongue and not letting words destroy delicate relationships.”
“Well, she did get mad at me that time I brought my pet snake into the house,” Zach said.
“That’s different. She’s your ma, and you’re to obey her. You knew better than to bring Mr. Green into the house. Your ma is terrified of snakes. Still, the look on her face….” His father trailed off into laughter, then cleared his throat. “You’re right—your ma wasn’t too happy that day. So, getting back to the story, I asked your ma to marry me five months after I began courting her. I had prayed and prayed that if I wasn’t supposed to marry her, God would make it clear. I’d also prayed that I wouldn’t be too much of a coward to propose to her. God confirmed that she was to be my wife, and He did give me the courage I needed to ask for her hand in marriage. I had nothing but the clothes on my back, but I had all the care any man would ever need for the love of his life.”
Zach felt his face flush. He hadn’t thought about his parents being in love before. “And then you had me,” he said.
“Yes, we had you after many years of praying for a baby. You are our blessing, Zach. I want you to know, too, that, someday, you’ll be fishing for a wife, so to speak. When you do find her, remember what the Bible says about loving your wife. In Ephesians, the apostle Paul wrote, ‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.’ Remember that, son. God wants you to love the woman He gives you as much as Christ loved the church. That’s a lot of love. Remember, too, the book of First Peter, which says, ‘And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Love your wife with all you have, and don’t make a big deal about the small things.”
“All right, Pa,” Zach promised, although, as far as he was concerned, girls were a nuisance and he’d likely not be marrying one in the near future.
“That’s a long way off, son. You’re only eleven,” his father said, as if reading Zach’s mind. “But your ma and I have been praying that, someday, God will bless you with a godly wife. And He will. When He does, you remember what I’ve told you.”
***
McKenzie put on the wedding dress she had purchased before leaving home. It wasn’t an expensive one, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. She pressed on the delicate, lace pleats of the gown. It would certainly be the fanciest wedding dress ever seen in Pine Haven, of that she was sure. McKenzie closed her eyes and thought for a moment. If this were a real wedding….
***
McKenzie’s mother finished pinning up her daughter’s hair. “You look beautiful, McKenzie,” she said. “Your father and I are so proud of your choice.”
McKenzie smiled at her mother and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Mother. I’m pleased, as well.” She thought of the man who would be her husband within the hour, Louis Clarence III—wealthy, charming, tall, handsome, and intelligent. He was one of the most respected physicians in the Boston area, and he loved her more than any man had ever loved a woman in all of history. He’d surprised her with the most superb engagement ring and had promised her a life of luxury.
“I think you’re ready,” Mother said, taking her daughter’s gloved hand in hers. “You’ll never forget today—your wedding day. You look lovely, so let’s not keep Louis waiting.” McKenzie turned, and the long train of her gown trailed behind her. It was the most exquisite dress in the entire State of Massachusetts. Father had spared no expense in making sure his middle daughter was dressed in only the best.
McKenzie and her mother walked down the staircase to the first floor of the church. There, Mother continued through the doors into the sanctuary, where music played softly as her husband escorted her to the front pew on the left-hand side. He then returned to the back of the church, where he took McKenzie’s arm and waited to walk her down the aisle to meet her groom. McKenzie smiled at him as she looped her arm through his, and he smiled back at her and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Your mother and I love you so much, McKenzie,” he said.
“I love you, too, Father,” McKenzie replied, trying not to cry.
When Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” began to play, McKenzie’s father accompanied her down the red-carpeted aisle to the altar, where Louis was waiting. McKenzie glanced up to see her groom and knew such a day could be only in her dreams….
***
A knock at the door interrupted McKenzie’s daydream, and she sighed, annoyed by the interruption. “Yes?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as irritated as she felt.
“McKenzie, it’s Rosemary. Are you almost ready, dear?”
“Yes, Rosemary. I’ll be right out,
” McKenzie replied.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“In a moment, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate your help with my hair.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, then,” Rosemary said. McKenzie could hear her footsteps descending the stairs.
For the moment, McKenzie wanted to dive back into her daydream. She attempted to reenter the dream, but it didn’t work. Reality had set in. She wasn’t marrying Dr. Louis Clarence III, and she never would. He had chosen her best friend, Pearl, to marry, instead. No, the man McKenzie was marrying was Zach Sawyer, a poor rancher with rough, dirty hands and a plain home in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t a prestigious doctor, and he wasn’t charming. He was handsome and kind, she would give him that, but she doubted he was very smart, given that he’d chosen to leave Chicago and move to an untamed area out West.
Unlike in McKenzie’s dream, her father wasn’t here to walk her down the aisle, and not once had he told her that he loved her. Oh, she knew that he did—he’d always provided for her and had often shown interest in what she had to say. But he’d never said those words that would have meant so much to her.
Neither was her mother here to help her prepare for the biggest day of her life. Instead, McKenzie had only Rosemary, a plump, dowdy ranch wife, who seemed more inclined to hinder than help. The dress McKenzie was wearing was nowhere near as exquisite as the gown she would have worn to wed Louis, either. Moreover, it was likely that she and Zach would ride away from the church in his rickety wagon rather than the classy carriage that would have whisked her away on a honeymoon with Louis. Her life was turning out all wrong. Yet, she still had hope that, someday, after she’d found Kaydie and returned to Boston, she’d find a wealthy gentleman to marry and still have the wedding ceremony of her dreams. Her “real” husband would never know her secret past—her father could legally make sure of that. Until then, she would pretend to be enchanted with the idea of marrying a man she’d met through a newspaper advertisement.
