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From This Day Forward (Heartland Homecoming)

Page 20

by Irene Hannon


  “The response has been gratifying.”

  “And well deserved. You’ll be a great asset to Oak Hill, Cara. And I don’t mean only because of the restaurant.”

  On impulse, Cara leaned over and gave the innkeeper a hug, doing her best not to inhale any of the wispy feathers from the shocking-pink boa Marge had draped over the sparkly, multicolored tunic and black satin pants she’d donned in honor of the occasion.

  “Thank you for everything, Marge. Including the good advice about love.”

  “You’re welcome.” She patted Cara’s back, then pulled away and sniffled. “Goodness. You’ll have me blubbering like a baby in a minute.”

  Plucking a nosegay of cream-colored roses nestled in tulle off the marble-topped dresser, she handed it to Cara. “Okay, I think we’re set. Reverend Andrews is waiting in the gazebo. Abby Warner is set to take a picture for the Gazette. There’s a luscious-looking cake in the dining room from that great Danish bakery that Dr. Martin favors. And speaking of the good doctor, I left him pacing in the foyer, waiting for his bride in the honored tradition of all nervous grooms. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Marge opened the door, stepping back to allow Cara to precede her.

  When Cara reached the top of the grand staircase, she paused. As Marge had indicated, Sam was pacing in the inn’s grand foyer. He was dressed in an impeccable dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders, a cream-colored rose in his lapel. A navy blue tie with a subtle teal-colored pattern lay against his crisp white shirt, and gold cuff links caught the light at his wrists. The word handsome didn’t come close to doing him justice.

  But when he stopped and looked up, it was his eyes that held her mesmerized. Filled with love, gratitude, adoration—they held everything a bride could ever hope to see in her groom. Emotion tightened her throat, and she smiled down at him.

  As Cara began her descent, Sam had to remind himself to breathe. Backlit by the stained-glass window on the landing, her glorious hair looked for all the world like a halo. The slender skirt and fitted jacket emphasized her trim figure, and there was a radiance—and joy—about her that seeped deep into his soul and illuminated it.

  No longer did he have to rely on dreams to fill the lonely place in his heart.

  His dreams had come true.

  When she reached the bottom of the stairs, he held out his hands and she placed hers inside.

  “You look beautiful.” He tugged her a bit closer, but as he leaned down Marge interrupted.

  “Now, now, Dr. Martin. Time for that after the ceremony. We have pictures to take and vows to renew. Abby, where’s Jason?”

  As Sam whispered “later” in her ear, Cara drew back, and Abby Warner stepped out of the shadows where she’d discreetly melted while the tender scene unfolded.

  “On another photo assignment in Rolla. I’m doing double duty today.” The Gazette editor turned to Cara and Sam. “I hope you don’t mind if we run a picture, but this is as close to a society wedding as Oak Hill is likely to get. Town doctor and world-class chef…that’s big news here.”

  “It will be good for business, too,” Marge chimed in.

  “Of course we don’t mind,” Cara assured Abby, giving Sam’s hand a squeeze. “Where would you like us?”

  “How about on the steps, under the art glass window on the landing? That will make a dramatic picture.”

  As Sam and Cara complied, Marge watched with an indulgent grin.

  Sixty seconds later, Abby gave them a wistful smile and tucked her camera back in its case. “That will do it. My best wishes to you both. I can let myself out, Marge.” With a wave, she headed for the front door.

  As it closed behind her, Cara angled toward the innkeeper, curious about the brief, melancholy yearning she’d caught in the editor’s eyes. “Is Abby married, Marge?”

  “Just to that newspaper, I’m sorry to say. She’d make the right man a fine wife, but the Gazette has always come first in her heart. That’s the blessing—and the curse—of a family legacy, I suppose. She doesn’t have a minute to call her own, let alone think about romance.”

  “Been there, done that.” Sam joined in the conversation, taking Cara’s hand and looking at her as he spoke. “And I never intend to do it again.”

  “Good for you. I like a man who has his priorities straight. And now I believe you two have a date with a minister.”

  She led the way to the back of the house and pushed open the door. “The garden is yours. I’ll ice down the champagne and leave it in the dining room.”

  “You can still come if you like, Marge,” Cara said.

  “No, my dear, this is your private moment. Yours and Sam’s, to share with the Lord. No other witnesses are necessary.”

  Sam crooked his elbow, and when Cara slipped her hand through he covered it with his own. As they walked through the old-fashioned garden, among hollyhocks and roses and zinnias, he smiled at her. “I suspect she’ll peek through the upstairs window.”

  “I do, too. She’s a romantic at heart. Do you mind?”

  “No. I only have eyes for you, anyway.”

  Smiling, he led her toward the elaborate, white-lattice Victorian gazebo, his grip tightening as they approached.

  “Nervous?” She shot him a teasing look.

  “No.” His response was quick and confident, and there was no trace of levity in his expression as they ascended the wooden steps to renew the vows that bound them together. “Today is the answer to all my prayers.”

  Hers, too, Cara acknowledged, as they joined hands and faced each other in front of Reverend Andrews. For in Sam’s dear blue eyes she saw a love as deep and as rich and as true as her own. A love that would sustain them for better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health.

  All the days of their lives.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-0882-1

  FROM THIS DAY FORWARD

  Copyright © 2007 by Irene Hannon

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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