“A dress, hmm?” The little man cocked his head and looked her up and down. Coming from any other man, it might have been insulting, but Abby knew he was only trying to judge her size. “I’m sure we can find something that will be just the thing,” he told her, heading back out to his wagon.
Abby passed on the gowns with bustles, declaring that they were too fancy for Wolf Creek and she’d get little use of them. Instead, she chose a simple dress of gold-hued velvet with a plain round neck, long sleeves and a fitted bodice with tiny abalone buttons marching down the front. The skirt flared gently toward the floor with no need for a multitude of petticoats. It was quietly elegant, and would be suitable for church.
She emerged from the bedroom fifteen minutes later and whirled around for Simon’s inspection.
“You’ll make a beautiful bride, my dear,” he said. “Caleb will be as pleased as punch.”
Abby didn’t have the heart to contradict him. “I don’t have much money right now,” she said. “Will you take something in trade?”
“Please. Let it be my wedding gift to you,” Simon said.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” Abby objected. “Wait here.” She went back into her room and emerged in a moment with a lovely cameo brooch encircled with fine gold filigree. “This was my mother’s. Would you take it in exchange for the gown?”
Simon looked as torn as Abby. “It’s a lovely piece and worth far more than the dress. I hate to see you part with it. Perhaps—”
“Please,” Abby coaxed, pressing the brooch into his bony hands even though she hated losing one of her last links to her mother. “I wouldn’t feel right otherwise.” Though neither of them was happy about the upcoming nuptials, she was marrying the wealthiest man in the county, and she would not have Caleb ashamed of her. “If it will make you feel better, you can throw in the cider, oranges and spices.”
In the end, Simon added a shirt and some new Sunday trousers for Ben, who had taken a growth spurt the past couple of months, and a pair of dark gold shoes of the softest leather that matched Abby’s dress. When he left, her heart was a bit lighter. Simon Teasdale was a good man who always brought a spot of sunshine when he came.
* * *
By Friday afternoon Abby wondered if she’d be able to get everything done in the next twenty-four hours. The children’s clothes were ready and the house was spotless, but Betsy hadn’t slept well the night before, and the usually sweet-tempered Laura was teething and whiny. Miserable, Ben slunk around like someone who’d lost his last friend, despite Abby giving him the piece of licorice Simon had left as a surprise.
Abby was weary from being up with Betsy, and Ben still needed a haircut and the cake needed to be baked. She would get up early in the morning to finish the last-minute details before the guests arrived.
Caleb must have sensed that she was feeling pressure, because he’d asked Ben to go with him to help Frank and Leo look for pine knots. Ben had declined at first, but Caleb had bent to whisper something in his ear, and Ben had given a reluctant nod.
Abby had just put both girls down for a nap and was mixing up the apple cake when she heard someone at the door. She opened it to find Rachel along with four other friends standing there, laden down with various items, their faces wreathed in wide smiles. Emily’s mother stood at the rear of the group.
“Congratulations!” they chorused as one, breezing into the house.
“What’s going on?”
“We’ve come to help with the wedding preparations,” Allison Granger, a short, plump, redheaded schoolteacher, said. She swept past Abby and set a pair of silver candlesticks and two tall white tapers on the dining room table. Ellie Carpenter, who owned the café, uncovered three small cut-glass plates wrapped in dish towels. Rachel brought a tall cut-crystal vase that had belonged to her mother. Gracie Morrison offered a fine white damask tablecloth for the dining room table, and Lydia North’s contribution was a silver charger piled high with delicate cookies laced with finely chopped pecans. Mary Emerson carried a large crystal punch bowl with matching cups that she announced had belonged to her grandmama. When she saw the tears in Abby’s eyes, she took her hands and squeezed tightly. “Bless you, child,” she whispered.
Then, amid a cacophony of chatter and laughter, Rachel shooed Abby back to the kitchen to finish the cake, while they finished “fixing things up.” As Abby added the flour to the already blended sugar, butter, eggs and chopped apple, she could hear snippets of their conversations and their happy laughter. She wasn’t aware of the smile that claimed her lips, but she was aware that her friends’ appearance had restored her flagging faith in the goodness of the townsfolk.
When the cake was in the oven, she reentered the parlor. Her shocked gaze moved around the room and to the adjoining dining room in amazement. Both were transformed with English ivy and branches of French mulberry laden with clusters of fuchsia berries.
“What do you think?” Rachel asked.
Abby felt the sting of tears again. She did have friends who cared. “I think it’s beautiful and that you are all wonderful, wonderful friends.”
“Well, thanks. We love you, too,” Allison said with a saucy grin. “We aren’t finished yet. Rachel and I will be out in the morning to finish up.”
“It couldn’t look any better.”
“Just wait until you see it tomorrow.”
* * *
While Abby’s friends were helping her with the wedding preparations, Caleb was sitting beside the boy who, come the following day, would be his stepson. Ben was stubborn, hardheaded and inquisitive, but thanks to his mother, he was mannerly. It hit Caleb like a freight train that he would be responsible, at least in part, for shaping Ben into the man he would one day be. It was a daunting realization. He hadn’t the slightest notion of how to break through the child’s animosity, much less make him a good man, but he had to do something, start somewhere. Bart Emerson had been adamant that Caleb try to get on a better footing with the boy.
“Thanks for coming with me, Ben,” Caleb said, his mouth as dry as the desert. “Dr. Rachel and some of your mother’s friends had a surprise for her, and I thought you might want to be with the men rather than a bunch of nattering women.”
Ben’s sullen expression vanished, and he slanted Caleb a questioning look. “What’s nattering?”
“A lot of talking, which from what I’ve been told, is often about nothing in particular and everything in general, especially when ladies are involved. I understand the conversation usually centers around cooking and children and husbands and is accompanied by tea or coffee and a lot of laughter.” Which didn’t, he thought in amazement, sound too bad at all. “In this case, your mother’s friends wanted to come help her with the last-minute preparations for tomorrow.”
“A hen party,” Ben said. “Danny says that’s what he and his granddad call it when Doc Rachel’s friends come over.”
“Yes, I’ve heard it called that, too.”
Ben didn’t speak for a moment, and then said, almost conversationally, “I don’t really want you to be my stepfather.”
Caleb was taken aback by Ben’s forthrightness, even while he admired his courage. It couldn’t be easy for a child to speak his mind to an adult.
“I understand that,” Caleb said, striving to make his tone calm and polite. “I’m sure your mother has told you that this...marriage is something that neither of us would have chosen, but sometimes circumstances force us to make difficult choices.”
“Mama told me that you needed her for Betsy and she needed you to help with the farm and stuff. She said you were like partners.”
He might have known Abby would do a far better job of explaining things than he could ever hope to do. “That’s right. I know you had a very good father and that I can’t hope to replace him in your life. I wouldn’t want to, Ben.”
A picture flashed in his mind, one of him and Abby and the three children around the dinner table, laughing. It was a pleasant image but pretty far-fetched. But was it? Surely they would find some closeness in the future.
“I do hope in time that we’ll become a real family, even though our new family will be different from what we had before.”
“Mama says different isn’t bad, it’s just a change.”
“She’s right. Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Caleb asked as the wagon bounced down the rutted road.
“Not really,” Ben said, his gaze focused on the trees in the distance.
“I thought you might be looking forward to all the good things to eat and seeing your friends.”
Ben slanted him a glance. “What kind of good things?”
“Well, I know for a fact that someone brought some cookies, and your mother is making a cake with some apples and the nuts you picked up. I’m sure there will be lots of other good things.”
Ben sat straighter and Caleb thought he saw a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
“And your friends will be there.”
“Really?” he said, showing the first animation since they’d left the house. “Daniel’s coming?”
“Daniel and Toby and Sam are coming for sure. I’m not sure who else. And while the girls are having their hen party and nattering, we men will play horseshoes and sit out on the porch and chew the fat.”
“I don’t want to chew on any fat,” Ben said, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “I don’t like fat.”
Caleb couldn’t help the laughter that erupted at Ben’s lack of understanding. His eyes were still smiling they met Ben’s narrowed gaze. “Chewing the fat is a bunch of men sitting around talking about fishing, or hunting or trapping, or their businesses.”
“Sounds like a hen party to me,” Ben said.
Caleb thought about that a moment, then smiled. “Exactly.”
Chapter Six
Friends and well-wishers sat or stood around the large parlor whose wide aperture opened into the dining room, where the overflow crowd stood. All eyes were on the couple in front of the rock fireplace. A tall vase of wild grasses resembling horses’ tails and turning a lovely autumn purple sat in the center of the mantel, which was laden with English ivy. More French mulberry was tucked among the feathery lengths along with stems of native sunflower. Deep burgundy grosgrain ribbon from the mercantile provided by Mary was wound cleverly throughout the ivy.
Mary cradled baby Betsy in her arms, and Laura sat on Rachel’s lap, chewing on the yellow ribbon that graced the front of her smocked gingham dress. Rachel was flanked on either side by her seven-year-old son, Daniel, and Ben. Edward Stone sat in his wheelchair, and Bart Emerson stood sentinel next to him, ready to give assistance with the boys if it became necessary. The only guests representing Caleb were Frank and Leo, Nathan Haversham and his wife, and a lawyer from town whom Abby recognized but had not met.
She clutched her trembling hands around a bouquet of ivy and the perky yellow flowers that grew in abundance along roadsides and fields, their yellow faces appearing to float on the autumn breeze, looking almost stemless. The past couple of days, Abby had felt as disconnected as the flowers looked. She’d done what was necessary, moving through the days without conscious thought or effort.
It seemed she had prayed nonstop since agreeing to Caleb’s proposal. First she’d prayed that some other way to fix the muddle would come to mind, only to realize time and again that there was no other avenue that would work for everyone concerned. When she’d reached a tentative peace with that, she asked for courage and wisdom to be the wife and mother Caleb and Betsy needed. Still, doubts ambushed her fragile peace when she least expected them—like now. Was she doing the right thing?
Right or wrong, she stood beside Caleb, clad in her new wedding finery, uttering her vows in a soft, almost inaudible voice, while random memories of her first wedding stole through into her mind.
She and William had said their vows in a church in front of dozens of friends and family. Abby’s parents had thrown a lavish garden party afterward. Sunshine poured through the lacy leaves of the trees, and birds sang sweet summer songs, promising more sunny days ahead. She and William had been so young, so inexperienced, so much in love. Never once did they consider all the things that could go wrong in a marriage, or in a life. Ignorance truly had been bliss.
She and Caleb were going into this union with no illusions of love or dreams of happily ever after. They knew exactly where they stood. They were two people with different needs, and this marriage was the best way for them to have those needs met.
Lost in her troubled thoughts, Abby’s only link to the reality of the moment was the strong hand that clasped hers. Caleb’s hand was as warm as hers was cold. She sneaked a glance upward from beneath her lashes. He had never seemed so tall, never looked so stern and unapproachable. Then, suddenly, the preacher reached the part of the ceremony where she promised to love and cherish Caleb for the rest of her life. She repeated the words because it was expected of her, feeling like the world’s worst fraud.
Somehow she got through her part of the ceremony, and then it was Caleb’s turn. Unlike her, he spoke his vows in a firm, almost determined voice, as if he were daring anyone to stop him. Finally, he placed a plain gold band on her finger, and seconds later, she felt the slightest tug on her hand and realized that he was pulling her closer and lowering his lips to hers in the traditional, expected, end-of-ceremony kiss. A brief gesture meant to seal the promises they’d just made.
Abby’s eyelids drifted shut of their own accord. Though the touch of his lips was whisper-soft, she experienced an unexpected jolt of awareness, not unlike that she’d felt when their fingers brushed the first day they’d met. He raised his head suddenly, and her eyes flew open in surprise. That same expression was mirrored in his eyes. Awareness, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Confusion? Thoughtfulness?
He released her hand and moved to her side while the minister prayed, asking for God’s blessing on the new marriage and encouraging Caleb and Abby to put their trust in Him. After blessing the food they were about to enjoy, he announced that refreshments awaited everyone in the dining room.
The sound of Caleb clearing his throat once again made them the room’s focus. “Abby and I would like to thank you all for your friendship and understanding, for your hard work in making everything look so special and for helping with the refreshments. We appreciate it.” He followed the short speech with one of his rare smiles.
Abby’s breath hung in her throat. She was always astounded at how the smile transformed his harsh features, bracketing his hard mouth with attractive grooves and deepening the network of tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, changing him from stern to handsome. Both the unexpected kindness and the smile caused her pulse to quicken in a way that was somehow both confusing and distressing. Then he took her hand, and together they preceded the guests into the dining room. Abby surveyed her friends’ handiwork and her heart swelled with a feeling of love and gratitude.
True to their word, Rachel and Allison had driven out earlier to finalize the decorations. Vases of yellow flowers interspersed with branches of French mulberry were scattered throughout both rooms. Centered on the pristine whiteness of the borrowed tablecloth and encircled by more ivy sat Abby’s cake on the silver platter, flanked by the silver candlesticks and white tapers.
Mary’s punch bowl sat at one end of the table, surrounded by its matching cups. The cider had been heated to marry the flavor of the spices, and the faint scent of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg wafted through the air. Flickering candle flames shimmered, reflecting the hue of the cider and flinging the amber glow from each crystal facet of the antique punch bowl.
There were two kinds of cookies beside the cake. A haunch of beef br
ought by Mary and Bart waited to be carved and placed on fresh-baked bread with freshly churned butter or soft herbed goat cheese. Abby’s venison pastries, plump with meat and vegetables, were piled atop a footed plate. It was a lovely table, and she would be eternally thankful to the friends who had done so much to make her day memorable.
“You’ve done a fine job,” Caleb said in a low voice, a look of appreciation in his eyes as he took in the room’s simple elegance. It was his first comment to her as her husband, and his obvious satisfaction was a balm to her troubled heart.
“I had a lot of help from friends.”
“It seems you have very good friends,” he told her, almost as if the very notion was a foreign one.
“Yes,” she replied, “I do.”
He looked down at her, and something in his eyes told her he would like to say more, but just then Nathan Haversham came up and slapped him on the back before extending his hand in congratulations to them both. The next several minutes were spent accepting well wishes from those in attendance.
Since opportunities for fun were rare to the hardworking people in the community, the wedding guests used the next couple of hours to indulge in food and conversation. Thankfully, the autumn day was warm enough that those who wanted could sit outside. Caleb’s chess set had been set up on the porch, and Edward Stone challenged Nathan Haversham to a game. The children were playing tag, and true to his word, Caleb had set up horseshoes for those who wanted to play. Inevitably, the men and women drifted into groups.
Finally, Rachel and the others began to clear away the dishes and the remaining food. Both babies were being taken care of, and Abby, who wasn’t used to idleness, stood on the porch watching the guests and wondering, with a churning stomach, what would happen when they all left. It was something she and Caleb, who stood beneath the sheltering branches of a huge black gum tree talking to Emily’s father, had not discussed.
“Abby?”
She recognized Mary Emerson’s voice and turned with a tentative smile on her face, clasping her trembling hands together, her fingers coming into contact with the ring Caleb had placed on her finger. Though Mary and Bart Emerson had been very supportive, Abby wondered how they really felt about this marriage coming so soon on the heels of their daughter’s death.
Wolf Creek Wedding Page 9
