Texas Twilight

by Caroline Fyffe

  John stopped just before the gigantic stone steps. The aroma of something sweet being fried nearby wafted on the air. He turned Lily toward him and looked down into her face. “What is troubling you? I hear it in your voice,” he asked amid the flowers, the buzzing of bees, and brightly colored canaries hopping around in the tree branches.

  Lily glanced away from his gaze, not wanting to put a damper on their special day. Her heart thumped inside her chest. She was happy. Excited. Thrilled beyond her wildest dreams. In less than an hour she would be Mrs. John McCutcheon. John’s bride, to have and to hold, till death did they part. At least that was what Charity said the minister would say. In Germany it was a little different, yet much the same, too.

  “Lily?” he coaxed, tipping her face up to him with his finger. Worry creased his forehead as he searched her face. “Are you having doubts? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “I would never have doubts about you. Or about us getting married. It is just that I wish my family were here for this day. My Mütti and Vatie. All five of my sisters. My two brothers.”

  “I was afraid you’d regret not having a big wedding. If you want to wait—we can do that. We can even travel to Germany and get married there. Anything you want.”

  As usual, his words were a balm to her. “No, I do not want to wait. That is why I did not want to say anything. I knew it would hurt you, or make you feel sad. I love you. Today is the happiest day of my life. Just thinking how happy my family would be for me made me long to see them.”

  “If you’re sure?” He started up the steps, bringing her along, too. “I’m ready and willing. Let’s go—the others must be wondering what happened to us.”

  On the landing, John opened one of the huge wooden doors and held it as Lily passed through into the cool vestibule. All was quiet. On one side of the entry, a metal stand held a multitude of flickering candles, which gave off a warm, spicy scent. Like a welcoming sign from God, the sunlight beamed though a small stained-glass window, making a splash of crimson and gold at the beginning of the wide aisle where they would begin their life together. Brandon waited on one side of the aisle in the sanctuary, Charity on the other. The priest came out of a side door and positioned himself in the middle. He nodded once, then the strains of Ave Maria floated out from one of the side alters where a young man drew the bow slowly, reverently across the strings of his violin.

  If he wasn’t the luckiest man in the world, then he didn’t know who was. Lily’s hand trembled when he tucked it protectively into the bend in his arm, and she looked up into his face for support. “I love you,” he whispered as they walked. “Never doubt that for as long as there are stars in the heavens.”

  They walked down the aisle slowly and stopped in front of the alter. The music faded away. Charity beamed. “Here,” she whispered, gesturing to Lily to come and stand by her. She took the bouquet from his Lily’s quivering hands and offered her a confident smile.

  The priest smiled. “Let us begin. In the name of the Father…”

  Lily had a hard time concentrating on anything the priest said. Glancing down she marveled at the beautiful gold band John had placed on her finger moments before. It had been a surprise, something she hadn’t expected until he was slipping it on. When the priest raised his hand to give them a blessing, somewhere high in the rafters, a bird trilled out joyfully, another sign that the heavens were jubilant over their union.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.” Like magic, the church bells began pealing, the magnificent sound announcing their love across the whole city of San Antonio. “You may—”

  John pulled her into his embrace, kissing her passionately until the priest made a small sound in his throat. Charity giggled. When they came apart, Brandon grasped John and embraced him for a good ten seconds while Charity hugged her. As if he couldn’t stand to be away from her for even a moment longer, John pulled her back close to his side as congratulations were given all around.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “What do you think of it,” John asked as they followed the maitre d’ to their table. Yesterday, he and Brandon had scouted the most renowned restaurant in San Antonio and reserved the best table in the house. It overlooked a stone courtyard alive with a barrage of blooming flowers. Butterflies flitted here and there, much to the women’s delight. A three-tiered fountain bubbled in the center of the patio, making the afternoon feel cooler by a few degrees just by the sound of running water.

  “It’s stunning,” Lily said as she oohed and aahed over everything. “I do not think I have ever seen any place like it.”

  “Me either,” Charity agreed. “Mother would love this.”

  Three musicians strummed their guitars under the shade of a wisteria-covered lattice, smiling whenever Lily or Charity looked their way. John pulled out Lily’s chair and helped her get seated as Brandon did the same for Charity.

  A handsome young man with dashing eyes and olive colored skin approached. He wore snug-fitting pants and an immaculate white shirt adorned with ruffles. A black silk vest added a finishing touch. It was apparent to John the rake played his roll well as he made his way across the semi-crowded room, smiling fetchingly at every lady who caught his eye. A white linen cloth was draped over his arm and he held out a bottle of champagne for John to inspect. “Our finest, sir, as you requested.”

  John nodded and the waiter promptly opened it and poured a small taste into John’s glass. After the approval, the waiter filled the glasses and set the bottle in an earthen jug that he placed it in the center of the table. “May I offer you my congratulations, Señora,” he said, his eyes dancing as he boldly admired Lily’s beauty.

  When he walked away, Brandon raised his glass. “I’d like to make a toast to the bride and groom. May they share many happy years together. May they produce a passel of new McCutcheons to populate West Texas—and—and—to a lot less drama in all our lives for at least a few days.”

  The four laughed, as did a few of the people seated close enough to hear the salutation. Charity made a salute of her own, and again they all drank heartily. The waiter was back with a platter of mushrooms stuffed with some sort of meat, herbs and melted butter. After serving Lily, he leaned down and smiled into Charity’s face. “Señorita …”

  By the time they were finished with their dinners and the waiter brought a small cake to the table, Lily knew she was tipsy. She sucked in her breath at the creation, then, for no reason at all, giggled like a school girl. The waiter handed the knife to her and John to make the first slice, then he finished the cutting and served it.

  “How did you have time to arrange all this?” Lily asked, leaning onto her husband’s shoulder and looking up into his face. “I am amazed. You can do anything.”

  “Which question would you like me answer first?” His gaze held hers. “The one you just asked or the one lurking behind your enchanting blue eyes?” She laughed nervously at his question, then felt her face go hot when he brought the tips of her fingers to his warm, pliant lips and kissed them.

  Charity gaped at the romantic gesture. “I can’t believe my eyes.”

  “It’s a good thing this celebration is almost over,” Brandon added, chuckling as he forked in the last bit of his cake. The other patrons had dwindled down to just a few as the four of them lingered over each course of their dinner, taking time not to rush. Aunt Winnie had given Lily and John specific orders to enjoy every moment, as a wedding day was once in a lifetime.

  “I have one more surprise for Lily,” John said, extracting a small wrapped box from under the table. He set it in front of her.

  “For me?” He looked so handsome she had to drag her gazed from his face.

  “Go on, open it.”

  She unwrapped the paper, being mindful not to rip it too much. “I have no idea what’s inside,” she murmured. With shaky hands she opened the little wooden box to find a delicate porcelain figurine that looked remarkably like her. “John, I don’t know what to say. It
is beautiful, it truly is.”

  “See,” he said, pointing. “The flower is the exact color of your eyes.”

  A moment passed, during which she gazed at the lovely thing and gathered her thoughts. “Thank—”

  A burst of voices came from the cantina, then a shout. Lily straightened and they all looked toward the other room.

  “John McCutcheon!”

  John jumped up and pushed Lily back gently when she tried to rise. Brandon followed close behind.

  “McCutcheon!” the voice hollered again, followed by the murmur of other voices inside the bar. “I have a bone to pick—”

  Before John could cross the floor Dustin burst into the dining room dragging a handful of ranch hands who were struggling their best to hold him back. His face was flushed from anger or drink.

  John held up a hand to Brandon. “I have to take care of this myself or it’ll never be finished.” Brandon nodded.

  “You!” Dustin shouted, pointing at John, “You’re about as low down as a man can get! A snake in the grass. The wors’ kind of—” he slurred, yanking his arm free. He lunged at John, who was just a few feet in front of him. The handful of diners in the room fled in a panic.

  Lily gasped in horror as the two big men, locked in a bear hug, careened across the tile floor and crashed into the wall, causing a shudder that rained shawls and hats down everywhere. Tangled in a ball, they smacked into the maitre d’ as he scrambled to get out of the way, sending the man spiraling into a tray stand filled with water pitchers and wine bottles. The crash was deafening, drowning out the man’s angry Spanish curses.

  John and Dustin rolled. When they stopped, Dustin straddled John and slammed a powerful fist into his face. Charity grasped Lily as she started for the two. “You’ve got to let them have it out, Lily. It’s just their way.”

  John dodged the next punch and Dustin hit the tile floor, bringing an enraged shout of pain. John punched Dustin in the eye then jumped to his feet, pulling his cousin up by his shirt. Not ready to give it up yet, the older McCutcheon yanked himself free and picked up a chair and swung. John ducked and lunged, and the chair sailed over his head, across the room, shattering the mirror on the opposite wall into a thousand pieces. John locked his arms around Dustin’s waist and the two men propelled backwards, colliding into the very table he’d dined at, almost knocking it off its legs. Glassware rattled and the leftover cake rocked back and forth. Dustin grabbed a handful of the sweet and ground it in his cousin’s face, letting out a howl of satisfaction. Not to be outdone, John managed to get his fair share of frosting and smeared it over Dustin’s smug look.

  Having seen enough, Lily broke free of Charity’s grasp and ran to the table with a pitcher of water and drenched the two. They sputtered and blinked, looking up at her in surprise.

  “Lily!” they both cried in protest.

  “Enough! That is enough!” she shouted. “You are acting like little boys! Shame on you!”

  The handsome waiter was back, towing the reluctant sheriff by the arm. “Arrest them,” he shouted, pointing at the men.

  Brandon quickly withdrew a wad of cash from his pocket. “Sheriff, I’m sure we can settle this another way.”

  “You want to go with them?” the sheriff answered, finding his voice. “There’s plenty of room in the jail for you, too.”

  “Wait a minute, sheriff,” John said, struggling to his feet. Dustin followed. “It’s my wedding day—”

  “Might’ve thought of that before bustin’ up the place. You need some time to cool off.” The sheriff clamped both McCutcheons into handcuffs.

  Brandon’s brows arched up over his amused eyes. “You boys sure know how to throw a party,” he drawled slowly. “But, don’t worry about a thing tonight. I’ll make sure Lily and Charity are safely tucked in.”

  The sheriff shoved John and Dustin toward the door.

  “Nighty night,” Brandon quipped as they trudged away.

  John spotted Lily and Charity through the hotel window, having breakfast. He stopped, and for a moment, just took in the sight of her. Last night was the maddest he’d ever seen his bride. He wondered if she’d forgiven him yet.

  “Go in, I’m hungry,” Brandon said, giving him a nudge. Brandon had bailed him and Dustin out, then helped settle up the charges with the sheriff. Dustin had ridden off without a word and John had headed for the bathhouse where he’d divested himself of the sticky, sweet icing.

  “I wonder if she’s still mad,” John said, pulling the door open.

  “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

  They approached the table. The moment Lily glanced up John could see that all was forgiven and forgotten. She jumped up and hurried to his side, checking to see how bad his injuries were. Before she could say a word, he swept her into his arms and kissed her, taking his time to make sure she knew just how much he’d missed her last night. She sighed, leaning into him. Diners whispered behind their hands.

  “I could not sleep a wink last night,” she whispered close to his lips. “I was overcome with worry. I wanted to go to the jail, to check on you, but Brandon said you wouldn’t want me to. Are you hurt badly?”

  He held up his hand. “Just a few sore knuckles, sweetheart.” He wanted to make a mad dash for the room but knew propriety would frown on that. “And, a sore jaw.”

  She reached up and stroked his face.

  Brandon seated himself next to Charity, turning over his coffee cup. “You two going to sit down and join us, or not?” The look on his face said he knew exactly what John was thinking.

  “I don’t know. My head still hurts some and was going to see if Lily would mind having breakfast sent to our room, where I could lie down for a spell.”

  “Of course,” she responded quickly. “I am sure you did not get much sleep in that horrible jail cell.” She fingered the ripped pocket of his new suit jacket. “I think it is a fine idea.”

  After leaving Charity and Brandon in the restaurant, John and a conspicuously quiet Lily climbed the three flights of stairs to the bridal suite. John withdrew the key he’d fingered all night in his pocket and opened the door, letting it swing wide, revealing candles and flowers—all things he’d had sent up yesterday. He swept her into his arms. Her face flushed, more gorgeous than anything he could remember. She tried to hold his gaze, but failed miserably. Chuckling when the corners of her mouth pulled up shyly, he couldn’t resist kissing her again in the hallway, taking all the time in the world. Finally, he pulled back just far enough to see into her eyes. “Hello, Mrs. McCutcheon,” he whispered. Stepping over the threshold he softly closed the door.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The days after returning from San Antonio were a blur of happiness for Lily. She worked in her shop, counting the seconds until John would be back for lunch, and again for dinner, then the long, blissfully happy evenings and nights were spent getting to know him fully. Someone had moved his things over from the doctor’s office when they’d been away, and for now, they were scrunched together in her little room across the hall from Tante Harriett.

  Now, only a day before the big Fourth of July celebration, she rushed around helping Charity with her dress and cooking up a storm for the box-dinner auction. Thank goodness she was married and didn’t have to participate. She knew who she’d be eating her dinner with—and the thought brought a new round of butterflies as several recent memories sent naughty tingles racing up her back.

  “Lily, do you think it’s done?” Charity asked, pushing the chicken parts around the big fry pan with a metal fork. “I don’t want it to be dry. Brandon always says my mother makes the best chicken ever, and I want mine to be just as good.”

  Lily looked into the bubbling hot oil. “I think it is. I would take it out and pat it dry.” She wrapped a pot holder around the hot handle and was in the process of dragging the heavy skillet off the heat when John came in the back door.

  “Careful now,” he said as he hung his hat on a peg by the door and wrappe
d his arms around Lily’s waist, kissing the back of her neck.

  “John, let her be. Can’t you see she’s busy?”

  “I like it when she can’t defend herself.”

  “Go sit with Harriett at the table; your lunch is already there,” Charity ordered. “We have work to do.”

  Lily wasn’t complaining. She would’ve liked nothing better than to run up the stairs with John and take a little nap. She leaned back into his embrace, drinking in the feel of him, sorry when he finally let her go and went to the table.

  “Harriett,” he said, as he sat. “Glad to see you’re up.”

  Harriett set her cup into its saucer slowly and with great difficulty. “I had to come down and visit with—” she paused for several seconds, thinking, “—Lily. You keep her all to yourself when you’re here.”

  “You complaining?”

  Harriett laughed and patted his hand with her wrinkled one. “No, no. I’m happy the two of you are getting on so well. Won’t be long before there’s a baby to welcome.”

  He dug into his plate of cold meats and bread, taking note of her feebleness. She was growing weaker by the day, and he thought the end wasn’t far off. He glanced at Lily. “Wouldn’t surprise me any,” he said around a mouthful of food. When Lily turned to look at him he winked. “Would it you?”

  “Not really. And, I hope it happens soon,” she replied, removing her apron and folding it. “But, talk of babies can wait for now. We are all done here. Finally.” She went to the drain board and lifted the cloth napkin off the bowl of potato salad so John could see, repeating the process with the chocolate cake and loaf of fresh baked bread.”