CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sunday morning after the dance, Annie Applegate lay in bed and thought about what she’d done. She’d agreed to marry a man who didn’t love her. She expected, in the clear light of day, to feel some regrets; to her astonishment, she didn’t. She’d accepted the proposal of a man who was looking for a companion, and a mother for his children. It had seemed a straightforward arrangement—until she’d complicated it. By asking him to get her pregnant. He’d said nothing about sharing a bed; she’d in effect made it a condition of the marriage. More than anything, she wanted a baby. And Lucas had agreed to be the father.
Annie hadn’t told anyone, not even Jane. Last night, Lucas hadn’t mentioned the wedding again until the end of the evening, and then he suggested they seek out Wade McMillen. They’d managed to corner the pastor by himself, and if he was surprised by their news, he didn’t let it show. The short conversation ended with Wade making an appointment with them for Monday afternoon.
Annie supposed that some ministers might refuse to marry them. Their marriage agreement was unusual, but she sensed that Wade understood they were two lonely people seeking solace in each other. They weren’t in love, but they respected and cared for each other, and both wanted the best for Lucas’s children. Besides, Annie had married for love the first time and the feeling hadn’t lasted.
Midafternoon on Sunday, Annie phoned her father.
“Sweetheart, it’s good to hear from you,” Brandon Applegate said. He rarely called her. Annie didn’t doubt his love, but often wished he were a different kind of person. A different kind of father. They’d never been close and she didn’t know how to bridge the emotional distance between them.
“I thought I should tell you I’m getting married,” she said.
Her news was greeted with a brief silence. Then a somewhat startled “Married? To whom?”
“His name is Dr. Lucas Porter. He’s a veterinarian. A widower with two daughters.”
“You knew him before you moved to Texas?” her father asked, as if that would explain her sudden desire to leave California.
“No, I met him shortly after I arrived.”
“But it’s only been a couple of months.” He sounded appalled.
“I know.”
Brandon’s sigh was deep enough to be audible. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Annie assured him. “I’m not sure when the wedding will be, but I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
“This is a busy time of year for me,” her father said. It was his way of telling her he wouldn’t be attending the ceremony. He probably figured he’d done his duty the first time round, and one wedding was his limit, Annie thought with some amusement. Eventually he’d send Annie and Lucas his congratulations, together with a generous check, confident he’d fulfilled his role as her father.
Monday afternoon Lucas showed up at the bookstore a full hour before their scheduled appointment with Reverend Wade McMillen. He walked in and studied her for a moment, as if he half expected her to tell him she’d changed her mind.
“Hello,” she said. Countless questions had occurred to her since Saturday night, and all she could think to say was, “You’re early.”
“I know. I just wanted to make sure you’re still willing to go through with this.”
“I’m willing. Are you?”
He nodded firmly. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to say anything this soon, but I told the girls.”
Her one hesitation had been Heather and Hollie. How would they really feel? Would they resent her, think she was trying to replace their mother?
“They’re thrilled,” Lucas told her. “I am, too. I’m grateful, Annie. Incredibly grateful.”
“Me, too.” She smiled. “I phoned my father.”
Lucas tensed as though he anticipated an argument. “He was opposed to the idea, wasn’t he?”
“No. All he wanted was my assurance that I know what I’m doing.”
Lucas glanced away. “Do you, Annie? Do you really know what you’re letting yourself in for?”
Lucas didn’t understand. His proposal offered her an opportunity she’d stopped hoping for. He was going to marry her, complete with her flaws and her scars, both physical and emotional. He’d be giving her a family, two lovely little girls who needed her, and a baby of her own. It was enough. More than enough.
“I talked to my parents, too,” he confessed.
“What did they think?” Annie remembered they had a travel trailer and were parked somewhere in the Florida Keys, spending a lot of time deep-sea fishing. She’d met them shortly after she arrived in Promise, but only in passing.
“My mom was a bit concerned that it’s too soon.”
“By anyone else’s standards, it is too soon.”
“I told her I hadn’t called to ask her permission. Both Mom and Dad like you, and that helps. Dad seemed to think we’d be able to make a good marriage. I agree with him.”
“And your mother?”
“She advised us both to think this through very carefully.”
“I already have,” Annie said.
He grinned, satisfied. “I have, too.”
They discussed a few details while they waited for Gina Greenville to arrive. Once she got to the bookstore, Annie and Lucas left for their meeting with Wade.
Annie noticed the curious stares as they walked the short distance from the store to the church rectory. She felt self-conscious, as if everyone in Promise had already guessed they were getting married.
“Hello, Lucas. Annie,” Louise Powell trilled when they passed her on the sidewalk.
“Hi, Louise,” Annie said. Lucas merely nodded.
“Great weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, great,” Lucas echoed without enthusiasm.
“Where are you off to?” Her eyes flashed with undisguised curiosity.
Annie looked at Lucas, wondering how he’d respond.
“To see Wade McMillen about a wedding.”
“Yours?” She offered the suggestion with a laugh, turning it into a joke.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Lucas supplied, and his hand squeezed Annie’s.
“I knew it. I knew it all along,” Louise chanted gleefully. “The minute I saw you together, I could smell romance in the air. I went home and told my husband it wouldn’t surprise me if you two got married by the end of the year. When’s the date?”
“Soon,” Lucas told her shortly.
In truth, Annie would have preferred they not tell anyone until they’d spoken to Wade. Other than her father, she hadn’t told a single person, not even Jane. Well, if nothing else, the fact that Lucas had shared the news with the town busybody meant he was serious about this wedding. She guessed that if Wade refused to perform the ceremony, they could find someone who would.
“Word’ll be all over town by the time we finish talking to Wade,” Lucas said as they climbed the stairs to the church rectory. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No,” Annie replied. And on second thought, why should she? They’d made their decision; they both wanted this marriage.
Martha Kerns, Wade’s secretary, seated them in the pastor’s office and explained that Wade would be with them in a couple of minutes. Then she quietly left the room and closed the door.
“Have you given any thought to when you’d like the wedding?” Lucas asked.
“No.” She glanced at him. “Have you?”
Lucas shrugged. “Is two weeks enough time for you?”
They’d already agreed it would be a small private wedding. “All right with me, if it is with you.”
He grinned. “That’s long enough for me. Mom and Dad asked to be included, and that’ll give them the time they need to drive back from Florida.”
“I’d like Jane to be my maid of honor.”
“I was thinking of asking Cal to stand up for me.”
“Heather and Hollie will be there, won’t they?” Annie asked, wanting to make the girls feel part of things.
“I’d like them to be,” he told her, “if you’re okay with it.”
Annie nodded.
Their eyes met and they smiled slowly. Lucas reached for her hand, raising her fingers to his lips. “You won’t be sorry, Annie,” he promised. “I’ll do everything in my power to be a good husband to you.”
Annie believed him.
The door opened then and a breathless Wade McMillen rushed in. “Sorry, I’m late,” he apologized as he pulled out the chair at his desk. “Now, what’s all this about a wedding?”
* * *
“Mother, are you seeing someone?” Sylvia had arrived unannounced at lunchtime—highly unusual for the middle of the week.
Nessa had been expecting her daughter’s question. “Seeing someone, dear?” she repeated, keeping her voice low as she pierced a piece of lettuce with her fork. Sylvia had driven from her home in New Orleans for a “quick visit.” Nessa didn’t know what she’d said during their last phone call to raise her daughter’s suspicions, but whatever it was had Sylvia packed and on the road within twenty-four hours.
“Mother, please, either you’ve met someone or you haven’t.”
Her daughter was far too direct, Nessa mused. “What makes you ask?” Sylvia was a dear girl, but she did tend to be dictatorial.
“Well, for one thing, your phone’s busy for at least an hour every evening. For another, you’ve been acting strange all weekend.”
“Is the latter an observation or a criticism?” Nessa asked, rather enjoying this exchange. Unnerving her daughter wasn’t an everyday occurrence. After weeks of listening to Sylvia campaign for the idea of remarriage, Nessa had come to a rather startling conclusion. Her daughter did want her to see men, but only men she’d selected herself.
“Just answer the question, Mother.”
“Have I met someone?”
“Yes, Mother.” Sylvia’s sarcastic tone reminded Nessa of some rather difficult years when all three of her children had been teenagers at the same time. Back then, Sylvia had developed an obnoxiously superior attitude. By the time she was twenty, she’d gotten over that—well, mostly.
“Sylvia, sweetheart, I’ve met any number of people since moving back to Promise.”
“A man, Mother, I mean a man.”
“Several.” Nessa dug into her salad with gusto. It was either that or laugh out loud.
“Is there any particular man you’ve met? One you’re—” Sylvia’s mouth twisted as she said the word “—attracted to?”
Gordon. Oh, my, yes. Their telephone conversations continued on a nightly basis, sometimes lasting as long as two hours. If it wasn’t happening to her, Nessa wouldn’t have believed any couple could have this much to say on such brief acquaintance. They talked about their lives, their children, their marriages. There didn’t seem to be anything they couldn’t talk about. Nessa lived for his calls; her entire day was focused on hearing his voice. She felt young again, young and vibrant. In love.
The thought brought her up short. My goodness, it was true. She’d fallen in love with Gordon.
“Mother,” Sylvia insisted, louder this time. “My goodness, what’s come over you?”
“Nothing, dear,” Nessa said, although she was flustered. Her face felt warm and her hands cold. Her appetite unexpectedly deserted her. Carrying her plate, she got up from the table and walked into the kitchen.
Sylvia finally stopped the incessant questioning.
“I was thinking of doing a little shopping this afternoon,” she said.
“That’s nice, dear.” Nessa claimed her favorite chair and reached for her knitting. “Be sure to go see your aunt Dovie.”
“I will.” Sylvia’s expression was grave, and before long she left the house.
As soon as she did, Nessa sighed in relief. My goodness, Sylvia was a troublesome child.
* * *
Dovie was humming to herself as she lifted the pie plate with one hand and ran a knife around the edge, cutting off any crust draped over the sides. Apple-and-date pie made with her buttermilk crust was one of Frank’s favorites, and she was planning to surprise him. Her husband was playing cribbage down at the seniors’ center and she didn’t expect him back for a couple of hours. Plenty of time to make that pie.
As a new retiree, Frank had claimed no one would find him at the seniors’ center, but he’d quickly enough had a change of heart. Now he routinely dropped in there once or twice a week. Recently he’d told her he’d volunteered to give a safety workshop geared toward senior citizens.
This was exactly what Dovie had hoped would happen. Frank had floundered a bit when he’d first retired and spent far too much time at the sheriff’s office. Dovie was grateful for Adam Jordan’s patience. Every day Frank had returned from his talks with Adam to tell her about all the mistakes the young sheriff had made and how he would’ve handled things differently.
But after a few months, Dovie had begun to notice a gradual change in Frank. He hadn’t participated in Lyle Whitehead’s arrest. Frank had been confident that Sheriff Jordan and Deputy Green could adequately handle the situation, and they’d proved him right. She felt Frank had truly retired now. The official date had been early January, but his retirement hadn’t really taken effect until the night of the Cattlemen’s Dance.
The doorbell chimed and Dovie set aside the pie to answer it. “Sylvia!” She let out a cry of delight, and the two hugged for a long moment. Never having had children herself, Dovie cherished Nessa’s daughter. She disagreed with the way Sylvia treated Nessa these days, but that was between mother and daughter, not aunt and niece.
“How are you, Aunt Dovie?” Sylvia asked as she followed her back into the kitchen.
“Never better.” Dovie slid the pie inside the preheated oven and put on water for tea. “Your mother said you were here for a visit.”
“I’m heading home tomorrow morning.”
“I’m so glad you took the time to come by. I don’t see you often enough.” Dovie brought down her favorite teapot from the pine hutch and two matching cups and saucers. “How are you and Steve and the kids?”
“Great,” her niece responded without elaborating.
As soon as the tea was ready, Dovie added a plate of her peanut-butter cookies and carried the tray into the formal living room.
“Aunt Dovie, have you noticed anything strange about my mother lately?”
Dovie had to stop and think. She was prepared to defend Nessa had Sylvia said her mother seemed anxious or depressed. But strange? “What do you mean by strange?”
Sylvia took her time answering. “She’s…happy.”
Dovie paused in the task of pouring tea. “Being happy shouldn’t be considered strange. Nor is it a matter for concern.”
“Have you looked at her lately? Really looked?” Sylvia demanded.
Everything was a crisis with this child. Dovie had always thought she was destined for the stage, since Sylvia made a drama of the most mundane incident, the most trivial problem.
“Mother’s always wearing a silly grin. That’s not like her.”
Dovie carefully put the teapot back on the tray. “Now that you mention it, Nessa does seem…brighter, more energetic.”
Sylvia nodded.
“It involves a man,” she said. “I just know it.”
Dovie merely raised her eyebrows.
“Has she mentioned anyone?” Sylvia pressed.
Dovie thought about the past few times she’d seen Nessa. “No, I can’t say she has.”
“That’s what I figured,” Sylvia muttered darkly. “You haven’t seen her date anyone, have you? Or heard any rumors?”
Once again, Dovie was left to do a mental review of when and where she’d seen her sister-in-law, and with whom. Nessa had been out with various friends, including her, and she’d attended several community events—although not the dance, now that Dovie thought of it. But to the best of Dovie’s knowledge, she hadn’t been seen in the company of any man. “I don’t know if your mother’s dating or not,” Dovie confessed. “I don’t think she is, but…”
Sylvia looked as if she was in pain. “You’re sure of that?”
“My dear child, I don’t actually keep tabs on Nessa.”
“But she talks to you more than anyone.”
“True…”
Sylvia reached absently for a second cookie. The girl had been watching her weight for as long as Dovie could remember. It was almost unheard of for her to eat two cookies at one time.
“What exactly are you upset about?” Dovie asked.
“Aunt Dovie, don’t you know what this means?” Her hand returned to the plate for an unprecedented third cookie. Crumbs attached themselves to the corners of her lips.
“I’m afraid I don’t.” While she was deeply fond of Sylvia, she felt the girl was definitely overreacting. Fine, so Nessa was happier and livelier than she’d been in a while. There was a simple reason for that. She’d adjusted. It’d taken her some time to find her footing after Leon died, but now that she had, Nessa was ready to get on with her life.
Dovie recalled that first bleak year after her own husband’s death and how desperately she’d searched for something to give her life purpose. That was when she’d opened the antique store.
“Don’t you see?” Sylvia cried. “My mother’s seeing a man.”
“But, Sylvia, I thought that was what you wanted.”
Her niece ignored the comment. “She didn’t attend the dance, did she?”
“No,” Dovie said.
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Tell me what?” Dovie hated to appear obtuse, but she didn’t know what Sylvia was talking about.
“My mother,” Sylvia whispered, closing her eyes, “is having an affair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, child,” Dovie chastised immediately. She was sure Nessa was doing no such thing.
“Mark my words, Aunt Dovie,” Sylvia said. “She’s seeing someone she doesn’t want us to know about. He must be married. What other reason could she have for not telling us?”