Carrie watched her brother’s weathered face come alive with hope and promise and regretted her own lack of it. Shouldn’t she be grateful that Henry had found love so late in his life? If a readymade family was what he wanted, who was she to object? It wasn’t as if Henry was kicking her out. He expected Carrie to remain in the house until her own wedding day. He’d fixed up a room in the attic for Mary’s boys, and Mary would share his room, of course. There was no reason for Carrie to be displaced at all. And with another woman in the house to share the chores, Carrie would have more time for herself. It sounded so pleasant and sensible. Why did she feel so desolate?
“Amen.” The preacher closed his Bible and smiled at the newlyweds. “Those whom our Lord has seen fit to join together, let no one put asunder.”
Carrie watched Henry kiss his new bride and said a silent prayer for their happiness. Her sons danced around Henry, yelling, “Pa! Pa!”
“Come on, everybody,” Henry called. “Let’s eat.”
Carrie hung back, allowing the guests to fill their plates, her gaze searching the empty road.
“Carrie?” Mariah Whiting and Eugenie Spencer, her closest friends from church, crossed the yard, carrying plates and glasses.
“You’d better get some food before it’s all gone,” Eugenie said.
“We’ll save you a place over there.” Mariah indicated a shady patch of grass near the fence. “Ada’s joining us too. It’ll be like old times.”
“Did someone say my name?” Ada appeared behind Mariah with her plate.
“Let’s go sit,” Mariah said. “I can’t wait to hear all about Texas.”
The four friends seated themselves on the grass, their skirts billowing around them, and took up their forks.
“First of all,” Eugenie said, “tell us about Wade and Sophie.”
“Sophie’s doing wonderfully well,” Ada began. “Last year she won a prize for a poem she wrote for a magazine. Wyatt was so proud he had it framed and mounted it on the wall in the dining room. Sophie said it was nothing special, but I know she was pleased. She adores Wyatt. Always has.” Ada smiled. “At first he wasn’t sure about taking her with us to Texas, but neither of us has regretted it for a moment. We think of her as our own.”
“Is she hoping to write for the newspapers?” Mariah popped a strawberry into her mouth and closed her eyes, sighing in appreciation. “I remember she was quite taken with Patsy Greer’s typewriting machine.”
“Perhaps. Last fall she met a correspondent for the Dallas
Herald
, Mrs. Aurelia Mohl. Sophie was quite impressed.” Ada paused to take a bite of wedding cake. “Of course, Sophie is only fifteen. She changes her mind about as often as she changes her hat. One moment she wants to study medicine. The next, she talks about coming back here to run the newspaper.”
“I’m surprised she’d even think of coming back here, after the way the other children treated her.”
Ada nodded. “Children reflect the attitudes of their elders. I’m thankful Sophie survived her years at the orphanage. But the experience left her feeling that she has something to prove.”
“I admire the child’s spunk.” Eugenie sipped her lemonade. “Has she had any trouble in Texas because of her mixed blood?”
“No one there knows.”
Carrie’s eyes widened. “She’s passing for white?”
“Yes. Wyatt and I feel it’s best. Texas has become such a jumble of people since the war, nobody gives Sophie a second look. She isn’t the only one who has crossed that invisible line.”
“But, Ada, what about when she grows up and wants to marry?” Mariah’s brown eyes reflected genuine concern. “What then?”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes. Perhaps someday people’s attitudes will change.”
“I doubt it,” Carrie said. “Around here, blacks and whites can’t even be buried in the same graveyard, much less intermingle on this side of the dirt.”
“Ada?” Mariah patted her friend’s arm. “How is that baby son of yours?”
“He’s just turned two and tags along after Wyatt every waking minute of the day. Which Wyatt encourages, of course.” She sought her husband in the knot of men talking with Henry, her expression soft with affection. “He’s still beside himself that he has a son of his own. You know how fond Wyatt was of Robbie.”
“Robbie still talks about Wyatt.” Mariah bit into a cinnamon cookie. “When he has time to talk to us at all. School keeps him busy these days. He wants to read law as soon as he’s old enough.”
“He’ll be good at it,” Eugenie said. “My word, but that boy can talk. I remember he used to talk to Wyatt for hours on end.”
Ada nodded. “I didn’t realize just how much Wyatt wanted a boy of his own until Wade was born. One morning when the baby was about eight months old, I went to feed him and he was gone. The sight of that empty cradle nearly stopped my heart.”
“I’m sure.” Eugenie nodded, her expression grave.
“I was certain Wade had been kidnapped or a coyote had snatched him. I ran screaming for Wyatt and there he was, on his horse, holding the reins in one hand and Wade in the other. Teaching his son to ride.” Ada set down her plate. “I nearly fainted from sheer relief.”
Eugenie caught Carrie’s eye. “Have you told Ada about you and Nate?”
Carrie felt her face warm. “Really, there’s nothing to tell.”
“That isn’t true.” Mariah winked at Ada. “They’ve been keeping serious company ever since you left Hickory Ridge. The longest courtship in history.” She gave Carrie’s arm a playful bump. “Everyone can see they’re a perfect match. I can’t imagine what’s holding things up.”
“I want to be sure.” Carrie scanned the yard. Clearly, Mr. Rutledge wasn’t coming. The pang of disappointment that moved through her served only to make her more uncertain of her feelings. If she were truly committed to Nate, why would she care whether or not the horse tamer appeared?
“You’re making excuses, Carrie Daly, and you know it.” Mariah leaned over and gave her friend another playful nudge. “Every day that you fail to appreciate Nate’s good qualities only proves how completely misguided you are.”
Carrie smiled at her friend’s gentle teasing. “Maybe I am, but I worry about depending on anyone other than my brother. Times are hard around here lately, and a bookshop is hardly a necessity in a town as small as ours.”
Picking up her plate again, Ada finished the last of her strawberries. “I don’t blame you for being concerned. The papers are full of stories about the depression.”
“It’s really bad, Ada.” Eugenie shook her head. “I can’t remember the last time Ennis actually got paid cash money for taking care of a patient. I don’t mind telling you, we’ve been down to our last dollar more than once. But he won’t hear of moving away. Hickory Ridge is our home.”
“We noticed a lot of closed businesses when we got here on the train last night,” Ada said. “Wyatt was most distressed to see that Miss Hattie’s is gone. He was quite fond of her fried chicken.”
Mariah nodded. “Miss Hattie’s isn’t the only one. The
Gazette
folded a couple of years back, just before Patsy Greer’s daddy passed on. Business is way down at the mill too. Sage says the demand for timber from up north has leveled off. Wyatt sold out at just the right time.”
“I am surprised Mr. Chastain’s bookshop has held on,” Ada said. Beneath the shade trees, a fiddle player warmed up; the notes danced in the warm air. “Carrie’s right. Books are a luxury, after all.”
“Nate was smart,” Carrie said. “When the university in Knoxville expanded, he offered to handle the ordering of all their books. He’s handling orders for Vanderbilt too. I suppose Nate and Jasper Pruitt are faring better than most.” She smiled at Ada. “Last week Jasper asked whether you and Wyatt were coming for the wedding. I think he still has a soft spot in his heart for you.”
Ada laughed. “Maybe. Ironic that he of all people wound up rescuing me from Bea Goldston’s attack.”
“I guess you heard about Bea,” Eugenie said. “She’s—”
“Come on, ladies.” Henry jogged across the yard and pulled Carrie to her feet. “Time to dance.”
“Later,” Eugenie whispered as the four friends were swept up into the celebration.
Wyatt Caldwell, handsome and charming as ever in a pearl-gray suit and matching Stetson, danced first with his wife and then with each of the ladies in turn. Henry did the same until, finally, the last waltz was announced. Then he swept Mary into his arms. Wyatt claimed Ada and the Spencers and the Whitings paired off, leaving Carrie standing alone. A hard lump pulsed in her throat. Why couldn’t she belong to someone, someone who would love her the way Wyatt loved Ada? Despite their long acquaintance, she wasn’t sure how Nate felt about her, what true happiness was, or where to find it.
The music swelled. Was it true? Was she a fool for postponing her marriage to Nate? She’d always believed that God would lead her to the man he had chosen for her. And she was certainly fond of Nate. She respected him. But the giddy excitement she’d known with Frank, the deep, sweet joy she felt every time he looked at her, was missing. She’d been so young then, so certain that nothing could rob her of happiness. Perhaps mature love was a different thing altogether and it was foolish to suppose she could ever feel that way again. After so great a loss, perhaps nothing was untainted, not even hope.
“Hello? Is this the Bell farm?” A deep voice called out as an unfamiliar rig rolled into the yard. Griff Rutledge jumped out, carrying a small, neatly wrapped package, and made a beeline for Carrie. “My dear Mrs. Daly, I am unforgivably late, and I do apologize. I had the devil of a time finding a rig for hire.” He jerked his thumb toward the swaybacked gray mare hitched to a ratty-looking buggy. “A sorrier outfit I have never seen. At any rate, I do hope I’m in time for cake.”
He was again impeccably dressed, and he spoke with bemused confidence and a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. Carrie was captivated. “Of course there’s plenty of cake. Come with me.”
“Carrie?” Mary Stanhope Bell marched across the yard, a frown creasing her forehead, the youngest of her two hellions dogging her heels. “Who is this man, and what is he doing at my wedding?”
Carrie made a hasty introduction. “Mr. Rutledge saved me from being trampled by Mr. Gilman’s runaway horse yesterday. The least I could do was to offer him some hospitality while he’s in town.” Seeing the red flush of anger creeping up Mary’s neck, Carrie rushed on. “I was certain you wouldn’t mind my inviting an extra guest, since I’m the one who handled all the preparations.”
“I can see that it was a lovely wedding,” Griff said, “and I can’t tell you how sorry I am to have missed witnessing the vows. I wish you all the happiness in the world.” He bent from the waist and kissed Mary’s hand. “And I apologize again for my lateness.”
“Well, that’s . . . I’m . . . sure you’re quite welcome, Mr. Rutledge.”
He proffered the package. “Back where I come from, a wedding guest never arrives empty-handed. A small remembrance, Mrs. Bell, for your wedding day.”
Clearly flustered, Mary tore open the package. “A silver picture frame.” She turned it over in her hands and watched it catch the light. “It’s very pretty.”
“Perhaps you’ll use it for your wedding portrait.”
“Unfortunately there is no photographer here in town, and the expense of importing one for the day—”
“I see.”
He was so obviously embarrassed at having brought a useless gift that Carrie’s heart went out to him. Was it his fault there was no money for photographs? But Mary spoke as if he were somehow to blame.
Mary swept her hand toward the tables. “Thank you for your gift, Mr. Rutledge. Do have some cake.”
Carrie showed Griff to the table and handed him a plate. Henry hurried over, and Carrie repeated the introduction. Henry pumped Griff’s hand. “Any friend of Carrie’s is welcome here, Mr. Rutledge. Please enjoy yourself.”
He left to join Mary. Griff bit into a piece of the cake, his aplomb apparently recovered. “Luscious. I’ve always been partial to boiled icing.” He licked his fork clean. “Our old cook Sethe made the best cake I’ve ever eaten.” He took another bite. “Until now.”
“I’m better at baking bread than cakes. But I’m glad you like it.”
The wedding guests had begun gathering their things, saying their good-byes, offering congratulations to Henry and Mary. Ada and Wyatt spent a few moments with the Whitings and the Spencers before Ada crossed the yard to find Carrie.
Carrie introduced Griff, who bowed to Ada before joining Wyatt and the other men. Ada clasped her friend’s hands. “Mr. Rutledge is terribly attractive, isn’t he?”
Carrie’s stomach jumped. Griffin Rutledge was more than merely attractive, he was—
“But a bit mysterious,” Ada said.
“Mysterious?”
“Perhaps it’s those dark eyes. I’m not entirely sure. But I am sure of one thing. You’re smitten.”
Carrie felt her face grow warm. “I’m no such thing. Why, we met only yesterday. Besides, he’s merely passing through.”
Ada glanced toward the men standing beneath the trees. “From the look on Nate’s face, I’d say I’m not the only one with questions about Mr. Rutledge.”
“Nate’s finally here?” Carrie turned. “I’d nearly given up on him.”
“Maybe you’d better go talk to him. He looks perturbed.” Ada returned her husband’s quick wave. “Wyatt is ready go.”