Read Happy Is The Bride Online
Authors: Caroline Clemmons
He looked down at the floor. "Sorry, Aunt Millie. Beth, I 'pologize. My thinkin's all messed up 'cause
everything about this wedding reminds me Amy
doesn't love me. Thought we'd be gettin' hitched, but
she's marrying a fellow she met at her aunt's. Tears
my heart to pieces."
He looked so forlorn that Beth had to say some
thing nice, even though she'd like to bang his head
against the wall.
"It can't be helped now, Beau. I'll be fine in a day or two." She glanced at the delicate watch pinned to
her mother's ugly dress. Straight up seven. Beth
looked at Mrs. Whittaker. "Mason's late and that's not
like him. It's a bad storm. What if something bad has
happened to him?"
Mr. Pendleton sniffed. "Boy doesn't deserve
Bethany anyway, but he'd better show up."
Ignoring him, Mrs. Whittaker patted Beth's hand. "Now, dear, don't worry. Mason is crazy about you,
and he's resourceful. He's sure to be here as fast as he
can." She fished in her bag and brought out ajar. "I
brought this in case he needs more for that bump on
his head. Let's put some on those hives. It smells
awful, but it works."
Mrs. Pendleton wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Eeu-
uwww. Millicent, you cannot put that awful stuff on my
daughter. It would ruin her gown, and it smells to
high heaven."
Mrs. Whittaker unscrewed the lid. "Nonsense,
Louise. Beth's uncomfortable, and this will ease her
itching."
Beth held still while Mrs. Whittaker rubbed her ex
posed skin with a concoction whose fumes brought
tears to her eyes. But the smelly goo cooled the burn
ing and itching wherever it touched. "Thank you. It
does feel better. I wish it were everywhere."
Mrs. Whittaker slipped the jar back into her bag.
"I'll send it with you after the reception. What you
need is a nice warm bath, and then Mason can rub
this on you." She nudged Beth and leaned near, her
eyes twinkling. "Doesn't that sound interesting?"
Sure her face turned bright red, Beth barely nod
ded.
Mrs. Pendleton gasped and bristled. "The nerve.
She will do no such thing. My daughter is a lady, and
no man, not even her husband, will ever see her in
her bath or put his hands all over her."
Beth weighed her mother's words against Mrs.
Whittaker's. Her mother cared only what people
thought. Mrs. Whittaker actually cared for Beth's
comfort and welfare. Her mother thought relations
between a man and woman something to suffer
through. Mrs. Whittaker thought they were interest
ing.
Beth faced her mother. "You care more about what
folks think than how I feel. You always have, Mother.
It's time you learned that the way you treat people is
more important than your social status."
Mrs. Whittaker patted her hand. "Now, dear, you
call me Mama, just like Mason does. Can't tell you
how I've looked forward to having a daughter."
Beth sighed. "Thank you, um, Mama. That's very
kind of you." She hoped her parents would come
around. Maybe when they returned from their trip they'd see how happy she and Mason were and be
glad for her. Whether they did or not, she was fortu
nate to become a part of the Whittaker family.
Beside her, Beth's father snorted. "Hmph, no point
in calling her Mama if that boy doesn't show up—not
that he deserves you, Bethany."
Mr. Whittaker stood with hands in his pockets and
a shoulder braced against the back wall of the chapel.
"He'll be here. Unless some jinx has kept him from
it."
Mr. Pendleton stepped forward, but Mrs. Whittaker
reached her husband first. She hit him hard on the
arm. "You stop that talk right now, Glenn Whittaker, or
you'll be sleeping in the barn with the other jack
asses."
Rachel removed her cloak, and Ben stared.
"You look awful pretty, hon. I reckon' that's even
prettier than the other dress."
"Yeah, Mama, you look nice as candy." Ben, Jr., was
of an age where he compared everything to horses,
dogs, or candy.
'This
is
the first dress." Rachel looked at Beth, and
a look of understanding passed between them. "Beth fixed it with one of hers."
"No, Mother, we made good use of it." Beth smiled
at Rachel.
"Your dress is beautiful, Beth." Mrs. Whittaker
touched the skirt's beadwork. "Such an unusual and
clever design. And the little lace at the bottom is so in
teresting."
Beth's mother moaned.
Beth announced loud enough that Mrs. Weldon
and Mrs. Humphreys would be certain to hear,
"That's my late Grandmother Ransom's handker
chief. I'd planned to carry it in her memory, but this
keeps my hands free for my bouquet and Mason's
arm." She leaned near Mrs. Whittaker's ear and whis
pered, "I'll tell you the rest about it later."
An elderly woman two rows up turned around and
struggled to stand. "May I see, dear. Your grand
mother was one of my closest friends."
"Oh, Mrs. Vanderpool. How nice you could come,
even with all the rain." Beth moved a few steps up the
aisle to greet the woman.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Mrs. Vanderpool
adjusted her spectacles. "Oh, Beth, you're as lovely a
bride as I thought you'd be. You look exactly like your
grandmother at your age. What a beauty she was."
"Thank you so much. That means the world to me."
Beth thought she might cry.
The elderly woman looked at Beth's dress. "Oh, I
see the handkerchief with her initials showing. What
a nice touch, my dear. She would be so proud of you."
"I hope so. She was a wonderful person."
"Yes, she was so kind and compassionate and did
many good works about town—without her husband's knowledge, of course. I've heard you carry on that tra
dition, dear, and help many of the unfortunate in our
community. Bless you." Mrs. Vanderpool smiled.
"Don't worry, that boy will be here. He's a smart
young man, and no man in his right mind could resist you, my dear." She sank back onto the pew.
Beth thanked her again and moved to the back of
the church holding back tears of happiness and sor
row. Sorrow her beloved grandmother had passed on
but happy that finally, someone besides Mason had
something good to say about her.
Mason was never late for anything, and Beth feared
he might have been injured in the storm. She pic
tured all sorts of disasters—he could have been struck
by lightning, a tree branch could have fallen on him,
the lump on his head from this morning could have
made him ill.
Still near tears, she asked his parents, "When did
Mason leave?"
Beau wove to look out the window. "River's too
high to cross." He took a flask from his pocket and
took a swig. "Might have had to turn back and leave
the buggy, then ride here."
Beth hugged her arms. Had she turned into a jinx
after all? She counted the travel time on horseback to
Medina, then added the time back by buggy, and
threw in an extra hour for the storm. Mason should
have arrived by now. What if he'd fallen into the river
or the axle had broken? She took a deep breath and
battled light-headedness.
Nine
Beau took another swig from his flask, and Mr.
Whittaker scowled at Mr. Pendleton.
Beth felt trapped in a nightmare. What if Mason
didn't come? Beth fought for air and saw white circles
swirling in front of her. Maybe her corset was too
tight. "I think I'd better sit down."
People on the back pew scooted together and
made a place at the end, and she sat on the hard
bench. Someone produced smelling salts, and the
acrid scent combined with the awful odor of the oint
ment. Her nostrils stung and her eyes watered, but the dizziness decreased. If only Mason were here,
she'd be fine.
Beth heard the murmurs through the small sanc
tuary. Though she couldn't understand much, she
picked out the words "bet," "jinx," "again," and "fam
ily way." Everyone thought Mason had decided to run
out on her, leaving her with a baby on the way. If he didn't show, it would be because he'd been injured— but wouldn't that prove she was a true jinx?
The door burst open, and Mason limped in—
maybe fell in was more accurate. Everyone in the
sanctuary turned around, and a murmur rose in
waves across the chapel. Beth sighed with relief and
stood to greet him. She wanted to rush into his arms,
but there were too many people between them. She pushed her way through.
"Mason, you poor dear, you're soaked." He wore
what looked like the same work clothes he'd worn this
morning, but she didn't care.
He stood in front of her, water from his hair run
ning into his eyes and every part of him dripping onto the floor in a growing puddle. Grabbing her hand like
a lifeline, he looked at her. "Aw, Beth, honey, what
happened to you? I'll bet you're miserable." He
leaned forward. "Smells like mama's goo."
"I broke out in hives. Your mother put the oint
ment on the skin that's not covered by dress and
gloves. It eased the itching." She wanted to add the
part about him rubbing it all over her later, but
couldn't with all the people around them.
Beau looked at the floor. "Solly, kuz, I mean sorry.
Poured gin in the water bucket. Though it'd relax
folks. Didn't know Beth couldn't take gin."
"Beau, have you lost your brain? I take back what I
said. I'm not one bit sorry I hit you this morning."