Jane Goodger (17 page)

There was something wonderfully calming about Julia Benson and her little fairy-tale house. Amelia had been to visit her new friend twice now, and this time Julia opened the door and stepped back without a word.

“What has happened?” Julia asked, when Amelia sat down in her only chair.

“It seems I’m engaged,” she said, sounding rather stunned.

“Carson came back?”

Amelia felt her cheeks blush. How unseemly it would look to people to have her marry the brother of the man she’d come to marry. “No. Someone…else.”

Even with her scarf on, she could tell Julia had a puzzled expression.

“For goodness sakes, Julia, it’s Dr. Kitteridge.”

“Boone?” she asked, as if there was more than one Dr. Kitteridge living in Small Fork.

“It seems that is the best solution to my dilemma. I cannot return home without a husband and he did propose. Twice.”

Julia lowered her head slightly and became quite still. “You’re leaving. With Boone?” She clutched her hands together in her lap so fiercely, Amelia frowned.

“No, we’re staying here,” Amelia said, suddenly wondering if Julia had more than a doctor-patient attachment to Boone. It would certainly be understandable, given how kind Boone had been.

The older woman relaxed visibly, making Amelia’s heart wrench for her. If she were in love with Boone, no doubt her heart was breaking to hear news of the engagement.

“You would certainly miss your doctor,” Amelia said evenly.

“Yes, I would. But it’s more than that,” Julia said, rising and going to the home’s only window. “Boone does more than care for my face. He protects me.”

Julia stood in silhouette, the late afternoon sun glowing around her, the bright glass pieces making her look almost as if she were standing underwater in a fantastical colorful pool. The vision of her was in stark contrast with her tense body, the terrible way she clutched her arms around herself.

“He protects you? From whom?”

“As long as Boone is here, my husband won’t come back. He’s scared of Boone.”

Amelia raised her brows in surprise. “Of Boone?”

“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s dead somewhere. I hope so. But I feel safer with Boone here. I’m glad you’re staying, and I’m glad you’re marrying him instead of Carson.”

Amelia let out a laugh. “That’s nice to hear. For a moment I thought you held a tendre for Boone.”

“No. I’m no good for anyone anymore,” she said, and Amelia wondered again if Julia was in love with Boone.

Julia turned away from the view of the endless plains she was staring at. “Just thought I’d tell you the truth. Carson is a good man, but he’d be a terrible husband. People don’t know what I see. They think just because I got hurt that I can’t hear or understand what’s going on.” She shrugged. “People are plain stupid sometimes.”

“Do you really think your husband wants to hurt you again?”

“He wants to kill me,” she said simply. “He meant to the first time, and I think he won’t quit ’til he does. He will, too. Someday. Even with Boone here. There are rumors he’s been in Abilene, just biding his time. I’ve heard he was in Hanover for a time. That’s just one town over. I got me a gun, just in case. And I can see people coming from any direction here.”

“Why would he kill you? You must be mistaken.”

“Sometimes I wish he would show up so I could kill him first,” she said calmly. “So. When are you getting hitched?”

Amelia laughed, liking the way Julia so abruptly changed the subject. “I don’t know. Soon, I suppose. I’m quite certain my brother wants to see me safely married before he continues his wedding trip. And Small Fork was not on their original itinerary.”

“Boone’ll probably go fetch that preacher over in Hanover. He comes here once a month and gives us a sermon in the hotel. Hanover’s not but a two-hour ride west. You could get married tomorrow if you wanted.”

“That fast? Goodness, it’s a bit more complicated back home,” she said.

“It’s easy to get married. It’s the
un
marrying that’s hard,” Julia said pragmatically.

Julia then urged Amelia to talk about England, the cool sea breezes, the winter storms, the snow that sometimes fell, her little cousins whom she so desperately missed. It felt good to have someone simply listen to her without saying a word. She told things to Julia she had never told another soul, about those terrible lonely days after her parents died, and her absolute belief when she was young that she was cursed.

But she didn’t talk about Boone or Carson or her despair at living in Texas for the rest of her life.

Reverend Harley Beaumont was nothing like any man of the church Amelia had ever seen. He wore a leather vest, heavy spurred boots that jangled when he walked, and atop his full head of silver hair sat a large white hat quite unlike any that had ever graced the head of an Englishman.

He was big and loud and about as far removed from Reverend Peter Smythe, who presided over the tiny church in Hollings, as Amelia could have imagined. Weddings, it seemed, were a rare event in these parts, and cause for celebration. He’d brought along his wife and four strapping sons to be witnesses. Amelia had a feeling her wedding was in some way supposed to act as a bit of an incentive to the sons to get themselves married. The oldest of them, still single, had nearly as much gray as his father.

Because Small Fork didn’t have a church, Amelia and Boone were to get married in his courtyard, which was probably the prettiest setting within a hundred miles.

From her room, Amelia could hear the reverend’s voice booming out directions. They were expecting quite a crush of people, given the rarity of the event and the prominent place Boone held in Small Fork. Such a wedding would have taken weeks to prepare back home, but here, it seemed that everyone within miles had dropped what they were doing just so they could attend.

Amelia cocked her head. “Did I just hear a violin?” she asked Maggie, who was struggling to do something with her hair. She’d gotten quite proficient at dressing hair when the Pierces had lost their fortune and had to do without a maid.

“I believe there is a small orchestra setting up,” Maggie said through the hairpins in her mouth. “Or at least several people with instruments,” she added wryly after a particularly grating squeak. She jabbed in a few more hairpins and let out a sigh. “Your hair is so slippery, I cannot do what I planned.”

“I wish I had your curls, Maggie,” Amelia said, eyeing her sister-in-law with a bit of envy. Maggie’s dark curls looked lovely no matter how she wore her hair.

“If I had a curling iron,” Maggie said wistfully. “At least you have a lovely dress.”

Indeed, lovely dresses were nearly all that Amelia had. She wore an exquisite green-foam silk gown she’d worn once during her one and only London Season. It sat slightly off her shoulders, revealing just a bit of the creamy skin below her neck. It was one of her more modest gowns, appropriate for a young, unmarried woman.

“There, I give up,” Maggie said, stepping back to get a better look at what she’d been able to accomplish. She sighed. “You look lovely, Amelia. Truly, truly beautiful.”

“I wish there was a mirror somewhere in this house. Can you believe a home without a mirror? The only one I know of is the tiny one Boone uses for shaving, and that will hardly do. I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.” Amelia looked down at herself, remembering just how lovely she’d looked in this gown, and laughed. After Carson had left England, she’d rarely made the effort to look beautiful, for she didn’t want to attract any male attention. She’d actually had a row with Edward until she’d agreed to wear this gown, never imagining it would one day become her wedding gown. Suddenly, ridiculously, there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Maggie, am I doing the right thing?”

Maggie looked as if she might cry, too, which certainly didn’t help Amelia feel any better. “You know, Amelia, I am a bit of an expert at reading people, and I have a good feeling about Boone.”

“You do?”

“And I had a bit of a bad feeling about Carson. But it wasn’t my place to say anything, not really, and you were so in love, I thought perhaps my feelings were wrong.”

Amelia shook her head. “What I’m feeling has nothing to do with Carson. It has everything to do with Boone. I hardly know him. I hardly know if I like him or not. He’s so quiet, and I have the feeling he thinks I’m completely frivolous.”

Maggie laughed lightly. “You’ll simply have to teach him otherwise. You do know that the Duchess of Bellingham had similar doubts before her marriage.”

“I had heard.” The duchess was an American heiress forced to marry the impoverished duke.

“She not only had misgivings, she was ardently in love with another man and disliked the duke completely. And yet, you’ve seen them happy. Rather nauseatingly happy, given how opposed she was to the marriage.”

Amelia tugged lightly at the intricate lace of one sleeve. “My friend Julia was forced to marry a scoundrel and he tried to kill her.” Even Amelia knew she was being completely ridiculous, so she shook her head as if to erase such a thought. “I know Boone is a good man. But what if I never come to love him? What if he never comes to love me? Wouldn’t that be horrible?”

“You would still have your children to love,” Maggie said, sounding infinitely sensible. “Speaking of children.”

Amelia gave Maggie a curious look, then smiled. “Oh! Are you…”

“No. No, not yet,” Maggie said quickly. “What I am rather awkwardly trying to talk about is tonight. With Boone. In bed.”

“Oh.”

“Do you have any questions?” Maggie asked, sounding very much like she prayed Amelia would have none.

“I don’t think so.”

“The most important thing to know is that Boone will know what do to and it can be wonderful. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you must know that the physical love between a husband and his wife is rather spectacular.”

Amelia could feel her cheeks flush. She’d never spoken to anyone about what happened in the marriage bed. “What if the man…”

“Yes?”

“What if the man doesn’t know what he’s doing?” Amelia asked in one quick breath.

“Well then you shall both have a wonderful time discovering what makes you happy.”

Boone was sweating profusely, and he felt as if he was going to be quite sick. He eyed the kitchen sink, judging whether he could reach it in time should he feel the need.

“Here,” Edward said, staring in sympathy at his future brother-in-law. “Drink this.”

Boone looked up to see Edward holding a small glass filled with a dark amber liquid. “I don’t drink,” he said.

Edward looked at the drink in his hand, shrugged, and downed it with one swallow, gasping as the fiery liquor went down.

“Good God, no wonder you don’t drink,” he said, shuddering. “That is the most hellish concoction I’ve ever put in my mouth.” He went over to the bottle and sniffed.

“I believe it’s Kentucky whiskey.”

“Remind me not to go to Kentucky,” Edward muttered. “There, you see? It did help. You are looking much better now.”

Boone grimaced. “You’re sure Amelia’s okay with this wedding?”

“I’m sure.”

“She doesn’t feel forced? You didn’t force her, did you?” Boone, already filled with misgivings about their marriage, felt nearly paralyzed with uncertainty. What could he possibly give this girl? She was a member of the English aristocracy, and he knew enough to realize she was marrying far beneath her class. Her brother was an earl, which meant she’d likely lived in a home that was far more impressive than anything he could build for her. She would miss her home, her family. She hated Texas, and surely she would come to hate him, as well. Oh, Lord, his head felt as if it were about to explode.

“I must be honest with you, sir. This is not the life, nor the husband, she dreamed she would have when she left England. But I wouldn’t let her marry you if I thought you were not up to the task. And to answer your question, no, I did not force her to marry you. If you want my honest opinion, frankly I’m surprised she agreed to your proposal so easily. It’s not like Amelia to do anything she doesn’t want to, which can only bode well for you.”

Edward’s words did little to calm Boone’s doubts. Outside, people were gathering for the wedding. He could hear the reverend’s voice, the sound of fiddles tuning up, which meant dancing and yet another thing for him to dread. He looked out to the courtyard and smiled for the first time that day, seeing so many of his patients and customers milling about wearing their Sunday best. Someone had thought to set up a table, which was laden with food for a wedding feast.

Edward took out a pocket watch and snapped it closed. “It’s time for you to head out,” he said solemnly.

Boone stood with the Reverend Beaumont in front of the fountain and waited for Amelia to appear, when a sudden and sickening thought occurred to him. What if she changed her mind? What if he were left standing there like some fool waiting for his bride? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Certainly, even if her brother had not forced her into this, circumstances had. She’d acted skittish and distant toward him ever since that kiss, and he’d tortured himself with doubts about his ability to please his future wife. Perhaps he’d enjoyed the kiss far more than she had. Perhaps when she’d begged him to touch her, he’d been going about it so wrong, she’d felt obliged to take it upon herself to guide him.

His stomach clenched and he willed himself not to get ill.

“The ladies always take their time,” Beaumont said with false bravado, which only served to increase Boone’s anxiety. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head. “
What did you expect, you little shit, that you could have a girl that pretty? You?
”

And then, like a vision, she appeared at the doorway on her brother’s arm, smiling as if she were happy, as if this wedding was something she welcomed. Boone nearly fainted with relief.

She walked the few steps toward Boone with her brother, then kissed him on the cheek before turning to her groom and offering him a brilliant smile. God help him, but he felt his eyes burn with unshed tears as he smiled back.

They both turned toward the preacher, who boomed out the vows so everyone in the small courtyard could hear, and within minutes, Boone was slipping a simple gold ring on her finger. It had been in his store waiting for an owner for as long as he could remember.

Amelia stood before him, staring at that ring, and then looked up at him, her eyes shining. “We’re married,” she said, as if stunned by such a strange development.

“Kiss ’er, Doc!” someone yelled.

Amelia got up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly to the hoots and hollers of the men around them. A wedding, Texas-style.

Within minutes, the couple was surrounded by well-wishers, the fiddlers started playing lively music, and the whiskey and tequila started pouring.

Amelia couldn’t believe how many people, total strangers to her, had shown up at her wedding, bearing small gifts and large platters of food. She’d expected a tiny ceremony attended only by her brother and Maggie, not this raucous gathering.

“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Agatha said, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, Agatha, you didn’t have to come, but thank you so much,” Amelia said, feeling close to tears that this woman had left her dying husband to see her wed.

“Poor Enrique doesn’t know if I’m there or not anymore, I’m afraid. Besides, I haven’t missed a wedding in Small Fork in thirty years. ’Course, there haven’t been too many of them,” she said, laughing.

It was good to see Agatha smiling again.

Amelia saw Boone looking rather out of place in the midst of a group of back-slapping men, all with nearly empty glasses in their hands. But Boone was smiling and shaking his head at something. That’s when Amelia saw Julia hovering near the fringes of the crowd, and she made her way over to her friend.

Grasping her hands, she said, “I’m so glad you came.”

“I am, too, but I think I’ll be headin’ home now. You look beautiful, Mrs. Kitteridge,” she said.

Hearing herself called Mrs. Kitteridge should have sounded strange, but Amelia had been calling herself that in her head for months—even if it was for another Kitteridge man. “Thank you. I’ll be by to visit in a few days, if that’s all right with you.”

“Are you two going on a wedding trip?” she asked, with strange intensity.

It took only a moment to realize Julia lived in fear of Boone leaving her, even for a short time. Even though Julia fought to hide her anxiety, Amelia knew the other woman was hoping they were staying put. “We’ve nothing planned.”

Julia shook her head apologetically. “I’ve been hearing things, is all. Probably nothing but rumors.” She smiled and gave Amelia a quick hug. “I’ll see you soon. I hope you like your gift.”

Amelia clapped her hands together, delighted. “I adore gifts! Dare I hope it’s one of your vases?”

“My favorite so far.”

Julia left and Amelia turned to see Boone smiling at her in a way that made her feel self-conscious, as if she’d been doing something extraordinary by talking to Julia.

He moved to her side, not an easy task with so many rowdy men hampering his path.

“There’ll be plenty of time for the wife later, Boone,” yelled one of the rough-looking men. “C’mon and have a drink with us.”

“You all start the dancing,” Boone shouted back and to Amelia’s surprise, they moved away from the crowd and started swinging each other around in time to the music, appearing to be having the time of their lives. The only three single women in the crowd were already taken, and looked rather exhausted by the exuberant dancing.

“When shall we have our dance, Dr. Kitteridge?” Amelia asked saucily. Boone’s cheeks instantly turned ruddy, a clear sign he was feeling uncomfortable. “Do not tell me you cannot dance. Why I shall file for annulment on the spot.”

She said it to be funny, but Boone looked bothered by her words.

“I’m only jesting. Surely you know that,” Amelia said gently. Boone could be prickly about the most unusual things, which only reminded Amelia how little she knew her husband.

“I never learned how to dance. I didn’t have much chance to socialize when I was younger.”

Amelia recalled what Carson had told her about Boone’s childhood, and then felt terrible for making him feel self-conscious. She’d just assumed that Boone could dance because Carson had danced, if not well, with enthusiasm. “I don’t expect it’s a necessary skill for a physician,” she said. “In fact, I don’t expect there are many formal balls in Small Fork to hone one’s dancing ability.”

Boone looked down at her and something in his eyes made her heart catch for just a moment. He gave her a crooked grin. “I seem to be lacking in quite a few skills required of a husband.”