The Brides of Chance Collection (21 page)

Reba waggled her finger under his nose. “No peeking.” She scuttled into the other room to give them some privacy.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped out of his mouth, and Miriam’s smile was ample reward.
Lord, let it all go this well
.

“It’s taken hours, but we have the design all set, Gideon. I want my gown to be beautiful for you—and for our daughter to wear on her wedding day.”

“That’s what I have to tell you—our wedding day. It’s tomorrow.”

Merry laughter bubbled out of her. When he didn’t join in, her laughter died out. Her eyes grew huge.

“The circuit rider will be here in the morning. He’s taken a regular pastorate, so he’s not available for our original date.” There. He’d said the lines he’d planned, and he’d gotten them out quite smoothly.

“We’ll just have to wait for the next circuit rider, then.”

“We are not waiting.” He gave her the glower that always made his kid brothers toe the mark. “It took us two years before we got that parson. There’s no telling how long it’ll take before we’ll have another man of the cloth to officiate. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“But that was before this area became civilized and so well populated, Gideon.” Completely unaffected by his glower, she gave him her I’m-being-practical smile. “We’re bound to have a parson arrive in a matter of months.”

“Months!”

She bobbed her head, and her eyes brightened. “Why, it’s actually a blessing, Gideon. It’ll give me more time on my gown, and—”

“We’re getting married in the morning, Miriam. I don’t care if you’re in your nightdress or Bryce’s britches. You’ll be my bride tomorrow.” Her face went pale as he thundered those words, and Gideon wished he’d been more diplomatic. “Swathed in a tablecloth, you’re beautiful, Miriam. I couldn’t care less about what you’re wearing. I just want you to be mine.”

She held the tablecloth tightly about herself and squared her shoulders. Moments passed, and several expressions flitted across her face. Her voice quavered. “You’re marrying me, not my dress. I understand. A sound marriage is more important than an elaborate wedding.”

“We can still celebrate in two weeks—make that date a fancy reception.” There. That qualified as a good compromise.

Miriam nodded slowly.

He trailed his fingers down her cheek. She’d lost her sparkle, and he knew he’d just destroyed her plans for a dreams-come-true wedding. “I’m sorry it worked out this way. You had it all planned out. Our only other choice would be to go to San Francisco and get married there.”

“Would everybody come with us?” Hope flickered in her eyes.

“No. Too much to be done around here.”

“I don’t want to go off and get married among strangers. A wedding is all about love and family.”

Reba called out softly, “I don’t mean to be rude, but time’s a-wasting, and these girls are going to wake up from their nap soon.”

“Come on out,” Gideon said. “Maybe you and Miriam can fix something she can wear. Things got moved up. The wedding’s in the morning.”

Reba gave a yelp. “Tomorrow!” She gave Gideon an outraged look. “Impossible. She doesn’t have a dress. The netting I ordered for her veil isn’t even here yet!”

Why do women put store by such silly fripperies?
But Gideon saw the wince Miriam hadn’t managed to hide at the mention of a veil. He could solve that problem. “Veils are wretched things. A man ought to have the pleasure of seeing his bride’s radiance. Given my druthers, I want flowers in her hair.”

“Well now, there’s a fine plan.” Reba perked up.

Miriam managed a wobbly smile. “I used up all the eggs this morning. Could you go rustle up a few more? I’ll need them for the cake.”

“Cake?”

Her brow arched. “You don’t think we’re getting married without a wedding cake, do you?”

Laughter bellowed out of him. She’d do without a gown and veil, but she was still going to make this an event. Miriam always made the best of things, and he prized that trait in her. “Woman, I’m so glad you’re mine.”

Admitting defeat didn’t come easily. Miriam rolled over in her bed and stared at the white heap on the floor. She’d tried her best to stitch together the bodice while Reba whipped together the skirt. Even then, they’d come to the disappointing realization that if they had four other women here to spend all night sewing with them, the wedding gown wouldn’t be finished.

Lord, You’ve blessed me with such a fine man. Help me to let go of little-girl dreams and be a woman who appreciates what she has instead of mourning the inconsequential things that might be missing
.

She rolled out of bed and stoked the fire in her potbelly stove. Wedging the sadiron next to her teapot, she mentally listed what she’d need to get done in the next two hours. The men were supposed to have ham and a coffee cake she made last night—she didn’t want to risk having Gideon catch a glimpse of her this morning. She’d iron her green paisley dress, then do Polly’s hair….

“Hey, Miriam! You awake?”

“Yes.”

“Open up! I’m hauling over the tub.”

She scrambled into her robe and eagerly opened the door so Paul could deliver that luxury. “Oh, thank you!”

Water splashed as he thumped the big galvanized tub down. “Glad to. Hang on. Titus is bringing a couple buckets of hot water to add.” He grinned at her.

Self-consciously, she reached up and touched one of the rags in her hair. “It’s a good thing the groom can’t see the bride before the ceremony. Gideon would run for the hills if he saw me like this.”

“He was teasing Polly about her rag curls just a few minutes ago.”

Miriam gave him a startled look. “I didn’t put her hair up.”

“Dan did,” Titus said as he arrived with the hot water. Laughter filled his voice. “If he weren’t so grouchy this morning, we’d tease him unmercifully.”

“Don’t you dare. He was being a good daddy. I’m proud of him, and I’m going to tell him so just as soon as I see him.”

Paul chortled. “You might want to wait until you see how Polly’s hair turns out.”

The brothers left, and Miriam gratefully slipped into the tub. She wished she had time to soak, but she still needed to iron her dress. Dried, powdered, and wearing everything except her dress, she laid the ironing board across her bed and draped the green paisley on it. Fingering the lace, she smiled. Gideon bought that lace for her. In fact, he bought the material, too, saying it would match her pretty eyes. It was the first compliment he’d paid her. The memory made the dress seem dearer.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside her doorstep. After a prolonged hesitation, someone knocked. Miriam slipped back into her robe and opened the door. “Daniel!”

He stood there, his face gaunt and eyes glinting with tears. “Hannah would have wanted you to have this.” He shoved a bundle into her arms.

Miriam looked down.
Mama’s wedding gown
. “Oh, Daniel—”

He cleared his throat. “I’m happy for Gideon. You’ll make him a fine bride.”

“You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that.”

“I can’t be at the wedding. I can’t see—”

Miriam pushed the dress back into his arms. “I’d rather have you there than wear the dress. You matter far more—”

“Don’t ask that of me, Miriam. It’s not just Hannah’s gown. I can’t listen to the vows.” He shook his head as he rasped, “I just can’t.”

The anguish in his voice tore at her. Tears spilled from her eyes.

Daniel rasped, “Don’t. Gideon’s already furious that I’m not attending. If he knows I made you cry…” He hitched a shoulder.

“I understand. I’ll make things right with Gideon, Daniel.”

“I’ll be at the reception when you have it.” He shoved the dress into her arms again and wheeled around.

Miriam couldn’t believe he’d opened Hannah’s chest and suffered all of this pain to give her the wedding gown with his blessing. She whispered tearfully, “Thank you, Daniel.”

He nodded and trudged away.

Lord, he hurts so badly. Ease his sorrow and show us how to help him through his grief
. The Whites’ buggy rolled up, drawing Miriam back to the fact that she needed to get ready. She shut the door and turned to iron the wedding gown.

Minutes later, Reba rapped on the door and let herself in. “Wonder of wonders, will you look at that! That bridal gown is exquisite.”

“It was Mama’s. Hannah wore it. Daniel is loaning it to me.”

“That’s a fine thing, indeed. Here. I’ll set myself to doing the ironing. You fix your hair.”

Miriam unwound the rags from her hair and started styling it. “I appreciate your help so much.”

“Honey, that’s what friends are for. My, this gown is lovely. The men are going to be pea green with envy that Gideon swept you off your feet.”

Miriam smiled. “We get along well enough. They’re all happy I’m marrying their brother.”

“Dear, I know that. I mean all of the other men. Logan and Bryce rode out yesterday and spread the word. Everyone’s still coming today for the nuptials.”

“But I only made one little cake!”

Reba started laughing. “Wait ’til you see what Gideon did last night.” Miriam gave her a questioning look, but Reba swished her hand in the air. “Don’t ask me. You’ll have to wait and find out for yourself.”

Logan brought Polly over. Polly’s hair resembled a jumble of giant watch springs, and the sash on her dress looked just as hopelessly twisted. Logan stuck a basket of flowers into Polly’s hands. “Gideon picked these with her. He said they’re for your hair.”

Polly wiggled like an eager puppy. “I want some in my hair, too.”

“We’ve got to do something about it,” Reba murmured.

“Anything,” Logan agreed, “would be an improvement.”

“That’s what Unca Titus said ’bout Unca Giddy’s cupcakes.” Polly stood on tiptoe and reached over her head. “He gots a big pile all stacked up this high.”

Logan spluttered, spun away, and shut the door. His howling laughter still filtered into the cottage.

Reba got the giggles. “I guess the surprise is out. Maybe it’s best you know before you see it, Miriam. It’s the sorriest sight I’ve ever seen. That man and his brothers desperately need you.”

“Gideon was trying to make today perfect.” Miriam started combing Polly’s hair into some semblance of order. Her heart overflowed. He was doing everything he could to turn this hurried event into something special. “He loves me.”

“He’s a fine man—one in a million,” Reba agreed.

A short while later, Reba tucked one last flower into Miriam’s hair, fussed to make sure the skirt hung just so, and scooted back to admire her. “Lovely. Just lovely! I’m going to go on out now.”

Polly scrambled down from the chair over by the window. “They gots benches out there like for church. Lotsa men are here.”

“It sounds as if everything’s ready.” Miriam retied Polly’s sash and gave her a hug. “You’re so pretty, Polly.”

“Amazing what wonders a woman’s touch can do.” Laughter tinged Reba’s voice. She took Polly by the hand, then looked at Miriam and asked, “Who’s going to walk you down the aisle?”

“We talked it over, and I want Gideon to come claim me. There’s no one present to give me away, and it just seems right to hold fast to his arm from the start.”

Reba and Polly scooted out, and Miriam dabbed on a little perfume.
Lord, Thou art so generous. Thou knowest my heart and hast blessed me far beyond my wildest dreams
.
Thank Thee for Gideon and the love we share. Help me to be a good wife to him
.

A single, solid
thump
sounded. Gideon. It was his knock.

It’s time
.

She opened the door.

Gideon took a long, slow look at her—from the flowers in her hair, down her bridal gown, to the tips of her shoes. “Sweet pea, you make me believe in miracles.”

“You take my breath away.”

He winked. “Save enough to speak your vows, darlin’. There’s nothing I want more in this world than for you to be mine.”

“I love you, Gideon.” She accepted the bouquet of wildflowers he handed her and stepped out to meet her future with him by her side.

SECOND CHANCE

by Tracey Bateman

Prologue

San Francisco, 1871

I
’m leaving the house and the money to Alisa.”

Standing with her back pressed against the wall outside the library, Alisa touched her fingers to her throat. Alarm inched its way up her spine. What could Mrs. Worthington possibly be thinking by telling her son such an outlandish tale? She inched around so that she could peer through the small crack where the door wasn’t quite shut all the way. The dear woman sat regally in a black leather chair behind her husband’s desk, her fingers laced together as she conversed with her son.

“Surely you’re joking, Mother. Leave our money to a foundling?”

“A foundling who should never have been lost in the first place.”

“Please, Mother.” The sound of Mr. Worthington’s long-suffering voice rankled Alisa. He should show his mother more respect, in her opinion. “Must you always throw that little indiscretion in my face?”