The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (28 page)

SUNSHINE FILLED the sky three days later as Jenny stood behind the house wringing water from a wet window curtain. She’d worked at Fortune’s Design that morning, until an intense desire for a nap sent her home.

Bart had proved to be a godsend. He did make her feel safer in Trace’s absence, but she appreciated him just as much for the errands he consented to run. Like now, for instance. Bart was making a quick run to Fortune’s Design for her. Once she decided to stay home this afternoon and help Mrs. Wilson with a few light chores, she’d asked him to fetch home the dress she simply had to finish by tomorrow. It was Mrs. Howell’s tenth wedding anniversary, and for the special occasion she’d ordered one of the dresses Jenny privately called Miss Rachel’s remakes.

Ever since Jenny had worn hers to the Harvest Ball, the gowns had been her biggest seller. A full half of the orders had been placed by husbands for their wives, also. Trace predicted a baby boom come summer as the result.

Jenny smiled at the memory as she draped the cloth over the clothesline. She scrutinized the ruffled yellow gingham for signs of blue paint and grimaced at the dark shadows she discovered. That Katrina. The child could destroy a cannon if she put her mind to it.

Pinning the curtain to the line, she tried to ignore the nausea churning in her stomach. It must be nearing two o’clock, she realized, wiping her wet hands on her apron. This child had begun to make his presence known as regular as clockwork. Three times a day at ten, two, and six, her stomach went to rolling like a ship in a hurricane. She swallowed hard, then quickly finished hanging the rest of the wash. She’d learned that if she lay down right away, she sometimes could hold off the worst of it.

She didn’t mind spending a few minutes in bed, but she’d hate to spend her entire day that way. If Trace was here, that’s exactly what would have happened. He’d have her tucked into bed round the clock.

It was a darn good thing she’d not made the trip, after all.

Lifting her face toward the sunshine, she closed her eyes and concentrated on calming her pitching stomach. She’d made the right decision by not telling him about the baby after she learned of his impending trip. She’d been afraid he wouldn’t leave her if he knew. Now she hoped she’d be over the worst of the sickness before he returned. Otherwise, knowing Trace, he’d nurture her crazy.

She was placing the last pin on the last bedsheet when nearby, a man cleared his throat. Startled, she dropped the pin and whirled around. He stood beside the swing that hung from a branch of a nearby oak, and he wore a hesitant smile on his face.

“Trace!” she called with delight, running toward him even as she wondered what had brought him home early. She threw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much already.” As he opened his mouth to speak, she closed it with a kiss.

And that’s when she knew.

She wrenched away, shocked and shaken. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled as she backed away from him and asked, “Who are you?”

The rueful smile was just the same as Trace’s. “Thackery McBride. Tye to friends and family.”

As she looked closer she recognized the differences, slight though they were. He was a shade leaner than Trace and perhaps not quite as tall. Now she could see the small white scar above his lip, and she realized he parted his hair farther toward the left than did Trace. But the greatest dissimilarity was in his eyes. Oh, the color was the same, but the emotions were completely different. She detected wariness and caution. A hint of despair.

“I’m Trace’s brother.”

Jenny was speechless. Trace had a brother he’d never once mentioned? A
twin
brother? The nausea in her stomach churned fiercely. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth and rushed past him for the minimal privacy of the far side of the oak tree. Leaning over, Jenny was violently sick. It seemed to go on forever.

She felt his hands at her waist as he offered her support, and she was too ill to do anything but accept it. Finally, the spasms eased and she straightened. His arms dropped away and he took a step backward.

Embarrassment flooded her face as she accepted the handkerchief he offered. How humiliating, she thought, wiping her face. She meets her husband’s brother and the first thing she does is lose her lunch on his boots. Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

His green eyes were mocking as he spoke in a dry, bitter tone. “I see by your reaction that my brother has told you all about me.”

Burning red onion peels will bring good luck.

CHAPTER 16

STEAM ROSE FROM THE spout of a porcelain teapot as Jenny filled two cups to the brim. Mrs. Wilson had taken one look at Tye, welcomed “Mr. Trace” home, then disappeared on an errand to the market in an obvious effort to leave the newlyweds alone in the house for their reunion.

Embarrassment hung between Jenny and her husband’s brother like the sheets on the clothesline. Trying to get past it, she gestured toward a plate filled with different kinds of cookies. “Have one, please. The ginger cookies are Maribeth’s favorite.”

“Trace’s, too, if I remember right.” He lifted a sugar-dusted cookie from the plate. “Lemon has always been my first choice.”

Jenny smiled. “You’ll have to fight Katrina for those. She positively adores lemon cookies.”

Tye grimaced and pursed his lips.

“Too sour?” she asked.

“No. Not the cookie, anyway.” He set down his sweet and spooned sugar into his tea. “More like bitter memories.” After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, “How are the girls? I bet they’ve grown so much I’d hardly recognize them. I reckon Emmie finally grew a pair of front teeth?”

The awkwardness between them abated as they spent the next few minutes discussing the McBride daughters. Jenny relayed stories of the Menaces’ shenanigans, and laughed along with Tye as he imparted a few tales of growing up with Trace. By the time he was done he had proved beyond a doubt where the McBride Menaces got the mischievous side of their natures.

“You mustn’t tell the girls, Tye,” she said with a groan. “Robbing a train was bad enough. My daughters don’t need to know anything about explosives.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her warmly. “So, Mrs. McBride, how long have you and Trace been married?”

“Call me Jenny, please. Your brother and I married a little over two months ago.”

“So this is your first baby.”

Her cup rattled in its saucer. She leaned back in her chair and gaped at him. “How did you know? Trace hasn’t even guessed.”

“I always figured it out before Trace. Constance used to tell us …” His voice trailed off and he busied himself by spooning more sugar into his tea.

When he didn’t quit, Jenny asked in a wry tone, “Care for a little more tea with your sugar?”

He stopped abruptly and gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. I admit I’m more than a little nervous.”

Returning his smile, Jenny stood and retrieved a clean cup and saucer. She poured him a fresh cup of tea, saying, “That makes two of us, I’m afraid. I find this quite unsettling—you looking so much like my husband.” She paused for a moment, working up the nerve to ask her visitor a question she’d wanted to ask his brother for months. “You mentioned my husband’s first wife. Did you know her well? What was she like?”

He shook his head. “No disrespect meant, ma’am, but you need to ask your husband those questions, not me.”

Jenny wanted to groan. What was it with these McBride men? They were worthless when it came to providing answers. It would serve them right if she sicced Wilhemina Peters on the both of them.

Unwilling to allow what appeared to be a golden opportunity to pass her by, Jenny tried again. “Trace refuses to speak of her. I know there was an accident of some sort, and that he feels responsible. But his reticence puts me in a difficult position. The girls wonder about her; they ask me questions they cannot ask their father. I’d like to know something I could tell them.”

Slowly, he stirred his tea. He was obviously weighing her words. When he spoke his first sentence, she felt a surge of victory.

“Constance West was the most beautiful girl in South Carolina.”

Ouch, Suddenly, Jenny didn’t want to hear any more. Unaware of her change of heart, Tye continued, “She had a flawless complexion and thick auburn hair with streaks of red that shot fire in the sunlight. Big brown eyes a man could drown in. Once she set her cap for Trace, he didn’t stand a chance.”

Jenny’s sour stomach returned as he spoke, and she knew it had little to do with her pregnancy. Jealousy was bad for a person’s constitution.

“Constance had a way about her. Fire and ice, heaven and hell, all rolled into one. She knew just how to look at a man to make him—” Tye shrugged and laid his spoon down hard. “Trace is right not to talk about her. Believe me, Emma, Maribeth, and Katrina are better off not knowing about Constance.”

“But she was their mother,” Jenny protested. “They should know that she wanted them and cared for them. That she loved them.”

He pushed his chair back from the table and stood to pace the room. “Trace won’t lie to them, and you shouldn’t either. Constance didn’t love her daughters.” Disgust laced his voice as he roughly declared, “Constance didn’t love anybody but herself.”

Jenny sat back in her chair. Tye McBride was a mirror image of her husband, right down to the pain flaring in his eyes. Was what he claimed true? And what about what he wasn’t saying? What had happened to cause such a rift between the brothers? Why had Trace never mentioned Tye? Did it have something to do with Constance?

Jenny wanted answers. Trace had acted the jealous fool because of the “demons” in his past. Unless she was completely mistaken, one of those “demons” just stepped on a jack Katrina had left lying on the kitchen floor.

Tye sat in his chair and propped his leg over the opposite knee. As he yanked the metal toy from the sole of his boot, Jenny said impulsively, “You were wrong outside.”

He turned his head and gave her a questioning look.

“Trace hasn’t told me about you. In fact, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

Tye smiled crookedly and spun the jack on the table- top. “That’s more the way I figured it, to be honest. Last time I saw him he said he was severing all ties between us. Trace has always been a man of his word.”

Jenny watched the toy smoothly whirl. After a moment it hit a cookie crumb and bounced, flying out of control until it fell from the table. A marriage could be like that, she thought. “Why are you here, then? To cause trouble?”

He scooped the jack up off the floor and tossed it from hand to hand. Then he caught it and held it trapped in his palm, his gaze capturing hers just as effectively. “No, I haven’t come to Texas to cause trouble. I’ve come to make amends. Will you help me? Or will you stand in my way?”

“Trace won’t be home for a week or two.”

“That’ll give me time to get to know my nieces again. And Katrina, of course. She was just a baby when Trace left South Carolina.”

Slowly, Jenny finished her cookie. She suspected Trace wouldn’t like her giving Tye access to his children and she told his brother as much.

“Listen, Jenny,” Tye said, leaning forward and speaking intently. “Those three little girls are my family. That word means a lot to me, and to Trace too, no matter what he says otherwise. I don’t want to hurt them in any way, but I believe they deserve to know the McBride family— all of it. Not just me, but their great-grandmother and aunts. Trace was wrong to take that away from them. He was wrong about many things. He’s had them to himself long enough. It’s time for him to share.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. She opened her mouth intending to tell him when a child’s scream pierced the sky. “Maribeth!” Jenny gasped.

Tye was out the door in a flash, Jenny right on his heels.

Katrina stood below the spreading branches of the huge pecan tree that stood halfway down the hill. Emma was running toward the house, hollering, “Mama, help,” as Tye and Jenny hurried toward them.

“Mari’s in the tree,” the eldest girl cried. “She slipped and her leg is stuck. She’s hanging upside down.”

Tye stripped off his coat. He tugged off his boots and raced to the base of the tree. Grasping a low-hanging limb, he swung himself up. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” he said.

“Hurry, Papa!” Katrina called, before grabbing Jenny’s skirt and burying her face to hide her eyes.

Jenny’s chest hurt from running. Maribeth’s pigtails dangled straight toward the ground, and Jenny prayed the girl’s head wouldn’t plunge in the same direction. “Where’s Bart?”

“We just played a tiny little trick. He’ll figure it out soon, and it didn’t do anything to hurt the dress he carried, Mama.”

Jenny closed her eyes.

“Here we go,” Tye said, wrapping his legs around a branch and reaching toward Maribeth. “Don’t fight me now. I’m going to lift you toward me, and when you can, I want you to grab my neck. All right, Maribeth?”

“Y-y-yes.”

Maribeth sounded as if she was in pain. Jenny wanted to cry herself. What if she’d wrenched her knee? What if she’d broken her leg? What if Thackery McBride had not been here to help?

Jenny breathed a sigh of relief as Maribeth’s arms wrapped around her uncle’s neck. Swiftly, but carefully, he descended the tree. Upon reaching the ground, he asked, “Mari, do you want me to set you down? Do you think you can stand?”

She nodded, and he lowered her feet to the ground, supporting her weight until she tested her leg. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off his touch and stepping close to Jenny. “Thank you very much for rescuing me.”

Tye took a gentlemanly bow.

“Mari,” Katrina said, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why are you talking like that to Papa?”

“That’s not our Papa,” Emma said, her hands clasped in front of her.

Tye grinned. “You’re quicker than your mama. She had to kiss me first to figure it out.”

Emma glanced at Jenny, then back at Tye. “I remember you. You’re Papa’s brother.”

Maribeth glanced at her sister sharply. “You never told us Papa has a brother.”

“I forgot.”

Jenny suddenly needed to sit down. “My goodness, my knees are shaking. Maribeth McBride, you scared me half to death. What were you doing up in that tree?”

“I was just climbing. The tree called to me today.” She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to get stuck.”

Jenny lifted her face toward the sky and sighed. “You never go looking for trouble, but somehow that never stops it from finding you.” Beneath her breath, she added, “Unlike Bart Rogers.” He might be the best hired gun in the state, but he was lousy at managing Menaces.

“I’m starving,” Katrina said, her eyes round as she stared at Tye McBride. “What did Mrs. Wilson make us today, Mama?”

“Cookies.”

“I love cookies the mostest.”

“I shouldn’t let you have any.”

“But you will, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Jenny shooed the girls toward the house, then gestured for Tye to join them.

Katrina glanced back over her shoulder as she walked. She plopped her thumb in her mouth, then spoke around it, her voice drifting clear as a bell to the adults who followed behind them. “He looks ‘xactly like Papa. Am I suppose to love him?”

Jenny witnessed the effect the little girl’s words had upon the man. Stark pain summed it up best and gave Jenny something to think about as she placed cookies on plates and fixed glasses of milk for her daughters.

Tye didn’t join them at the table. Instead, he paused by the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb. Jenny watched him watching the girls as they washed up, his gaze all but drinking them in. He loves them, she thought. He apparently hasn’t seen them in years, but he loves them no matter what.

Jenny smiled and said, “Girls, I’m afraid we have gotten things a bit backward here, but I believe introductions are in order.”

“We don’t need an introduction,” Tye said, pushing away from the wall and approaching the girls. “I’d know these young ladies anywhere. Look at how big you’ve grown. And so beautiful. Emma and Maribeth, you look so much like your mother.” He squatted down in front of Katrina whose eyes were round as a barn owl’s. “Hello, Katrina.”

She shuffled close to Emma as he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Now you look just like your Aunt Penny, and she still wins the beauty contest at the county fair every summer. I knew the first time I saw you that you’d have the look of a McBride. You’re just like I’ve dreamed.” Shaking himself, he stood and backed away. “All of you. Just as pretty as I’ve imagined.”

As Jenny would have suspected, Emma and Katrina beamed. Maribeth eyed him skeptically, then asked for a ginger cookie.

Tye McBride spent the next half hour charming the girls with stories of their family and censored versions of their father’s youthful escapades.

“You were with him when he stole that pig?” Maribeth asked, shaking her head in wonder. “Why didn’t Papa ever tell us that?” She looked at Jenny. “Why, Mama?”

Jenny lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know, honey. You’ll have to ask him that yourself when he comes home. In the meantime, I do believe it is time for you all to get to your homework.”

“But Ma-ma!” they protested.

She waved her hand. “Shoo.”

Katrina paused at the doorway, a milk mustache dotting her upper lip, and asked, “Uncle Tye, will you be here when we get done? Are you going to stay with us?”

He sat back in his chair, arms folded, and gave Jenny a questioning look. “Well, angel, that depends on your mother.”

“Nothing like putting me on the spot,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

He arched one brow, looking so much like Trace that Jenny blinked and looked a second time.

“Please, Mama?” Maribeth asked. “I want to show him the secret passageways. Maybe he can help me find the hidden doors Papa hasn’t shown me yet.”

Trace wouldn’t like it; she could feel it in her bones. But Tye had come all this way. He’d saved Maribeth from what could have been a serious accident. And, he was right about family. The girls should know their great-grandmother and aunts. Hadn’t she yearned her entire life for the type of extended family this man was offering her daughters?

But most of all, Tye McBride’s presence in the house might provide answers to some of the questions Trace refused to deal with. She’d already learned a little about Constance and she wanted to know more. The more information she possessed, the better she could battle Trace McBride.

Because it was a war. He’d proven that the day before he left when he doubted her. She was engaged in a down-and-dirty, no-holds-barred fight for her husband’s love, and she had every intention of coming out the victor.