The Bridal Veil (35 page)

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Authors: Alexis Harrington

Tags: #historical romance, #mailorder bride

BOOK: The Bridal Veil
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Rose’s abrupt statement reminded Emily
that she was not at a private wedding breakfast with her husband.
She dropped her gaze from Luke’s and folded her hands in her
lap.


I’ve only seen her once
since she left, and that was when Daddy went over there to plow her
kitchen garden.” Rose threw out this announcement as if waiting for
either Emily or Luke to object.


I think that’s a fine idea,
don’t you, Luke?” Emily said, bending a meaningful look upon
Luke.

He wiped his mouth on his napkin and
swallowed a bite of toast. “Well, sure, honey, that’s good. I know
your grandmother will be glad to see you. You go visit
her.”


Really?”


Yeah—did you want me to say
no?”


No, but I thought you
might.”

He pushed away his empty plate.
“Whatever problems Cora and I had don’t have anything to do with
how she feels about you, Rose. And I expected you to keep on seeing
her. She’s still your Grammy.”

Emily released a quiet, relieved sigh.
She hadn’t supposed that Luke would forbid Rose from seeing Cora.
But he had a right to feel bitter about his former mother-in-law.
She’d caused a lot of trouble in the family, from what Emily could
tell, both before and after Belinda’s death. She was glad that Luke
was big enough to rise above those problems and not criticize her
to Rose.


Today, though, I’m going to
need your help around here.”


Oh! What do I get to do?”
Rose wore a look of responsibility and importance. Emily was so
pleased that Luke had found a way to reach out to his daughter, and
that Rose had responded to the gestures.


We’ve got to start clearing
away that tree and the ashes. Unless Emily needs you for something
else?”

Emily shook her head. “No, you two go
along. I can handle what needs doing around here. I’ll bring you a
snack around mid-morning, and we’ll catch our meals as we can
today. It doesn’t look like we’ll have a regular Sunday dinner
anyway.”


All right, then, let’s get
going.”

Luke stood and Rose jumped up too.
“Can I chop wood? I know how the axe works.”

He winced slightly. “Yeah, well, I
don’t think I need you to do that to start. We’ve got plenty of
other chores, though.”

Just as they were about to go out the
door, Luke turned and walked back to Emily. In front of Rose and
God and the nation, he took her into his arms and gave her a long,
soft kiss. “We’ll see you later.” Then he released her, winked, and
went back to the door.

Emily felt almost as dumbfounded as
Rose looked, with her jaw hanging open.


Daddy!” Rose exclaimed,
scandalized. “It’s not proper to kiss a lady that way. Miss Emily
said—”


It’s all right, Rose,”
Emily interrupted, a little dazed and dreamy.


But you said public
displays of grand affection between men and women are never
acceptable.”


Well, this isn’t public.”
She looked at Luke’s mouth. “And anyway, I think I’ve been wrong
about some things.”

A broad grin lit up Luke’s face. “See
you later, Emily.” His gaze lingered on her a moment and then he
pushed Rose out the door ahead of him, before she could say
anything else.

~~*~*~*~~

Luke Becker was a happy man. Even
while he used a corn hook to pull down the charred, crumbling
remains of the henhouse that he could barely afford to rebuild, he
felt like smiling. Even though it had started raining again and he
was going to be soaked before this day was done, he couldn’t stop
the grin from coming. He had his daughter working beside him and a
smart, pretty wife in the house. Why shouldn’t he be
happy?


Rose, let’s pile all the
ashes we can into the wheelbarrow.”

Rose worked with a little shovel. He
didn’t plan to let her stay out here very long. He just wanted to
spend some time with her and let her feel included.


Some of this is still hot.
And—and there’s dead chickens in there, Daddy.”

A different warmth filled Luke at the
easy way Rose once more called him Daddy. Maybe Emily was right. He
didn’t have to understand all the secrets of a young girl’s heart,
but spending time together would go a long way to healing the rift
between them caused by Cora and the last few years of pain. It
didn’t matter that she wasn’t of his blood. With the way she looked
at him, he knew that he was right not to tell her he wasn’t her
real father. He was her father in every way that
mattered.

He straightened and watched to make
sure she didn’t venture beyond the edges of the wreckage. “I know,
you leave them be. I’ll take care of them. Be careful not to burn
yourself—we’ll pour water on the pile again after we have a load
ready to take to the garbage heap.”

He’d gotten only about four
hours sleep, but he felt like he could climb mountains and conquer
the world. It reminded him of how he’d felt when he thought he’d
won Belinda’s heart all those years ago. But it was different this
time. Emily
loved
him. She had told him so. He hadn’t had to pry it out of her.
She’d volunteered her declaration with sincere passion. He felt a
little guilty that he hadn’t been able to tell her he loved her
too. His heart wasn’t ready for that, not now anyway.

He hoped it would be
someday.

~~*~*~*~~

Luke was tired, wet, and dirty that
afternoon when he heard the sound of wagon wheels in the drive.
He’d been able to clear out a good portion of the henhouse debris,
and had sent Rose inside when he began collecting the dead
chickens. Now he turned to see Chester Manning on the high seat of
his own farm wagon, dressed in oilskins. Luke waved and the farmer
pulled his rig up to him.

Chester’s weather-seamed face
reflected his astonishment. “By God, Luke, looks like that storm
last night dealt you a dirty hand. Did you lose anything
else?”

Luke leaned on the handle of his rake.
“No, but I was worried for a while.” He gestured at the scorched
barn wall.

Chester nodded. “I heard that wind
tore the roof off the outhouse at the Purcells’s place. I guess
Cyrus was busy in there at the time.” He grinned and Luke laughed
as he pictured three-hundred-pound Cyrus Purcell, sitting in the
outhouse at the moment the roof took flight. “‘Course,” Chester
added, “that don’t compare to this. Can you rebuild before
fall?”


I sure as hell hope
so.”


Well, try not to worry too
much. Once folks hear about it, they’ll pitch in to help. You
know
I
will. I
also heard talk the log bridge over by the cemetery is getting
pretty shaky. You know the town council voted not to spend a dime
to fix that damned thing last summer when they should have. With
all this rain, I’m worried that someone will get killed before they
let go of the purse strings.”

This wasn’t good news. “If that bridge
washes out, all of us in this neck of the woods will be cut off
from town. That creek underneath is just deep and swift enough to
be a real danger.”

Chester made a disgusted gesture. “I
know, I know. You’d think the council would have to pay for the
repairs out of their own pockets.”


When the weather dries out,
we’ll have to go to the meeting and put some pressure on them to
rebuild it. It’ll probably be all right until then. It’s seen a lot
of rain and ice storms.”

Suddenly, a muffled bleating noise
came from inside of Chester’s big oilskin jacket.

Surprised, Luke looked up at the
scarecrow of a farmer and laughed again. “Say, Chester, what’s
going on under there?”

The man unbuttoned his coat to produce
a snowy lamb. “Jennie told me what happened to that other lamb I
gave you, and I felt bad for not pickin’ out a better one,
especially since it was a pet for Rose. Sometimes those little
mites are weak and need special tending. I wanted to make it up to
her. I’ve got Mrs. Luke’s butter, too. You know, she’s a mighty
fine woman, your wife. Jennie and me are real pleased to have her
givin’ our girls some refinement. She’s a blue-ribbon lady, and
she’s got a good heart, too.”

Luke was touched by the gesture and by
the compliment. He took the squirming lamb from Chester. “Thanks
very much. I know Rose will appreciate it.”

Just then, Emily appeared on the back
porch and waved at them both. She looked both simple and elegant
standing there in a lavender dress and her white apron, and Luke
thought his shirt buttons might pop off with the pride swelling his
chest. “Mr. Manning, come in for coffee won’t you?”


I’d really like to, ma’am,
but my wife’s waitin’ for me.”


Next time, then. And bring
the family, too.”


I sure will, ma’am. I sure
will.”


Give them our best,” she
called.

He turned the wagon around in the
barnyard and headed off for home.

Holding the lamb and the butter, Luke
watched him go and then his gaze shifted to Emily on the back
porch.

Yes, indeed, Luke Becker was a happy
man.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The rain continued off and on through
the night, but neither Luke nor Emily noticed it much. After
dinner, time seemed to drag at a snail’s pace. Emily washed the
dishes while Rose dried, and Luke found a half-dozen reasons to
come into the kitchen and brush past his wife at the
sink.

When they’d finished the dishes, Rose
wanted to spend time in the barn with Luke and the new lamb, which
she had named Lucy.


Lucy? What made you think
of a name like that?” he asked her, helping her fill the lamb’s
milk bottle.


Miss Emily has been
reading
A Tale of Two Cities
to me. It’s a book about some kind of war in
France. A revolution, she said. People get their heads chopped off
in something called a gee-o-teen. Anyway, there’s a lady in the
story named Lucy Mannett. I just like the way it sounds, I
guess.”

Luke scratched his head and looked at
the lamb in her little pen. “Okay, Lucy it is.” He had been a lousy
student, himself. He couldn’t remember a single book from his brief
schooling. It wouldn’t be long before Rose was better read than he
was. He chuckled to himself. Maybe Emily would tutor him as well.
He had a quick image of laying naked with her, their limbs
intertwined, his hand cupping her breast while she read to him in
that prim school teacher voice she sometimes used. He reined in the
thought and added more hay to the lamb’s pen while he tried to
focus on his daughter’s rambling tales of all she would do with
Lucy at her side.

After bedding down the lamb, Rose
wanted to look at patterns so she could plan to make a couple of
new dresses over the summer. She and Emily sat at the kitchen
table, and Luke brought in a farm journal and joined them. The
quiet ticking of the kitchen clock, the homey smell of brewed
coffee and the lingering aroma of the pot roast Emily had prepared
for dinner added to the sense of family, of belonging that filled
Luke. He’d worked hard for this dream, and here it was in his
grasp, sitting at his kitchen table. His daughter’s dark head was a
sharp contrast to his wife’s pale hair. Why had he ever thought
blond was not for him? He’d been a blind fool, that was why. Beauty
came from within, just like a man’s true character showed in the
way he treated his family and provided for them, not because of
where he came from.

Once in a while, Emily and
Rose would burst into giggles, glance at him, and mutter about how
maybe they
should
be looking at new frock coats instead. He tried to look stern
and uninterested, but it was hard with his heart in his throat. He
tried to refocus on his farm journal, but that was just as hard
when all he could think of was later tonight. Now and then, his
eyes would meet his wife’s across the top of the pages, and they
exchanged urgent, unspoken promises that would be fulfilled later,
after Rose went to bed, which seemed forever in coming. The
anticipation was exquisite for Luke. He now knew how smooth her
cream-colored skin was, he’d threaded his hands through her wheat
pale hair until it draped her shoulders in wild abandon. He knew
that he could make that cultured voice catch, then call his name on
a deep earthy cry.

Finally, eight chimes tolled on the
mantel in the parlor and they could legitimately shoo the girl
upstairs without making her feel as if they were trying to get rid
of her.

Luke waited in his bedroom while Emily
made sure that Rose was safely tucked in and dozing off. He washed
at his washstand, and then washed again, wondering what was taking
Emily so long.

When at last she stepped out into the
hall, he pulled her into his room and closed the door. They fell
into each other’s arms and showered a score of kisses on one
another. As desperate and impatient as secret lovers meeting for an
illicit tryst, they let their hands seek and stroke and unbutton.
Lips met lips and brows and throats as each item of clothing fell
away until they lay naked on Luke’s bed.

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