Wedding at Wildwood (16 page)
Read Wedding at Wildwood Online
Authors: Lenora Worth
Tags: #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Romance - Contemporary, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Non-Classifiable, #Romance - General, #Christian, #Religious - General, #Religious, #Religious - Romance
“Well, neither did I,” Dillon replied. “When I asked Eli and Daddy if they’d given the loan to your father, they both laughed in my face.
“Dad said of course he didn’t give your father the loan. He figured he’d never get the money back. He didn’t feel Leonard Landry had an ounce of backbone. And if he allowed your dad to move into town, he’d start shirking his duties at Wildwood.”
Isabel hitched a breath, seeing things in a whole new light. “So my father just gave up, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t afford to get fired. And that’s exactly what Eli and Daddy threatened to do if he tried to buy that house.”
A dark helpless rage coursed through Isabel. “He just wanted something to call his own, Dillon. Something for my mother and me to be proud of. How could anyone be so cruel?”
She hadn’t realized she was pounding her fists against Dillon’s chest until his hands halted hers.
“I wondered that myself, sweetheart.” He swallowed, paused, then said, “And that day, I made the fatal mistake of questioning my father’s authority. You see, I defended your father and begged my dad to reconsider. I told him it wasn’t right. But he just laughed and said as long as he had people willing to work for room and board and a few acres of crop he’d never give it up.
“I’m telling you, Isabel, it sickened me, watching them make their snide jokes about a man who’d dedicated his life to this place. So I got angry and tried once again to reason with them.” He stopped, his eyes lifting to hers. “And that’s when Eli started in on you again.
“Eli accused me of wanting to get on your good side. He said I was so busy chasing you around, that I’d forgotten who I was, and who you were. He said low-class girls like you were good for only one thing. Then he made a derogatory remark about you and I lost it. I went after him with both fists.”
Humiliation colored Isabel’s words. “Oh, Dillon, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Lifting a hand to her face, he said, “I told him flat out that I loved you.”
Shocked, Isabel raised her head, her gaze holding his. And then, she saw it there in his eyes. Dillon had
always
loved her, even back then.
“You fought against your brother and your father because you
loved
me?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe you did that, and I never knew.”
Dillon lowered his head to briefly touch her forehead. “That’s because my father got so mad. He told me that if I ever went near you again, he’d kick your family off this land and he’d make sure your father never found work in the state of Georgia.” He swallowed again, then looked away, off in the distance. “Then he told me if I didn’t like the way he operated, I should get off Wildwood and never come back. I didn’t give him time to take back those words. I knew I had to get away. I had to leave, or I’d become just like them.”
Isabel’s hands were shaking. Reaching up for him, she touched her fingers to his face. In a cry filled with anguish, she said, “Are you telling me you left Wildwood to protect my family? To protect me?”
“Yes,” he said at last, the one word lifting a tremendous burden off his shoulders. Placing his hands over hers, he moved closer, his gaze holding her. “I loved you, Isabel. And I knew if I stayed here, I wouldn’t be able to deny or control that love. So I left.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said, tears falling down her face. “I can’t believe a father would do this to a son, or a brother would be so cruel.”
“Believe it. But don’t feel guilty, honey. Like I told you once before, it had been a long time coming. I’d stood by too many times, watching the sickening way my family dealt with people they considered subordinates. I knew it was wrong, but I never spoke up because of my old need to be loved and accepted. Yet that day I realized I would never be able to stay here. And I knew in my heart that once I took a stand, I’d have a tough battle ahead, and worse, so would you.”
“What…what did you do?”
“I walked back home, then I saw you sitting on the old swing that used to be out in your backyard. You had your legs curled up underneath you, and your nose buried in a book.” He reached out now to pull at a strand of her soaked curls. “I remember your hair—it was so short and curling all around your head. I wanted to go to you and tell you how I felt, but instead I went to the bank, and with my mother’s help, withdrew a large sum of money, and headed north. I enjoyed life to the fullest, soaking all my sorrows in a carefree life-style, partying away my pain, until the money ran out.”
Isabel pulled him close, sorrow evident in her eyes. “Dillon—”
He hushed her. “I woke up on a park bench in downtown Atlanta. There was an old man standing over me with a cup of coffee. He owned a bookstore on Peachtree Street, and after I poured out part of my sorry story to him, he hired me—on the condition that I get cleaned up and start going to church.”
“And?”
“And I did exactly that.” His smile was wry and bittersweet. “This man saw everything in me that my parents and brother hadn’t. He let me read books to my heart’s desire, never once calling me a bookworm or a sissy. He let me fiddle with the store, rearranging things to bring in more business. After a year or so, I asked him if I could become his partner. He co-signed a contract that allowed me to buy into the bookstore, and we were in business.” Dillon’s voice became soft then. “He died five years ago, and his family sold his half of the business to me. I named the chain stores Rhyme and Reason, but that one downtown store will always remain Sweeney’s Books.”
“Rhyme and Reason?” Isabel shook her head, wondering if this man would ever stop surprising her. “You own Rhyme and Reason and Sweeney’s Books?” Sweeney’s was a legendary Atlanta landmark, and Rhyme and Reason was very popular with book lovers all over the south.
“I own them so far, unless I mortgage the whole lot to save this place,” he said to her. “The day I left, I remember my father telling me there was no rhyme or reason to a son turning on his father the way I’d turned on him.” He wiped the thickening mist off his forehead. “Well, I found my rhyme and reason.”
Isabel started crying all over again. “And you did it because of me—”
“I did it because it was the right thing to do, and yes, because as I told you at the beginning of this sordid tale, I love you. But I was so afraid to tell you that, so afraid you’d be disgusted by what my family had done.” He pulled her close. “But I promise you—I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you and your grandmother. That is, if you’ll still have me.”
Running her fingers through his wet hair and tugging his head close, she laughed through her tears. “If I’ll still have you? Dillon, I love you so much, I’m even willing to stay here at Wildwood and put up with Eli—that’s how much I want you.”
“We don’t have to stay here,” he said, hugging her. “I know it’s asking a lot—I’m going to do everything I can to save this place, but I need you, Issy. Are you up for the fight?”
“Yes,” she told him. “Yes.”
He kissed her with a gentle surrender, the last of his defenses shattered by a cloud burst of joy.
Still dazed, still deeply touched by all the sacrifices he’d made for her honor, Isabel pulled back to stare up at him. “I should have told you about Eli’s problems, Dillon—”
“It doesn’t matter. You couldn’t have done anything, anyway.” Looking up at the old house, he said, “Let’s face it. The Wildwood we knew is gone. And maybe it’s for the best.”
When footsteps sounded in the nearby mud, Isabel glanced up to find Susan standing there, tears falling down her face.
“It’s not for the best, Dillon,” the blonde said as she hiccuped and walked toward them. “You and Isabel love each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And if you want to help rebuild this place, then I’ve got some information that will get things started, no matter what my husband thinks.”
“What are you talking about?” Dillon asked, his tone wary.
“I’m talking about the deed the lawyers have managed to bury under all those files you’ve been searching,” Susan replied after a loud sniff. “The deed that names
both
of Roy Murdock’s sons as co-owners of this entire property.”
Isabel’s gasp echoed over the wet field. “What?”
“That’s right,” Susan affirmed, her tone laced with an apology. “Dillon, your name is on the title to this land—your father never did change his will. While I may be stupid in most things, I’ve heard enough talk between Eli and the lawyers to know that if that’s the case—”
“If that’s the case, the bank can’t auction this land until I have a chance to buy it back!” Dillon said, a new hope rising in his words. “I can stop the auction.”
“That is, if you’re still interested,” Susan said, one hand pushing through her drenched curls. “From the look of things, I’d say you’ve found what you came back here for—and I don’t think it’s an old house.”
“You’re right,” Dillon quickly agreed, his hand squeezing Isabel’s. “I came back for Isabel—she’s more important than Wildwood—”
“But you have to try,” Isabel told him. Then she turned to Susan. “Why are you doing this?”
Susan shot her a bittersweet smile. “I’ve learned a few things over the last few days.” She pointed toward the old mansion. “For one—that’s the real Wildwood. Eli built himself a showcase, and now he’s trapped inside that showcase. When I got home today, I dreaded going inside to face him—he’s so bitter and ashamed of what he’s done, but he refuses to acknowledge that and take responsibility for his actions. Well, I’m speaking for him.” She gave Dillon a pleading look. “He doesn’t want to lose this land, but he thinks it’s too late.”
“We can help him,” Dillon told her. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for us to be a family again.”
Susan nodded, then looked at Isabel. “I’m so sorry. I was wrong the other night, but I was so afraid Eli would hate me. I do love him and after watching you two together today, I can see that you deserve some happiness, too. Eli will spit nails when he hears I told you this, but…somebody had to stop all of this foolishness.”
Dillon caught her arm. “He’ll forgive you. He loves you.” Then he surprised Susan by giving her a brotherly kiss. “Thank you. This means my father forgave me, too.”
Susan laughed shakily. “I only hope we
can
forgive each other and find the faith you two seem to possess. I’m going to work on that, too.”
“We’ll work on Eli together,” Isabel said, taking Susan’s hand. Now that she knew Dillon loved her, she could handle his stubborn brother.
“Thank you,” Susan replied. With that, she turned to make her way through the mud back to Eli’s house.
Isabel watched her go, then turned back to Dillon. “Are you sure we have that faith she’s talking about?”
“Very sure. I have complete faith that Wildwood will be restored to its former glory, and I have absolute faith that I’m going to be a happily married man soon.”
Isabel thought she couldn’t possibly love him any more than she did right this minute. “So you’re really going to buy it back from the bank?”
“Oh, I intend to buy it back,” Dillon said, “but I don’t intend to live in it. I’ve got a better idea.”
“What?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Dillon replied. “But first, I need to talk to my brother.”
“And we probably should get out of the rain. I’m sure I look a mess.”
Dillon’s eyes filled with love. “No, even soaking wet, you look incredible.”
Isabel wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “That’s because I’ve finally found the perfect picture—the one of us together.”
“We’ll have lots of pictures. First, of our wedding, then our children and grandchildren,” Dillon promised as his lips met hers. Raising his head, he said, “I’ll always be there to catch you if you fall.”
“Two are better than one,” Isabel replied.
“Make that three,” Dillon said, raising his gaze to the heavens. “A threefold cord is not quickly broken.”
Isabel smiled. “Welcome home, prodigal son.”
One year later
“C
an you believe it’s finally happening?”
Isabel turned from the window of the upstairs bedroom to smile at Susan Murdock. “It doesn’t seem real, considering I’ve been in love with Dillon for half of my life, maybe all of my life. But, yes, on a perfect day like today, I can believe it’s going to happen.”
“You two really fought the odds, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but we have more than good odds—we’ve been blessed, Susan. We all have.”
Susan’s smile disappeared as she fluffed the skirt of her floral print matron of honor dress. “I just wish Eli would change his mind and come to the wedding. Dillon really wanted him to be his best man.”
Isabel looked back out the window, down on the new blooming field of wildflowers where in just a few minutes she would become Mrs. Dillon Murdock. “The day’s young, Susan. He might show up yet. He’s come around on Dillon’s new crop maintenance plan, and just about everything else we’ve thrown at him over the past year.”
Susan shook her head. Before she left the room, she said, “Well, you’re getting hitched, with or without my husband’s blessings. And…you look so beautiful, Isabel.”
“Thank you.” Isabel lifted her gaze to her reflection in the beveled mirror. The white linen sleeveless wedding dress was cool and simple, the full skirt falling out around her legs in yards and yards of frothy material that both her grandmother and Cynthia Murdock had worked to create. Her hat was simple, too. White straw with a tiny sprig of wildflowers tucked underneath the linen band. It sat at a jaunty angle over her long, loose curls. Touching a finger to the strand of pearls Dillon had given her, she decided she’d have to do. She didn’t want to make a splash as a bride, she just wanted to be with Dillon.
And now that Wildwood was completely renovated and things were back in order, she would have that chance.
True to his word, Dillon had taken most of his savings, investments, and a loan against his business to pay the bank back for the debts owed on Wildwood. Eli had been furious at first, then resigned and humble. Since he no longer owned this part of the land, there was little he could do to protest the proceedings.
Isabel knew he was grateful, though, because he’d forgiven Susan right away. He truly loved his wife, and deep inside, he’d been glad that someone had found a way for him to save face and Wildwood at the same time. And Susan was learning how to handle her husband. She had him attending church each Sunday, granted with a scowl on his face. But Eli was changing. Isabel could tell.
And, this big old house was still in the family.
But it now belonged to the entire community. Dillon had turned the house into a museum. The entire first floor was open to the public each Monday through Saturday.
On the second floor, Cynthia Murdock and Martha Landry now shared twin suites—comfortable, elegant apartments with small kitchens and baths. Together, the two women had formed a partnership—they were the official curators of the Wildwood Foundation.
Martha had agreed to do it only as an
equal
partner. She’d take no more orders from a Murdock. Cynthia had agreed to do it only if both her sons would include her in all of their daily decisions regarding their holdings. She’d not be left in the dark ever again. Both women had been granted their stipulations.
Together, they’d worked to have the mansion registered as a historical landmark. They loved their work, and enjoyed getting paid equally for doing it. Together, they planned teas, showers, weddings and any and every other sort of gathering imaginable on the grounds and in the long, airy dining room located on one entire side of the bottom floor. By giving them this responsibility, Dillon had given them their spirit back. Those two would never be idle in their old age.
Cynthia now kept sharp tabs on both her sons, and kept the lawyers and bankers hopping as she called for updates on the now thriving cotton crop and the Wildwood Foundation.
Both Cynthia and Martha had worked hard to help Dillon and Isabel renovate the house. While Dillon worked in Atlanta, and Isabel finished up her commitments in Savannah so she could join him there, the two women searched and researched everything it would take to get the house back to its original splendor.
And Isabel’s childhood home…well…Isabel smiled and clasped her hands, tears of joy and love brimming over in her eyes. She’d come home one weekend, hoping to meet her future husband here for a few days of painting and scraping, only to find her wedding present waiting for her.
Dillon had completely renovated the shack she’d called home most of her life. It was now an official caretaker’s cottage, complete with lacy white shutters and screened porches; white, shining walls and working bathrooms and sturdy floors; and beautiful antique furniture including his great-grandmother’s beautiful rice bed which had been removed from the mansion and restored for his bride. No leaky roof, no dips and creaks, no bad memories.
“I told you I’d make it up to you,” he’d explained as he’d held her in the cottage’s garden. “This is our home, Issy. Yours and mine. We’ll always have a place to come back to—we’re the official caretakers of Wildwood.”
And tonight, she’d be in his arms, there in their little house. Their home.
“Oh, Daddy,” she said now as she looked up toward the heavens. “I never understood. I never knew about the sacrifices we have to make for those we love. But you did. And Dillon does, Daddy. He’s a lot like you.”
Just then a knock at the door brought her head around.
“Coming.”
Isabel opened the door to find her grandmother standing before her in a mauve chiffon dress. “It’s time, honey.”
Grabbing her Bible, Isabel looked around. “Where’s my bouquet?”
“Dillon has it.”
“That’s not traditional—I think I’m supposed to be the one who carries it.”
“Dillon’s not a traditional sort of man. He picked it fresh—wants to hand you your flowers the minute he sees you.”
Touched, Isabel let out a lovesick sigh. “Have you ever known a sweeter, kinder man?”
“Oh, one or two,” Martha said, her wink misty.
“Any sign of Eli?”
“No, but the Lord has brought us this far—He won’t let us fall now.”
They walked down the shining curved staircase, past the dining room where the small wedding cake sat in all of its white-and-yellow splendor, then out onto the front porch. The Wedding March began as Martha escorted her granddaughter down into the garden and onto the open path where the guests were seated just a few feet from the wildflower field. The wildflowers were spread out before Isabel like a wedding quilt, brilliant and dainty, delicate and strong, the perfect decoration for her wedding day.
Dillon stood there, his gray eyes bright with a bursting of emotions, his cream-colored summer suit crisp and dashing, his grin slanted and devastatingly charming. And in his hand, he held a fat bouquet of flowers, freshly picked just for her.
Martha chuckled as she gave Isabel over to him. “She’s all yours, son.”
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes never leaving his bride. “I like the dress, Issy.”
Isabel’s words held a breathless quality. “You say that about all my dresses.”
“But I especially like this one, sweetheart. You are the best-looking bride I’ve ever seen. And you’re mine.”
“You’ve got that right.”
The ceremony progressed with the bride and groom completely absorbed in each other. Then the preacher got to the part that asked if anyone objected to this wedding.
“I do,” came a bold, deep-throated voice from the back of the rows of white chairs.
A gasp went out over the crowd as Eli hurried up the path, wearing his own white linen suit. “I mean,” he said in an even tone, his gaze moving from his wife’s frozen expression to his surprised brother, “I object to this wedding taking place without me. I do believe I’m supposed to be the best man.”
Dillon closed his eyes, clearly relieved. Then he turned to his brother and reached out a hand. “Thank you, Eli.”
Eli accepted the handshake, his eyes brimming with pride and apology. “No, thank you, brother.” Then, he began, “Dillon, I—”
“Don’t,” Dillon said in a soft voice. “We’ll talk later, though. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Okay,” Eli replied, bending his head sheepishly. Then he turned to the confused preacher. “Well, what are you waiting for? I hear there’s going to be a wedding at Wildwood today. Let’s get things rolling.”
“Amen,” Cynthia Murdock said, her wide-brimmed pink hat bobbing in delight. Then she raised her camera and snapped a picture. Looking across at Martha, she wiped her eyes and said, “I just love weddings. Don’t you?”
