Page 57 of The Rancher's Wedding

This wasn’t work Michael talking. This was vulnerable Michael, expressing what he really felt.

“Here’s what I think it is, maybe more than anything else. I think it’s your friend Megan.”

“Megan?” Estelle laughed. “She hasn’t been here since the wedding.”

“That’s true, but I don’t think a day’s gone by that my brother hasn’t thought about her. He’s writing to her and—tell me if I’m wrong—I’m pretty sure that he’s sweet on her.”

“Well, of course he is, except she’s getting tired of waiting for him to propose. If he waits too long—”

“That’s exactly what I told him!” They both laughed at that. Estelle was starting to feel more relaxed around Michael at times like these. She had an idea of how Michael thought, and sometimes they even thought similar things.

“Is he going to do it?” Estelle asked.

“I tried pushing him, but I don’t know. I doubt it.”

“Do you know what we should do?”

“What?”

It was a devilish idea that crept into Estelle’s head, the kind of thing that would never have crossed her mind back in Philadelphia. She smiled at the very thought of it.

“We should write the letter for him.”

“No,” Michael said, but his voice said he was considering it.

“Oh, yes, put it in the mail and tell him when it’s too late to take it back. Or maybe not even tell him. Let her respond and she’ll have accepted his proposal before he’s even actually made it!”

“It doesn’t hurt either of them. It’s just making something that they both want happen.” Michael was beginning to get won over on the idea.

But, just as he was getting accustomed to it, it started to fall apart in Estelle’s mind.

“She’d recognize the handwriting,” she said.

“We can send a telegram. That’s even better.”

“No,” she said. “The other problem is the principle. If Megan found out, she would feel tricked. She wouldn’t think of Jacob the same way. I know Megan, and if he’s not brave enough to ask her, she’s not going to think he’s good enough for her.”

“What if he doesn’t tell her?”

“Then their whole marriage will be based on a lie. I think that’s even worse.” As the words came out of Estelle’s mouth, they lost their energy and she realized she could have been talking about herself.

“Listen,” she said, “I need to tell you something.”

Michael put up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” she said, “you need to know that I’m not who I said I was.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

“Estelle,” Michael said. “I accept you for who you are. Whatever it is you need to tell me, tell me when you want to. When you feel comfortable. Or never. I don’t think it makes a difference to me, either way, but it seems to matter to you.”

“You’re wrong,” Estelle said. “It does affect you.”

She was getting close. Maybe she’d be able to mail that letter out, after all.

“Maybe it does,” Michael said, “but we got a long day of work ahead of us. So, let’s focus on that for now and, at the end of the day, if you still want to tell me, we can talk about it then.”

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