Page 41 of Beyond Montana's Sky
Cai tugged on the bottom of his jacket. For any other wedding, he’d be laughing his head off at his long-suffering men. Without a mother or wife or older daughter to chivy him off to a celebration, he could stay contentedly at home in front of the fire, sitting in a comfortable chair with his feet propped up, reading a good book, with, hopefully, a plate of cookies on a side table.
But as much as he’d resisted driving to Sweetwater Springs to attend church last Sunday, he couldn’t miss the wedding of Edith’s brother. Rather, he couldn’t miss seeing her. Each day the need built stronger.
Like a trout who’d snapped at a lure and found itself hooked, the woman had reeled him in. The barb was through his chest and lodged in the vicinity of his heart. As hard as he tried not to think of her, and he seemed to think of her every darn second, images of Edith kept popping into his mind.
She’s leaving,he reminded himself.Find a way to unhook yourself.
With a flurry of colorful skirts and laughing feminine voices, the Anderson ladies came around the hill in a parade of loveliness. Then they separated as each woman and her young daughters headed toward their own wagons.
Husbands obligingly jumped down from the wagons, and there were compliments, loving glances, smiles, and kisses exchanged between his men and their womenfolk.
Usually, the Andersons’s affection made him smile. Watching now, Cai became aware of the emptiness in his chest.What would it be like to have my own woman, shined up and pretty, laughing and kissing me before we went off to have fun?
Won’t be Edith Grayson, that’s for sure.She’ll be swanning around Boston with some useless aristocrat.
The sound of the door closing behind him made Cai turn.Farfarextended an elbow to his wife. “Shall we, my beauty?”
Mormorsmiled up at her husband, her eyes full of love.
As if filling with pride and affection,Farfar’schest expanded.
Over the years, Cai had seen that little scene play out many times. But today, the sweetness of their exchange caused a lump to rise in his throat, making him even more conscious of what was missing in his life—a wife, a helpmate, a lover—and, as he watched the Anderson boys and girls,a mother to my children.
Farfarnudged Cai’s arm with his shoulder. “Get a move on, boy. Iffen we’re late for this shindig, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Cai tipped his head in the direction of the only wagon without an Anderson husband in the driving seat. In that one, an Anderson boy, young Frankla—given name Frank Lars—held the reins. “We’re waiting on you, old man.”
“I’m driving.”Farfarshot Cai a challenging look.
“No, you’re not.”
“Don’t you argue with me, young whippersnapper.”Farfarlifted his free hand and shook a gnarled finger at Cai. “I’ve been driving since before you were born.”
They’d had this argument before, and Cai knew who’d won each time, so he gave in to the inevitable. He held up his hands in supplication. “You drive to town, and I’ll drive back.”
Farfarconsidered that for a few seconds and conceded defeat, well, compromise.
What if I persuade her to stay?As soon as the thought came, Cai banished it.Edith Grayson a ranch wife? Riding rough to town on the seat of a wagon? Not possible.
Getting over Edith Grayson will take a long time.
* * *
Half an hour before the ceremony, the rest of the family was already downstairs in the hotel lobby, while upstairs in the owner’s suite, Edith helped Maggie with the final touches to her wedding attire.
Her sister-in-law-to-be had simple tastes. She opted, for example, to have far less lace and smaller leg of mutton sleeves instead of balloon sleeves than Edith would have chosen. Indeed, the sleeves of her own burgundy gown billowed from her shoulders.
The bride looked stunning in a gown of creamy silk with a rose-pattern brocade bodice. The front of the skirt had double vertical rows of bows ending in pearl tassels and scalloped lace hems along on the bottom of the bodice and skirt.
At Caleb’s request, the gown had an off-the-shoulder neckline to showcase the triple row necklace of pearls interspersed with gold beads that were her brother’s wedding gift. Instead of the traditional pearls, he’d commissioned the necklace to be worn with his bride’s gold hoop earrings. In a nervous gesture, Maggie kept fingering the strands.
Edith, playing lady’s maid, fringed and curled Maggie’s bangs and drew the rest of her dark hair into a high chignon to display her earrings—a public ode to the bride’s Gypsy heritage. Aunt Agatha had sniffed in disapproval of Maggie’s earrings, which she thought should be pearls. But neither Caleb nor Maggie cared about her opinion.
While Maggie drew on her long gloves, with a ring finger slit to make space for the ring, Edith buttoned up the dozens of tiny, pearl-like buttons on the back of the gown, smirking to think of the difficulty her brother would have later tonight in undoing them all. With a final fluff of the wide, beaded bow over the train, Edith stepped back to admire her handiwork. “One last touch.”
From the top of the dresser, Edith took a blue velvet box, opened the cover, and held it out for Maggie to see the pearl and diamond tiara nestled inside. “Your ‘something borrowed.’ Papa bought this for my mother for their wedding. Later, he gave me the tiara. I wore it for my wedding.” She looked down at the tiara with a smile of remembrance before meeting Maggie’s gaze. “I hope you and Caleb will be as happy as Nathaniel and I were. As my parents were. Of course, I’ll wish you a much longer life together than my husband and I had. Longer than my parents, too.”
“My goodness,” Maggie breathed, reaching out a gloved finger to gently touch one pearl tip. “This is so beautiful.” She glanced up at Edith and her gold-flecked brown eyes swam with sudden tears. “Thank you for lending me your mother’s tiara.” She went on tiptoe and kissed Edith’s cheek. “You are the best sister I could ask for.”
