Heartland Wedding (13 page)

With his face inches from hers, he smiled. Really smiled. Perhaps for the first time since Sarah’s death. And thus, he took a metaphorical step toward Rebecca. “I’m looking forward to eating with you.”

“I am, too.” Her voice came out melodious and smooth.

Feeling strangely undone by that sweet sound, the Scripture from Philippians came back to mind.

But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind.

It was time to look toward the future and stop dwelling on the past.

Of course, Pete knew it wasn’t that simple. Wanting something wasn’t the same as having it. Freedom may not be within his reach.

But what if it was?

He took a step toward the cemetery. “I’ll meet you at home later.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can get away.”

He spared Rebecca one final glance before setting off toward Sarah’s grave. Resolve forced one foot after another.

Would he finally be able to let Sarah go?

He wouldn’t know until he tried.

R
ebecca watched Pete circle around the church. He stopped at the gate leading into the cemetery, hesitated there, head down, hand poised over the latch. Then, with a jerk, he lifted his chin and shoved forward. His long strides ate up the ground, making him look very purposeful. And yet, somehow, sad, as well.

Rebecca’s heart constricted painfully at the picture Pete made. He seemed so…so…
alone.

She wanted to run after him, to stand in support by his side. But she recognized the futility of such a gesture. Pete would not welcome her company, not in the cemetery beside his wife’s and child’s graves.

Her eyes watered at the sense of helplessness she felt, but she held back the tears and exhaled slowly. The pain in her lungs had everything to do with…anticipation. Anticipation for Pete, for what he was attempting to do.

Apparently, the sermon had moved him as much as it had her, and now he was trying to make peace with his past.

She only wanted him to do so if he was ready, not out of guilt brought on by a passionate sermon.

Lord, I lift Pete up to You. Be with him today. Bring him comfort as he sits at his wife’s grave.

“Rebecca.” Edward patted her hand. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh.” She jumped away from her brother’s touch. “I didn’t see you standing there. I thought you were still talking to Mrs. Morrow and her daughter.”

“I was.” He took a quick glance over his shoulder, then cleared his face of all expression. “But they have to return to their home, something to do with a sewing project.”

“I see.” Except she didn’t see. Not really. “What were you talking to them about?”

“Nothing special.” His shrug was filled with his usual lazy confidence, but his eyes held secrets. “I was just being friendly.”

Friendly? Rebecca narrowed her gaze in suspicion. Something was different about Edward this morning, something she couldn’t quite describe. “I didn’t realize you knew the Morrow women.”

He shrugged again. But this time, an off-center smile spread across his lips. “I know them well enough.”

“Hmm,” she said. And then she remembered the night of her wedding, when he had complained over the fact he couldn’t provide her with a new dress for the occasion. “Oh, Edward. You weren’t ordering me clothing, were you?”

“
Ja. Ja.
That’s it.” He gave her a tentative half nod. “I was ordering you a dress.
Ja.
That’s what I was doing.”

No. She could see the guilt written all over his face. Her faithful, steadfast brother wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, either.

But to what end? Edward never kept secrets from her.

Until today.

Looking slightly nervous, he let his gaze wander slowly away from her. And then it merged with Winifred Morrow’s timid stare.

He smiled at the girl, broadly, the big, silly grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. Winnie blushed in return, sucked in a short intake of air, then quickly lowered her head.

Rebecca blinked at the revealing exchange.

Did Edward have his eye on the dressmaker’s daughter? It was not an unpleasant thought. Winnie Morrow was a nice girl, painfully shy and a little ordinary with her light brown hair and commonplace features, but nice.
Really
nice.

Rebecca hadn’t expected this. Of course, she’d always wanted her brother to find love one day.

Had that day come? Had the sermon pushed Edward to make a move in Winnie’s direction? Was her brother attempting to build a new life like the pastor had suggested?

Rebecca wondered if she and Pete would be able to do so, as well.

She gazed at the cemetery again. Her heart constricted as Pete lowered to his knees in front of a gravestone, his proud shoulders slumping forward.

Pain. Rebecca felt genuine pain on her husband’s behalf. The force of emotion was so fierce she staggered back a step.

“Don’t worry.” Edward patted her hand again. “Pete doesn’t strike me as a man comfortable staying rooted in the past. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

But would he come around to her? And if he didn’t, would their marriage become nothing more than two polite people coexisting side by side?

She’d never thought of friendship as a prison. Until now.

“I mean it, Rebecca. Stop worrying. Have a little faith. The Lord has a plan.”

The Lord has a plan.

Edward was the second person to remind her of that truth in less than a week. But what if God’s plan didn’t include a fairy-tale ending for her and Pete? Could she live in a home lacking in love?

Lord, please don’t condemn me to that sort of misery again.

Seemingly unaware of her troubled thoughts, Edward wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her against him. He leaned heavily on her, indicating he wasn’t yet fully healed.

“Pete has a lot to sort through,” he said. “But he
will
sort through it.”

“Oh, Edward. I just want him to be happy. No. It’s more than that.” She stepped out from under her brother’s hold. “
I
want to be the one to make him happy.”

Grinning, he chucked her under the chin. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re married to the man.”

Unwilling to make light of the situation, Rebecca scowled at her brother. She knew her wish to be the source of Pete’s happiness made her selfish, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She couldn’t help the way her dreams started and ended around her husband. There was pain in admitting that, in admitting that she was falling in love with a man who was still in love with his dead wife.

“Quit frowning, Rebecca. I have no doubt you’ll make Pete happy.”

She wasn’t so sure, not if the past few days were any indication. But her marriage was not yet a week old. It was too early to lose hope, too early to accept that friendship was all she could have with Pete.

Rebecca was many things, but she was not a quitter.

And truly, what had she done to make a life for her and Pete? Nothing. She’d done
nothing.
Nothing except fret. And worry, worry, worry.

Well, there were a few things she could do immediately. Things that centered around the dismal little house she now called home.

Yes, that was it. She’d focus on their home. One miserable room at a time.

Angling her head toward the cemetery, Rebecca squinted to get a better look at Pete, but Edward moved in front of her, cutting off her view.

“Stop spying on him.”

Embarrassed, she lowered her head and twisted her hands together at her waist. “You’re right. He deserves his privacy.”

“
Ja,
he does. And besides…” Edward paused until she lifted her head again. “There’s a house full of boarders and guests, me included, who want a hearty Sunday dinner.” He pulled her into a quick bear hug. “How about making a few of
us
happy?”

Smiling at last, she gave him a good-natured tap on his nose. “Selfish man.”

“Only when it comes to my stomach.”

“Then we had better seat you in the first round.” There were so many mouths to feed on Sunday afternoon, Rebecca did so in two sittings, sometimes three.

Edward rubbed his belly with glee. “Now you’re talking.”

She laughed, content to see him feeling better, even if he leaned far too much to his left as he set off across the street to the boardinghouse.

Following a few steps behind him, Rebecca sent one final glance in Pete’s direction. He looked deeply engrossed, dragging his hand over the pristine gravestone before him.

There was such sorrow in his movements. Her heart ached for him.

But as much as she wanted to rush to his side, she knew she had to follow Edward’s advice and give her husband time.

For now, she would concentrate on the house full of hungry people waiting for a hot meal. People, as Edward so eloquently put it, she could make happy right away.

Pete had no idea how long he stared at Sarah’s gravestone. Minutes? Hours? He’d lost all sense of time after he’d lowered to his knees and set about telling her goodbye.

Unfortunately, the words wouldn’t come.

Rocking back on his heels, he lifted his gaze to heaven and begged for help.
Lord, show me the way. Reveal to me the first step.

He gazed at the sky for several more moments, but still no words came to him. No clarity. Only soul-deep anguish.

And a rush of irritation.

He was tired of the grief. Tired of the sorrow. He wanted…

He wanted…

Freedom.

That was why he’d come to Sarah’s grave this morning, not because he wanted to be free of her, but because he wanted to be free of the guilt that came with his final memories of her.

One small step. That’s all he needed to take. Then maybe the next would come easier.

He leaned forward and dug a hole in the hard, parched earth. His hands shook throughout the process, but he kept at his task. Ripples of dust swirled around his hands, blurring them in a brown haze. But he soon had a small hole in reward for his efforts.

For a long moment, he simply stared into the shallow depths. Despite the heat, his skin felt ice cold. His heart felt numb in his chest.

With hands still shaking, he pulled out Sarah’s necklace from a pocket in his jacket and coiled the thin chain into the ground. He began refilling the hole with a fierceness in his movements. He practically clawed at the dirt.

There was uncharacteristic desperation in him now. But he didn’t know where the emotion came from.

And
still
no words came to mind. Telling Sarah “goodbye” seemed too simple, trite even.

Perhaps if he stopped thinking about the end and started at the beginning, he could finish what he came here to do.

His mind remained barren.

But finally, after concentrating, the truth of the matter hit him and he understood why the words stayed mute in his mind. He and Sarah had never been suited, not really, despite the happiness they’d shared in the early days of their marriage. The realization made his breathing come in hard, painful pants.

Pete had been acquainted with Sarah all his life, but he’d never truly known her. She’d been adored by everyone in their small town back in Massachusetts—pampered and coddled by her parents, favored by her teachers and friends.

With her rich black hair, pale, ivory skin and deep green eyes, she had been the beauty of Belville. And when she’d finally noticed Pete, when she’d turned her affection to him at last, he’d given her no chance to change her mind.

Frowning, he picked up a stone and rolled it in his fingers. The dirt covering the rock felt hot and dry against his skin. Bleak. Like his long-ago dreams of a happy marriage with the beautiful Sarah Ross.

Here he was again, four days into a hasty marriage with a woman he hardly knew. Dare he hope this marriage might have a happier conclusion?

He couldn’t face the possibility that he might fail Rebecca, too. She didn’t seem to want much from him, not as much as Sarah had needed in the end.

Pete had to remember that Rebecca was stronger than Sarah. Both in mind and body. And that they were united in their desire to stay in High Plains. Would that be enough? Or would he—

He swallowed, disgusted with himself.

He was brooding.

Pete
hated
brooding. No good came from it. He forced himself to focus on the reason he’d come to the cemetery in the first place.

It was time to say goodbye to Sarah. Even if all he could see in his mind was the image of her last hours.

A shadow blackened the sun overhead, complementing Pete’s foul mood. And then a craggy voice broke through his concentration. “Pete, don’t do this to yourself.”

Pete blinked. A quick spark of hope flickered in his heart at the sage words spoken in that familiar, quivering voice. He wanted to follow the command, but a wave of despair stole his ability to think clearly.

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

Pete kept his gaze averted. “Yes, I do, Doc. You know why.”

“You weren’t the only one in the room when Sarah died. I was there, too.”

Which was why Pete had avoided contact with the man over the past year as much as possible. Looking into Doc’s regretful expression only reminded Pete of all
he’d lost that night. But now he was trapped as Doc stood over him, addressing the one issue he wanted to avoid most.

Pete craned his neck and looked into Doc’s weathered face.

They stared at each other without speaking.

Sorrow lurked in Doc’s tired, red-rimmed eyes. His thick mane of gray hair poked out in several directions as though he’d been combing the white mass with his fingers.

The man looked exhausted.

At eighty-two, he should be enjoying a peaceful existence, bouncing a few grandchildren on his knee. Instead, he worked eighteen-hour days, tending to the sick and injured of High Plains. He faced death daily. Sometimes hourly. The work was too much for one man, especially one of such an advanced age.

“You look more tired than usual,” Pete said.

“I am.” He gave a heartfelt sigh and stepped to his right. The sudden shift sent a blinding ray of sunlight into Pete’s face. He squinted. Thankfully, Doc moved back into a position that blocked the sun and Pete opened his eyes again.

“I have to admit—” Doc let out a weary sigh “—I hope Zeb finds my replacement soon.”

The statement took Pete by surprise. “You don’t mind that he put an advertisement for a new town doctor in the
Kansas Gazette?
”

“Mind? On the contrary.” He plowed his fingers through his hair, his hand shaking slightly. “I encouraged the boy to start the search almost as soon as I arrived in High Plains. This town needs a young man full of energy, not an old, run-down horse like me.”

Pete heard the fatigue underlying Doc’s words. “I’m not
sure ‘run-down’ is the correct assessment. Not from what I’ve personally seen. You’re an honorable man,” Pete said. “I’m glad you were with Sarah in her final hours.”

He meant every word.

“I’m sorry she died—” a shadow crossed Doc’s features “—in so much pain.”