Bluebonnet Belle (29 page)

She lifted the collar closer to her neck.

He gestured toward the table that stood in the middle of the room. “Have a seat.”

Her feet felt as if they were made of lead. Buckets of it. Her shoes were new, and slick. She had to be careful on the wooden floor or she would fall and make a bigger fool of herself.

She took tiny steps across the room, watching as Gray's tall frame bent over and picked up a stool.

“You'll need this to reach the table.” He positioned the stool.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

April was mesmerized by his presence. “Thank you,” she repeated, barely above a whisper.

Gray abruptly turned away, and she wondered what had gone through his mind to make him react that way to her. Maybe she wasn't pretty enough for him. She certainly didn't have Francesca's exquisite beauty.

Lifting her skirt, she stepped on the wooden stool and lost her footing. A scream escaped her throat, then darkness momentarily overtook her. She woke in Gray's arms.

Concern filled his eyes. “Are you all right?”

Her sight was blurred slightly. “I must have bumped my head.”

“Yes, you did. Can you stand up?”

“I think so.” Excruciating pain shot through her when she tried to stand. She leaned against him, grabbing her leg. “My foot!”

The power in his strong arms, as he easily lifted her off the floor, and laid her on the examining table, amazed her.

His gaze never left hers. He was close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath fan her cheek, detect that heady aroma that belonged only to him.

He backed away. “I'm sorry, did the stool trip you?”

Henry had never affected her this way. “I think it's my shoes. They're new.”

Clearing his throat, Gray moved to the end of the table. “Let's take a look at that bump on your head.”

“I have a bump on my head?”

“I don't see how you could escape it.”

Loosening the hairpins allowed her tresses to fall free. He eased his fingers through her hair in a search for the bump.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed his professional probing.

“Do you feel anything?”

She experienced a myriad of emotions: excitement, fear—guilt. But why? She hadn't done anything. His mere presence brought out feelings she had never experienced.

“April?”

She opened her eyes to find his face only inches from hers. Her gaze lingered on his mouth, then shifted upward. Something elemental showed in his eyes, so intense it reached deep into her soul. A slight whimper of wanting passed her lips as the space between them became shorter and shorter. Her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes in anticipation. Then the warmth of his body was suddenly gone.

Before he moved away, she caught a glimpse of the scarlet color his face had acquired. He reached into a cabinet and removed a bandage.

“Yes, well, we'd better take a look at that ankle, then the throat. My advice would be to cancel your trip to Burgess, Miss Truitt. I don't think you're in any shape to go anywhere today.”

“I suppose not….”

He chatted as he examined her ankle, then wrapped it.

“You never mention family. Do they live in Dallas?” she asked.

“Mother died when I was eight, and my father brooded a great deal. He never got over losing her. We lived near Dallas. Branch Creek. Ever hear of it?”

“No. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No…just me.”

“Is your father alive?”

“He died while I was in medical school.”

Finished, he rolled her stocking back into place with the informality of a man who'd done it before. Many times. “There, it should be healed in plenty of time to wear your pretty new dress.”

Taking her hand, he helped her off the table. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient due in a few minutes.”

Her knees were still quivering from the fall.

As she opened the door to leave, Gray said softly, “About that raspy throat.”

Turning around slowly, she met his gaze. “Oh…”

“Gargle with saltwater twice a day.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Closing the door, she leaned against it weakly. So much for her ruse. He'd seen right through it.

B
eulah Ludwig's wedding day dawned sunny and warm. Wildflowers dotted the shores.

April got to the church two hours early, certain she'd forgotten something. Something so colossal, so enormously important, it would make Beulah's happiest day tantamount to the burning of Atlanta.

She stood in the center aisle, critically studying the altar profusely banked with greenery and two dozen candles waiting to be lit.

Two hours.
In two hours Beulah and Raymond will walk down the aisle and pledge themselves to one another
.

“I wish it were me,” she whispered.

Then, feeling as if the selfish wish would rob her friend of some of her glory, she amended, “No, I wish it was me, too.”

She wanted Beulah to be happy. She truly did. But she wanted Gray Fuller.

There were men in Dignity looking for a wife. Keith Williams, Zack Myers, Logan Booker…oh, who was she trying to fool? She didn't like any of those men, and Christmas would come on the Fourth of July before she would ever marry one of them.

Beulah arrived, a bundle of nerves.

“I can't do this,” she said for the tenth time. “Mama is so nervous, she can't help me with anything. She and Papa are pacing in the foyer. My stomach feels like a volcano about to erupt.”

“Well, whatever you do, don't let it erupt right now,” April murmured around the hairpins in her mouth. “You're going to have to stand still so I can finish your hair and get this veil on.”

“Can you believe it?
I'm
getting married. And to a perfectly marvelous man who thinks I'm perfect. Me. Perfect.” Her round face filled with hysteria. “Do you think there's something wrong with Raymond—like maybe he's blind and hasn't said anything?”

“No, I don't think Raymond's blind. Now, stand still.”

Beulah stared in the looking glass, dismayed. “I look—”

“Perfectly marvelous,” April said. “And if you don't quit fidgeting, your veil is going to fall off when you walk down the aisle, trip poor Raymond, and he'll be laid up with a broken leg on the honeymoon.”

Beulah stood still long enough for April to finish pinning the last curl, and position the long veil on top.

“There. Now, aren't you pretty?”

“Oh, April,” she cried softly, her hands covering the lower half of her face. “I never thought—I really don't look so awful, do I?”

“Beulah Ludwig, you look ravishing.” April hugged her, knowing that after today things would never be quite the same between them. Beulah would have a husband to look after, and she…well, she would go on taking care of Grandpa for as long as he needed her. Bittersweet tears stung her eyes as she clung tightly to the bride-to-be, desperately wanting to hold on to the past, but knowing that she was losing a part of her best friend.

“Thank you,” Beulah whispered.

“For what? You're the dearest friend a girl ever had.”

“Dash it…I promised myself I wouldn't cry.” But cry she did. Tears rolled down her cheeks, blending with April's.

“I know, I told myself the same thing.”

“It won't be so bad….”

“No, of course not. You're not dying, you're just getting married.”

“Sure. Not dying, just getting married…”

They rocked in each other's arms, reluctant to let go, knowing that when they did, they would never come back to this hour, this precious moment, when they said goodbye to their youth.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, silly. Go, be happy.”

The small chapel was overflowing. April waited in the coat closet with Beulah, the only place in the church a bride could dress for her wedding, until the pastor knocked lightly on the door.

“Ready, girls?”

“Girls?” they mouthed, breaking into giggles.

“Someone needs to tell him we're women,” Beulah whispered. “He still thinks of us as six-year-olds!”

They giggled again.

“We're ready, Reverend Brown.” Opening the door, April gave her friend a look of assurance and slipped out.

Gray was waiting in the chapel doorway for her. His commanding appearance took her breath away. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with a snow-white shirt and black tie. His hair, still a shade too long, was brushed back off his face, with soft curls lying against his shirt collar. She had the absurd urge to smooth them over his ears like a hovering mother.

He offered his arm as she approached.

“You look beautiful.”

She couldn't meet his eyes. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself.”

“How is the bride holding up?”

“Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

He smiled. “The groom paced off half his shoe leather and quoted me the price of every piece of equipment and pharmaceutical product available on the East Coast. That's nothing compared to the Ludwigs. I thought I was going to have to use smelling salts on them.”

April managed to laugh, wondering if he really thought she was beautiful or if it was just something to say. Did she look pretty? Did her hair, drawn up into a loose nest of curls atop her head, and fastened with a ribbon that matched her peach-colored dress, look all right? Was the single pearl strung on a delicate gold chain around her neck appropriate?

As she took his arm, she realized she was trembling.

“Don't worry, no one's going to bite—unless he's invited to.”

She glanced into his eyes, feeling very fragile. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

He patted the hand that wasn't grasping a quivering sprig of greenery.

“Not now, Miss Truitt. Right now we are going to get Beulah and Raymond married.”

 

A smiling Reverend Brown waited at the altar as April walked slowly down the aisle holding tight to Gray's arm. Wedding bells pealed overhead from the steeple as Edna Folsom played the “Wedding March.” Edna wasn't very good on the organ, but she was dedicated. The strains of the music, though not perfect, brought tears to the eye.

As they parted at the altar, Gray lightly squeezed April's hand before stepping to Raymond's side.

The guests rose, waiting expectantly as Beulah and her father stood framed in the doorway.

Beulah was radiant and smiling, her eyes focused on Raymond as she started down the aisle. Datha had done a wonderful job in such a short time on the ivory silk wedding dress. It flared and nipped and tucked exactly where it should. A strand of pearls, a gift from the groom, nestled around Beulah's neck. Her dark hair was lifted back and up from her face into a swirl, capped by a crown of lace cascading into a floor-length veil.

She carried a bouquet of flowers Datha had fashioned with bits of lace and ribbon.

Candlelight bathed the altar in golden flickers. As Beulah approached, the glow surrounded her in a golden light that brought tears to April's eyes. It was as if God looked down—and smiled in approval.

When the bride reached the groom's side, April looked at Gray and their gazes joined. With a dazzling leap of imagination, she pictured him slipping a wedding ring on her own finger, then dashing down the aisle with her to begin a life together.

The ceremony was brief but poignant. Vows were made and exchanged in hushed reverence. Beulah and Raymond pledged their love with emotion-filled voices.

Then the moment they'd all been waiting for arrived: Reverend Brown pronounced Beulah and Raymond husband and wife, and a trembling bridegroom lifted the veil of his bride and kissed her.

April closed her eyes and imagined Gray's lips on hers.

Snapping out of her reverie, she saw the newlyweds, flushed and grinning as they turned to face the congregation.

The pastor announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Grimes.”

Applause accompanied the pair up the aisle, then guests poured from the church to rain rice down upon the happy couple. Raymond hurried his bride into a carriage liberally decorated with ribbons, and everyone followed to the town hall, where the reception would take place.

Menson's Bakery had volunteered the wedding cake, an elaborate, three-tiered confection that caused many an aaah. Addy Menson had insisted on overseeing the reception, and nearly every woman in town had helped with the decorations. The new Mrs. Grimes was well loved by her neighbors, as was evident by the joy that shone in their faces.

Almost as soon as Beulah and Raymond arrived, townsfolk started handing them gifts. The shower of presents and warm wishes continued throughout the festivities, until at last the bridal couple cut the cake. The day was indeed perfect for all in attendance.

“Miss Truitt? A cup of punch?”

April turned at the sound of Gray's husky, liquid voice. She told herself one cup wouldn't hurt.

“I trust you're enjoying the festivities?” They drank the punch, watching the activities.

“I'm having a wonderful time, Dr. Fuller. And you?”

“It's a lovely wedding.”

Severn and Mary Rader walked by. “Perfect wedding, eh, Doc?”

Smiling, Gray acknowledged Severn's greeting.

“Gray, I'm sorry Francesca couldn't come,” April murmured. “The Ludwigs sent an invitation. I hope she isn't ill.”

His eyes turned distant, reserved. “Francesca is fine.”

“She sent a lovely gift. It's an elephant…something.”

Throwing his head back, he laughed. April decided it was the nicest laugh she'd ever heard.

“Ivory tusks, no doubt?”

“Beulah and I couldn't decide.” She grinned. “But they're expensive, whatever they are.”

Conversation was easy now.

“Perhaps you could help me with a question,” he began.

“Of course. What is it, Dr. Fuller?”

“Why is it that all brides are beautiful?”

Gratefulness glowed in April's heart. Immense gratitude that he appreciated her friend, regardless of her physical shortcomings. “That's simple. Because her wedding day is the happiest day of her life.”

Their eyes met, and she was caught by the candidness she saw in his, the simple honesty. “A woman's wedding day should be just the beginning of her happiness.”

April was stricken by the irony of it all. Francesca had everything she wanted. Money, position, and quite possibly, him.

It was the “him” April envied the most.

“That's a noble sentiment, Dr. Fuller.”

“Not so noble, Miss Truitt. If a man loves a woman, he wants to give her everything her heart desires.”

April gazed up at him, sensing a hundred unspoken feelings hanging between them. Fool that she was, she wanted him to know—needed him to know—that she loved him. “When all she desires is her husband's heart?”

She could barely breathe now. His gaze confirmed what she knew. They were talking about more, much more, than a silly schoolgirl crush. They were speaking of love—deep and enduring love between a man and a woman.

He said softly, “Perhaps you can help me with the most perplexing problem of all?”

“I'll try.”

“How does a man choose between what he wants, and what he feels is his obligation?”

“That's harder,” she admitted.

“But you know the answer?”

Yes, she knew. “He follows his heart.”

“May I borrow Miss Truitt?”

April glanced up, her spirits sinking when she saw Henry Long. How did he have the nerve to ask to speak with her?

Smiling, Henry bowed mockingly, offering his arm. “Miss Truitt?”

Glancing at Gray, she shrugged. She didn't want to cause a scene. Gray seemed to understand, and reluctantly gave her over to Henry. She felt bereft as she left the doctor's side.

Taking her hand, Henry swept her outside as she continued to look over her shoulder at Gray, who was threading his way toward the front of the reception hall.

“You look ravishing, my love.”

April kept her distance from him. When he tried to pull her closer, she resisted, keeping him at arm's length.

Arching his eyebrows, he gazed at her. “April, darling, I thought I had allowed you enough time to pout. Come now, let's settle our misunderstanding and get on with it. Men will be men, my love. You know it.”

“I didn't know it, but I do now.”

“What have I done so wrong? One tiny little indiscretion, and you're ready to draw and quarter me. Grace means nothing to me. She was a mere diversion to pass the time. I was lonely, love, working long, hard hours to secure our future. Surely you won't deny me?”

“I expected more of you, Henry. I believed you when you said you loved me and we had a future together.”