Twice a Bride (37 page)

“Yes, I read it too. Wonderful writing.”

Harlan walked toward the table alone, his steps purposeful. Where was he putting all that chicken?

“Hattie, can you spare the time for a stroll?” he asked. Her whipped butter wasn’t as smooth as his voice.

Etta took the empty salad dish from her. “Boney and I will watch the tables.”

Harlan offered Hattie his arm, and she laid her hand on his shirt sleeve, sending a shiver up her spine. They walked toward the parsonage in silence.

The butterflies were back in her stomach. He wanted to talk to her alone. Was it to plead his case that she’d be the perfect substitute mother for Cherise?

When they reached the parsonage gate, she looked at him. “Any word from Nell? Has Kat delivered the baby?”

“We’re still waiting to hear.” He guided her to the white cast-iron bench among the stand of golden aspen trees.

Hattie sat down, but he remained standing and cleared his throat. Knots replaced the butterflies in her stomach. Had something happened to Kat and the baby? Was that why he’d taken her away from the crowd?

“Are you sure everything is all right?” she asked.

He removed his bowler. “She’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “At Vivian’s, the day you went shopping with Cherise and I …”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I may have misrepresented myself on the porch.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t meant to propose marriage?

“I asked you to marry me, to be my wife and a mother to Cherise.”

“Yes. I remember.”

He knelt on one knee in front of her.

The butterflies returned with reinforcements.

He clasped her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “Hattie Adams, it is a treasured gift to have a friend who has so generously poured herself into the lives of my four grown daughters these past two years.”

Tears stung her eyes.

“And the way you’ve come alongside Cherise,” he continued, “you’ve helped her in ways I never could.”

“It has been my pleasure.” Her voice cracked with emotion. Where was he going with all this?

“But, Hattie, it is especially wonderful when the woman you love can make the world’s best fried chicken.”

Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “The woman you love?”

He nodded. “I think I knew it the minute I saw the burned potatoes.”

She blotted her wet face.

He squeezed her hand. “Hattie, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“I love you too, Harlan. Yes, let’s be married.”

She bent to kiss him on the forehead, and he surprised her, lifting his face and touching his lips to hers.

All her wishful thinking had found a home, and so had her heart.

Willow shifted her gaze from beneath the tree, where Trenton was setting up his camera and tripod, to the parsonage. She and Ida had both watched Mr. Sinclair take Miss Hattie away from her duties at the food tables.

“Did your father tell you his plan?” Willow asked.

Ida reached for her cup of apple cider. “Not in so many words, but I hope he’s telling her the truth. His feelings for her aren’t limited to her maternal qualities.”

“I hope you’re right. Anyone can see the two of them belong together.”

“Sometimes what is crystal clear to others isn’t as obvious to the people involved.” Ida’s eyebrow angled to match her grin.

And sometimes it was apparent to one of the people involved long before it dawned on the other. Did Trenton have any idea of her feelings for him?

“I suspect we’ll have another wedding around here.” Ida peered over the cup at her. “A double wedding, perhaps.” There went that eyebrow again.

Willow’s face warmed despite the cooling temperature. Her sister-in-law had posed it as a statement rather than a question. “Trenton and I are still getting acquainted with each other.”

A demure smile lit Ida’s face. “So are Tucker and I.”

Willow remembered yesterday and her time with Trenton.
I want you to know me
, Trenton had said after she told him she didn’t need the details of his past with Susanna. What Tucker said rang true for her—the more she knew Trenton, the more she loved him.

There, she’d admitted it. At least to herself.

“Nell!” Ida pointed to the road, and they both stood.

Nell scurried toward them.

Vivian walked up. “A niece or a nephew?”

“A nephew.” Winded, Nell patted her chest. “Ezra Harlan Cutshaw.”

“After Father,” Ida said.

“And Morgan’s grandfather.” Nell drew in a deep breath.

Willow joined the sisterly hugs. “And they’re well?”

“Yes. Kat and Ezra are doing fine. Napping.” Nell studied the nearby blankets. “Where’s Father?”

Vivian glanced toward the parsonage. “Father took Miss Hattie for a stroll.”

“I see.” Romantic notions colored Nell’s voice. “We’ll tell them about the baby later.”

Ida nodded. “I suspect he and Hattie may have big news of their own by then.”

When the sisters started comparing notes on their father’s relationship with Miss Hattie, Willow decided to go for a stroll by herself. Announcing her departure would only draw unwanted attention and speculation, which would probably have been too accurate for her comfort, so she slipped away during a hardy laugh.

She visited for a moment with Boney, then headed to the food tables. Etta Ondersma was busy talking with a couple of other women at the far end. Willow searched out her pie plate: empty. She bent to the crate under the table and pulled out the second pie.

“Saved one for the photographer, did you?” Etta stood beside her.

“Not the whole pie.”

Etta laughed. “If I’d-a let him, Boney would’ve eaten the whole basket of my sourdough rolls.”

Hopefully, Trenton would go for her apple pie like Mr. Sinclair had gone for Miss Hattie’s fried chicken and Boney for Etta’s rolls.

“Don’t you worry, dear.” Etta patted Willow’s hand. “This’ll be our little secret. Vivian mentioned you were working for Mr. Van Der Veer and that it was going … well.” She pursed her lips, and Willow found it difficult to believe anyone around here—the city of hopeless romantics—could keep a secret.

If only Trenton could be counted among them.

“You go ahead, Willow.” Etta shooed her toward the hillock where Trenton stood behind his tripod.

Willow had just walked away from the tables when a woman in a red hat stepped in front of her.

“Willow, as in Portraits by Willow?”

“Yes.” Willow lowered the pie and looked into the smug face of the woman she’d seen in Trenton’s studio. Hattie had told her the woman had shown up at the boardinghouse yesterday looking for her. The woman she assumed had already left town. “Willow Peterson. And you are?”

“Susanna Woods.” A smirk added sparkle to her blue eyes. “The woman you saw with Trenton.”

Heat rushed into Willow’s face. Miss Woods had seen her watching from the boardwalk. No wonder she’d touched Trenton the way she had.

“I’m his fiancée,” Miss Woods said.

“Former fiancée is closer to Trenton’s understanding.”

“Well, well. It seems Trenton has found himself quite the gullible fan.”

“A soft answer turneth away wrath.”
But if her Heavenly Father didn’t give her a soft answer soon—

“Did Trenton tell you we were together yesterday at the confectionary?” Miss Woods asked.

After he’d gone to the parsonage with her, and they’d shared their stories with one another? She glanced toward the men at the tripod. Trenton and her brother were engaged in a conversation that seemed to leave them both oblivious to her situation.

Miss Woods clucked her tongue. “Shame, shame on Trenton.”

Willow moistened her lips. She knew Trenton Van Der Veer. If he was at the confectionary with Miss Woods, he had a noble explanation. After a deep breath, she met the other woman’s haughty gaze. “Here’s what is a shame, Miss Woods. It’s that a handsome woman like yourself, still blessed with youth, would think so little of herself as to pursue a man without affection for her. For what? A career?”

Miss Woods huffed, the sparkle gone from her eyes.

“Don’t you want more? The love of the right man, for instance?” Willow sighed. That was what she’d known with Sam, and she was finally ready to experience love with the right man again.

“You don’t know me. Or what I want.” Her lips pressed together, Miss Woods spun and sauntered toward the hillock. Toward Trenton.

“Are you all right, sis?” Tucker stepped up from behind and braced her elbow. Willow turned and looked up into his tender face.

“I am. Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath. “That was Susanna Woods from—”

“Trenton’s past. He told me about her. Some of us don’t give up very easily.”

“But … I feel sorry for her. She’s come all this way, and Trenton doesn’t want her here.”

“Is that what you said to her?”

“I told her it was a shame for a handsome young woman like her to pursue a man who had no affections for her.”

“True to who you are, you spoke the truth.” Tucker glanced toward the hillock. “Now you need to trust him. He’ll know what to say to her.”

If only she were so sure.

W
hile the others cleaned up the picnic area, Trenton folded the tripod and slid it into its sack. He’d taken three photographs of the First Congregational Church family, as Tucker referred to them. And, surprisingly, today he felt like part of the family. He considered it amazing that he’d been so comfortable sitting in the sanctuary this morning. In front of the preacher, no less.

Now if only he felt half as good about his predicament with Susanna. She’d made the decision to come to Cripple Creek, and it was her choice whether to leave or not. But she was imprudent and alone here, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

“What you did was amazing.” Willow walked up the hill toward him with a pie plate in her hands, a vision of remarkable grace and beauty. “How many photographers would attempt to assemble and organize sixty squirming men, women, and children?”

Not many that he knew.

“I brought you a reward.” She glanced at the dish.

“You saved half of a p-pie for me? However did you manage?”

Pink tinged her cheeks, the perfect complement to her burgundy plaid shirtwaist. “Believe it or not, I hid it in a crate under the table.”

“For me?”

She nodded, a smile teasing her tantalizing lips.

He accepted the dish, his mouth watering for more than just the pie. “Thank you.”

She dipped her chin. “You may want to reserve your thanks until after you’ve tasted it.”

He scooped a forkful of apples and savored the sweetness. “Mmm. Thank you.” Her apple pie was sweet, but her lips were the true distraction. If they weren’t in public, with her brother less than thirty feet away, he’d likely try to steal a kiss from her.

“I don’t want to spoil your dessert,” Willow said, “but Susanna looked quite upset when she left.”

“I t-told her I shouldn’t have just run away. I should’ve t-told her the truth.”

“The
truth
?”

“The real reason I couldn’t m-marry her.”

Willow quietly took his hand. “What was it … the real reason?”

“I didn’t l-love her. I thought I did. B-but I didn’t know what love was. I told her I was sorry for the embarrassment I’d c-caused her. She’d hurt me, and I childishly wanted to do the s-same to her.”

“What did she say?”

“If she was to accept my apology and my decision, wh-what was she to do?”

“You told her you’d purchase her train ticket?”

“I did.”

Willow’s eyes glistened. “You, Trenton, are indeed a man of integrity and a very generous man.”

“She asked me if it was you.”

“Me?”

“Who had taught me what love was.”

Her breath caught. “What did you tell her?”

“That she could th-thank God for the lesson, and that credit was due you f-for the introduction.”

A tear rolled down Willow’s cheek, and Trenton desperately wanted to reach up and touch her face. She brushed it away before he could give in to the temptation. She was so genuine. At the confectionary, Susanna had attempted sincerity and failed miserably.

The candy! He cleared his throat. “You distracted me so much with the p-pie that I almost forgot I have s-something for you.” He handed her the pie plate and bent over his box of camera supplies. He pulled out the pink box of fudge and handed it to her.