The Beloved Land (16 page)
Nicole awoke to birdsong and laughter. She lay and studied the room about her. Light pierced the narrow slits in the rear shutters, which was strange, for the house faced east. Which meant the time must be noon or later. Had she slept through the entire morning?
She willed herself to rise, but the muscles of her body would not respond. She lay upon her grandfather Price’s bed. He had insisted, and she had been too tired to protest for long. Her pillow must have come from her parents’ bed, for she could smell Catherine’s fragrance.
The door opened, and Nicole knew it was her mother from the way the light silhouetted her frame. “Good morning, Mother,” she managed around a yawn.
Catherine stepped inside. “How are you feeling, Nicole?”
“So much better I can hardly believe it.”
“I’m glad.” Catherine eased herself down on the side of Grandfather Price’s bed. “You were in great need of rest.”
“Gordon is awake?” Nicole asked. Her fiance éhad bunked down with his men at a neighbor’s house. At Catherine’s nod, Nicole stretched luxuriously. “I suppose I should rise, then.”
“Gordon has gone to the ship and back,” Catherine told her.
“How is that possible?”
“Well, first, he needed to fetch your case and his dress uniform.” She laughed openly now. “Secondly, because it has just turned four.”
At Nicole’s gasp, Catherine repeated, “Four o’clock—in the afternoon.”
“You have let me sleep all day?” Nicole struggled to a sitting position.
“I have indeed.” Catherine rose and handed Nicole the dress she had worn from the ship.
The fabric was stiff with days of salt and wear. Nicole could smell the horse, the saddle leather, the black grease from the previous night’s ride. The hem was dark and rigid with mud from disembarking from the longboat and where they halted in the night. She stared at the dress and wondered if all that had happened had just been the night before. “Mama, you shouldn’t have let me lie abed all day,” she said, taking the frock with a small grimace.
“I would let you sleep all the coming night as well,” Catherine replied. “Except for the fact that you must now hurry— wait, though, I will bring you a clean dress of mine for you to wear until …” But she was out the door before finishing her sentence.
Catherine was soon back with a faded but clean cotton dress to slip over Nicole’s head. Her mother’s hands deftly buttoned it up the back, and they moved to the door.
John Price rose from his seat by the fire and came over to beam at his granddaughter and proclaim, “Our princess has arisen!”
“Please, I’m so sorry.” She was acutely aware of the late hour, of her unbrushed hair, of the short time they would have …
“Coming through, please. Make way!” Carter and two other sailors pushed into the room, bearing one of her trunks. “Where will you be having these now, ma’am?”
“Put them in the back room here,” Catherine replied, pointing the way.
Her parents’ bedroom door opened, and her father appeared. Only he was not dressed in his normal dark homespun but in his formal clergy attire. The long black robe carried crimson and gold stitching that she knew instantly was Catherine’s skilled handiwork.
Andrew moved across to her and drew her into a warm embrace. “God’s greetings, my Nicole. Did you rest well?”
“Yes, I … yes.” She stepped back and looked at his robe. “Forgive me, Father. Is it the Sabbath today?”
Andrew’s smile was full of love and blessing. “No, daughter. It is your wedding day.”
“Oh, Mother,” Nicole breathed the words as she stood in the back bedroom gazing at her trunk. Then once again their arms were around each other as she and Catherine wept and laughed together.
“My wedding day,” Nicole said, looking into Catherine’s face. “I cannot say I imagined it quite like this—a moment snatched out of a time of turmoil.”
“Ah yes,” answered Catherine, “I think I understand what you are feeling right now—joyful and a bit sad at the same time. But you must remember that the wedding ceremony itself is only the beginning of a lifetime of love and care for each other. And Gordon is the husband and the son-in-law we have prayed for. We have known him for only this short time, but your father and I believe you have chosen well.”
“I too believe I have chosen well,” Nicole said with a smile as they embraced again.
“But we must make preparations,” Catherine said briskly, and the two women turned their attention to the trunk. After prying it open, Catherine departed to return with a tin tub. She filled it with pails of warm water from the kitchen, then helped Nicole into it. Catherine left the bedroom again and brought back a mug of tea and a piece of bread with butter and honey. Nicole was sure she wouldn’t be able to eat anything, but she sipped the steaming cup and soon realized she was indeed hungry.
Nicole rose from the bath and saw her creamy white silk gown laid out upon the bed, and the shoes set alongside, and she was sure that this wedding, even in these circumstances, was right.
Catherine laced up the stays to Nicole’s corset, talking all the while as she placed one hand upon the small of Nicole’s back and gripped the two laces tightly in her other. The motion pulled Nicole’s thoughts up sharp, and she realized Catherine had been telling how John Price’s quest for his lost sibling had offered the old man not only new energy, but a new and deeper relationship with Catherine. And what had surprised her equally, she explained as she tied a double bow, was how the quest had proven such an interest to her as well. Together they had pored over John Price’s father’s diary. Catherine urged Nicole to ask the old man about it, to let him share this new excitement over the drama of forgotten days.
Then her mother lifted the wedding dress over Nicole’s head. “Oh, my dear, you are a lovely bride,” Catherine whispered as she buttoned the row of tiny pearl buttons in the back. Then Nicole carefully sat down while her mother arranged her hair and fastened it up with combs.
A knock upon the door, and a familiar voice called, “May I enter?”
Catherine rushed to the door, calling, “No, I’m sorry, Gordon, but you may not see the bride before the wedding.”
“Then I shall speak my words from here, madame. Nicole, my dearest, can you hear me?”
She moved closer to the door to say, “I can. Though I can scarcely believe what is happening.”
“I as well. But all is moving in its proper course, as far as I can tell. Will you trust me with this judgment?”
“I trust you with everything,” she replied simply. “I trust you with my life.”
There was a moment’s pause, then Gordon said, “Nicole, I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“I had hoped for a more intimate moment, but this will have to do.” He cleared his throat. “The evening that I met John Jackson, do you recall how I described it?”
“I believe you said it was a sign of the divine hand.”
“Just so. My dearest, John’s appearance resulted in a retrieval of something you had lost on my behalf.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“No. Of course not. But I thought you might like to have it for the coming ceremony.”
Catherine motioned Nicole away from the door and opened it slightly.
“I shall bid you ladies farewell, for the moment,” Gordon said as he passed something into Catherine’s hand.
Catherine turned slowly back into the room, her gaze fastened upon a small velvet bag in her hands.
“What is it, Mama?”
As Catherine opened the bag, Nicole saw the emerald pendant and the gold chain. Catherine heard her gasp of unbelief and saw her reach out with a trembling hand. “My pendant!”
“This is yours?”
“It was.”
“Never have I seen jewelry this lovely,” Catherine said. “Where did you come by such a treasure?”
“Uncle Charles. He gave it to me before I left England.” Nicole continued to stare at the shimmering green she held in her hand. Catherine could see the shine of her eyes caused by the tears that wished to form but were held in check. “I never thought I would ever see it again—far less call it mine.”
“I don’t understand. …”
“Nor do I. How did Gordon come upon it? It was …” She broke off and lifted her eyes to her mother’s. She shook her head, as though to restore the present. “It’s a very long story,” she said and managed a forced smile.
“Then it will have to wait, I fear, as much as I’d love to hear it. But we have gentlemen waiting beyond this door who are most anxious for a wedding to take place.”
Nicole’s eyes took on a deeper shine. “And we will not keep them waiting longer, for I am as anxious as they.” She turned and lifted her hair for Catherine to fasten the chain about her neck. “I dare not say another word, else I shall not stop weeping.” She felt the weight of the pendant and attempted to look at it. “Does it suit the dress?”
Catherine moved to stand in front of Nicole. “It was made for the dress, for you, for this day.” She gave Nicole a hug. “Now let me hurry and finish here so that I can ready myself as well,” Catherine said as she released her.
Nicole pointed to the open trunk in the corner from which her wedding gown had come. “First there is something in the case for you.”
Catherine cast her a long glance, then moved to kneel in front of it.
“Just there,” Nicole said, “wrapped in the parcel.”
“Oh, Nicole,” Catherine breathed, lifting the white muslin wrapping and opening it. She held up the blue silk gown and laughed shakily. “I am a simple parson’s wife. I cannot—”
“You can,” Nicole said as she walked over and took the dress from her mother’s hands. “Now it is my turn to help you.”
Catherine turned slowly around as Nicole began unfastening the buttons of her mother’s morning dress.
“And you must wear my pearls.”
“It is too much—”
“I can’t wear my pearls and Uncle Charles’s pendant both. They will be fortunate to hang upon such a lovely neck,” Nicole said as she fastened the clasp. “Mama, you are the mother of the bride. You are beautiful. And we both are now ready for the wedding.”
With John Price on one side and her mother on the other, Nicole walked out the door and down the garden path, through the front gate, and along the village lane. Little girls in their best frocks stood at the first crossroads, each carrying a ribbon-bedecked milk pail filled with blossoms hastily gathered from the first trees of spring—cherry, apple, tulip poplar. First they stood in the center of the lane and stared at Nicole, then at orders from their mothers dipped their hands into the pails and spread blossoms along the path.
Nicole’s wedding gown was made in the latest Paris fashion. The bodice was palest cream, framed by seed pearls. The skirt was not long enough to settle upon the packed earth of the country lane but halted just above her ankles.
When the three arrived at the market square, the little girls and their mothers did not take the path Nicole expected. “We are not going to the church?”
“We have made other plans,” Catherine said simply.
“But Gordon—”
“Is waiting for you up ahead.”
John Price chuckled from her other side. “Couldn’t fit them all into the church. Knew that from the beginning, I did.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your folks are loved by most everybody around these parts,” he explained as together they followed the children down a side lane. The news of the wedding celebration had traveled fast, and all were invited.
It was only when she saw the forest and the path ahead that she understood. She saw how the surrounding branches had been laced with garlands of spring blossoms and tiny ribbons, and she felt the burning rise in her eyes yet again. “Oh,” she whispered.
John Price laughed. “You just wait, my girl. You just wait.”
Nicole found herself holding her breath. The westering light transformed the forested walk into a hall lined with green and shadows and tiny rainbow garlands.
She found herself standing on her beloved point. The perimeter was lined with large garlands of evergreen boughs, the poles set like pillars, and rows of smiling villagers turned to watch her. Burning torches upon metal pikes rose between the garlands.
Her father in his robes stood upon the fallen tree trunk, now draped in a small carpet, where she and Anne had spent so many wonderful hours. Gordon stood at the side, dressed in his formal uniform, his expression grave but his eyes smiling at her.