The Bridal Veil (25 page)

Rose had chosen to put Cotton’s
gravesite under the oak. Luke had suggested something farther from
the house, but in the end, he dug the hole under the tree and
they’d had a brief service for the expired lamb. Rose had asked
Emily to read a little Bible verse over Cotton, but she couldn’t
think of one. Instead, she’d recited a stanza by Cecil Frances
Alexander that seemed appropriate.

All things bright and
beautiful

All creatures great and
small,

All things wise and
wonderful,

The Lord God made them
all.

While she supposed that it might be
sacrilegious to commend a sheep’s soul to God’s keeping, she had
asked anyway. It comforted Rose and what could it hurt? Emily held
fast to her belief that kindness and consideration of others’s
feelings were not a “blame-fool” waste of time. They were part of
what made life bearable. Patently, Cora Hayward did not share this
belief. A miserable, manipulative woman, she seemed bent on making
those around her miserable as well.

After Cotton’s funeral, Emily had
scrubbed the kitchen table and put together a quick dinner of cold
roast beef sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but no one’s appetite had
been very keen. Cora had not come downstairs, but Emily made a
sandwich for her too and left it covered with a clean napkin on the
table.

What a dreadful day it had been. Until
now, Emily’s life had not been particularly happy, but it had been,
for the most part, peaceful. Even though her circumstances had
changed over the years from privileged to penurious, and included a
liberal ration of heartache and loss, voices in the Cannon
household had been moderate and the emotional manipulations more
subtle. She hadn’t grown up in a family that had been demonstrative
of temper or given to the kinds of outbursts she’d seen under the
Becker roof. This was all new to her. She found it to be very
disturbing and exhausting.

Behind her she heard the screen door
squeak on its hinges. Luke came out and flopped on the top step
near her feet. On the porch next to his thigh, he set down a
whiskey bottle and a glass. Emily supposed he’d earned the right to
a drink. She half wished that ladies were allowed to take a drink
too.

“
How is Rose?” she
asked.

“
She’s not asleep, but I
think she’ll be all right. God, what a day.” He put his head in his
hands for a moment, then began massaging the back of his neck.
Watching this, Emily yearned to take up the task for him, to work
out the tension in his muscles and feel his warm skin under her
fingers. But it seemed too forward. “I guess I didn’t do a very
good job of picking out that lamb and ewe. He was probably sick
before I brought him home. If we lose the mama too, I don’t know
what it’ll do to Rose.”

“
Is the ewe
sick?”

“
No, at least not yet. Maybe
she’ll be fine.” He poured a half-inch of amber liquor into his
glass and drank it down in one swallow. He sucked a low breath
through his teeth and turned tired gray eyes up to her face. “I
want to thank you for everything you did today. If you hadn’t been
here, well, Cora wouldn’t have been any help.” He stared at the
step under his feet. “She wasn’t before.”

“
I wasn’t able to save
Cotton.”

He sighed and ruffled his hair with a
big hand. “Oh, honey, he was just too far gone. No one could have
helped him.”

Honey.

Had it been an unconscious slip by a
man too tired to know what he’d said? Emily wondered. Even if it
had been, that didn’t diminish the sudden warmth that flooded her,
and the feeling of familiar belonging. Almost without thinking she
crossed her palm with her thumb to feel her wedding band on her
little finger.

“
I guess you’re right,” she
said, and then added, “Luke, what did Cora mean about
Belinda?”

He tipped his head against the newel
post. “You mean when she said I killed her?”

It was awkward to hear it so baldly
put. “Well, um, yes—“ She told him about the unfinished letter
she’d found in the parlor, then realized how it must sound. “I
honestly don’t make a habit of reading other people’s
mail!”

His smile was a tired one. “I’d bet
she left that letter there on purpose, hoping you’d find it. She
hasn’t had any contact with her cousin Eunice for years.” He turned
and faced her. “But you have the right to know the
truth.”

He told her about his youthful
infatuation with Belinda, and in his voice she heard the ghost of a
passion that made her heart sink. She knew he would never feel that
way about her—Belinda had been the love of his life.

“
That summer, I guess
Belinda was sixteen and I was nineteen. She wasn’t interested in
me.” He shrugged. “I suppose I can understand that now. My brothers
and I were pretty wild back then, and not too many parents wanted
their daughters marrying one of the Becker boys. God knows I’d get
out my shotgun if someone like one of us came courting Rose. Both
she and Cora wanted her to marry Brad Tilson. He was a doctor’s son
from Portland and had come out for the summer to work on one of the
farms around here for a monthly wage and found. He was studying
medicine too, and I guess Cora and Belinda thought he was a good
catch. I saw him at grange dances and around town sometimes and I
didn’t like him—I thought he was a stuck-up rich boy and I could
tell he was just leading her on. Of course, I was jealous as hell,
too. But I knew he wasn’t going to marry her. He’d go back to his
rich-boy life in Portland and never think about her again.” He hung
his hands between his knees. “And that’s just what he did. Cora
thought I chased him off and ruined Belinda’s chances with him. The
truth was, she never stood a chance at all. Men like him don’t
marry small-town farm girls. And no matter what Cora would like to
believe, I think she knows that truth, too. It’s just easier to
blame me—for everything.”

Luke went on to explain that after
Tilson left town, he stepped up his courtship of Belinda and
finally won her over. “I think her heart was broken, and she didn’t
care who she married. But I didn’t know it then. I just figured I
was the luckiest guy in town to win such a beautiful
girl.”

He didn’t mention Belinda’s pregnancy
and neither did Emily. After all, it was only a rumor she’d heard,
and in any case, it would be unspeakably rude to bring it up. But
if it was true, she wondered if Luke realized what a good man he
was, even coming from a poor background, to accept his
responsibility and marry Belinda?

The years had not been kind
to their marriage and always, always, Cora was an interfering
influence. “She gave Belinda all kinds of reasons to be
dissatisfied. Nothing I did was every really good enough.” He shook
his head. “I think we would have been all right if not for her. But
we argued a lot. Then one night just over three years ago, Cora
came for Sunday dinner. She’d gotten her little digs in about a lot
of things. By the time she finally went home, Belinda and I were
like two cats spoiling for a fight. Cora seems to have that effect
on people. I said things and Belinda said
things . . . finally she got angry and said she
was going back to her mother’s house. I figured, fine, let her go.
It would give us both a chance to cool off.” He rolled his whiskey
glass between his hands and studied its empty bottom, as if looking
at a window to the past. “But it was raining that night, and a
fierce wind was blowing down the gorge. It had been a cold March.
Belinda left without a coat, and when she got to Cora’s she was
soaked to the skin. She developed a fever. I didn’t know she was
sick, because I was angry and let my pride get in the way. I should
have gone over there and brought her home. Cora put her to bed, but
didn’t think she was sick enough to send for Dr. Gaither. I found
that out later. You probably got a sense of how Cora is. She thinks
doctors are for weaklings, and didn’t suppose he could do anything
for Belinda that she couldn’t do herself. By the time she changed
her mind, Doc Gaither
couldn’t
do anything for her—she was too far gone. I went
to see her but she was unconscious—I don’t think she even knew I
was there.” His voice was barely audible. “She died that night. And
when she went, she took my heart with her.”

“
Oh, dear God,” Emily
murmured.

“
I was mad as hell at Cora
for letting Belinda suffer. She blamed me because she said I’d
driven Belinda out of her own home and exposed her to the weather
that made her sick in the first place.” He shrugged. “She’s right,
I guess. At least, that’s how I’ve been looking at it for the last
three years. But, Jesus, Emily, at least I would have ridden for
the doctor.”

“
Of course, you would have,”
Emily sympathized. She thought for a moment, and then added, “But
Luke, Cora must feel just as responsible as you do.”

“
Nope, it’s been easier to
blame me.”

“
But consider this—she
thinks Rose’s interest in drawing is a waste of time. And she told
her that nice needlework is fine for a woman who sits around all
day with nothing important to do. Yet she turned your home into a
living memorial to Belinda, who apparently loved needlework. Look
at the fuss she caused over the tablecloths. Yes, she might have
been trying to punish you, and I have no doubt that she wanted me
to feel unwelcome.” Emily felt safe in saying that now that Cora
would be leaving. “It’s odd that she wanted a soft life for
Belinda, even though she scoffs at it. Still, I don’t think she’d
have done all that if she didn’t feel guilty, too.”

Luke stared at her, comprehension
dawning in his eyes, and a kind of relief, too, as if she’d
conferred a benediction on his soul. “I never thought about it that
way.”

She nodded, as if praising a bright
student who had worked out a complicated problem. “Sometimes when
we’re too close to a situation, it’s hard to be objective about it.
To see it as it really is. I’m an outsider so I can be a better
observer.”

“
You’re not an outsider,
Emily,” he said, and stared at the whiskey he’d poured into his
glass. “Your name is Becker now, just like mine, and just like
Rose’s.”

A flush of confusion and gratitude
swelled in Emily’s chest. Sharing a name didn’t necessarily make
one part of a family—after all, Robert Cannon had given her his
name, but she never really felt like his daughter. This was a step
in the right direction, though. At least she hoped it
was.

He drank the second shot of whiskey in
one gulp, like the first, and set the glass upside down on the step
next to him. “I never saw any of this coming when I got up this
morning. Like I said, it’s been a hell of a day.”

Emily could see it in his profile. The
weariness that always lingered behind his eyes seemed more
pronounced than ever. “I can’t argue with that.”

He turned to looked at her, a wry
smile pulling at his mouth. A chuckle worked its way up from his
chest and he laughed. “You’re a rare one, Emily-gal. You’re a rare
one.” Then without warning, he laid his head in her lap, as if too
tired to sit upright any longer. Instinctively, she wanted to
stroke his dark curls. The instant she felt his soft hair, she
pulled her hand away, fearful of the heat that traveled up her arm
and the tug she felt in her heart.

Luke wondered if he’d felt the caress
of Emily’s touch, or simply imagined it because he needed it so
desperately. Upstairs, the window slammed in Cora’s bedroom,
breaking the soft spell of the balmy spring night. He realized that
she’d probably been listening to every word he and Emily had said.
He didn’t care anymore. He supposed he should try to maintain some
kind of relationship with her for Rose’s sake, but too many things
had been said. Too much had happened. Once Cora was gone—and he
would see to it that she left because he intended to drive her home
first thing in the morning—they’d have a little peace in the house.
Suddenly, nothing sounded more appealing.

Much as he didn’t want to, Luke lifted
his head from Emily’s comfortable lap and stood up. “I’d guess I’d
better check the stock one more time and then get to bed. Morning
will come soon enough.” He turned to set off for the barn, then
stopped and turned to face Emily. “I really did appreciate your
help today.” He took her smooth hand from her lap and pressed a
kiss into her palm. It was soft and warm against his lips, and made
him want to linger. But he couldn’t. “I wish I had more to give
you,” he said. “More than my name.” More than the shell of his
broken heart. She deserved it. But he feared he would never love
anyone again except Rose. He picked up the glass and the bottle and
went down the steps.

He didn’t see her press her palm to
her cheek, as if to hold his kiss there. He didn’t know about the
disappointment on her face—an expression of hopes dashed—as she
watched him walk away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“
Well, I’ve been waiting.”
Cora sat alone at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers. Luke
stood in the doorway, buttoning his shirt. He’d just come
downstairs to start his day. The sun was still only a promise on
the eastern horizon, and the morning stars had not yet blinked
out.

That was Cora. Surly to the
end.

By her feet stood her valise and three
years’ worth of belongings, including some of Belinda’s things,
tied up with a length of rope like a cowboy’s bedroll. He thought
that Rose might like to have her mother’s keepsakes, but decided to
leave the subject be. Thank God Rose was still asleep and Emily had
chosen to stay upstairs. There was no telling how ugly this could
get if Cora had an audience.