Wedding at Wildwood (9 page)

Martha sat silent, her gaze moving from her granddaughter’s surprised face to Dillon’s resigned one.

Isabel shook her head, her eyes widening as she tried to reason with Dillon. “But he had to have loved you. Why, he gave you and Eli everything, without question.”

“No, he
bought
us things, Issy. There’s a big difference. It was almost like he was paying us off, for being what he expected us to be. And when I failed, well—”

Martha said the same thing Isabel had said earlier. “Everyone thought you were his favorite, the way he defended you.”

“In public, yeah. He had an image to maintain. He and mother always put such high store in appearances. But I made one slip too many, though, and suddenly, I was no longer the image of a perfect son. I guess he realized all the glossing over in the world couldn’t change how I felt the day we had that terrible argument. And I fell out of his favor pretty quick after that.”

“One slip too many?” Shaking her head again, Isabel got up to pace the room. “Dillon, you made some mistakes, but your father always forgave you. Maybe if you’d stayed here, it would have all worked out.”

“I don’t think so. Not this time. I used to get into trouble, yeah,” Dillon said, nodding. “But that was different. That didn’t involve turning against my family. My father demanded loyalty, and…in the end, I couldn’t give it to him.”

Placing her hands on the table, Isabel asked, “What did he want you to do? What on earth happened?”

Dillon looked up then, his expression going blank. Raising up with a push, he headed for the door. “I’ve got to go. I’ve said too much as it is.”

“Dillon?”

He turned at the door, pushing her away. “I appreciate the talk, ladies. Let’s just get through this wedding. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Before Isabel could speak, he nodded to Martha. “Thanks for the refreshments, and thanks for listening.”

With that, he was gone, gently closing the screen door behind him. Isabel watched as he made his way down the wildflower path, back toward the old mansion.

“What’s the matter with him?” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Why can’t he tell me what’s bothering him?”

Martha came to stand by her granddaughter. “I think I understand what’s wrong with Dillon.”

“Then please explain it to me. I thought we’d made some progress.”

“Isabel, he doesn’t want to reveal the Murdock family secrets. Whatever happened that day, Dillon is still trying to honor his father by keeping quiet about it. He has to make his own peace with his brother, and especially, with himself.”

Whirling around, Isabel said, “Am I just supposed to sit back and wait for that to happen? I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this—this wedding, Eli’s attitude, Dillon’s indifference. I’m telling you, something has got to give.”

“Since when do you care so much about the Murdocks, anyway?” Martha asked as she put away the cookie tin.

Isabel turned to face her all-knowing grandmother then. Too late to deny what was so obvious now. “I’ve always cared about Dillon. And since we’ve been back together, well…”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Wrapping her arms across her chest, Isabel lowered her head and nodded. “I don’t want to—but, yes, I guess I do. I think I’ve always loved him.”

“So you’ll fight for him?”

“If he’ll let me.”

“And who will you be fighting?”

“I don’t know. Eli, mostly, I guess. I want Dillon to be happy again, but Eli disapproves of me so much. If I get involved, it’s only going to make matters worse.”

“You might be getting into something you can’t fix, child. We have to choose our battles very carefully.”

Isabel rushed to her grandmother’s side then. “Help me, Grammy. Tell me how to make those two stubborn men see that it’s time to end this grudge.”

Martha patted Isabel’s shoulder, then stood back. “Does Dillon know Eli’s been having some troubles?”

Shocked, Isabel let out a breath. “No, and how do you know that?”

“I hear things. This is a small town, Isabel. Rumors are grist for the mill around here.”

Glad to be able to share this burden, Isabel nodded. “Susan told me about it. She thinks Dillon should stay here and help Eli out. I wanted to talk to Dillon about it, but he’ll be so upset and bitter. I don’t know what to do.”

Martha hugged her close. “For now, go to bed and pray. The Lord will help you—even if it means you just have to stay out of it.”

“I have to help Dillon.”

“I don’t think Dillon is ready for your help.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

“You never were good at waiting.”

Hugging her grandmother close, Isabel said, “Dillon was right about one thing. I never realized how blessed I was, living here. Why couldn’t I see that, Grammy?”

“You had too many dreams, honey. Too many stars in your eyes.”

Isabel watched as Martha headed down the tiny hallway toward the back of the creaking house. Then she turned to stare over at Wildwood, her heart breaking. Yes, she’d certainly had stars in her eyes. Maybe because she didn’t even realize until she was around six years old that her father didn’t own the land he worked. She didn’t realize until she got to school and saw all the other children laughing and playing, that she was just a poor country bumpkin who got teased because of her homemade dresses and hand-me-down cast-off clothes. Soon, she’d discovered the world beyond Wildwood, and she’d promised herself she’d explore that world and conquer it. But was she any richer for having done so?

She should just pack up and leave right now. She’d told herself not to get involved, yet here she stood, worried and confused, and right in the thick of things between Dillon and Eli. But, she couldn’t leave.

Because she was in love with Dillon Murdock.

“I’ll wait,” she whispered to the whining wind. “I’ll wait right here, Lord, until You show me what to do.”

Just then, a light flickered to life in an upstairs window of the mansion. Isabel watched as the shadowy silhouette of a man appeared at the window.

Dillon.

She watched as he stood there, his hands braced on the windowsill, looking out into the night. Was he looking for her? Was he thinking about her?

Dillon had come so close to telling her everything. But something kept holding him back, something kept him from being honest with her and maybe with himself. What kind of pain had Eli and their father inflicted on him? Why had he felt it so necessary to run away from his home? Somehow, she had to find a way to get inside his head, to understand why he was afraid to love her the way she loved him.

Until then, she’d have to be patient. She’d wait.

She watched his shadow, so still, so clear, so dark there against that single lamplight.

And then she knew. He was waiting, too.

D
illon was up at dawn the next day. Actually, he’d never really fallen asleep. Instead, he’d lain in bed listening as the thunder moved farther to the south. The rain had missed Wildwood, and Dillon now missed the rain.

He needed a good cloudburst to relieve some of the tension that had kept him awake all night. Today was his brother’s wedding day, but that was the least of his worries.

He loved her.

And now, he wanted her to love him, too.

Isabel Landry had told him she wanted to stand by him, but could she ever return the love he felt for her?

Now he had to decide what he was going to do about this love he’d so long denied. His initial reaction had been pure joy. But, it was a joy born of long ago dreams and long forgotten hopes. Since leaving Wildwood, he’d tried to put Isabel out of his mind—for her sake. She deserved better than him; she deserved so much more than he could ever give her.

Taking another sip of coffee, Dillon sat back on the ratty cane rocker he’d found in the attic and pulled onto the porch, wondering if he’d ever be capable of accepting love from any woman. Oh, he loved Isabel, knew that in his heart. But in his head, logic told him he shouldn’t acknowledge that love. He couldn’t ask her to take him on; he couldn’t ask her to accept his family into her heart.

So here he sat, wishing, wondering if he should just leave soon after the wedding, or stay and pour his heart and soul into rebuilding this old house, and winning over the woman of his dreams. Could he actually have both?

Right now, that didn’t seem possible. She’d promised to stand by him, to help him reconcile with his brother. But what Isabel didn’t know was that she couldn’t help him. She’d only make matters worse.

But Dillon couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell Isabel that
she
was one of the main reasons he and his brother were no longer on speaking terms.

Throwing the dregs of his coffee out into the overgrown shrubbery, Dillon stood to go inside. That’s when he saw Eli and two other men standing in Eli’s front yard. All three were looking a little too keenly toward the old mansion. Stepping back out of view, Dillon watched as Eli talked in an animated fashion, his hands gesturing, his face flushed with anger.

“What are you up to, brother?” Dillon muttered. The men sure seemed interested in the old plantation house. Squinting toward the fresh rising eastern sun, Dillon recognized one of the men. Leland Burke. The president of Wildwood Bank and Trust, complete with suit, tie and a notebook. Dillon watched as Leland jotted down information. He didn’t recognize the other man.

Now, what was so important that Eli would be standing out here on a Saturday morning, on his wedding day, at that?

Isabel glanced out the window over the kitchen sink, wondering what Eli was doing standing out in his front yard. From her vantage point, the three men were nearly obstructed by trees and bushes, and she had to crane her neck to even see them at all. But there was no doubt in her mind that one of them was Eli Murdock.

Shrugging, she guessed Eli had to conduct business, even on his wedding day. Running a huge plantation was a twenty-four hour job. She could remember lots of times when her father would stay out in the fields well past dark, then come home and collapse before rising with the dawn to get a head start on the next day’s work. That grueling schedule had put him in an early grave. A few years later, it had also taken Eli and Dillon’s father, Roy, to his grave.

She had to agree with Susan. If Eli didn’t slow down, he might wind up the same way. He did look rather haggard. Of course, he had aged since Isabel had been away. They were all getter older. But after what Susan had told her, she supposed Eli’s pallor had more to do with worry than age.

All the more reason to bring peace to the Murdock brothers, she mused as she finished washing the breakfast dishes. Looking out toward the rising sun, she sent up a prayer for help.

“Should I tell Dillon what I know about Eli’s financial problems? Or should I do as Grammy says and keep praying about it?”

If she told Dillon, he might confront Eli, and Eli would only resent her even more for interfering. Yet, Dillon had a right to know that his home was in jeopardy.

Isabel didn’t know how to approach this. Dillon was still struggling with his past, and after last night, she knew in her heart that underneath his tough guy veneer, there was a heart that longed to come home. Dillon needed to be accepted back into his family completely.

If he found out about Eli’s financial woes, that acceptance would be shattered. Yet he was bound to hear about it sooner or later.

“After the wedding,” she said on a breathless whisper. “Once Eli’s away on his honeymoon, maybe I can talk to Dillon about this.”

That would give him time to cool down before he confronted his brother. In the meantime, Isabel had a job to do. She had to be at the church early to capture the entire wedding party in various shots. Susan would be frantic if Isabel didn’t arrive on time to photograph every aspect of this important day.

So much fuss over a mere wedding. Isabel had never given her own wedding day much thought, maybe because she’d never pictured herself as a beaming bride. Thinking of Dillon and how his kisses made her feel, she closed her eyes and had a fine little daydream of her own.

She was standing in the wildflowers in a creamy gown and Dillon was walking toward her with that sideways slant in his eyes, and that precious grin on his handsome face. He carried a bouquet of wildflowers—pinks and blues, yellows and whites—picked especially for her. Birds were singing, bees were buzzing and the sunset behind them was so brilliant it hurt her eyes. So brilliant—

“Too brilliant,” she said now, snapping back to reality. “Just a silly dream, Issy. It can never happen, no matter how hard you wish it.”

Chastising herself, she remembered her duties. This was Susan’s big day, not hers. She wouldn’t let her friend down.

But she hoped she didn’t let Dillon down either.

Hours later, Isabel looked about at everyone who’d assembled at the church for the big event. And big it was. Looking around the sun-dappled sanctuary, she was amazed at the expense that had obviously been put into this wedding. The Murdocks never did anything second-rate, and while the Websters were comfortable financially, Isabel imagined they broke the bank trying to accommodate Eli and Cynthia Murdock’s demands.

The theme was Victorian, about as delicate and dainty as a theme could get, complete with hearts, pearls, flowers and lace. Pinkish-white day lilies with rich burgundy centers, and pink roses in tight cotton-candy clusters, adorned the pews and the altar, while baby’s breath and white satin ribbons scattered throughout complimented the fragrant flowers. Candles burned from exquisite silver candelabra, complimenting the bridesmaids’ muted pink lace-trimmed dresses. Isabel had to admit the barely-there pink was pretty and a little more subtle than the bright teal Susan had originally picked. But she’d give Miss Cynthia more credit for that, than Eli’s bullying Susan to change things.

Standing back in a corner, Isabel mentally went over her last-minute list. She’d taken the obligatory shots of the bride and her bridesmaids, and the groom and his best man. Eli had actually smiled into the camera, but his smile didn’t hide the bright worry Isabel now recognized in his unforgiving eyes. She supposed it was her good fortune that Eli was so preoccupied with his wedding and his debts that he didn’t have the inclination to pick on her.

She could almost feel sorry for Eli. He seemed to really care about Susan, and Isabel believed he wanted to make his new bride happy by putting up a good front at this wedding. But the pressure had to be tremendous. She wondered how long he could keep all these balls in the air. So far, he’d done a passable job, other than refusing to welcome Dillon back home as his mother had requested. Obviously, Eli didn’t want Dillon to find out about his troubles. He had way too much pride to ask for his brother’s help.

At least Dillon was still part of the wedding party.

Because this was a Murdock wedding, and because the whole town was talking about the famous grudge between the two brothers, the turnout for today’s nuptials had reached maximum capacity. It seemed as if everyone in town who’d been invited had made it a priority to attend. Dillon, along with the other ushers, had escorted a steady stream of well-heeled, curious guests to their seats.

Isabel watched now as he held the arm of an elderly woman wearing a bright floral ensemble complete with a yellow pillbox hat. His hand was steady on the woman’s plump arm, his demeanor respectful and charming as he talked with the lady in quiet, animated tones. Isabel snapped a picture as Dillon walked by. She wanted to capture that not-so-innocent grin.

Putting her camera down, she took a deep breath. They hadn’t spoken since last night. Things had been too hectic for more than a polite nod. But behind the nod and the quiet looks, she could see the darkness in Dillon’s eyes. In spite of their new closeness, she believed he was still holding something back.

Wishing she could gain his complete trust, Isabel continued to watch him. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo—a paradox of a man, gentle and shy in some ways, bold and unyielding in others. To the manor born, but so down-to-earth and unassuming about his own success.

In many ways, Dillon had changed. In many ways, he was still the same. And she would always love him. Now that she’d accepted that, she felt a little more at peace. Underneath the turmoil, underneath the fear and worry, her center was settling into a nice contentment. She’d denied her feelings for Dillon for so long now, that she realized she’d been empty inside. But since coming back here, since seeing him again and accepting that she cared about him, that emptiness was gradually easing away. Grammy had always told her she’d find peace once she focused on what really mattered in life. And Dillon was what mattered in hers.

Soon, they’d both be leaving Wildwood. But somehow, after last night, Isabel didn’t feel as strongly about leaving the place she’d once called home.

Wanting to understand why Dillon was still keeping her at arm’s length, she continued to study him now. And again wondered if maybe Dillon didn’t care about her in the same way she cared for him. Maybe he was trying to let her down gently. Maybe his flirtation
was
just that, a flirtation, a way to spend time while he was forced to be here. She’d certainly seen him tease many a young girl way back when, only to leave another broken heart in his wake. What if that part of him hadn’t changed after all?

But, no, that couldn’t be right. Last night, he’d opened up to her a little bit, at least. Dillon cared about her, he’d admitted that much. Yet, she knew in her soul he was fighting his feelings. Why?

Moaning, Isabel took a step back as the crowd continued to grow. Lifting her camera, she automatically clicked several shots of the various guests, making sure she got the most prominent ones, as Susan had suggested. The whole while, Isabel kept thinking what if she’d been wrong, hoping Dillon might actually feel something real for her. Sure, he’d kissed her with a tenderness that made her heart palpitate, but that was part of Dillon’s charm. At times, he’d sought her out; other times, he’d sent her away. Had it all been a game, like the silly games they used to play when they were growing up?

She looked up then, to find Dillon’s gray eyes centered on her with all the gentleness of a dove. As he came toward her, her heart picked up its tempo. The expression on his face told her he did care, and the look in his eyes changed from gentle to tumultuous within the fraction of a lazy blink.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, his gaze moving across her face with unabashed intensity. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“Just doing my job,” she quipped, the catch in her voice causing her to groan silently.

“Listen, about last night—”

“I thought we’d reached some sort of truce last night,” she replied as she checked her camera. “Was I wrong?”

“No. You really got to me last night, Issy. I’m through running, but hey, I’m still a little skittish. Just give me some time. I promise, after this shindig is over, we’re going to have a long talk.”

Her heart soared with new hope. “I’ll hold you to that.” And maybe then, she could tell him about his brother’s troubles.

He nodded, then his features relaxed into a grin. “You should be center stage; you look much prettier than the bride.”

“How do you know—you haven’t peeked into the bride’s dressing room, now have you?”

“I don’t have to see her. Susan’s the cute cheerleader type, but she doesn’t hold a candle to you. A bit too frilly for me, I’m afraid. I like
your
dress, Issy.”

“You said that same thing at the rehearsal dinner, if I recall, and I also recall—you dated a lot of frilly cheerleaders in high school.”

“You looked good at the rehearsal dinner, too, if I recall, and yes, I went out with a few cheerleaders, but hey, none of them could handle having a cad like me for their steady.” Lifting a dark brow, he said, “Maybe because they all figured out I really preferred a tall, willowy artistic blonde with wild curls and not a spot of lace anywhere on her dress. I like all of your dresses, but this one is especially nice—green becomes you.”

Looking down at the flowing skirt of her tea-length crepe gown, Isabel pushed at the unruly curls he’d just complimented and shrugged. “This old thing—plain and simple and very functional for a working girl.”

“That old thing brings out the green in your eyes, and you know it.” Coming closer, he said in a low, gravelly tone, “I’m sorry I left in such a huff last night.”

“Stop apologizing. I understand.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I want to get through this, so we can talk.”

“I know the feeling. Remember, you promised me a dance at the reception.”

Her heart started the dance without her. “I remember.”