LITMIR.BIZ

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“I want you to know I’m here if you need anything.”

      “How about a way to turn back the clock?” he muttered, carrying the remaining bandages and honey jar to the tack room.

      Shane closed the stall door and followed him. “You don’t have ties here. You could refuse to marry her. Leave town.”

      Duncan pivoted. “Is she that bad then?”

      Humor graced his mouth. “This isn’t about Caroline or my opinion of what you should do. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. I wanted you to know the whole of Gatlinburg isn’t against you.”

      “I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought of running. I’ve done nothing wrong in the sight of God, and neither has she.”

      “I believe you.”

      “But it’s my duty to honor the McKenna name. I won’t sully it by acting the coward and sowing seeds of doubt in the locals’ minds.”

      And there was the matter of his intended bride to consider. As furious as he was with her, the thought of leaving her to bear the brunt of his rejection troubled him. It would serve her right, he reminded himself, recalling her adamant objection to marrying a common working man. In that moment, he’d been the object of every single man’s pity within hearing distance.

      The sheriff held out his hand. “I suppose this means you’ll be adding to our population. Welcome to Gatlinburg, Mr. McKenna.”

      “Call me Duncan.” They shook hands.

      “I’ll be praying for you and Caroline.”

      He blinked at the reference to them as a team. A couple. From this day forward, he’d be irrevocably linked to her.

      “We’ll need all the prayers we can get.” Did his face bear the same grave acceptance as his tone?

      After the sheriff departed, Duncan returned to his humble cabin, one that didn’t even belong to him. One bright spot in this mess? The thought of watching Caroline adjust to life as a stable manager’s wife.

      * * *

      “I can’t do this.”

      Caroline’s reflection in the mirror was nothing like how she’d imagined a bride should look. With no time to procure a proper wedding dress, Louise had chosen a ball gown from Caroline’s wardrobe that she hadn’t yet worn. Besides the ostentatious design, the color was wrong for her. But she hadn’t had the gumption to argue with her mother, not when she’d caused Louise’s dreams for her to shatter.

      Crafted of fine, golden yellow silk and overlaid with white netting, the bodice was snug, the curved neckline lower than she preferred and the skirt boasted poofs of fabric that reminded her of popped corn. She ran her palms over her waist. The style certainly didn’t hide the span of her hips.

      Her best friend, Jane Leighton, adjusted one of the yellow paste jewels Betty had woven into her upswept hair. “You’re going to get through this,” she encouraged, her moss green eyes solemn. “Don’t think about what next week or next month might bring. Take things one day at a time.”

      “He hates me.”

      Jane met her gaze in the mirror. One of a set of identical twin sisters Caroline had known since she was fifteen years old, Jane was practical and calm and wise. She was one of a very small handful of people Caroline trusted.

      “I’m sure he’s merely frustrated with the situation he finds himself in.”

      Caroline twisted on the low, circular seat. “No, he truly hates me, Jane.”

      “Then I suggest you find ways to change his mind.”

      “I don’t think anything I could do or say will make him forgive me.”

      “There were two of you on that mountain ridge. You didn’t force him to accompany you.” She swept a swath of her thick red hair behind her shoulder, the band on her fourth finger catching Caroline’s gaze. Jane was married to the love of her life. Tom Leighton adored and respected his wife. Sadly, that was not to be the case in her own marriage.

      “I haven’t said ‘I do’ yet, and I already know my marriage is going to be a disaster.”

      “You can’t think like that, Caroline. Focus on being friends first. The rest will come later.”

      Exactly what the rest was comprised of worried her. Once Louise had unleashed the brunt of her disappointment, she’d attempted to broach the subject of wifely duties. Horrified, Caroline had cut her off. Theirs wasn’t the caring mother-daughter relationship that would make such a delicate conversation easy.

      She comforted herself with the fact that Duncan’s intense dislike would prevent him from pursuing that aspect of their relationship. She recalled the way his casual touch made her feel—jumpy and awkward and strangely empty—and prayed she was right.

      Louise breezed inside the bedroom. “It’s time, Caroline.” She appeared to have acquired dozens more wrinkles about her mouth in the hours since that morning.

      Jane gave her hand a final squeeze. “You’re going to be fine. You’re God’s beloved child. He’s allowing this for a reason.”

      Caroline worried over that tidbit the entire trek down the stairs, through the main floor and out into the sweltering July afternoon. The heavy air closed around her like a wool glove. The heat, combined with nerves, caused her palms to grow damp. While she considered herself a follower of Jesus Christ, she’d never felt like a beloved child of God. She’d never felt like anyone’s beloved.

      The yard was blessedly empty of most of the morning’s onlookers. As she made her way into the shade of a multitude of oak and maple trees, her gaze swept those in attendance. Their out-of-town guests, including Isaiah and Theo, congregated on her left. Theo’s expression was inscrutable, his light eyes intent on her. The group on her right was comprised of her friends and their husbands. Tom was there waiting for Jane to rejoin him. Shane stood with his arm around Allison, his wife, who shot her a reassuring smile. Caroline’s gaze fell to Allison’s unmistakable pregnancy, and she stumbled. Panic clawed its way to the surface.

      “Miss Caroline.” Wendell stood shyly off to the side, wearing his finest clothes, his wispy black hair slicked off his face. He held out a bouquet of white and yellow blossoms plucked from the gardens. “For you.”

      Her fingers closing around the stems, she brought the flowers to her nose, hoping the rush of emotion would pass.

      “How thoughtful of you, Wendell,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

      He dipped his head. The affection in his brown-black eyes made her want to weep. Since the day they’d arrived in Tennessee, the older man had taken a shine to her. He’d been kind. He’d invited her to help him with the flowers, and she’d accepted, mostly because she’d known Louise wouldn’t approve. But then she’d started to enjoy his company and the work, and an unlikely friendship had flourished. He’d become like a benevolent grandfather.

      Unable to linger, she took a single step and encountered the reverend standing with a striking, somewhat forbidding stranger. Caroline halted. She scanned the manicured lawns. Where was Duncan?

      She peered at the stranger a second time. His expression had gone grimmer than before, his familiar cobalt gaze searing her like a branding iron. She hadn’t recognized him at first. His auburn hair had been cut military short on the sides and back, the top locks left slightly longer to spill over his forehead. The beard was gone. The planes and angles of his face were uncovered for her inspection. His jaw was square and firm, his chin unyielding, his full, sculpted mouth softening the noble beauty of his features. His tan was uneven, but a few days in the sun would fix that.

      Caroline’s lungs squeezed every last drop of air out. In his crisp black suit and snowy white shirt, her husband-to-be was elegant and refined, his bearing that of a king assured of his subjects’ loyalty. His new appearance couldn’t hide the untamed part

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