Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  “I talked a bit with Wash last night. Telling him Becca could share his lodging in my—our—house was almost cruel. They have our permission to be together, and no legal way to marry.”

  A minute later she stood next to him on the doorstep, waiting for someone to answer his knock.

  Lamplight spilled over them when Reverend French opened the door. “Mr. West. Miss Haddon. You’re very prompt. Please, follow me.”

  He led them through the doorway at the end of the hall. “We’re less likely to be interrupted in here. Please sit anywhere you like.”

  Jacob surveyed the study as he held one of the armchairs for Cassie. Bookshelves lined two of the walls, with a draped window behind the reverend’s chair. A lamp hanging from a brass chain glowed above their heads. He nodded silent approval. One day he’d enlarge West & Riley’s to include a real office that resembled this one.

  Reverend French rested his folded hands on the surface of his desk. He glanced between them, a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you here to discuss your wedding? Mrs. French reports that you’re planning to be married, and I must say I’m pleased at the news. Have you set a date?”

  “We have. The twenty-fifth of September.”

  “Any particular reason you chose that specific day?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “It’s Jacob’s birthday,” Cassie said. “And my favorite time of year—the fall colors are coming on. The leaves are gorgeous.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “But tonight we’ve come to discuss a different wedding—that of my employees Wash Bennett and Becca Rowan.”

  The minister rubbed his fingers over his flushed cheeks. “Miss Haddon must have told you of our visit. I said I’d pray about the matter, and I have. My answer is yes—and no.”

  38

  Jacob half rose from his chair. “What do you mean, ‘yes and no’? Will you perform the ceremony or not?” He heard the harshness in his voice and subsided. “Forgive me. I need to learn patience.”

  “I understand your frustration. Let me explain.” Reverend French laid one hand flat on the desktop, fingers spread. “I’m happy to marry the couple you’re concerned about. But not in the church building. Unfortunately, too many members in my congregation have strong feelings about this subject.”

  Cassie stirred. “Then your yes isn’t really a yes at all, is it?”

  “If you can suggest another location—”

  “My house.” Jacob thumped his fist on the arm of the chair. “What better place? Would you be willing to marry them there?”

  Reverend French tipped his head to one side, smiling. “You’re a noble soul, Mr. West. Just tell me the day and I’ll promise you a fine wedding.”

  “When I see Wash tonight, I’ll give him the good news. You’ll have the date as soon as they decide.” He rose and extended his hand. “Thank you.”

  The minister gripped his palm. “You’re the answer to my prayers. Thank you.”

  After they left the parsonage, Cassie squeezed his arm. “How kind of you to offer your home. Becca will be overjoyed. You truly are the answer to many prayers, I’m sure.”

  He didn’t know about being the answer to anyone’s prayers, but after his rough Boston past, he knew plenty about being on the outside of proper society. If he could help Wash and Becca get a start in a new life, he’d be on the road to repaying those who had helped him.

  When Cassie and Jacob took seats next to Faith in church on Sunday, Faith leaned close and whispered in Cassie’s ear.

  “Can you come by the mercantile after services? I have a surprise for you.”

  Shocked, she stared at her friend. “You’re open on Sundays now?”

  Faith gave her head a decisive shake. “No. Never. But I have something to show you. I’ll unlock the front door and we can slip inside.” She reached to her right and clasped her husband’s hand. “Curt can drop us off and then take Alexander and Grandpa on home.”

  Mrs. French played the first notes of the opening hymn, cutting off further conversation. As Cassie followed the order of service, her mind wandered to the image of Reverend French standing in Jacob’s parlor performing Wash and Becca’s marriage ceremony. She scooted a bit nearer to Jacob. In five weeks it would be their turn.

  Once the final hymn had been sung, she followed him out into the brilliant sunlight. “Faith has something she wants to show me. Curt’s going to take us to the mercantile now.”

  “Is that what you two were whispering about?” His moustache lifted in a smile.

  “Yes. I know we have a picnic planned this afternoon. Would you be disappointed if we delayed our departure for a half hour or so?”

  “Not at all. You go find out what Faith’s secret is all about. I’ll call for you at the store after a bit.” He raised her gloved hand and kissed her fingertips.

  She wished she could throw her arms around him but contented herself with clasping his hand before joining Faith and her family in the Saxons’ buggy.

  “Just wait until you see,” Faith said while they traveled the short distance to the mercantile. As soon as Curt deposited them at the door, she opened her handbag and removed the key.

  The interior felt stuffy from being closed up on such a warm afternoon. Cassie slipped her mantelet from her shoulders, draping the embroidered garment over her arm.

  “Where’s my surprise?”

  “Right here.” Faith led her to the fabric display. Tissue paper rustled as she unwrapped a protective covering. She held a bolt of shimmering ivory silk toward Cassie and said, “For your wedding dress.”

  The mantelet fell to the floor as Cassie reached out to stroke the smooth fabric. “This is beautiful.” She kept her voice low, as though the silk were magical and her words might cause the illusion to disappear. “I never dreamed you’d order something so fine for my dress.” She gulped. “I . . . I don’t know if I can afford silk.”

  Faith placed the bolt on the cutting table and hugged her. “This is my gift to you. Sheriff Cooper’s wife, Amy, will sew your gown.” She pushed a Godey’s magazine toward her, opened to a page near the center. “Here’s the style you chose. Ruffles around the bottom and appliquéd lace at the neck. Silk is the perfect choice.”

  Fighting tears, Cassie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “How can I thank you?”

  “Your friendship is thanks enough. It’s been a blessing to see how you’ve blossomed on your own. And now you have Jacob in your life. I want to celebrate with you.”

  Cassie bowed her head and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  Cassie’s mind continued to buzz with thoughts of weddings when she entered the kitchen Monday morning.

  Becca left Jenny’s side and hurried to her. “Wash told me what you and Mr. West did. I can’t think how to thank you.” Her face shone with happiness. “Mr. West said we could get married anytime we want.”

  “That’s so. Have you chosen a day?”

  “Maybe this Friday after we close?”

  “If Reverend French has no other commitments, that sounds perfect.” Cassie looked up and caught Jenny’s smiling nod. “Jenny and I will bake a cake for you, and I have a friend who grows flowers. I’ll ask her for a bouquet.”

  Becca hugged her arms to her middle. “I can’t hardly believe this is happening. A real wedding with a real preacher.” She twirled around. “Just like white folks.”

  Cassie blinked back tears. She’d taken too much for granted in her life. Even after the devastation of the war, her privileges were so great, and Becca’s were so few.

  Thank you, Lord, for answering this prayer with a yes.

  She turned when she heard a spoon tapping on the side of a bowl. Jenny sent her a mock frown. “We’d best get breakfast cooked. We’ll do our dancing on Friday night.”

  “Indeed we will.” Cassie patted Becca’s shoulder, then slipped on an apron and arranged kindling in the new range’s firebox. Once the flames burned steadily, she added larger pieces of wood and slid the damper partway closed. />
  “While the oven heats I’ll go tell Mr. West that you’ve chosen Friday for the wedding.” Without waiting for a response, she whipped out of the kitchen and sped toward the grocery.

  Jacob’s eyes softened when he saw her. “Good morning, Miss Haddon. You look like a lady on a mission.”

  Her heart tingled when he said her name in his growly voice.

  “Good morning to you too, Mr. West. I have news. Becca said they’d like to be married this Friday evening. Will that be suitable?”

  “Definitely. They’ve waited long enough.”

  She clasped her hands beneath her chin, certain she was engaged to the kindest man in the world. “Would you have time today to ask Reverend French whether he’s free on Friday?”

  “I’ll call on him this afternoon.”

  “Thank you. Oh, I have so many plans! Jenny and I will bake a special cake for them, I’ll see Rosemary about flowers . . .”

  He glanced around. Seeing they were alone, he kissed the tip of her nose. “This will be good practice for us. Our wedding day will be here before we know it.”

  “I’m counting the hours! But in the meantime, I want Becca’s wedding to be perfect. May I have Wash drive me to your house Friday afternoon so I can decorate the parlor just a bit?”

  “Decorate to your heart’s content. Like I said, this is good practice for us.”

  She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips as she returned to the kitchen. If not for Jacob volunteering his home, this wedding wouldn’t be happening. She’d do all she could to make the event memorable.

  Cassie stood in Jacob’s parlor on Friday afternoon, a basket of flowers at her feet. Rosemary had supplied her with rose verbena, purple blazing stars, and black-eyed Susans, along with two glass containers for arrangements.

  She surveyed the room. Assuming Reverend French would stand in front of the fireplace to perform the ceremony, she’d place the flower-filled vases at either end of the mantel. Timothy and Jenny were the only invited guests, aside from her and Jacob.

  Wash hovered in the entrance to the parlor. “The boss said to help you. Is there anything you need done, missy?”

  “Yes, please. While I fill these vases with water, would you bring four chairs from the dining room? Set them so they face the fireplace. That’s where the minister will stand when he marries you and Becca.”

  He shook his head, an expression of wonder on his face. “Lord be praised. Never thought I’d see the day when I’d be free to take a bride and not worry about her being sold off.” He stepped forward and lifted the basket from the floor. “Let me take this to the kitchen for you. There’s water in a pitcher next to the stove.”

  While she arranged the flowers, she heard him crossing back and forth between the parlor and the dining room. When the vases were arranged to her satisfaction, she carried them into the parlor and placed them on either side of two glass candlestands. Then she stepped back and admired her handiwork. With the chairs in place, the parlor resembled a small chapel. Giving a sigh of satisfaction, she returned to the kitchen.

  Wash sprang to his feet when she entered. “Got something else for me to do?”

  “No, thank you. Everything’s in place for this evening. Please take me home now.”

  The buggy lurched over rocks as Wash guided the horse down the dusty track. Cassie leaned back to admire the soft blue of the sky that stretched, cloudless, from horizon to horizon. Soon after they turned onto the road toward town, they passed the grassy overlook where Jacob had asked her to marry him.

  She felt a pang of longing, wishing he’d come with her today. She hoped he wouldn’t mind that she’d rearranged his parlor. Then she closed her eyes. Before long they’d share not only the parlor but the upstairs portion of the house. A flush crept up her neck and she forced her thoughts to Wash and Becca. Everything was in place for a perfect wedding.

  Wash stopped the buggy in the alley behind her cabin, then jumped off the seat and helped her down.

  “Thank you. I appreciate you taking time from your work to drive me to Mr. West’s and back.” She tucked the empty basket under her arm.

  “You done so much for us, missy. Anytime you want my help, you holler.”

  “Indeed I will.” She smiled up at the big man. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  She stood watching for a moment as he drove away. The remainder of the afternoon stretched before her. Perhaps she’d heat water for—

  “There you are, Cassie!”

  She whipped around at the familiar voice. Mother charged down the gravel path toward her, Patrick Fitzhugh trailing in her wake.

  39

  Cassie gaped at her mother. Her eyes must be playing tricks.

  The peacock feathers on Mother’s hat bobbed as she grabbed Cassie’s hands. “I came as soon as I received your letter. I just pray I’m not too late.”

  “Wh . . . what are you talking about?”

  “Mr. West. I couldn’t believe your words. You haven’t married him, have you?”

  Cassie firmed her spine. “No, but I plan to. In September.”

  “Why would you defy Scripture and marry a shopkeeper when you know Patrick is the person the Lord intends for you?”

  “I know no such thing.” She glanced at Mr. Slocum’s house, which stood barely twenty feet away. If he happened to be home, he’d hear every word of their conversation. The next thing she knew, Faith’s woodstove regulars would have the report all over town.

  She opened the door of her cabin. “Please come in. You’re evidently exhausted from your journey.”

  Mother flounced inside, her royal blue skirt swaying as she passed and settled on one of the chairs around the small table.

  Cassie glared at Patrick. He must have the thick hide of a range cow. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t wish to see him again and yet here he stood.

  “You may come in too, if you wish.”

  Patrick cast a sorrowful look in her direction when he entered. “Miss Haddon. Cassie. Your poor mother was sorely distressed at the contents of your letter. I can’t say I blame her.”

  She stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. “Forgive me for being blunt, but why are you involved? This is a matter between my mother and myself.”

  “I’m the one called to be responsible for you, not Mr. West. Reverend Greeley suggested I accompany her the moment she showed him your message.”

  She spun around to face her mother. “You showed Reverend Greeley my letter? Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Because I care about your future.”

  A wave of dizziness staggered her. She groped for a chair as her thoughts swung to the two men who held her mother in their spell. She could spend all evening sorting out the motives behind this visit, but she didn’t have all evening. Jacob would be here soon to escort her to Wash and Becca’s wedding.

  Mother reached across the table and patted her hand. “May I please have a cup of tea? I’m rather weary.”

  “I’m sure you must be.” Cassie tried to keep sarcasm from her voice. She rose and opened the firebox on her stove, stirred the coals, and dropped kindling over the embers. After filling a kettle, she placed it on top of the stove. “While we wait for the water to boil, perhaps Mr. Fitzhugh would be good enough to leave us so you can rest.”

  “That won’t be necessary. He kindly engaged two rooms for us at the hotel.” Mother glanced through the open doorway into Cassie’s bedroom. “Seeing you living in such circumstances makes me feel like a failure. I devoted my life to molding you into a lady, so you could marry well. Instead here you are, living in a cabin, working as a cook . . .” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  A plume of steam rose from the kettle. Cassie jerked her teapot from the shelf and dumped in a scoop of tea. Her hands shook as she poured water over the leaves. “I am going to marry well. In five weeks I’ll be Mrs. Jacob West.”

  Patrick lifted his hand, palm out. “As Garrett’s bro
ther, I’m obligated to take his place. I cannot disobey God’s Word.”

  She ignored him and splashed tea into a cup, placing the brew in front of her mother. “As soon as you’ve finished, I must excuse myself to change my dress. Jacob is coming in a few minutes. He’s hosting a wedding for two of his employees.”

  “Oh mercy sakes.” Mother fanned herself with her handkerchief. “His employees? Do you see why I’m concerned? I’m sure they have no social standing whatsoever.” She lifted the cup and took a small sip. “You wouldn’t have any sugar, would you?”

  Honor your mother. Honor your mother. Cassie repeated the words to herself while she crossed the room for the bowl and a spoon. As she placed the sugar on the table, she heard someone rap on the door frame.

  How like Jacob to be so eager to see her that he’d arrive early. And how unfortunate that the two people he’d least want to see were sitting in her home. Her shoulders sagged when she turned to answer his knock.

  Jacob rested his hand on the jamb when the door opened. “I know I’m early, but—”

  Cassie’s strained expression stopped him. He noticed she still wore her work dress, and loose tendrils escaped her pinned-up braids.

  “Forgive me. I thought you’d be ready. Did something go wrong this afternoon?”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “You might say that.” She moved away from the entrance.

  Her mother sat at the table, nailing him with a glare that could have burned leather. He took an involuntary step backward, then noticed Patrick Fitzhugh standing in the shadows.

  “Mrs. Bingham. Mr. Fitzhugh. What a—” He couldn’t say “pleasant.” “A surprise.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Fitzhugh said, his tone silky. “Mrs. Bingham was most anxious to see her daughter. As a family friend, I offered to help her make the journey.”

  Jacob shot a glance at Cassie, eyebrows raised.

  She folded her arms across her chest. Her lips thinned. “Mother and Mr. Fitzhugh arrived after Wash brought me home this afternoon. They’ll be staying at the hotel. I’ve already informed them of our plans for this evening.”