Instead she entered a tiny country church, walked down an aisle barely fifty feet long, wearing a simple suit of cream silk, the only dress clothes she’d brought with her. She’d had to borrow a veil. Her corsage consisted of flowers gathered from Mrs. Purvis’s yard. Danny walked down the aisle ahead of her—he looked back every few steps to make certain she was following him—carrying the wedding ring on a pillow borrowed from the preacher. Gabe, dressed in his Sunday best, waited for her down front. At least she wasn’t disappointed on one score. He was as handsome as any bridegroom from her dreams.
She managed to control her emotions until they got to the vows. Up until then, she told herself she was going through the necessary steps in a game of deception to keep Danny. But when Gabe slipped the ring on her finger and said the part that began with this ring I thee wed she nearly lost it.
This wasn’t the wedding she’d dreamed of, a bridegroom waiting at the altar who loved her desperately, who she loved more than life. This wasn’t the beginning of her happy ever after. It wasn’t the joyous occasion she longed to share with her parents and friends. It wasn’t her declaration to the world that she’d achieved her dream, that now she was happy.
She told herself not to confuse this ceremony with the real thing. It was a sham, a make-believe wedding. Gabe didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. They were doing this to protect Danny. As soon as he was safe, the marriage would disappear like it had never been. She could still have her dream.
It didn’t help that Gabe’s mother cried throughout the entire ceremony. Not silently, not quietly sniffing into her handkerchief. No, every time they came to some significant line in the ceremony—I do! was her favorite—she’d take a shuddering breath and be off again. It was made worse by an outlandishly dressed female in purple fingernails and blue eyeshadow who sat next to Mrs. Purvis and consoled her in very audible whispers.
Dana looked forward to the recessional as an unconditional retreat.
No such luck. She’d no sooner reached the vestibule than one of the ushers told Dana they were expected in the hotel lobby immediately for a reception.
“I specifically stipulated no reception,” Dana hissed in Gabe’s ear.
“I had nothing to do with it. The minute the ladies heard we were getting married, they turned the town inside out putting together a reception.”
“Who told them?”
“Ma. Who did you expect?”
She should have known Mrs. Purvis couldn’t keep her son’s marriage secret. “Why did they do it?”
“It’s their way of welcoming you into the community.”
She didn’t believe that. It was more probably their way of scaring her half to death.
“You said they didn’t like you because of your mother. This shows they don’t blame you for what she did.”
Why did he always have a reasonable answer for everything? Their marriage wouldn’t last very long, but maybe she’d have time to teach him that a good husband knew when to abandon reason for emotion.
But he didn’t know women. If she was any judge, they’d been whispering behind their veils the whole time she and Gabe were exchanging vows. They had to be wondering why the marriage was so rushed, why it had come so soon after Mattie and Mr. Purvis’s deaths. Dana’s cheeks felt warm just thinking of the things they must have been saying.
By the time she and Gabe had finished signing the license in the preacher’s office, the church had emptied. Maybe she’d imagined the entire wedding. She coaxed Gabe into walking as slowly as possible to the hotel. She felt absolutely certain the first person she met would want to know when they were going to have their first child.
“I still don’t understand why your mother’s so happy,” Dana said. “I thought she’d be shocked at your marrying me so fast.”
“She was a little surprised,” Gabe said. “Okay, she was flabbergasted, but Ma likes you. She always has. Once she got over her surprise, she started to grin. ‘I always knew you had a liking for that girl,’ she said. I decided it would be best if she went on thinking that. She reminded me that Mattie always said you still liked me.”
“She didn’t!” Dana exclaimed.
“Yes, she did,” Gabe said. “Remember, I read all her letters, too.”
Dana felt like her old friend had stabbed her in the back. “But what about everybody else?”
“People around here pretty much accept you right off or it takes fifty years. I told you they liked you when you were a kid. They liked your grandmother, too. They really want us to be happy. Besides, they don’t see it as so sudden. After all, we’ve known each other for more than twenty years.”
She entered the darkened hotel lobby. It would be nice to stay here. Maybe she could hide behind one of the huge ferns, let Gabe go to the reception by himself while she tried to readjust her thinking. He practically pulled her through the lobby and up the stairs to the ladies’ parlor on the second floor. She stepped through the huge double doors and came to an abrupt halt.
The room was about one hundred feet long, forty feet deep, had sixteen-foot ceilings, and huge floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. The furniture and the potted plants had been pushed against the walls and into corners. She and Gabe stood exposed to the gaze of every person present.
Every citizen of Iron Springs had squeezed into the room, mostly gathered around a table that groaned with pies, cakes, cookies, brownies and pastries, even homemade doughnuts. Since every pie and cake had already been cut, Dana knew the women had brought whatever they could find in their refrigerators. She couldn’t decide whether to feel complimented or insulted.
Mrs. Purvis emerged from the crowd to give her son a big hug. She kept on kissing him until Gabe took her by the shoulders and put her at a distance.
“Enough of that,” he said smiling, a little guiltily Dana thought. “Go cry over Dana for a while.”
The happy woman flung wide her arms, clasped Dana in a hug that would have done justice to a female wrestler, and pressed her to her bosom. Dana felt engulfed.
“I’m so happy,” Mrs. Purvis said, weeping unashamedly, her tears falling on Dana’s silk top. “I didn’t think Gabe would ever get married again. I always knew he had a soft spot in his heart for you.” She kissed Dana almost as many times as she kissed Gabe. “I’m so glad you forgave him. Mattie said you always liked him.”
Try as she might, Dana couldn’t keep her body from stiffening, but that didn’t slow Mrs. Purvis’s flow of chatter.
“I would have gotten a proper wedding cake from Harrisonburg if Gabe had given me more notice.”
“It’s all right,” Dana assured her. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“We couldn’t let you get married and do nothing,” Hannah said. “Your poor grandmother would turn in her grave.”
If her poor grandmother had any idea why she’d gotten married, she was already spinning.
The entire town lined up to congratulate Dana, shake her hand, hug and kiss her, tease her about having caught the bachelor everybody thought had made a clean getaway.
“Now the married men can put up their shotguns,” Solomon Trinket said.
“I never climbed in anybody’s window,” Gabe said, grinning at the ancient old man.
“Who said anything about you? It’s their wives they was worried about. No man with a beer belly and a bald spot can rest easy with an unattached young colt like you about.”
“I can’t leave the old coot for a minute without him talking about sex,” Hannah Coleman complained.
“Looking at you sure don’t do it,” Solomon shot back.
“It’s a good thing, or I’d ’a’ knocked you senseless twenty years ago.”
That episode was just absurd enough to break the tension, and Dana began to relax and enjoy herself. Overwhelmed by the townspeople’s goodwill, she hated to think how they’d feel when they found out what she and Gabe had done. They’d forgive him, but she’d never be welcome in Iron Springs again.
“Time to cut one of the cakes,” someone called.
“Which one?”
“Let Dana choose.”
Dana chose a seven-layer cake filled with jam. It looked just like the ones her grandmother used to make. For a moment she could almost imagine herself back at the farm sitting in the spotless kitchen. Life had been so sweet, so uncomplicated then. Why did everything have to be so difficult now?
“Cake,” Danny announced, pushing his way forward until his nose practically touched the cake.
Dana laughed. “Give me a chance to cut it, you little pig. I’ll give you a piece in a minute.”
Danny didn’t move until Dana handed him a slice of cake on a napkin. She broke off a piece and fed it to him. She didn’t dare let him feed himself. He’d have half the cake in his mouth and the rest on the floor.
“You going to give me a piece of that cake?” Gabe asked.
“You’ve got to link arms first.” The outlandish female with purple fingernails again. “That’s real sexy,” she cooed.
Dana felt certain she’d made that up. But when she hooked her arm with Gabe’s and lifted a piece of cake to his open mouth, a feeling of suppressed excitement swept through her. She looked at his mouth and lips, really looked at them. She still couldn’t put her finger on exactly what made them look so sexy. Maybe his mouth was a little wider, his lips a little more generous. Maybe his grin wasn’t perfectly symmetrical. Maybe none of that mattered. All that really counted was that he had a mouth that made her think of kisses.
A tremor caused Dana to shudder.
“Anything wrong?” Gabe asked.
“Just a little nervous.” How could she tell this man who thought she actively disliked him that she couldn’t think of anything except kissing him silly, having him kiss her just as thoroughly?
“Open up,” Gabe said.
She took only a small bite of cake. Her throat was so tight she wasn’t sure she could swallow.
“Now he’s supposed to lick the icing off your lips,” Ms. Purple Nails said.
“I wished I’d known that at my wedding,” one man said, winking at his embarrassed wife.
“There’s no icing on that cake.”
“He can pretend, can’t he?” Ms. Purple Nails asked.
“Sure can,” Gabe said.
“This wasn’t in the agreement,” Dana hissed, not sure she could manage this.
“It’s part of the game,” Gabe whispered.
Still she wasn’t prepared for the shock of Gabe’s tongue gently brushing her lips. Her belly tightened. She sucked in a startled breath, gripped his arm so hard she was certain her nails left imprints.
“We need more cake,” Ms. Purple Nails called. “Something with lots of really sticky icing.”
Dana knew she couldn’t endure that. “It’s time for everyone else to have some cake,” she said, picking up the knife. “Who may I serve first?”
“We need bride and groom pictures,” Ms. Purple Nails announced
“Who are you?” Dana finally asked. “And why are you doing this?”
“I’m Salome Halfacre, and I’m doing this because we wouldn’t have any fun if I didn’t. Everybody here is too stodgy.”
Stodgy sounded wonderful to Dana, but apparently Salome had fractured all sense of restraint. Everyone took out cameras and demanded pictures of the happy couple.
Someone snatched the knife away, and hands pushed Dana into Gabe’s arms.
“Hold her real tight,” someone urged.
“Look into his eyes.”
“She’ll get a crick in her neck.”
“Might as well let him stand tall while he can. With a body like that, she’ll bring him to his knees soon enough.”
Solomon Trinket again. Dana decided he must have been a real terror starting about the time of World War I. Every shotgun in the valley must have been kept oiled and ready for decades.
Dana worried that her retinas would be permanently damaged by the number of flashes that exploded in her face. Colored bubbles still burst before her eyes when an unexpected hush fell on the room. Her eyes finally came into focus, and she found herself facing a rotund little man.
“Are you Gabriel Purvis?” he demanded of Gabe.
“Who are you?” Salome demanded. “And what are you doing at a private party?”
Dana had to give the man credit. The startling sight of Salome’s purple fingernails, blue eyeshadow and lipstick that could only be described as vampire crimson, held him mesmerized for only a moment.
“I’m looking for Gabriel Purvis.”
“You found him,” Gabe said. “Who are you?”
“Who’s that?” the man asked, indicating Dana.
“Can’t you recognize a bride when you see one?” Salome asked.
That piece of news didn’t sit well with the man. “Are you the one who got married?”
“I don’t see that’s any concern of yours,” Gabe said.
“I’m Chester Dowd,” he announced, “attorney for Lucius Abernathy, Danny Abernathy’s natural father.”
Dana felt herself go rigid. She’d forgotten all about Lucius and his lawyer.
“His name’s Danny Purvis,” Gabe said.
“Not for long,” the lawyer said. “I’m here to let you know I filed a request last week for custody on behalf of my client.”
“If you filed it in New York, it has no validity in Virginia,” Dana said.
He spun on her angrily. “You got out of New York very fast, didn’t you?”
Dana didn’t trust herself to answer.
“What my wife did or didn’t do is not the issue here,” Gabe said.
“Wife!” he exclaimed, clearly shocked despite the evidence of a wedding he must already have noted.
“Duh!” Salome said. “That’s why they’re hugging and kissing and having their picture taken. I thought you had to be intelligent to be a lawyer.”
“This is a fake,” the lawyer said.
“I can assure you it’s not,” the Reverend Pike said. “I performed the ceremony. They have signed the proper licenses.”
“It’s a put-up job so they can steal my client’s son.”
Chapter Eight
Dana’s heart leaped into her throat. What would the people who’d been celebrating their wedding think? She’d played a trick on them, and this man had exposed it right before their eyes.
“I can assure you the marriage is genuine,” Reverend Pike repeated.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Dowd said. “I have a complete file on Miss Marsh. I know every man she’s dated for the past ten years. This man isn’t one of them.”
“My son and his wife have known each other since they were children,” Mrs. Purvis said.
“He used to serve her ice cream cones in my store,” Hannah said. “Gave her twice as much ice cream as he ought.”
Some of the townspeople laughed.
“Used to talk about her all the time,” one man said. “I thought they shoulda got married years ago.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Mr. Dowd said, trying to regain the floor.
But no one would let him. First one person than another insisted upon recounting an incident that convinced them Dana and Gabe had been in love for years, that only a cruel accident of fate—in the form of Ellen—had prevented them from marrying sooner.
Dana could hardly believe her ears. No one believed Mr. Dowd. What’s more, they were doing their best to convince him they had known from the first how things would turn out.
“We’ve talked enough,” Salome declared. “Kiss her,” she ordered Gabe. “Show this Yankee coon dog that mountain folk don’t lie when it comes to love.”
“My pleasure,” Gabe said, flashing a brilliant smile at the lawyer. “And you don’t have to worry about getting a good picture the first time,” he said. “We’ll do this as often as necessary.”
Chuckles greeted his sally. Solomon Trinket’s earthy comment caused Dana to blush.
“For Go
d’s sake, look as if you’re enjoying this,” Gabe hissed before he took her in his arms and gave her a kiss that took her breath away.
Instead of enjoyment, Dana felt stunned, shocked, mesmerized, petrified—virtually any emotion that indicated uncontrolled fear and bone-deep panic. Under the triple assault of fear for Danny, alarm over the prospect of Gabe’s kiss and embarrassment at being forced to perform before the whole town, she felt the usual panic when things went out of control. That made her reaction to Gabe’s kiss even more frightening.
Being in his arms, being held tight against his body, swept away all the constraints that enabled her to control her feelings. The kiss swept away all the lies she’d been telling herself for the past fourteen years. She hadn’t ceased to think of Gabe or to compare every man she met to him. With just a little encouragement—maybe as little as another kiss or two—she could become infatuated all over again. Her whole structure of self-deception came tumbling down with a resounding crash.
She emerged from the kiss breathless, flushed, terrified.
“Kiss her again,” someone called. “My flash didn’t work.”
“I couldn’t get a good shot with so many people in the way.”
Gabe took her in his arms, bent her so low she thought for a moment he was going to lay her on the floor, then kissed her with all the flair of a Hollywood Latin lover.
“Again.”
“No.”
But Dana’s protest got lost in the chorus of requests for just one more picture. Events seemed to swirl around her, disconnected, random, unreal, until the preacher’s voice broke through the clamor.
“We’ve required this poor couple to perform like circus animals long enough,” he said, his deep displeasure directed at Mr. Dowd. “They have to visit with their guests before heading off on their honeymoon. If you’ve got anything else to say, I suggest you say it to his lawyer. Marshall, take this man over to your house and give him a stiff whisky.”
Mr. Dowd didn’t want to leave, but several husky men propelled him from the room.
Married by High Noon Page 9