Twice a Bride

by Mona Hodgson

  Trenton pulled the camera and the box of glass plates off the wagon floor. “I’ll grab these. Thanks.” He followed Judson up the steps and through the foyer, searching for Willow in the gathering crowd.

  “Tucker says you’re new in town,” Judson said.

  “About three months now.”

  As Judson turned down a hallway, he spoke over his shoulder. “Good to have you here—in town and at the church.” The man with the permanent smile tapped on a closed door. “It’s Judson and Trenton, the photographer.”

  “Trenton.” Tucker’s voice was welcoming. “Come in.”

  Tucker and a dark-haired man in a black leather vest rose from armchairs. Trenton recognized the second man as Cripple Creek’s chief at the police department.

  “I didn’t m-mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t.” Tucker shook Trenton’s hand. “We meet for prayer every Sunday morning, and we just finished. Glad you came.” He glanced toward the table. “You can set your things back there. I’ll lock my office, and we can come get ’em before the picnic.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Tucker turned to the dark-haired man. “Carter, I’d like you to meet my friend Trenton Van Der Veer, Cripple Creek’s new photographer.”

  Trenton shook Carter’s hand. “You’re the police chief.”

  Tucker slapped Carter’s back. “And father to a fresh set of twin girls.”

  “Congratulations.” Carter Alwyn had the something more Trenton was feeling ready for—a family. With Willow.

  “Thanks.” Carter lifted a steaming cup off the desk. “I’ve seen your shop on First Street.”

  “Stop in next time,” Trenton said. “I keep hot coffee on the stove too.”

  Carter tugged the points on his vest. “Good to know. Thanks.”

  Tucker looked from Carter to Judson. “These two are part of Willow’s extended family—they both married Sinclair sisters. My third brother-in-law, Dr. Morgan Cutshaw, is home pacing the floor while his wife delivers their second baby.” Tucker lifted his Bible from the desk and looked at Trenton. “Guess we better get in there before our women come looking for us.”

  Trenton liked the sound of that.

  After the church service, Willow carried her two pies to the tables the men had arranged for the picnic. Walking beside her, Ida held Hattie’s pan of fried chicken.

  “Do you want the desserts anywhere in particular?” Willow asked.

  Ida breathed what Willow recognized as a thinking breath. “On that far end, perhaps?” She pointed to the table closest to the sycamore tree.

  Willow nodded and carried the pies to the last table. She, Ida, Vivian, Cherise, Hattie, and Etta Ondersma, among other women, were setting out the lunch. They’d already carried out the table settings. Tucker had announced that they would first satisfy their bellies, then gather for the camera.

  Etta was right behind them with a big basket of her sourdough rolls. She studied Willow’s pies. “Apple?”

  “Yes. My specialty.” According to Sam, anyway. She was anxious to find out if Trenton agreed.

  Etta’s gaze swept the three food tables and the growing bounty. “Everything looks delicious.”

  Willow nodded, making room for the pineapple upside-down cake Vivian carried toward them, but her mind wasn’t focused on lunch. She watched as Trenton started up the hillock with his tripod and camera bag. He’d not only come to the church this morning but joined the congregation in the sanctuary. She was already seated beside Ida and her family when Trenton walked in with Tucker, Carter, and Judson, looking relaxed and happy to be there, and sat on the aisle next to Judson.

  She was anxious to talk to him about what had happened yesterday with Susanna and with Tucker, but he was here to do a job and needed to set up for the church photograph. This wasn’t the time or place. If he’d shared anything about Susanna with Tucker, her brother hadn’t said. But before Tucker went to his office this morning for prayer, he did mention Trenton’s visit to the church yesterday afternoon and that her employer had placed his faith in Christ. Her own heart was still soaring and praising God for answered prayer.

  “He’s a good man.”

  Willow turned toward Vivian. “He is.”

  “And it looks to me …” Vivian paused as she studied Willow’s face. “I’d say you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Changed my mind?”

  “The day of my wedding last year, you said you’d had your turn at love.”

  She remembered. “Yes, the memory of Sam was still too fresh.”

  “And now?”

  “I may have changed my mind.” She held Vivian’s brown-eyed gaze. “Any word from Nell on the baby?”

  “Not yet, ye lady of diversion.”

  Willow offered her honorary sister a coy grin and curtsied before starting back to the church kitchen for another load of food. She knew who she’d choose for a second chance at love, but it wasn’t up to her. After Trenton’s troubles with Susanna Woods, she wouldn’t blame him for shying away from opening his heart again.

  Hattie spread the remaining pieces of chicken on the platter. Harlan had taken two thighs when he first filled his plate and come back for seconds. She smiled, remembering her conversation with Boney on Monday. She’d told Boney that after one bite of Etta’s sourdough bread rolls at the picnic, he’d be in love. He’d laughed and told her she ought to make sure Harlan got a big dose of her fried chicken.

  She’d done her part. Cooked up five fryers. The rest was up to Harlan.

  A little boy returned for another slice of her honey-wheat bread, and she patted his head. After she cleaned up a couple spills on her tablecloth, she stole another look at Harlan. The dapper father of the Sinclair sisters sat cross-legged on a blanket under a sycamore tree, surrounded by his family. Hope wiggled on his lap, her giggles traveling on the slight breeze. Vivian sat beside him, holding one of the twins. Ida held the other twin, while Cherise rolled a ball with William.

  Etta Ondersma approached and fussed with a couple of salad bowls. Concern fanned the lines that framed her hazel eyes. “You and Boney have been friends for a lot of years. Are you sure you don’t mind that he and I are seeing each other? I would’ve told you, but Boney wanted to tell you himself.”

  Hattie removed an empty salad dish from the serving table. “I think it’s wonderful. Unless you plan to tell me I can’t see my friend.”

  Etta smiled. “I have no intention of breaking up any friendships.” She stirred a potato salad and straightened a bread basket. “As a matter of fact …” She glanced at the Sinclair family. “I’m hoping the four of us can go out to supper sometime.”

  Hattie sighed. “You, my friend, are suffering from a bad case of wishful thinking.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He can’t seem to get enough of your fried chicken. He’d probably come back for more if you weren’t watching him so closely.”

  “I’m not.”

  Etta creased her brow.

  “All right. I am,” Hattie said.

  “And you’re not alone. Whenever you’re not looking at him, he’s stealing a glance at you.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “You know he is.”

  Hattie resisted the impulse to look at Harlan. “We’re a couple of old widows behaving like schoolgirls.”

  “Fun, isn’t it?”

  It’d be more fun if Harlan Sinclair loved her.

  “Hattie, you were so right about Vivian. She’s a wonderful designer. Business has more than doubled since she opened the shop here.” Etta brushed a graying tuft of blond hair from her cheek. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it doubles again when she starts taking those adorable babies to the shop.”

  “You know I’ll be there,” Hattie said. Vivian’s mother would have been so proud of her. Hattie certainly was. “All four of the Sinclair sisters are hard working.”

  “And talented. Just this week I read Kat’s most recent article in Harper’s Bazar. A mesmerizing story
about our very own Doc Susie.”

  “Yes, I read it too. Wonderful writing.”

  Harlan walked toward the table alone, his steps purposeful. Where was he putting all that chicken?

  “Hattie, can you spare the time for a stroll?” he asked. Her whipped butter wasn’t as smooth as his voice.

  Etta took the empty salad dish from her. “Boney and I will watch the tables.”

  Harlan offered Hattie his arm, and she laid her hand on his shirt sleeve, sending a shiver up her spine. They walked toward the parsonage in silence.

  The butterflies were back in her stomach. He wanted to talk to her alone. Was it to plead his case that she’d be the perfect substitute mother for Cherise?

  When they reached the parsonage gate, she looked at him. “Any word from Nell? Has Kat delivered the baby?”

  “We’re still waiting to hear.” He guided her to the white cast-iron bench among the stand of golden aspen trees.

  Hattie sat down, but he remained standing and cleared his throat. Knots replaced the butterflies in her stomach. Had something happened to Kat and the baby? Was that why he’d taken her away from the crowd?

  “Are you sure everything is all right?” she asked.

  He removed his bowler. “She’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “At Vivian’s, the day you went shopping with Cherise and I …”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid I may have misrepresented myself on the porch.”

  “Oh?” He hadn’t meant to propose marriage?

  “I asked you to marry me, to be my wife and a mother to Cherise.”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  He knelt on one knee in front of her.

  The butterflies returned with reinforcements.

  He clasped her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “Hattie Adams, it is a treasured gift to have a friend who has so generously poured herself into the lives of my four grown daughters these past two years.”

  Tears stung her eyes.

  “And the way you’ve come alongside Cherise,” he continued, “you’ve helped her in ways I never could.”

  “It has been my pleasure.” Her voice cracked with emotion. Where was he going with all this?

  “But, Hattie, it is especially wonderful when the woman you love can make the world’s best fried chicken.”

  Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “The woman you love?”

  He nodded. “I think I knew it the minute I saw the burned potatoes.”

  She blotted her wet face.

  He squeezed her hand. “Hattie, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “I love you too, Harlan. Yes, let’s be married.”

  She bent to kiss him on the forehead, and he surprised her, lifting his face and touching his lips to hers.

  All her wishful thinking had found a home, and so had her heart.

  Willow shifted her gaze from beneath the tree, where Trenton was setting up his camera and tripod, to the parsonage. She and Ida had both watched Mr. Sinclair take Miss Hattie away from her duties at the food tables.

  “Did your father tell you his plan?” Willow asked.

  Ida reached for her cup of apple cider. “Not in so many words, but I hope he’s telling her the truth. His feelings for her aren’t limited to her maternal qualities.”

  “I hope you’re right. Anyone can see the two of them belong together.”

  “Sometimes what is crystal clear to others isn’t as obvious to the people involved.” Ida’s eyebrow angled to match her grin.

  And sometimes it was apparent to one of the people involved long before it dawned on the other. Did Trenton have any idea of her feelings for him?

  “I suspect we’ll have another wedding around here.” Ida peered over the cup at her. “A double wedding, perhaps.” There went that eyebrow again.

  Willow’s face warmed despite the cooling temperature. Her sister-in-law had posed it as a statement rather than a question. “Trenton and I are still getting acquainted with each other.”

  A demure smile lit Ida’s face. “So are Tucker and I.”

  Willow remembered yesterday and her time with Trenton. I want you to know me, Trenton had said after she told him she didn’t need the details of his past with Susanna. What Tucker said rang true for her—the more she knew Trenton, the more she loved him.

  There, she’d admitted it. At least to herself.

  “Nell!” Ida pointed to the road, and they both stood.

  Nell scurried toward them.

  Vivian walked up. “A niece or a nephew?”

  “A nephew.” Winded, Nell patted her chest. “Ezra Harlan Cutshaw.”

  “After Father,” Ida said.

  “And Morgan’s grandfather.” Nell drew in a deep breath.

  Willow joined the sisterly hugs. “And they’re well?”

  “Yes. Kat and Ezra are doing fine. Napping.” Nell studied the nearby blankets. “Where’s Father?”

  Vivian glanced toward the parsonage. “Father took Miss Hattie for a stroll.”

  “I see.” Romantic notions colored Nell’s voice. “We’ll tell them about the baby later.”

  Ida nodded. “I suspect he and Hattie may have big news of their own by then.”

  When the sisters started comparing notes on their father’s relationship with Miss Hattie, Willow decided to go for a stroll by herself. Announcing her departure would only draw unwanted attention and speculation, which would probably have been too accurate for her comfort, so she slipped away during a hardy laugh.

  She visited for a moment with Boney, then headed to the food tables. Etta Ondersma was busy talking with a couple of other women at the far end. Willow searched out her pie plate: empty. She bent to the crate under the table and pulled out the second pie.

  “Saved one for the photographer, did you?” Etta stood beside her.

  “Not the whole pie.”

  Etta laughed. “If I’d-a let him, Boney would’ve eaten the whole basket of my sourdough rolls.”

  Hopefully, Trenton would go for her apple pie like Mr. Sinclair had gone for Miss Hattie’s fried chicken and Boney for Etta’s rolls.

  “Don’t you worry, dear.” Etta patted Willow’s hand. “This’ll be our little secret. Vivian mentioned you were working for Mr. Van Der Veer and that it was going … well.” She pursed her lips, and Willow found it difficult to believe anyone around here—the city of hopeless romantics—could keep a secret.

  If only Trenton could be counted among them.

  “You go ahead, Willow.” Etta shooed her toward the hillock where Trenton stood behind his tripod.

  Willow had just walked away from the tables when a woman in a red hat stepped in front of her.

  “Willow, as in Portraits by Willow?”

  “Yes.” Willow lowered the pie and looked into the smug face of the woman she’d seen in Trenton’s studio. Hattie had told her the woman had shown up at the boardinghouse yesterday looking for her. The woman she assumed had already left town. “Willow Peterson. And you are?”

  “Susanna Woods.” A smirk added sparkle to her blue eyes. “The woman you saw with Trenton.”

  Heat rushed into Willow’s face. Miss Woods had seen her watching from the boardwalk. No wonder she’d touched Trenton the way she had.

  “I’m his fiancée,” Miss Woods said.

  “Former fiancée is closer to Trenton’s understanding.”

  “Well, well. It seems Trenton has found himself quite the gullible fan.”

  “A soft answer turneth away wrath.” But if her Heavenly Father didn’t give her a soft answer soon—

  “Did Trenton tell you we were together yesterday at the confectionary?” Miss Woods asked.

  After he’d gone to the parsonage with her, and they’d shared their stories with one another? She glanced toward the men at the tripod. Trenton and her brother were engaged in a conversation that seemed to leave them both oblivious to her situation.

  Miss Woods clucked her tongue. “Shame, shame on Trenton.
”

  Willow moistened her lips. She knew Trenton Van Der Veer. If he was at the confectionary with Miss Woods, he had a noble explanation. After a deep breath, she met the other woman’s haughty gaze. “Here’s what is a shame, Miss Woods. It’s that a handsome woman like yourself, still blessed with youth, would think so little of herself as to pursue a man without affection for her. For what? A career?”

  Miss Woods huffed, the sparkle gone from her eyes.

  “Don’t you want more? The love of the right man, for instance?” Willow sighed. That was what she’d known with Sam, and she was finally ready to experience love with the right man again.

  “You don’t know me. Or what I want.” Her lips pressed together, Miss Woods spun and sauntered toward the hillock. Toward Trenton.

  “Are you all right, sis?” Tucker stepped up from behind and braced her elbow. Willow turned and looked up into his tender face.

  “I am. Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath. “That was Susanna Woods from—”

  “Trenton’s past. He told me about her. Some of us don’t give up very easily.”

  “But … I feel sorry for her. She’s come all this way, and Trenton doesn’t want her here.”

  “Is that what you said to her?”

  “I told her it was a shame for a handsome young woman like her to pursue a man who had no affections for her.”

  “True to who you are, you spoke the truth.” Tucker glanced toward the hillock. “Now you need to trust him. He’ll know what to say to her.”

  If only she were so sure.

  While the others cleaned up the picnic area, Trenton folded the tripod and slid it into its sack. He’d taken three photographs of the First Congregational Church family, as Tucker referred to them. And, surprisingly, today he felt like part of the family. He considered it amazing that he’d been so comfortable sitting in the sanctuary this morning. In front of the preacher, no less.

  Now if only he felt half as good about his predicament with Susanna. She’d made the decision to come to Cripple Creek, and it was her choice whether to leave or not. But she was imprudent and alone here, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for her.