Which almost made up for the fact that it was raining.
It was a day of grays, drippy and cold.
How dare it not be sunny and bright? The way she felt inside. Excited. Jittery.
If the temperature dropped, and the rain turned to snow... Well, that simply wouldn’t stop her. They could get three feet of snow piled up against the back door, and she’d still insist on being wed today.
She and Adam had done enough waiting.
Her mother had insisted on “a proper church wedding,” with all the combined families from Denver attending, and fresh flowers, so they’d had to wait until all the snow cleared and everyone could travel in comfort. With each snowfall and delay, Mandy had felt she might go mad.
She was convinced Mama had secretly dragged things out to determine if Mandy was “truly set on marrying a banker.”
She was, of course.
There could be no doubt about that.
Not an hour earlier, she’d submitted to being cinched into a corset trimmed in white lace and bows. Her mother and sisters had done something miraculous to her hair as well. They’d styled it into a glorious confection of loops and curls, caught up at her nape with silver combs and trailing white ribbons. Then, somehow, a waterfall of curls spilled down her back and over her shoulders. How had they made her hair look longer? Mandy had no idea. It was the most impractical thing she’d ever seen. And yet she adored it.
Her dress was a floor-length dream of perfection. Made of the palest peach silk and dotted with tiny white seed pearls from bodice to hem.
Her reflection stared back at her. Did she really look that pretty?
Though Mandy could barely take a full breath—as nipped and tucked in as she was—she truly wanted to look her best for Adam.
Adam.
She sighed at the mere thought of his name. His face. His eyes.
The way he looked at her.
The rapid pitter-pat of her heart whenever he touched her hand.
In less than an hour, her father would drive her into town and walk her down the aisle of the church, and Adam would be there waiting for her.
In front of God—and every living person in Cross Creek.
Immediately, her whole body clenched into one big knot of anxiety.
The wedding.
She was getting married.
Today.
Mama had gone out once again with Emma and Juliana—in between their endless primping sessions. They had their own dresses and hair to attend to—thankfully, so she had a few moments to herself to simply breathe. Mandy checked the door and quickly scrawled another reply to an Ask Mack letter, finding the familiar act of writing settled her nerves. She’d been doing this all morning, sneaking little bits of time with her newspaper column. At the sound of footsteps approaching her door, Mandy quickly capped her fountain pen and stuffed it and her papers under the hem of her voluminous skirt. She fixed an innocent expression on her face as the door opened.
“Mandy,” her mother complained, breezing in for the nineteen-thousandth time, without knocking, “the heels of your dress slippers are far too high. You’ll be looking Adam directly in the eye. Here, I’ve bought this sweet pair that have practically no heel at all—”
“Thank you, Mama,” Mandy said quickly, stepping firmly onto her papers. Unfortunately, the pen went rolling off across the rug behind her. Uh oh. “These are just fine.”
“But Adam.”
“Adam says he loves me just the way I am.”
“He says—he says that?” Mama went suddenly still, her arms dropping straight down at her sides.
“Mama?” Mandy asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. Had she made her mother feel unwanted or unappreciated? “I do appreciate your help. You know that, don’t you?”
Mama waved the pretty flat-soled slippers in a dismissive fashion. She dropped them onto the rug and dabbed a tear from her eye. “It’s simply that I’m happy for you. It means so much that you’ve found someone to love you just the way you are.”
All those years of motherly criticisms—of reminders to not slouch, to “mind her manners,” to “behave like a lady and not a cowhand”—all slipped away in an instant.
Mandy forgot her papers entirely and stepped forward to crush her mother against her in a fierce embrace. “Oh, Mama. You are happy for me, aren’t you?” Mandy’s eyes stung, and she hoped the tip of her nose hadn’t turned a telltale pink. It was tingly—the way it felt just moments before she burst into tears. But not today. She was getting married today, and any tears would have to wait until after the ceremony.
“Of course I’m happy for you.” Mama alternately smoothed and patted Mandy’s back. “I only ever wanted you to be happy. All you girls. Now, mind you don’t crush your dress. It took an age to press.”
Mandy pulled back and nibbled on her bottom lip. She wanted more than anything to tell her mother her secret. She was proud of Ask Mack. If only her parents could be proud of her too...
“Mandy, dear?” Mama asked, her attention focused on the rug behind Mandy. “What are those papers there on the floor?”
Here was her opportunity.
Mandy took a deep cleansing breath.
“Is that a...a letter to Ask Mack?” Mama squinted, then turned a wide-eyed gaze on Mandy.
Breathe in, breathe out.
You can do this.
“I’m Ask Mack, Mama. Well, I’m Mack, anyway. I’m the one who answers all those letters that come in to the paper.”
“You what?” Mama’s hand fluttered to her throat.
“Well, I’ve always been good with the business side of the ranch, more so than household matters, as you would know...” Mandy moistened her suddenly dry lips. Her mother’s face had gone almost entirely expressionless.
“You’re Ask Mack? You’re Mack, the advice columnist? You answer letters in the newspaper—letters from men?”
“I am. I do.” Mandy spread her hands, willing her mother to accept her for all she was.
“Well.” Mama seemed to be having trouble knowing what to do with her hands. At first she wrung them, then she folded them tightly together as if holding onto some very powerful emotion.
“Please be happy for me, Mama,” Mandy whispered. “I want more than anything for you to be—to be proud of me.”
“Well, of course I’m proud of you, darling.” Mama waved that away, as if it were a matter of course, and perhaps it was. Perhaps she was proud of Mandy and always had been. Could it be possible? “I’m proud of all your accomplishments. It’s simply that—”
“No one must ever know,” Mandy said mechanically.
“Think of the scandal, Amanda dear. You must think of your reputation. And your father. Oh dear, your father.”
“I’ll never tell a soul.”
Her mother smiled shakily. “You’re truly Ask Mack?”
“Truly,” Mandy said, resigned to a life of secrecy and shame. But then, what was Mama’s smile all about?
To Mandy’s utter surprise, her mother gave a quick little squeal and the tiniest little bounce. “Why, you’re famous, Mandy, famous!”
Mandy looked at her nonplussed. One moment she was a scandal, the next she was famous? How in the world was she supposed to feel about that?
Happy, she decided. You may as well be happy, Mandy girl. You’re getting married after all. And you’re “famous.” At least in secret.
And then she couldn’t stop herself—she dissolved into helpless giggles for quite some time.
Mama tried to stop her, but gave in to her own brief bout of giggles. She swatted Mandy on the arm.
“Do stop. Your father will be pulling up with the wedding carriage any moment to take us into town. He’s been in quite a state this morning, walking up and down the length of the foyer, endlessly practicing taking you down the aisle.” Mama smiled affectionately.
Mandy froze, a giggle dying an inelegant death right in her throat. A thousand tiny butterflies began dancing their turbulent dance in her
belly.
She placed her hand there and whispered, “Tell me it will all be wonderful, Mama.”
Her mother gently gathered Mandy’s hands in hers and squeezed.
“It will all be wonderful.”
Chapter 29
Later that morning, Mandy stood in the vestibule of the church with her father, waiting for their cue to enter. The shadowed space between the outermost doors and the inner doors that led into the sanctuary was tiny, almost not deep enough to fit her full skirt. Certainly not large enough to fit one of her sisters as an attendant to fluff her train. There were no windows, but there were a few cracks of light in the siding. A chilly draft crept in across the wood planks and snuck under her hem. She could hear the numbing sound of water dripping from a downspout outside. The rain had still not let up.
From behind the inner doors came the muted sounds of papers rustling—the wedding programs, most likely—and lowered voices too, reminding Mandy that a room full of people waited within.
And Adam was there already. Waiting for her too.
Mandy buried her nose in her bouquet of fresh pink rosebuds and breathed in. The soft flowery scent was lovely, but did little to settle her jumpy nerves.
This interminable time of waiting was nearly too much to bear. How long had they been standing here? Five minutes? Ten? It seemed like forever.
And her toes had gone cold from the draft.
Papa extended his elbow to her, preparing manfully, it appeared, to lead her down the aisle. Any moment now the pianist would begin the wedding march and the sanctuary doors would swing open. She took his arm gratefully. Perhaps sensing her nerves, he patted her hand.
“I’m proud of you, Mandy girl,” he said quietly. Until now, they’d been waiting in silence, fearing their voices might carry to the wedding guests.
She smiled, prepared to whisper something back. Before she could choose her words, Papa spoke again.
“Or should I call you...Mack?” He lowered his brows and sent her a reproving look.
Mandy froze. For a moment, she could only stare at her father in wide-eyed shock.
“Mama told you?” she asked, still not daring to move even the slightest bit.
“Um-hmm. Just before we left the house.”
“I know you must be...angry...” Mandy faltered. Why had Papa brought this up now—here—in the church? On her wedding day? Although, perhaps he’d tried to wait and simply hadn’t been able to hold himself back. It was a very large secret. And they’d been waiting here for so long.
“Angry?” He drew his head back, as if the idea were preposterous. “Why would I be angry? I just wish you’d told me yourself. It’s an excellent column. I couldn’t be prouder.”
“You couldn’t?” Mandy whispered. Her fingers closed around the sleeve of his suit coat.
“Couldn’t have done better myself.”
Mandy smiled faintly, finding it hard to believe she was hearing what she was hearing. “But... ‘Just don’t tell anyone,’ right?” she asked.
Papa gave her a lopsided grin. “I never said that.”
“But Mama would.”
“Perhaps, but she’s so happy for you, Mandy. I think she’d climb up to the top of the church steeple and scream it out to everyone if she weren’t raised so very proper.”
Mandy barely held back a laugh. The very thought of her oh-so-proper mother doing anything so outrageous. It was the perfect thing to say, chasing away her wedding jitters.
Mama knew her secret. Papa knew now too. And he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed in her. He’d said he was proud.
He patted her hand again. “Mama picked out a proper present for you, but I was wondering...” His voice turned gruff. “Is there anything else you might want? Something from me. Maybe another horse?”
Mandy didn’t pause a single second. “Daisy.”
A piano key twanged off-key. An accident, from the sound of it. Then the march started up gaily. The church doors swung open and the sound swelled into the vestibule.
“Daisy?” Papa protested, ignoring the congregation, who stood and turned toward them.
“Daisy,” Mandy whispered. She felt the eyes of everyone on her. Her heart was already flying down to Adam’s side to exchange their vows, but this was one very important detail. Too important to let go.
“But she’s my best hunting dog,” Papa protested softly. He attempted to urge Mandy forward, but she held him back.
“She’s retired,” she said.
“But I love Daisy.”
“I love her more.”
“But—”
“You have seven other dogs.”
“Those are herding dogs.”
“Papa...”
“I’ll think about it,” he said noncommittally, and at last Mandy allowed him to lead her forward past the smiling, curious faces of every single person she knew in Cross Creek.
Mandy gripped his arm as she practically floated down the aisle. There was Adam up front, standing tall and proud. Looking handsome in a new gray wedding suit. He watched her every step. Her breath caught at the memory of him smoothing her hair back, in the hours before they last parted. How he’d whispered words of love in her ear and kissed her cheek so softly. A shiver whispered through her, and she almost forgot to move.
She almost—for a second—forgot that all of Cross Creek was there watching them.
The guests were no more than a blur of indistinct faces when she’d first stepped through the doors, but now she saw them. The church was so packed some of the younger men were standing against the walls.
There was Gus, giving her a reserved smile. He looked every inch the respectable town editor in his dapper brown suit and a neatly tucked-under black string tie.
Russell stood in the pews with Judith, his wife. They’d married six months ago after a whirlwind courtship, surprising everyone in town—except for Mandy and Darby, of course. Judith looked so pretty today, her face rosy with health now that she was past the first early weeks of her pregnancy. As Mandy drew near, Judith lifted a snowy white handkerchief to her nose and sniffed delicately. Her eyes shone with happy tears. Mandy smiled. It meant the world to see her friend so moved by her special day. And Russell—he tipped a non-existent hat at her. In an instant, it seemed all the years of hurt between them faded away.
Mandy’s smile wobbled a little at the thought, but she kept moving at the stately pace her mother had made her and Papa rehearse, over and over.
Then she saw Darby standing in the side aisle near the front, leaning in a purposefully negligent pose against one of the tall stained glass windows. He winked at her. The rascal. He was supposed to be in the pew with Mama and the rest of the family. He likely knew he’d have trouble sitting still through the ceremony. He got the jitters when he was nervous. Which meant he was nervous today, on her behalf. In only the best way possible, she was sure.
Mandy laughed a little under her breath, nearly overwhelmed with emotion. How much had changed since the morning her cousin had discovered she was Mack. If not for Darby, she never would’ve admitted her feelings to Adam. She never would’ve dared. She was so glad she had. She was also glad Darby had convinced her to make peace with Russell. In so doing, she’d somehow made peace with herself too.
Mandy blinked away a spurt of tears.
She and Papa drew level with the front pews. She saw Mama crying openly into her fancy lace handkerchief, Emma and Juliana too. Their aunt and uncle from Denver had come as well. Mandy saw Adam’s family from Denver and a few of his closest friends from Colorado Springs on the other side, all of them smiling at her as she took her last couple of steps and stood with Papa before the preacher.
Before Adam.
Mandy heard the preacher asking, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“Her mother and I do,” Papa answered, his voice uncharacteristically gravelly. He gave Mandy’s hand one last encouraging squeeze before he left her to take a seat next to Mama.
> It’s really happening, Mandy thought. She was getting married.
She wavered a bit on her feet, struck with a wave of wooziness.
Adam slid his warm fingers around hers. She gripped his hand like a lifeline. This was her Adam. There was no need to feel like she was about to sink into the floor. Or fall. He seemed perfectly content to hold onto her through the whole ceremony if need be.
“Steady, Mandy Mack,” he whispered, bending his head to hers, his voice low and sure and intimate, as if the two of them were standing there alone. “I’ve got you.”
“I’ve got you too...Banks,” she whispered back, resisting the sudden absurd urge to giggle.
“You look...” Adam’s eyes traced over her intricately arranged hair and gown. Her face. “Beautiful,” he concluded with a rather wolfish half-grin.
His gaze was so intense and admiring, Mandy felt the need to fan herself. She blushed, acutely aware of the preacher standing not two feet away, smiling at them like an indulgent uncle. Adam, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of their audience. Or he didn’t care.
He continued to stare directly into her eyes through the “Do you take this woman?” and “Do you take this man?” Through the “Until death do you part” and the exchange of wedding bands. Hers sat oddly heavy and new on her finger.
Still, Adam held her gaze.
And then somehow they were near the end. The preacher was delivering the pronouncement that they were indeed husband and wife.
Every word of their vows sounded sweeter to Mandy. Every moment practically glowed with light. She had no sense of time passing whatsoever. They could have been standing there for a full day or only a minute.
And then she heard those last breathtaking words...
“You may kiss the bride.”
Only the Heart Knows (The Brides Series) Page 24