The Wedding Kiss

by Hannah Alexander

  Hannah Alexander

  Summerside Press™

  Minneapolis 55337

  www.summersidepress.com

  The Wedding Kiss

  © 2011 by Hannah Alexander

  ISBN 978-1-60936-308-6

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Scripture references are from the following source: The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV).

  All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Lookout Design | www.lookoutdesign.com

  Cover photo by Veronica Gradinariu, Trevillion Images

  Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | www.mullerhaus.net

  Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

  Printed in USA.

  Dedication

  With many thanks to my excellent Summerside editors and staff for a beautiful cover and flowing prose. It takes a team to make a good novel.

  Hannah Alexander

  One

  A meadowlark’s song lingered in the chilly spring air as Keara McBride’s boots squished through a wet field of new wheat. She tried to let the song soothe her and the warm sunlight take the chill from her bones, but the beauty that seldom failed to settle her heart was failing today. Betrayal and shock and rage warred within her with such force they nearly outshouted the fear that trembled deep inside her bones.

  These past two years since Ma’s death, Keara had defended her grieving pa’s antics to anyone who complained, but if Brute McBride was standing in front of her right now, she’d blast him with more words than any of the neighbors had ever dared speak to her against her bullheaded father.

  The perfume of honeysuckle reached her, but she didn’t turn to enjoy its beauty along the split rail fence today as she usually did. The splash and roar of White River filled her heart, loud and fast after the rains, like the storm that had whipped up inside her when she discovered how much she had lost, and what she must do to survive. All because of Pa.

  She loved this land whittled from the forest around it by hard, backbreaking labor. The nearby resort city of Eureka Springs, with its gardens, healing springs, and steep, winding hillside streets, could not compare to the beauty of this Arkansas countryside. The thought of living and working there away from the ones she loved made her shiver, but if this plan didn’t work, what choice would she have?

  Stepping over the rise with legs that felt shaky, she saw the peaked roof of her neighbor’s home. Smoke drifted from two of the three chimneys. She stopped, and for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. The sky appeared to blacken with clouds, but there were no clouds, only blue that stretched from the ridge of hills in the east all the way to the end of the world in the west.

  The end of the world…of her world.

  Bite the bullet, Keara.

  She marched like a soldier down the rise through White River Hollow, her gaze set on the big house, painted like a brilliant butterfly, its multiple colors chosen with care, its gingerbread trim carved by the hands of a man who’d willingly indulged his wife’s whimsy. It was put together strong to last, like the man who’d built it, with the help of his relatives and other neighbors who lived comfortably spaced from one another along the hollow.

  A porch, gilded with yellow and lavender railings, skirted the front and east side of the house, and a kitchen garden greened the yard where the rock fence protected the crop from many rooting and foraging animals.

  Eight-year-old Britte and six-year-old Rolfe were proud of the garden they had helped Keara plant. She could close her eyes and see their beautiful faces—Britte so much like her mother, and Rolfe like his father. Thoughts of them gave her strength to keep walking. This was for Gloria’s children.

  Keara inhaled the scent of the fruit tree blossoms in the orchard as she drew near, the pink and white blooms looking like pastel clouds. Her mouth usually watered when she thought about the peaches and apples, plums and pears that would come from those trees—a few of which still had not reached full bloom. Today her mouth tasted of dust.

  She looked for signs of the children in the yard or playing under the trees. No one was in sight.

  By the time Keara stepped up to the broad porch, she was winded and shaking, and not from the half-mile walk. She rang the cowbell Elam had hung next to the door for Gloria. The clanging echoed in her ears.

  After a moment the wooden door with navy and sky-blue trim opened and Elam’s tall, strong frame filled the doorway. His familiar dark brown eyes lit with welcome. “Keara.”

  She caught her breath, but the steadiness of his voice calmed her. She had come to know Elam Jensen well over the winter—knew the burden he carried after Gloria’s gruesome death late last summer.

  “I thought I’d check to see how Cash is doing on the goat’s milk and corn gruel.” Liars go to hell, Keara McBride. But truly, they’d had a time weaning the baby since his Cherokee wet nurse moved on to the Oklahoma Territory with her family.

  “I think it’s going to work.” Elam moved aside and gestured for Keara to step into the great room, which was warmed by one of the new iron stoves he’d bought last year for Gloria. He’d also built the cushioned chairs and sofa, the wood glowing golden from the same log beams that held the house in a sturdy embrace beneath its charmingly decorated exterior.

  Nearly the whole valley along the White River had come to see the Jensens’ comfortable new furnishings, several relatives riding the five miles from Eureka Springs—any reason for a get-together since the recent entry into the twentieth century. The all-night party had been one to remember. Elam’s sisters, sisters-in-law, and cousins had helped Gloria and Keara keep the refreshments flowing while the men talked about their animals and the young ones raised a ruckus in the barn with their dancing and singing.

  Only weeks later, those same neighbors, family, and friends had returned with food and prayers of mourning for one of the most generous and kind women in the county. A hapless tourist, seeking relief in the healing waters, had unknowingly brought smallpox to Eureka Springs, even after the vaccines across the countryside had long ago promised protection. Gloria—with her trips to town to deliver meals for the sick and their caretakers—had been caught in the disaster.

  Keara stepped past Elam into the large front room. She glanced toward the stairway with its fancy railings and slats painted the color of cream and butter. “Where are the children?”

  “David and Penelope stopped by this morning on their way to the swimming hole for the day. They invited Rolfe and Britte to go with their cousins.”

  “On a Monday?”

  “You know Pen now that she’s expecting again. I just put Cash down for his nap.” Elam’s deep voice filled the room. His whole presence filled the house as it occupied Keara’s thoughts.

  Keara still ached with the loss of her dearest friend. Caring for Gloria’s children, keeping her family fed and clothed, and teaching Rolfe and Britte their letters and numbers over the winter had helped fill the emptiness Gloria’s death had left in Keara’s life; she hoped it had made a difference in theirs.

  Elam touched her shoulder. She jerked before she realized he was only taking her shawl to hang it close to the stove. Get hold of yourself, woman! Do what needs to be done.

  He frowned at her. “Keara? You’re as skittery as our new foal. What happened? Did you see a baby snake on the way here?” He spread the handmade woolen covering over the hall tree Keara’s own father had made for the housewarming.

  She blinked up at Elam as his words register
ed. Was that a teasing note she heard in his voice? He’d barely cracked a smile since Gloria’s passing. Elam Jensen was once known for a good sense of humor, and though he was never mean, he used to like to tease. He knew she hated snakes.

  “No.” Tell him, Keara. “I guess I am a touch jumpy lately, what with having the whole house to myself since Pa went to jail.”

  Elam glanced at the floor. “Come have a seat. We need to get those dry.”

  She looked down and discovered she’d tracked mud across the floor. “Oh, jiggers. Where has my mind gone?” She skinned off her boots. “I’ll clean this mess—”

  “Not today. Something’s bothering you.” Elam reached out to ease her onto the sofa. She was glad he didn’t know her skin tingled wherever he touched it.

  He took the boots, set them near the stove, and sat down across from her, close enough for her to believe she could feel the physical warmth of his body reaching her. There was a strength about him that calmed her.

  “Is everything okay at the farm?” he asked.

  “No.” Keara took a breath and met his gaze. “Pa gambled it away.” This morning, after the banker left, she’d sat stunned on the front porch for probably two hours. Her lifelong home…gone.

  Elam shook his head as if he had water in his ears. “I don’t understand.”

  “I said it plain, Elam. Pa got into a card game two months ago and gambled away the whole farm. All I’ve got left is the livestock. At least he didn’t gamble the horses, cattle, and hogs away.”

  Elam leaned forward, a frown deepening along the suntanned lines around his eyes. “Who told you this? Is someone trying to take advantage of you because you’re alone?”

  “The bank president himself came out this morning before the bank opened and showed me where Pa had signed the place away.” She swallowed back tears, shaking her head. “Mr. Simon even went to the jailhouse and asked Pa directly if he did it. I knew he’d gotten up to all kinds of tomfoolery since Ma died, but this? This is… it’s devilish!”

  “He kind of lost his mind.” Elam’s voice held knowledge and compassion. “I know how it feels, but—”

  “But you didn’t suddenly turn into a drunken gambler or a hothead,” Keara snapped. “You were here for your children. You kept working, kept going no matter what. Pa’s been up to this for two years, just as if the boys and I weren’t there. And he’s not even around to help me. But I’d never have thought he’d end up in jail.”

  “You and I both know he’s not a killer,” Elam said gently.

  “If he hadn’t been in that bar, he’d not have been caught in the fight. Even so, I sure never saw this coming. My home, Elam. The whole farm!”

  Elam reached for her hand and held it in both his own. “You were busy with the planting and the stock and coming here every day. I let you come when you were needed at home. I’m sorry.”

  Keara suddenly lost her ability to think as she stared at their clasped hands. She started breathing again when Elam released her. Here she was, losing her home, and she was behaving like a love-struck girl. But could this mean he might care enough to help her the way she needed to be helped? Would he see reason?

  “Sean and Morris shouldn’t have left you there alone,” he said.

  Keara leaned back on the sofa and closed her burning eyes for a moment. Her younger brothers had never wanted to farm. They’d never understood her love of the land. “What were we supposed to do, tie them up in the barn?” At seventeen and eighteen, they were of age. They’d asked Keara to travel west with them after they helped with the planting earlier this spring, but she had no interest in riding a train west. She suspected they’d planned to catch their rides on freight cars, not wasting their means on passenger tickets to California.

  With Ma paralyzed the last ten years of her life, Keara had shouldered most of the load. Now all she’d worked for was gone.

  She looked at Elam and straightened. Time to get this over with. “I have a week to move out.”

  The muscles clenched along Elam’s jawline and his eyes narrowed. “That long.” His tone suggested he might be thinking the same things Keara had about Brute McBride. “So the winner of the bet waited until you got all the spring planting done before he decided to make his claim.”

  “You helped. Even Britte and Rolfe got blisters on their little fingers helping me. It was your hard work, as well, that’s been frittered away.”

  “Who is this squatter?”

  “Drifter by the name of Rod Snyder, comes from up in Missouri. Thinks he wants to ‘settle down’ here. I’ve not met him, but Mr. Simon says I don’t want to mess with him.”

  A new, unfamiliar glint entered Elam’s eyes. “Then maybe I will.”

  The threat in his voice warmed Keara’s heart, but it startled her too. “You don’t want to rile a cuss like him, living so close.”

  “He won’t live close if he never moves in.”

  “Elam, the children come first, especially now. We don’t know what this man’s capable of. From the sound of him, he might try to hurt them.” She had never mentioned to Elam what she’d overheard from others—that Gloria should have considered her own children before placing her life at risk by having contact with the suffering victims. Elam couldn’t put his children’s lives at risk for her. “You’ve got to think of them first.”

  Elam got up and paced to the stove. “This should be illegal.”

  “Mr. Simon says it isn’t. Pa signed the papers.” Unable to sit still, she also got up. She walked to the side window to gaze out over the new green of trees that encircled the south twenty. “That’s why I need to talk to you.”

  For a man so big, Elam’s footsteps were quiet as he followed her to the window. “I’ll help any way I can.”

  “I’ve got to marry.”

  There was a silence behind her.

  She didn’t want to turn around and see his reaction. “It’s my only hope of staying in White River Hollow,” she said. “There’s nothing for me among folks in Eureka Springs. Who’d hire the daughter of a jailbird?”

  “Nobody thinks of Brute McBride as a jailbird. He’s well respected as a hardworking…” Elam’s voice wavered to a stop. “Did you receive a proposal?”

  She pressed her fingers against the windowsill. Was it so hard to believe that she would? “That isn’t what—”

  “Keara McBride, don’t jump into marriage with just anyone because you’re desperate.”

  She turned at last and found herself nearly jabbing her nose into his chest. “Desperate?” A desperate woman. That dug in and clawed at her.

  He took her by the elbows and squeezed until she looked up into his gentle, haunted brown eyes. “You know I didn’t mean you’re a woman desperate for a man. I mean you’re in a bad place, and you can’t make rash decisions. Eureka Springs is crawling with strangers, sick folk dreaming the water can make them well. You never know what kind of man you might meet amongst the crowds of tourists.”

  She swallowed and wet her lips. Say it, Keara. Say it now, or you’ll never have the nerve. “You need to marry me.”

  The crack-snap of fire reached them from the stove. Elam froze, still holding her. He didn’t move or speak. She looked up into a well-chiseled face that had turned to astonished granite, lips parted.

  “I’m not expecting a marriage like the one you had with Gloria,” she rushed to explain. “It would be strictly a friend-type arrangement. I know you’ve not been looking for anyone to take Gloria’s place, and I’ll never find another friend so true, but you still need help here, and now I need a home.”

  Elam released her and took a step backward, his mouth working silently.

  What was going through his mind? She hoped he wasn’t feeling ill.

  “I haven’t lost my wits, you know,” she said. “I’ll never be the kind of woman Gloria was. There’s never going to be anybody else like her, and I never had time to learn how to snare a man.” She’d been too busy running after Sean and Morris and caring fo
r all Ma’s needs while keeping up with the household and the farm.

  She could see sympathy forming in Elam’s eyes. Poor, plain Keara McBride, twenty-six and never had a beau. Sure, he wouldn’t say it, but she knew most folks thought it.

  “I never regretted taking care of Ma and raising my brothers.” She’d assured herself of that many times. “I always told myself there was time for courtin’ later. But now is too much later.” She forced a smile to hide her desperation.

  “You have neighbors, Keara,” he said gently. “You know I have family all up and down the hollow. Let your neighbors help you.”

  “Your brothers and sisters have children bursting out of their lofts. There’s no place for me, and I can’t stay with a man who isn’t married. Pa’s not going to be able to help support me from a jail cell.”

  She held her breath and waited. She knew her appearance—her shapeless, threadbare dresses, her hopelessly untidy hair, her habit of getting dirt on her face from the garden or the field—didn’t draw the admiration of men, but she had borne witness to Elam’s devotion to Gloria’s memory and had quietly fallen in love over these past months. How wonderful it would be to have him love her that much. As if that would ever happen. She’d have to take what she could get.

  How awful it felt to be unwanted.

  “What would you be willing to sacrifice for your children?” Her throat was dry. She was begging now; he couldn’t help hearing it in her voice, could he?

  During Sunday meetings, for the sake of the children, Keara had checked out the women who’d set their bonnets for Elam. They might be pretty, but they weren’t kindhearted. Raylene Harper suddenly considered herself too proper to get a little dirty, and her friends were even worse. Living here on a horse ranch, one couldn’t be too prissy.