Cattleman's Courtship

by Carolyne Aarsen

  The smile on Trista’s face transformed her and joy for her friend rippled through Cara. She looked so peacefully happy that Cara couldn’t stifle another small jolt of jealousy.

  That could have been me and Nicholas.

  Cara gave Trista an encouraging smile and then Trista had eyes only for Lorne. Lorne met Mr. Elderveld, then took Trista’s hand and led her to the arbor.

  A soft breeze and the faint buzzing of bees sifted through the air as the pastor looked around the gathering as if to underscore the solemnity of the occasion.

  Then he faced Lorne and Trista.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Lorne Hughes and Trista Elderveld. That we are all gathered as friends and family is important…”

  It had all come together, Cara thought as the pastor spoke, her eyes ticking over the plants hanging from the arbor, nestled against the sides and hanging from hooks down the aisle. Though she hadn’t been here to supervise, everything looked exactly as she had planned.

  After that emotional moment with Nicholas, she had stayed away from the ranch, preferring to give instructions via Lorne and get updates via Trista. While she and her aunt decorated cupcakes and helped make table runners from the safety of her aunt’s home, Cara heard the lawn on the yard had been mowed and the arbor set up.

  An excited phone call from Trista had told her the wedding dress was finished and the bridesmaid dress had arrived at the store in Calgary. She had heard that Nicholas rented a tent and got the chairs from the church. Nicholas was taking good care of the plants. The hay was baled but Nicholas was still crabby.

  Yesterday Cara had told Lorne’s brother how she wanted the chairs arranged and where she wanted the hooks and which plants to hang on them.

  She’d immersed herself in her work and wedding plans and, with a lot of self-discipline and prayer, had managed to keep thoughts of Nicholas at bay.

  Now, the day had arrived and things were moving along just as she had envisioned.

  Just as she had planned for her own wedding.

  She caught her thoughts from veering back down that treacherous path. Looking ahead was the only way she would survive this wedding. She had her own future to plan.

  And who is in that future?

  She pushed the insidious question aside. She was going it alone. It seemed to have worked for her mother, so she would make it work for herself.

  Then, unable to stop herself, she glanced past Lorne to where Nicholas stood silhouetted against the valley of his ranch. Behind him lay green fields dotted with round, fat bales and, past that, the pastures and cropland of the Chapman ranch.

  Nicholas had continuity and history.

  He had his great-grandparents’ cream separator that had been used on this place. He lived in the same home where he’d grown up.

  He had roots and stability.

  And she?

  Since she broke up with Nicholas, the restlessness that had gripped her when her mother died had grown. She had tried to satisfy that by moving around. A restlessness, if she were to be honest with herself, still coursed through her.

  But worse, she had been gripped with a loneliness that had claws.

  “‘Be content with what you have, because God has said, never will I leave you, never will I forsake you,’” the pastor was saying. “Trista and Lorne chose these words from Hebrews as a reminder to us of where true love comes from. A God who lavishes rich love on us.”

  The words caught Cara’s attention.

  Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.

  And behind those words came the ones she had read the other night.

  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.

  The strength she’d received from those words returned to her. Strength and the reminder that though she had turned her back on God, as her Aunt Lori had said, God had not turned His back on her. It was as if, in her weak and weary moments, God was trying to catch her attention. To show her that though she may forsake Him, He hadn’t forsaken her.

  “…so this love that God lavishes on us is how we, too, should live our lives and live our marriages. God is a God of abundance and rich blessings if we acknowledge that He wants to walk alongside us and surround us in our marriages…and in our lives.”

  He paused to give the words their due and Cara felt a stirring of the same emotion that had touched her when she’d read the Bible the other night.

  God alongside me, she thought, the gentle touch of His presence surrounding her.

  Trista turned to her, handing Cara her bouquet, and then they were moving on to the next part of the ceremony. As Trista and Lorne exchanged their vows and then their rings, Cara felt a gentle melancholy. Her friend now belonged to someone else.

  They exchanged a kiss and walked over to the table to sign the register. Cara clutched Trista’s bouquet and her own and fell into step beside Nicholas. She tried not to be aware of his presence, tried not to feel overwhelmed by his nearness.

  She placed the bouquets on the table. When she returned to Nicholas’s side, she stepped into a depression in the grass and faltered in her high heels, but Nicholas caught her elbow and steadied her. His hand felt warm, callused. The hand of a man who worked.

  And his touch sent a shock up her arm.

  “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “I didn’t manage to get everything smooth.”

  She nodded her reply, focusing her attention on Trista sitting at the table.

  When it was her turn to sign, she had to walk past Nicholas and she prayed she would keep her feet under her. As she sat down, she could feel him standing behind her.

  Just help me get through this, she prayed, signing her name where the pastor showed her, pleased that her hands didn’t tremble as much as her stomach did.

  Then the pastor presented the new couple to the gathering and with a burst of joyous music, Lorne and Trista rushed down the aisle, as if eager to start their married life.

  Nicholas held out his arm to Cara and she hesitated.

  “We’re supposed to do this,” he said, sounding put out.

  She was being silly. This was simply tradition. She slipped her arm in his and they followed the bridal couple down the aisle.

  But as soon as they got to the end, he released her and walked away.

  Her own reaction to him frustrated her. Why do you have to be so touchy around him? she scolded herself. Why can’t you act like he’s some ordinary guy?

  Because he wasn’t and never would be an ordinary guy to her. And in spite of the comfort she’d just received, she also knew, without a doubt, neither would Nicholas be the constant in her life that God would.

  Thankfully there wasn’t a receiving line so Cara didn’t need to stand beside Nicholas, like some pretend couple, and receive well-wishers on her friend’s wedding. Instead, people simply milled about, grabbing the opportunity to congratulate Lorne and Trista when they could.

  Someone tapped her shoulder and Cara turned to see the photographer standing behind her.

  In all the busyness, she had forgotten about him, she realized with a start. Trista didn’t want pictures taken before the ceremony nor during and had simply told him to show up after the service.

  “So, where are the horses we’ll be taking into the mountains?” the photographer asked. “I might need an extra one for the equipment.”

  Cara’s heart downshifted. She didn’t want to get on a horse and ride up into the hills. Whenever she brushed her hair and touched the tender spot on her temple, she was reminded of her spill.

  “Trista and I decided we’re not going that route.” Nicholas’s deep voice spoke up from behind her. “We’ll just take pictures on the yard.”

  Relief made her bones weak and she shot a grateful look his way, but he didn’t catch her gaze.

  “Could you get Lorne and Trista and meet us on the south side of the barn in about fift
een minutes?” he asked, then turned and strode away, the photographer trotting along behind just to keep up.

  “I’ll show you where you can set up,” Nicholas called over his shoulder.

  Cara felt a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, my dear, you look so beautiful.” Aunt Lori gave her a tight hug, then brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

  Uncle Alan hugged her next, but caught a glimmer of sympathy in his expression.

  “You doing okay?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  She gave him a bright smile. “I’m fine. I’m so happy for Trista.”

  Aunt Lori tapped him on the shoulder. “I think we should go now.”

  Cara frowned. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

  Aunt Lori glanced from Cara to Uncle Alan, as if unsure of what to say. “Alan’s feeling a bit tired.”

  “I’m not that tired,” he protested. “Just a bit…”

  “Tired,” Aunt Lori said firmly. She gave Cara a smile, then took Alan’s arm. “You enjoy the rest of the evening. I won’t be waiting up for you, though.”

  “Probably a good idea. I’ll need to stay here until the end.”

  “Then we’ll see you in the morning.” And Aunt Lori turned, her arm in Uncle Alan’s as they walked away, their steps measured and slow.

  They were getting old. She was the only child they had and she was leaving them alone again. But she couldn’t take that burden on. She had her own stuff to deal with.

  At least they have each other, she thought, lifting up her dress and heading out to find the bride and groom.

  A few minutes later she herded Trista and Lorne past well-wishers and fielded questions about the supper from Lorne and Trista’s family as they went to meet the photographer.

  By the time she got them to the barn, he was already set up and Nicholas looked as if he was about to come and get them.

  “Finally,” he said, frowning at everyone. “We’ve got to get this show on the road. We’re already running about ten minutes behind.”

  Trista sent Cara a look of mock horror. “Oh, no. Ten whole minutes. Whatever shall we do?”

  Cara laughed, but then caught herself when Nicholas sent her a grumpy look.

  “The photographer wants to start with a group shot,” Nicholas was saying. “Then he can focus on you and Lorne so Cara and I can get back to—”

  “Bossing people around,” Trista retorted. “Okay. Group shot. I don’t want the usual standing in a row shot. I want me and Lorne together and Nicholas and Cara together.”

  They obediently arranged themselves as couples and the photographer fussed and adjusted with Lorne and Trista, then turned his attention to Cara and Nicholas.

  “Put your hand here,” he said to Nicholas, taking his hand and placing it on Cara’s hip.

  “We’re not the bride and groom,” Nicholas grumbled even as he did as he was told.

  Cara swallowed as his hand dropped on her hip. This was just a show. Meant nothing at all.

  “I just want to balance the shot,” the photographer said, squinting at Cara, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with her. “Could you move back toward Nicholas?”

  She could, but she didn’t want to. Already she felt too aware of Nicholas standing behind her, the warmth of his chest, the scent of his cologne. But she obediently took a small step backward.

  “Good. That’s better. Now if you could look down at your bouquet, hold it up a bit more, and, Nicholas, could you put your hand over hers? That’s great.”

  Cara jumped a bit as Nicholas’s fingers covered her hand. They were like ice.

  She chanced a quick look up at him and their gazes met.

  Just for a moment she caught a flare of another emotion in his eyes. The same emotion she’d seen moments before he’d kissed her the other day.

  But he blinked and she wondered if she had imagined it.

  She jerked her head back and clutched her flowers. Pay attention to the photographer.

  Yet even as she tried, she was fully aware of Nicholas’s hand on hers.

  The photographer set up a few more poses. In one Cara had to sit on Nicholas’s knee. In another she had his jacket slung over her shoulder.

  Nicholas smiled and posed, but he seemed aloof.

  She got through it all and as soon as they were done, she fled the scene. She quickly found some jobs to do and kept herself busy and out of Nicholas’s way.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’d like to welcome everyone here tonight,” Bert, Lorne’s brother, was saying as people got themselves settled at their respective tables.

  Thankfully Trista had the bridesmaid and the best man flanking them at the head table so Cara didn’t have to sit beside Nicholas throughout the meal, as well. She couldn’t forget the way her heart stuttered at the merest touch.

  She had to get over this, she thought, angry at her runaway emotions. “Before we start, I’d like to ask Pastor Samuels to give a blessing on the meal.”

  The pastor came to the front. He’d already taken off his tie and looked far more relaxed and approachable than he had at the ceremony.

  He looked over the head table, his eyes catching and holding each of theirs in turn, and Cara returned his smile. She reminded herself to talk to him about the sermon and thank him for his encouraging words.

  “Welcome everyone, to this part of Lorne and Trista’s wedding. Jesus blessed the couple in Cana with His presence at their wedding, and we pray that His presence may be felt here, too.” He looked around at the gathering then bowed his head.

  Cara followed suit. And as the pastor prayed she joined in, struggling to reach for peace.

  She was here for Trista. She simply had to get over herself.

  Dinner was a noisy affair with aunts and uncles, cousins and a few friends stopping at the table to talk to the married couple. Cara smiled and nodded, reminding people who she was.

  By the time dessert arrived, her mouth was tired of smiling and the low-level headache dogging her all day had become a pounding, throbbing presence.

  Then a tall, blond-haired man stopped in front of her and held out his hand. His smile exposed teeth that were extrawhite in contrast to his tanned skin.

  “Cara Morrison. How are you?”

  Cara glanced up, her mind struggling to place the handsome man.

  “Tod. Tod Hanson,” he prompted. “We went on a couple of dates. I lived in Olds and we met at a football game.”

  And Cara remembered. “You took me to the symphony. In Calgary.”

  “And a movie. I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of cultural snob.”

  Cara laughed. “That’s right. That was fun.”

  Tod raised one eyebrow. “Was it? I had no idea you enjoyed yourself. You stopped returning my calls.”

  “I got busy.” A flush warmed her cheeks and she was unwilling to admit that fear more than busyness had kept her away. He was attractive and fun and she couldn’t understand what he saw in her. “So how do you know Lorne and Trista?”

  “I’m a fill-in date for Trista’s sister.” He angled his head to one side, his smile growing. “Her boyfriend, my roommate, couldn’t come. When I found out you were going to be here, I said I’d gladly take his place.”

  Cara’s flush grew warmer. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really. And I’d really like to claim a dance later on.”

  “I think that might work,” she said, forcing herself not to glance at Nicholas. Spending time with another guy would be good for her. Make her realize Nicholas wasn’t the only fish in the sea.

  “I’ll catch you later.” He pointed his finger at her, then winked and walked away.

  Trista’s brother walked to the podium, made a few jokes about his sister and then turned to Cara.

  “I just noticed Tod talking to you, Cara. And I know there are a few other guys who have noticed you, as well. Cara, my dear men, is still single and still attractive. She works as a vet.” He glanced at his paper and grinned. “Cara has been visiti
ng Cochrane, the vet clinic for now, but rumor has it she’s moving to Montreal soon. She used to live in Cochrane but before that, she and her mother traveled wherever the wind took them. So though she’s single, she’s a challenge to pin down.” He gave her a quick grin. “Cara was also Trista’s best friend when she lived here, which I understand is the longest time this peripatetic girl ever stayed in one place. Which explains how Nicholas Chapman managed to nab her. But only for a time, gentlemen, only for a time.” This netted her another grin, which she gamely returned. “But enough about Cara. She is going to talk about my sister and hopefully give us some new insights into the inner workings of Trista’s early years.”

  Cara drew a quick breath, sent up a prayer for strength and picked up her glass.

  In one of her classes, her prof had said the number one fear most people had was of public speaking.

  She wanted to add a caveat to that. Public speaking in front of an old fiancé in a setting that was supposed to have been their wedding created a stress level beyond that basic fear.

  Just pretend he’s not here. Don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge him. This is about Trista and your tribute to her.

  She glanced nervously around the gathering, her hands clammy on her glass as all faces turned to her. She wished Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori would have stayed. They could have been her two-person cheering section.

  Help me not to mess up in front of Nicholas, she prayed. Help me not to get nervous.

  She cleared her throat and dove in.

  “When I first met Trista I was a gawky teenager, new to the community and new to the school. I was in eleventh grade and had been in as many schools in as many grades. I wasn’t looking forward to starting all over.” She turned to Trista and smiled. “I remember standing by the fence, looking around the groups of people and wondering where I would fit in when this bouncy, cheerful girl bopped up to me and asked me my name. I was entranced by her confidence and so thankful I could have kissed her.”

  “I know the feeling,” Lorne piped in.