She swallowed hard. “I, I want to,” she said softly, not saying no, but not saying yes either.
He stood to face her. “We have a problem though,” he said, his frown returning.
Marigold stared up into his handsome face. “Ma.” No other words were necessary. They both knew Maggie Davis would come between them if they let her.
“We’ll sort it out,” Luke said. “I promise.” Marigold had no idea how he would convince her mother, but if anyone could do it, Luke could.
~*~
Luke knocked on the front door to Marigold’s home, his heart pounding. This would be amongst the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
The door flew open and the vindictive woman stared at him. “What are you doin’ here?” Maggie Davis snapped. “Marigold’s at work.” She began to push the door closed in his face.
Luke quickly shoved his foot in the way to stop her closing it. “I know Marigold is at work. I escorted her there as I do every morning.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t return his gesture. Instead she appeared even more irritated. “I came to see you,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “May I come in?”
“Hurumph!” She flung the door open and headed toward what Luke recalled was the sitting room. He stood in the doorway to that room, not prepared to anger the woman further by assuming anything. “Well, go on, sit down,” she snapped. “You’ll make me neck ache if I have to stare up at ya.”
He wanted to grin, but thought the better of it and forced himself into no expression at all. “Mrs Davis,” he said once he was seated. “I want to discuss your daughter.”
She turned to him and stared with angry eyes. Then she suddenly stood. “I’m gettin’ a coffee. You want one?” It was blatantly obvious she didn’t want to talk to him, and only offered him coffee out of convention.
“Thank you, yes,” he said, also standing. If that’s what it took to get her to discuss Marigold with him, he was willing to comply.
He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and sitting room and watched her pull down two mugs. The kettle was already boiling on the stove. He’d no doubt interrupted her morning coffee when he’d arrived.
“I usually have me coffee out ‘ere in the kitchen.” She indicated the kitchen table, and he sat, not willing to cause an upset that would stop the discussion. She made the coffee and banged it on the table in front of him, causing it to slosh over the sides.
“Right. What is it you wanna say? Get it over with.” She lifted her mug slowly, watching his every move over the top of the rim as it reached her mouth.
“It’s about Marigold,” he said gently.
She pursed her lips, as he knew she would. The woman hated him with a vengeance, through no fault of his own. “What about ‘er?”
He swallowed. She wasn’t making it easy for him, but of course she wouldn’t. Maggie Davis hated him. Hated what he stood for, too.
“Marigold and I, we’ve been stepping out these past months.”
“Hurumph.” This time she adjusted her shoulders. Anything to annoy him, Luke thought.
He took a deep breath. This wasn’t going well, not that he expected anything else. “I’m just going to say it, Mrs Davis. I intend to marry your daughter.” He said the last words faster than he’d anticipated, but now they were said, and he could breathe again.
“Over my dead body,” Mrs Davis bellowed, then lifted her coffee again as though nothing had happened.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You do realize your daughter is almost twenty-six? That she can make her own decisions without your permission?”
The woman stared at him. He suddenly understood that old saying; if looks could kill.
“I know you blame me for what happened to your husband, Claude. Marigold’s father.” He let his words sink in for a moment or two. “I was a mere teenager at the time. It wasn’t my fault...”
“Then whose fault was it?” she snapped.
He put down his mug and studied her. He said his carefully chosen words slowly. “Your husband made the decision to frequent my parent’s saloon.” He watched as she sat rigid, then swallowed. “He also made the decision to take advantage of the soiled doves there. No one forced him.” He stopped momentarily and assessed her reaction, then continued when she said nothing. “My father was not a good person,” he said honestly. “But he didn’t force Claude into anything he didn’t want to do.”
She went white and drifted sideways. Luke thought she might faint and began to stand. She waved him back onto his seat. “I’m alright,” she said quietly. She took another sip of her coffee, then straightened her shoulders. “My Claude, ‘e wasn’t a good man.” She stared down into her coffee mug. “He wasn’t a good ‘usband, and he was an even worse father.” She glanced up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “He died because he cheated at cards, I know that, but ‘ow do I tell Marigold?”
Right then Luke didn’t know what to say. He was never speechless, but right this moment he was. Maggie Davis had just admitted Claude’s death wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even your father’s fault, the mongrel that ‘e was.” She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “I needed someone to blame, and since he’s no longer ‘ere, I blamed you. I, I’m truly sorry, Luke.” She took a long sip of coffee, then spoke again. “My Marigold, she loves you, and more than anything, I want ‘er to be happy.”
Luke stared. Did Mrs Davis just apologize to him? After all these years the woman admitted she was wrong? His heart pounded. Perhaps things would work out after all.
~*~
It was a like a fairytale, and Marigold still didn’t believe this was her reality.
Luke had arranged for her wedding gown to be made by Clara Petersen, the owner of the Honey Blossom Boutique. She’d insisted she didn’t need a wedding gown, but Luke would have none of it.
So there she stood now, at the entrance of the tiny church in Harrietville, where she’d attended every Sunday for most of her life. Clara fussed over her gown, ensuring it was perfect. Ma stood proudly beside her, waiting to walk her down the aisle to her one true love.
“You look wonderful, Ma,” she said. “Luke has been so generous to both of us.”
Ma nodded. “That he has. I’ll never be able to thank him enough.”
“He doesn’t want thanks, Ma. He just wants us in his life.” Her head shot up as the organ music began to play. “Well, I guess it’s time.”
The entrance door was opened, and they stepped inside. Marigold clutched her bouquet of fresh flowers that Luke had arranged for her. She reached up and touched the hat that sat on the side of her head. Clara had outdone herself with both the gown and hat.
If someone had told Marigold a year ago she would be wearing Honey Blossom Boutique clothing, she would have laughed in their face. She still found it hard to believe.
After the wedding today, Luke had promised he would move Ma into his big house as well. It brought a tear to her eye that Ma would finally get the life she deserved.
As they arrived down the front of the small chapel, Luke turned to face her. His hand came up and he gently brushed her cheek. “I love you,” he said quietly. Ma handed Marigold over to her groom.
“Dearly Beloved,” the preacher began. Marigold hung on his every word. “You may now kiss your bride,” he finished, and Luke did exactly that.
He offered her his arm and they left the church. She still couldn’t believe she’d married her teenage sweetheart. Luke Jensen was her first crush, and no one else had ever lived up to him. She was ecstatic he’d waited for her. Not that she’d truly expected to marry him – it was a teenage dream, and not something she expected to come true.
As they stood in the entrance to the chapel, rice was thrown their way. Marigold glanced about at their guests. Bunny was near the front, and tears trickled down her face.
Bunny! Dear Bunny. What would she do now? Luke had made it clear she no
longer needed to work. “I have it covered,” he said. “I’ve already found a replacement. Besides,” he’d said. “You’ll be busy with our babies.” He grinned at her, and Marigold knew she’d gone beet red.
Epilogue
Three and a half years later...
“No, Tommy. Don’t do that,” Marigold said, exasperation in her voice. Baby Thomas was just beginning to crawl. Everything was fair game, and he was having fun exploring.
“He’s just a baby,” Ma said, snatching up her ten-month-old grandson. “You wait until he’s a bit older and into everything.”
Marigold sighed. “I thought he already was into everything.” She leaned back in her chair. “Thanks Ma. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Ma patted Tommy’s back until the child was lulled into sleep. “I’m sure you’d managed,” she said quietly. “But I do love living here, and getting to know my grandchildren so much better than if we lived apart.”
“Luke wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would I.” She was suddenly on her feet. “Elizabeth! Leave that Christmas tree alone!” Marigold sighed, then rubbed her very swollen belly. “By the time Tommy is Elizabeth’s age, this one will be nearly ready to crawl.” She sighed again as Luke entered the room, then sat down, unable to stand any longer.
Luke came and sat beside her. “I did warn you I wanted lots of babies,” he said, a grin on his face. “We have a big house with far too many bedrooms.”
Luke was a good father – the best. Claude was not a good father, Marigold had decided long ago. Even before Ma had explained what happened, that he’d been shot by another gambler when he’d cheated, she’d known he wasn’t a good father. Or even a good man.
It had haunted her for years, but finally knowing the truth had helped to chase the ghosts away.
On the other hand, Luke was amongst the best of them. It wasn’t the big house, or the expensive clothes. It wasn’t even the maid he insisted they have. It was the fact he spent time with his family. He’d told her much about his terrible upbringing since they married, and had long decided his children would not endure the same.
His business was thriving, even more than it had been before, but since Luke had installed a manager, he’d been able to cut back his hours. He wanted to spend more time with his family, and Marigold admired him for it.
She was far from pleased when she discovered he owned a saloon, and she was terribly upset about the brothel. He’d explained he didn’t own the brothel, but hired rooms out to the soiled doves. He didn’t feel right running a business like that. Finally knowing how his business was run, made her love him even more.
Luke had morals despite his upbringing, and it filled her with pride.
Marigold watched as he crossed the floor and swooped up little Elizabeth. “What has Papa told you about touching the Christmas tree?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“Not to touch it.” Her bottom lip trembled as her head hung low, and Luke patted Elizabeth’s back as he leaned her over his shoulder.
“Don’t be upset,” he said gently. “Just don’t do it. Papa doesn’t want it to fall on top of you and hurt you.”
She suddenly came up to face him, a grin on her face. “Alright, Papa,” she said, then wriggled about until Luke put her back on the floor. She ran into the corner of the room Marigold had set up as a play area and swooped up her favorite rag doll, cuddling it close to her chest.
Marigold came to stand next to him. “We did good,” she said quietly.
Luke studied her face. “We certainly did,” he said, as he laid his hand across her belly. His arm slid up around her, and he pulled her closer. “I love you so much,” he said, kissing her gently. “I’ll never stop loving you.”
Marigold couldn’t stop the tears that slid down her face. She wondered where she’d be right now if The Lovelorn had told her to leave Luke and find someone else.
She shook her head. Luke was her forever love, and she knew deep in her heart that she would never have left him. They would be together for the rest of their lives.
The End
From the Author
Thank you so much for reading my book – I hope you enjoyed it.
I would greatly appreciate you leaving a review on Amazon, even if it is only a one-liner. It helps to have my books more visible on Amazon!
~*~
All my books can be seen on my Amazon Author Page.
To read more books in the Yours Truly: The Lovelorn series, click here.
About the Author
Multi-published, award-winning and bestselling author, Cheryl Wright, former secretary, debt collector, account manager, writing coach, and shopping tour hostess, loves reading.
She writes both contemporary and historical western romance, as well as romantic suspense.
She lives in Melbourne, Australia, and is married with two adult children and has six grandchildren. When she’s not writing, she can be found in her craft room making greeting cards.
Check out Cheryl’s Amazon page for a full list of her other books.
Other Links:
My Website
Visit my Blog
Join my Facebook Reader Group here
Join my newsletter here
Miserable in Montana (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn, #16) Page 7