They turned to the right at the top of the stairs and continued down a short hall. He presented the key and turned the lock in the door, opening it wide so she could enter. It was a pleasant room, with heavy blue and gold draperies, blue and gold carpet, and a soft bed that beckoned Kathleen.
“I’ll send someone right up with hot water. You can bathe and rest,” he assured her, then continued. “I’m sorry you won’t have long. We need to be at the church right at ten to seven. If we don’t, Lucas will have our hides.”
He turned to leave, reaching for the doorknob to pull the door shut behind him.
“Wait!”
Kathleen’s little cry stopped him.
“Our wedding?” asked Kathleen with more boldness than she thought she possessed.
“Tomorrow,” he answered briefly. “Not ’til tomorrow.”
He shut the door and was gone and Kathleen stared after him with wide, flashing eyes. Then she tugged a glove from her fingers and flung it on the bed beside her.
“Sure now—an’ it’s either you or me for the hall tonight, Mr. Donnigan Harrison, sir,” she said angrily.
Chapter Ten
Confused Beginnings
As promised, there was a knock on Kathleen’s door shortly before seven. She was ready and feeling somewhat refreshed, though she did wish she could have rested much longer.
But it was exciting to be off to Erma’s wedding—even with the disappointment that Mr. Donnigan Harrison had chosen to stall concerning theirs. What if he continued to put it off? What if he didn’t plan to marry at all? Kathleen felt her stomach churn.
He offered his arm, but because of the anger and confusion that still twisted her thoughts, she chose to refuse it. With head held high she limped along beside him, ignoring him as much as it was possible to do.
“Did you rest well?” he asked kindly, and she answered with a slight nod of her head and firmly pursed lips. If he thought it odd, he did not make comment.
He led her down the steps and through the lobby, out into the warmth of the evening and toward the end of the town’s main street. Kathleen made no attempt at conversation, and he seemed to be sensitive to her mood.
She spotted the little church set back from the road before he lifted his hand to guide her down the wooden walk.
“Here we are—and on time. Lucas won’t need to pace,” said Donnigan with a hint of good-natured teasing in his voice.
They entered the church to find Lucas there ahead of them. He was resplendent in a black formal suit with a small rosebud tucked in his button hole.
The man whom Kathleen identified as the town parson stood at the front of the room, book already spread open before him. It appears that the preacher doesn’t wish to keep Lucas Stein waiting either, thought Kathleen; and in spite of herself, she felt a smile curving her lips.
Erma arrived promptly at seven. She came by carriage, even though the hotel was only a few blocks down the street. Kathleen could only stare. Erma was dressed in white with a lacy veil covering her carefully coiffed blond hair. The dress was a bit tight and Erma appeared to be holding her breath, but Kathleen wondered how the man had managed to be that close in his estimate of size for his new bride. The white-gowned bride carried a bouquet of red roses and white carnations on her arm. Kathleen had never seen anything quite so splendid.
“Your flowers,” Lucas was saying, and Kathleen looked from Erma to find Lucas offering her a small version of Erma’s bouquet. She accepted it numbly.
A total stranger stepped forward and offered his arm to lead her toward the man at the front. For one brief minute she panicked, wondering if she was being led up to marry this balding, stern-looking gentleman, and then she realized she was simply being escorted up to be a witness to Erma’s wedding. She took the offered arm and walked forward, her thoughts quickly scrambling to wonder what had become of Donnigan.
But the parson was already speaking, and Kathleen forced her attention back to his words.
“Dearly beloved—” His voice was low and carefully modulated. Kathleen wondered if Lucas had brought him in just for the event. He sounded so proper—so perfect. But she quickly reminded herself that the man belonged to the whole town. She knew Wallis and Risa had made use of his services earlier that afternoon.
With that thought, Kathleen felt her face flush again. So why hadn’t Donnigan made arrangements? Or had he—and canceled them when he saw her lameness? Maybe she was a reject—just as her stepmother had warned.
Kathleen lost total concentration. Before she knew it the man with the book was saying, “May the God of heaven bless your union with His love, joy, and peace. Amen,” and she knew that the short ceremony was over.
Donnigan was still struggling. He didn’t feel any concern about the hotel dinner hour. That he had already arranged for, and it always seemed rather easy to chat over food if one felt that talk was necessary. And he knew that Kathleen was dreadfully tired and would wish to retire early—so that would take care of the evening. But what then? They had to talk seriously—sometime. They were due at the church at ten the next morning. But that hour seemed to be approaching awfully fast. He had a lot of thinking and sorting to do in a short time. He had thought himself prepared—and he would have been—had a girl like Erma stepped forward when the stage pulled into town. But a child? What was Jenks thinking of? Surely this—this—bit of a girl should still be at home in her family’s care. So what was she doing here—ready to promise herself in marriage? Ready to take on the responsibilities of a grown woman? It didn’t make a lick of sense to Donnigan.
He mulled over the problem all the time he waited for Lucas’s ceremony to end, but he was no nearer a solution when the last Amen was spoken.
As the couple turned from the altar, Donnigan rose to his feet. He was the only one in the small church except for the parson and the wedding party. He wasn’t sure if he should move forward with his congratulations or wait for the new bride and groom to come down the aisle. He waited.
The parson came first, with Lucas and Erma close behind him. With a bit of hesitation, Donnigan stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Congratulations,” he said heartily to Lucas. The man, who was usually so composed, couldn’t hide the merry twitching of his mustache. He had pulled the whole thing off—he was a married man, his twinkling eyes seemed to say.
Donnigan let his eyes shift back to his own bride of the morrow. She came slowly down the aisle on the arm of Grant Crayford, the town’s officious banker. Donnigan had never been particularly fond of the man but had accepted him as a necessary part of the town. Now as the man placed his overly soft hand on the small hand that rested on his arm and leaned down to say something quietly to the young girl, Donnigan liked him even less. It was one thing for him to escort Kathleen, but quite another for him to be so solicitous—so possessive. Donnigan’s starched collar suddenly felt too tight. He was a bit too quick in stepping forward and taking Kathleen’s other elbow, gently easing her away from the dark-suited man.
“Our dinner is waiting,” he said in explanation, and she allowed herself to be hurried away.
As she left the church, Kathleen saw Lucas assisting Erma back into the carriage for the short ride back to the hotel. Kathleen almost felt envy—and then Erma lifted her eyes and met Kathleen’s for just one moment.
The gentle smile was still firmly in place, but the eyes shadowed briefly. She’s frightened, thought Kathleen in that one quick exchange. She’s nervous and frightened.