For the second time within months, Laurie stood beside a grave in the small cemetery overlooking the town. As the minister read a eulogy, she looked out at the good-sized crowd. Not as many as had gathered for Father’s funeral, but a respectable number, nonetheless. Mother should be pleased. Despite her grief, she’d held together better than Laurie expected and would notice how many had come to mourn her son.
Laurie hadn’t noticed Darcy at first, but there he stood on the other side of the grave on the fringe of the crowd. Their gazes locked. She should be listening to the minister, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the man who overwhelmingly occupied her thoughts. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since he’d returned from the rescue mission. She must speak to him now. Judging from the urgent way he was looking at her, he wanted to speak to her.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
The minister finished his eulogy. The last handful of dirt was tossed in the grave. Standing with her daughters, Mother graciously accepted condolences from mourners passing by.
At first, Laurie couldn’t break away, what with people offering their hands, murmuring how sorry they were about her brother. Finally, when the last of the mourners began to leave, she saw Darcy still waiting for her. She walked toward him, aware she didn’t look her best in the borrowed black dress, but it didn’t matter. He started walking toward her, eyes intent upon her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” he said when they met.
“You did your best. More than enough. I deeply appreciate that you tried.”
“At least Brandon’s alive.” He peered closely into her face, as if searching for her reaction.
“I hear he suffered some frostbite, but he’ll be good as new.”
“You haven’t been to see him?”
At last, the opening she’d been waiting for. “I haven’t been to see Brandon, nor do I intend to. Do you remember when you saw us in the restaurant?”
A corner of his mouth pulled into a slight smile. “I recall.”
“What you don’t know is, I had just told him I could never marry him, and believe me, I meant what I said.” How could he not understand? How much more plainspoken could she get?
“So…” Slowly a smile spread over his face. “So, you and I…?”
“You and I, Mr. Darcy McKenna.”
They weren’t alone. A few stragglers had yet to leave the cemetery. The site of her brother’s funeral was hardly the proper place, but certainly Hugh wouldn’t mind, and she couldn’t care less what people might think. She raised her hands to his shoulders and pulled him toward her. His breath caught as he took her into his arms. Sighing with pleasure, she sank into his warm, welcoming embrace.
“Forever,” he murmured.
“Forever,” she whispered back. Not much of a conversation, but from a man who didn’t talk much, what more did she need?
* * * *
If she’d had her way, Elizabeth Sinclair would have organized the most elaborate wedding Lucky Creek had ever seen. It would have been a welcome distraction from Hugh’s death, but Laurie said no. What with the ever-increasing output at the Monarch, she was much too busy, and so was Darcy.
Despite her mother’s protests, Laurie married Darcy McKenna in a small ceremony attended by family and close friends only.
Elizabeth’s disappointment didn’t last long. To her delight, the wedding of Ada Sinclair and Kenvern Trenowden turned into the most extravagant, highly attended event the town of Lucky Creek had ever seen. It hadn’t started out that way. In her modest fashion, Ada had declared, “Just a simple wedding is fine, just like Laurie’s. A few friends, some sort of refreshment afterward, that’s all I want.”
But the Trenowden brothers had other ideas. Wouldn’t she like to have a big Cornish wedding? “Outdoors by a clear brook,” Kenvern reminisced about weddings he’d attended during his early days in Cornwall. “Under tall ash and oak trees. The smell of salt water in the air, coming from the ocean. A band of Cornish musicians playing sea shanties and polkas.”
Ada quickly warmed to the idea. And so, too, did their mother. As the weeks went by, Elizabeth kept putting off her return to Philadelphia. How could she leave when Ada needed her help planning the wedding? The winter months passed, and on a sunny spring day, the wedding of Ada Sinclair and Kenvern Trenowden turned into the grandest Lucky Creek had ever seen. Mother and Ada couldn’t arrange for salt air from the ocean, but finding a brook was no problem, nor was substituting pine and fir trees for oak and ash. There’d been a small difficulty with the menu. Kenvern had requested his favorite, stargazy pie, but when Ada discovered it featured fish heads sticking through the piecrust, she firmly put her foot down. They settled for oggies, which the brothers explained were savory meat pies.
Practically the whole town was invited, and from what Laurie could see, everyone was having a fine time. They all loved the oggies, and declared the wedding cake, made from clotted milk, a Cornwall specialty, to be the best they’d ever tasted. And of course, the bride and groom glowed with happiness, a delight to look upon. Little Mathew and Maryanne were part of the wedding, too. Already Kenvern treated them as if they were his own. In turn, they adored him and were already calling him daddy.
Increased responsibilities at the Monarch had kept Laurie so busy that not until Ada’s wedding day did she take the time to think about where she’d been and where she was going. As she stood for a moment alone, watching the guests dancing in a clear spot beneath the trees, she could hardly remember how much she’d hated Lucky Creek when she first arrived. Amazing, how it had changed since then, thanks in large part to the Association for the Improvement, Beautification, and Enlightenment of Lucky Creek. To her daughters’ astonishment, Elizabeth not only joined the Association, she and Mrs. Wagner had become a powerful force for good in the town. A new, honest sheriff had been elected. Trash no longer lay uncollected on the streets. Construction of a new courthouse was well underway. In both looks and temperament, Elizabeth Sinclair and Lucille Wagner couldn’t have been more different from one another, yet they’d become fast friends and greatly enjoyed each other’s company. Mother hardly mentioned Philadelphia anymore. Both Laurie and Ada agreed, she’d never go back now.
As Laurie stood watching the dancers, two arms went around her waist. Darcy had slipped up behind her. “Care to dance?” he asked.
“Not now.” She pressed back against him, warm and secure, aware of the life growing within her. “I think I felt it move a while ago.”
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, and she could hear the slight tinge of wonder in his voice. She had never realized how much a baby would mean to him until she saw the tears in his eyes when she told him.
“I decided you’re right about the window,” he said.
“I know I’m right.” Once, in a moment of candor, he’d told her of his need for a big window facing east so he could see the morning sunrise. “Our bedroom will face east,” she’d told him when they were drawing plans for a house of their own. “You’ll have that window.”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t need it anymore,” he’d told her.
“Yes, you do. If I’d spent my childhood in a coal mine, I’d always want to see the sunrise.”
Nestled beneath tall trees, overlooking the river, their new home was almost complete, and that included a big bedroom window facing east.
Now, on Ada’s wedding day, standing under a bright blue sky, he gently gripped her shoulders, turned her toward him, and gazed at her with adoring eyes. “I’m glad it’s there but still don’t think I need it. With you, I can always see the sun.”
Never had he uttered anything so flowery, so sentimental. “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me, Darcy McKenna.”
“This is just the beginning,” he said and pulled her into his arms.