Wood-slat chairs lined the center of the barn. Bunting and ribbons decorated the beams and stalls. Much effort had been made to rid the building of any evidence of its usual inhabitants. All of the stall doors on the downwind side were open to let in light. Twin lanterns hung from the posts at the front of the makeshift chapel. Despite the chill in the air, the barn was quite cozy. Caroline sat on the inside of the second row, fidgeting while she waited.
First, she fiddled with the lace on her gloves, then with her handkerchief. Waiting wasn’t one of her strengths. Actually, she was hard-pressed to name a strength she did possess. If she were a good friend to Emilie and Maren, she’d be happy to be here celebrating their joy as they married Quaid and Rutherford. As it was, she’d almost rather be home moping with Jack. She was happy for her friends, and if this hadn’t been the first wedding she’d attended since Phillip’s departure, the waiting may have come easier.
Jewell laid her hand atop her sister’s knee. That’s when Caroline realized she’d been tapping her heel against the packed earth floor. No doubt Jewell had meant to still her, but her sister’s gesture also sent a calmness through her being. She looked into Jewell’s warm gaze and smiled.
“You’re going to be all right.”
Caroline nodded, wishing she could say the same to her sister. Bearing her own sorrow was burden enough, but watching Jewell suffer was almost impossible to bear.
Music drew Caroline’s attention to the back of the barn, set up as a stage this morning. Four-year-old Gabi stood atop a bushel box, her lips pursed on a flute. The child played “Home! Sweet Home!” for the quieted crowd.
A pastor in a long black vestment entered the barn from behind Gabi, with Rutherford, Quaid McFarland, and Brady McFarland at his side. The fifth man was the one who held Caroline’s attention. His limp barely noticeable, Garrett Cowlishaw stepped onto the platform wearing a frock coat with a top hat, his head held high and his smile mesmerizing. She scolded herself for noting such things, but hesitated before looking away. She had no business paying that close attention to the man.
Nonetheless, she was. And Garrett Cowlishaw hadn’t been the only man she’d noticed since Phillip.
Perhaps Mrs. Kamden from the New Era was right. Had the time come for her to consider the possibility that she could marry again one day? She hadn’t thought her head could be turned again, or that she could still turn heads, but her time on the boat to Memphis and back had demonstrated otherwise.
Lewis G. Whibley was long gone, and she’d been anything but kind to Garrett Cowlishaw. Not that either of them would be interested in romantic matters. Certainly not the latter man, not with a caravan of wagons to lead west.
If she were the pillar of faith Emilie and Maren were, she’d pray about such matters of the heart. But given her history with God, she saw no reason to trouble Him with such notions.
Garrett’s knees weakened for countless reasons. The excitement in the air, for one thing. His best friend was about to marry, which necessitated he be dressed like a performing monkey.
As if all that weren’t enough to topple him, Caroline Milburn sat perched on the aisle, looking like a fine porcelain doll.
It seemed a veil had lifted. He’d seen her as a grieving widow, a caring sister, and a devoted aunt. Today, though, she was something else entirely …
A fetching woman.
A lacy scarf draped her velvety dress, which was the color of cranberries. Pink tinged her creamy cheeks. Her fiery red hair, piled on her head, exposed a graceful neck.
She offered him a slight smile, then looked away. But not before he detected a spark in her green eyes. Something was different.
When the pastor cleared his throat, Garrett returned his attention to the ceremony at hand. “Miss Jensen will enter first. Then Miss Heinrich.”
The two grooms nodded. Gabi played her last note, jumped down, and pulled the crate to one side. Rutherford walked to the rail of the horse corral where his zither awaited him. He picked up the flat instrument, then began strumming and plucking a halting rendition of the Wedding March. Good thing his fingers knew their way around the strings, for his gaze wasn’t on the musical instrument but on his soon-to-be-bride. Miss Maren stood just inside the barn door with Mr. Heinrich at her side.
God had given Rutherford a second chance at love and marriage. Joy for his friend welled inside Garrett, mingling with regret in the memory of his own joyous wedding day.
He tugged his jacket sleeve straight. This day wasn’t about him. Besides, he was better off alone. Oh, how he wanted to believe that.
Her heart beat so fast Emilie expected at any moment it would leap from her chest and race into the barn without her. Outside the open door, she’d heard Rutherford play the zither and watched PaPa escort Maren to the man she loved. Now PaPa stood beside Emilie at the door of the barn while Quaid played a lilting tune on his harmonica. He looked resplendent in his top hat and tails. Overcome by her love for the Irishman, she lunged over the threshold.
PaPa joined her. “Is it time?”
Emilie nodded with care so as not to upset the wispy lace veil pinned to the braid circling her head. “I’m ready.” Too ready to wait for the last refrain.
PaPa raised his bent arm, and, looping it, Emilie rested her hand on his woolen sleeve. Tears shimmering his blue eyes, he bent and kissed her on the forehead.
She faced the friends gathered before them and matched PaPa’s long strides toward her future.
His smile widening, Quaid lowered the harmonica and struggled to finish singing the song, his cracking voice winging its way to her heart.
Emilie had little confidence her legs would’ve carried her the rest of the way to Quaid had her father not been supporting her.
Pastor Munson pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose and met her father’s gaze. “Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?”
“I do. Her PaPa.” He gently placed her hand in Quaid’s.
When all four of them had recited their wedding vows and the two couples shared a proper kiss, they lined up in front of the reverend for his introduction. That’s when Emilie noticed the rest of the quilting circle had filled the first and second rows. Mrs. Brantenberg, Hattie, Mrs. Pemberton, Lorelei Beck and her mother-in-law, Anna Goben, Jewell, and Caroline.
She was indeed a blessed woman to have so many dear friends and to now be Mrs. Quaid McFarland. As she and Quaid embraced family and friends, Emilie smiled at Anna and breathed a prayer for the grieving candle maker and for the young widow—that they would one day soon be blessed by love.