Worthy of Riches (42 page)

Luke headed for the door.

“Please, Luke, can't we talk?” Jean asked.

“There's nothing to talk about.” He yanked open the door and walked out.

“How come he's so mad?” Brian asked.

Jean shook her head. She had no adequate answer for a nine-year-old boy.

Brian walked to the door and stared after Luke. “I like Ray. I'm glad you're going to marry him.”

Jean kneeled in front of the youngster and pulled him into her arms. “I'm glad too. Maybe Luke will be one day.”

A knock sounded at the back door. “Who could that be so early?” Jean walked to the door and opened it. Mrs. Dexter stood with gloved hands clasped over her bulging stomach. She straightened her pillbox hat and smiled, then pursed her red lips. “Why, hello, Mrs. Dexter,” Jean said, apprehension rolling through her. “I didn't expect anyone so early.”

“I know, but I figured I ought to get over here first thing.”

“Please, come in.”

Holding her purse close to her chest, Mrs. Dexter squeezed her bulk past Jean.

“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.”

Jean knew Margarite Dexter hadn't come calling simply for pleasure. She grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it. “Do you like anything in it?

“Milk and sugar.”

Jean set the cup on the table along with a spoon and sugar. Then she retrieved milk from the icebox.

Brian and Susie stared at the woman. Margarite nodded at them.

“Brian, why don't you take Susie upstairs and help her get dressed,” Jean said, knowing that whatever Mrs. Dexter had to say the children didn't need to hear it.

Brian took Susie's hand and led her out of the room.

Mrs. Dexter poured milk into her coffee, then added three heaping spoons of sugar and stirred. She looked around the bright room. “This is very nice, especially compared to that Townsend house—if you can call it that. I wish Miram was still here with you.”

“She felt it would be better if she stayed with Celeste since they're both single women and Ray will be moving in here.”

Margarite gave a little sniff. “That man has animal heads mounted on the walls and skins on the floor and thrown over the sofas. It's downright heathen.”

“He's a hunter and a trapper,” Jean said, feeling her anger rise.

“I suppose a person can't expect much from the folks up here.” She
scanned Jean's kitchen. “At least it hasn't affected you too badly.” Margarite took a drink of coffee, then set her cup on the table in front of her. “This place has some semblance of civilization. I just can't bear the thought of Miram living in that hovel. And if she marries that Ed fellow … well, I hate to think.”

“He's a nice young man.”

“He's slovenly and uncivilized. Miram is far too well-bred for a man like him.” She took another sip. “I haven't been able to get her to listen to reason.”

“I know Ed cares for her.”

“Well, if that's so, why hasn't he asked her to marry him? Not that I'd like him to.”

“Ed's kind of quiet, a little shy. I'm sure he'll get around to it.”

Margarite rested her arms on the table. “If only Miram would leave with us. She'd be much better off. Do you think you could talk to her?” She added another spoon of sugar and stirred, the spoon clinking against the sides of the cup. “She thinks a lot of you. I thought maybe you could help her see she doesn't belong here.”

“Miram's a grown woman, and if she's made up her mind to stay, I'm not going to try and change it. She's done wonderfully here. She has friends and a good life. She's happy.”

Margarite's eyes narrowed. “I expected you to say something like that. How do you know she's happy? I understand her better than anyone, and I can see she's not.”

Jean figured Miram certainly wasn't happy with her mother around. “Well, I'm sure you know your daughter well, but Miram told me she never felt like she fit in anywhere before. She told me that here she feels like she belongs.”

Margarite compressed her lips, and her cheeks turned bright pink. “I didn't come to talk about Miram. I wanted to discuss something else.”

Jean waited, preparing for the worst.

Margarite clasped her gloved hands on the table in front of her. “Your poor husband, God rest his soul, must be turning over in his grave at what's going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The wedding, of course. Do you think for one moment he'd want
you to marry Ray Townsend, his enemy, the man who killed him? And it hasn't been very long since his death.”

“First of all, Ray didn't kill my husband, and he wasn't Will's enemy. Will chose to stay and protect Ray.” Jean looked at Margarite's gloved hands, then at the woman herself. “As to getting married too soon— well, Will's been gone more than a year. He wouldn't want me to be alone, and Ray Townsend is a good man. Will would approve.”

Mrs. Dexter raised an eyebrow. “And why would you think that? Ray Townsend is nothing like your husband, who was a godly and well-mannered man. Everyone in this community respected him. Ray Townsend, on the other hand—”

“Ray Townsend is also godly and respected,” Jean cut in, considering ordering the woman out of her home.

“What about that boy of yours? I hear he's not even going to the wedding. It's not right turning against your own flesh and blood that way.”

The words cut into Jean. She'd struggled with herself about going ahead without Luke's acceptance.

“It must be so hard on that boy, what with his father barely in the ground—”

Jean stood, pressing her hands on the table. “It's been more than a year, and he's not in the ground. He's in heaven.”

“Well, yes, of course, you know what I mean.”

“Yes. I'm afraid I do.”

“Please understand, I just want to help,” Margarite said in a sweet voice. Still clutching her purse, she stood. “Will was your husband for so many years. If you get married so soon, it looks bad—almost as if you've shoved him aside for another man.”

“I would never shove Will aside. I love him, I always will, but—”

“If that's so, then why are you marrying so willy-nilly? People are talking. You could ruin your reputation.”

Jean could feel herself losing control. “My reputation?” she asked incredulously. “Nothing inappropriate has happened between me and Ray Townsend.”

“Of course not. But then, well, you did have that overnight stay with him during the storm.”

“I assure you that nothing happened.”

“And the issue of the way your husband died. It looks very bad— almost as if you two planned it.”

Jean couldn't take any more. Shaking, she pointed at the door. “I want you out of my house! Out!”

Disbelief flittered across Mrs. Dexter's face. “Why, I never … I'm just—”

“Go. Before I say or do something I'm sorry for.”

Margarite headed for the door. “It will never work. Never. You two are going against God.”

Jean pressed her hand against Mrs. Dexter's back and propelled her toward the porch. Shoving her out, she closed the door and leaned against it. Tears came. “I hate that woman! I hate her!”

“Mommy, what's wrong?” Brian asked, tentatively approaching her.

Jean wiped at the tears. “Nothing. Everything's fine.”

“But you're crying. Did Mrs. Dexter say something mean?”

Jean walked to the table and picked up the cups. “She was just trying to help.”

“She's right, you know,” Luke said, stepping in from the front door. “People are talking. And Ray won't make you happy. He'll never replace Dad.”

“I'm not trying to replace your Father. I could never replace him.”

Luke took the cups from Jean and set them in the sink. “I know I've been awful lately, and I'm sorry.” He turned and faced his mother. “I want you to be happy, but I don't think marrying Ray Townsend is the way to do it. He isn't who he says he is. If I really believed he had changed, I'd say OK to all this, but… well I just can't swallow it.”

“You're wrong, Luke. He isn't what you think. Please give him a chance.”

“I can't… just can't. Please don't marry him.”

“The wedding is today. How can I change my mind now?”

Luke didn't answer; he just walked out of the house. As she watched the door close behind her son, Margarite's words reverberated through Jean's mind.
That poor boy. It will never work.

Was she doing the right thing? And what about Luke? Would she lose him?

THE MORNING PASSED, AND JEAN DID HER BEST TO PUT MARGARITE AND Luke's words out of her mind. Marrying Ray was the right thing to do. It would be good for Brian and Susie, and she needed a partner. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe her reasons to marry weren't the right ones. And what about Luke? He was her son. He mattered.

Each day since he'd first heard of the wedding, Luke had grown more distant. He'd packed his things and was ready to move in with Adam and Laurel, refusing to live in the same house as Ray Townsend.
What if he never accepts the marriage?
she wondered.

Jean hung her wedding dress in the kitchen while she waited for the iron to heat. It was a soft, yellow chiffon with a scooped neckline. Fitted at the waist, it flared just above her ankles. It was a lovely dress. She knew it would draw Ray's admiration. Only now, she didn't care so much about that, and she didn't feel the anticipation she'd expected. Jean wasn't even certain she ought to get married.

She headed upstairs to finish her last-minute packing. Warm clothes were a must for camping. When Ray had suggested they return to the mountains where they'd hunted, she'd thought it romantic. Now she only felt confused and anxious.

Maybe Margarite had been right, and she was blinded to the truth. But how could she call off the wedding on such short notice? She imagined Ray's reaction and felt sick at the thought. And if she didn't marry him, what would she do? She couldn't manage the farm on her own. She'd have to move.
But security isn't a good enough reason to get married,
she thought.

Jean stuffed an extra pair of pants and a shirt into her duffel bag. “Maybe I ought to take a pillow.”

“Look, Mommy,” Susie said, prancing into the room wearing her new dress. She twirled, arms straight out from her body. The skirt of her pinafore swirled away from her. Wearing a bright smile, she stopped twirling.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Jean said, folding the little girl in her arms. “You'll make a perfect flower girl.” She straightened. “That dress needs ironing though.”

“OK.” Susie danced away.

An ache settled in Jean's chest. Susie loved Ray. She and Brian were thrilled to have a father. How could she hurt them by calling off the wedding? They'd already lost so much.

What matters is, do I love him? I do. Don't I?
She'd thought it was clear in her mind. Now she wasn't sure. She closed her eyes.
Lord, clear my mind. Show me what to do.

Susie carried her dress to her mother. Jean took it downstairs and laid it out on the ironing board. Carefully running the iron over the cotton material, she pressed out the wrinkles. Next she turned to her dress. The chiffon rustled as she worked.

Brian walked into the room. “Mom, I can't get this buttoned.” He held up his arm.

Jean did up his cuffs. “Do you need help with your tie?”

“Nope. Ray taught me.”

She smoothed the shoulders of his shirt. “You look very handsome.”

“I'll look even better with the jacket. I'll get it.” He ran out of the room and galloped up the stairs.

Luke walked in and was about to pass by without saying anything. “You get all those stalls done?” Jean asked before he disappeared.

“Yeah.” He stopped, half in the kitchen and half in the front room. He rocked from one foot to the other. “They needed cleaning pretty bad. Figure I'll do some weeding this afternoon.”

“So, you won't be at the wedding?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

Jean searched for the right words. “Luke, this is an important day for me. It doesn't seem right, your not being there.”

Keeping his eyes on the floor, Luke said, “The way I see it, it doesn't seem right for me
to
be there.” He headed for the stairs.

Brian ran into the room and nearly bumped into him. Looking up at his brother, he asked, “What do you think? I look pretty good, huh?”

Luke managed a small smile. “You sure do.”

“You still not going?” Brian asked, his voice cheerless.

“No. I've got work to do,” Luke said brusquely and moved past him and up the stairs.

Brian's shoulders drooped. “I wish he would go. Can't you make him?”

“No. It's something he has to decide on his own.”

“It won't be the same without Luke.”

“I know.”

By the time Adam and Laurel arrived, Jean and the children were ready. Laurel walked in with Adam right behind her, baby William in his arms.

“Mama, you look absolutely beautiful!” Laurel said, hugging her mother. “That yellow is perfect on you. I knew it would be.”

“You look nice, Mrs. Hasper,” Adam said, shuffling the baby into his other arm. “I swear, pretty soon this boy will be too heavy to carry. I'll be glad when he can walk.”

“Don't hurry him too much,” Jean said.

“So, how do I look?” Brian asked.

“Real sharp,” Adam said.

Susie twirled. “How about me?”

“You are beautiful.” Laurel bent and kissed her little sister, then straightened and looked at her mother. “Is Luke coming?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Adam offered.

“No.”

“I wish he would come with us,” Brian said.

Jean was tempted to go upstairs and try to convince Luke, but this was a decision he had to make on his own.

“Well, I think it's time someone talked some sense into that boy,” Adam said and hurried out of the room and up the stairs. Several minutes later he reappeared.

“Well, what did he say?” Laurel asked.

Adam shrugged. “I don't know if he'll be there. Maybe.”

Laurel forced a smile. “Well, we better go then. You ready?” she asked her mother.

“As ready as I'll ever be.” Jean glanced at the camping equipment she'd set by the back door. “Ray and I will come by for the gear after the wedding.” She walked into the front room and glanced at the stairway, feeling the pull to go up.