Ripples Along the Shore Read Online Free PDF Page B

warmth soaked through Caroline’s skirt and petticoat. This, when she was finally beginning to feel a measure of ease around the man. Determined not to humiliate Mary, she fought to hide her discomfort.
    “If you’ll excuse us, Mr., uh, Garrett.”
    “Yes ma’am.” He brushed the brim of his hat. If he knew what had happened, he didn’t let on.
    Perhaps he was a kind man, after all.

Five
    W ood-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