The Bridal Veil Read Online Free PDF Page A

bride
in her wrinkled black crepe suit, she had vowed to take Luke
Becker, a complete stranger, as her husband. Then Luke had placed
on her hand a plain gold band intended for a much smaller finger.
Because it didn’t fit hers, it now encircled her left pinky under
her glove. She’d known a flutter of panic when his warm hand had
touched hers. He could claim her with those big hands if he wanted
to, regardless of what he’d said about giving her only a roof, his
name, and respect. He would be within his rights to do so if he
chose.
    Emily glanced down. Her suit was
pretty much a loss to the damp weather, and she was certain that
her hat was a ruined wreck. It wasn’t raining hard. It simply
didn’t stop, and the rain’s dreary grayness seeped into her heart.
In the back of the wagon Rose still sulked, as bedraggled as any
street urchin Emily had ever seen in Chicago. Her ruffled dress was
ruined, too.
    The wagon hit a deep puddle, throwing
Emily against Luke’s shoulder. It was a strong shoulder, hard and
unyielding and very male. She pulled away as if it were a
firebrand. Emily had lived in a mostly feminized world for many
years—with her sister and all the females at Miss Wheaton’s
Finishing School—she was unaccustomed to dealing with a man like
Luke. All she knew of him was what he’d written in his letters.
Three years widowed, he grew cabbage and corn on his farm, had been
born in Fairdale, and was the father of eleven-year-old
Rose.
    As if their brief contact had jolted
him into speech, Luke said, “I hope you understand about the ring.
I got it from Fran’s store a few weeks ago, when I thought Alyssa
was— Anyway, it didn’t seem like a good idea to go back there
today, after everything that happened. I’ll exchange it some day
when I go into town.”
    “ Of course. That’s fine.”
She understood, better than he knew.
    “ Do you like ham? Cora has
fixed a little wedding supper for us.”
    She looked up at him. He had a fine
nose, not too long or too short, a strong jaw, and a broad
forehead. “Really? Cora is your housekeeper?”
    “ Uh, no, not exactly. Cora
Hayward is Rose’s grandmother. She lives with us.”
    “ Oh?” This salient point had
been left out of Luke’s correspondence. “I don’t believe Alyssa
said anything about it.”
    “ Yeah, well, I guess I might
have forgotten to mention it to her. You’ll meet Cora in a few
minutes.” He flapped the lines in his hands and kept his gaze fixed
on the path ahead as they crossed a narrow, rickety corduroy
bridge. The small logs, laid crosswise, rattled her teeth and made
speech nearly impossible.
    None of the scenarios Emily had
envisioned included having to please a live-in mother-in-law. “Does
your father-in-law live with you too?”
    “ No, he died before Rose was
born. Cora came to stay with Rose and me after we lost Belinda.”
His sigh was almost imperceptible. “Three years ago,
now.”
    They rounded a curve and another
farmhouse came into view. “That’s our farm. That’s the homestead.”
She heard the unmistakable pride in Luke’s voice as he turned the
team into the road that led to the house.
    A tidy, two-story place, it was
painted sage-green with cream trim. Its wide, covered porch
stretched across the front and around the side. A barn and with an
attached henhouse stood off to the left, and at the rear edge of
the cleared land, another dense forest of fir trees loomed. Those
on the outer edges seemed to have thinner branches on their eastern
sides, as if they’d been beaten by fierce winds over many years.
Their cold, dark silhouettes made Emily shiver. A stately old oak
grew in the front yard, and a swing hung from it. No other
shrubbery or flowers decorated the yard.
    Waiting on the porch was a large,
stocky woman with a stern face and faded red hair that was parted
down the center and pulled into a tight knot at the base of her
neck. She stood with her arms crossed over her ample chest,
gripping a cooking