The Bridal Veil Read Free Page A

his
best to evade.
    When he’d finally announced his plan
and Alyssa’s pending arrival to his daughter and mother-in-law, the
storm that broke over the Becker farm rivaled any that blew through
the gorge in winter.
    Neither of them wanted this new
person, Alyssa Cannon, in their house. A stranger, Cora had raged,
handling her dead daughter’s possessions, taking her dead
daughter’s place? Cora had turned the house into a kind of shrine
to Belinda, leaving her belongings exactly where she’d kept them,
as if she’d only gone into town for the afternoon instead of to her
final rest. Had his wedding vows meant nothing to him? she
demanded. Given his history with Belinda, he’d wondered how she had
the nerve to ask.
    Rose had sulked over the news and
vowed not to like anyone he brought home.
    Their reaction had been so bad, Luke
had decided it would be better not to mention in his letters that
Cora lived under his roof. He knew he’d taken the coward’s way out.
He just hoped it would all sort itself out. Somehow.
    All the nights he’d lain awake,
worrying and planning, simmering over Cora’s tight-lipped
disapproval and Rose’s withdrawal and unladylike
antics . . . all those nights of planning and
hoping that a new bride would lighten his lonely widower’s life and
help him reach his remote, unhappy, tomboy daughter. A new wife
who’d described herself so vividly—petite and dark-haired—that he’d
actually been looking for Belinda to get off that damned steamboat.
He’d arranged a quiet ceremony with old Judge Clifton, to be
conducted this afternoon in his office, followed by a little
wedding dinner back at the farm. He’d told Cora to wait at home
until the whole thing was signed and sealed. Oh, he’d had lots of
plans.
    At the very least, he’d expected
someone named Alyssa, with whom he’d corresponded for several
months. Instead this stiff-backed female had arrived, resembling
one of the scarecrows in his cornfield, tall, skinny, and pale,
with the horrifying news that his intended mail-order bride was
dead and she was here to take her sister’s place. Generally, it
wasn’t in him to be rude to a woman, but he wanted to ask her just
what the hell she was thinking of.
    As if reading his thoughts, Emily
Cannon spoke. “I’m sure you must be wondering why I came to Oregon,
Mr. Becker. It must seem very odd to you. And I admit that it was a
very forward thing for me to do.”
    “ Yeah, well,
ma’am—”
    She looked away, but not before Luke
noticed that her eyes were the color of spring clover. “After
Alyssa’s funeral, I had intended to write and tell you about her
accident. Then it occurred to me, you need help with your daughter
Rose, and I’m a teacher of etiquette and fine needlework at Miss
Abigail Wheaton’s Finishing School for Young Ladies.” She gave him
a sidelong glance. “Or at least I-I was until Miss Wheaton was
forced to close her doors for lack of funds.” She gave the tea
another nervous stir with the spoon and continued in a low voice,
the words tumbling out. “In any event, your letters explained your
difficulties and what you’re looking for in a wife.” She pulled a
piece of paper of out her pocket and extended it in her slender
hand. “‘Please come,’ it said. ‘We need you.’ So I
came.”
    Luke stared at his own letter, one of
the several he’d written to Alyssa Cannon, now in Emily’s grip.
Damn it to hell, this was too much. “You read the letters I wrote
to your sister?”
    The lunchtime diners at the
surrounding tables leaned in a little closer.
    A look of mild horror crossed her even
features and she dropped her spoon. “Only with her permission, I
assure you! To do otherwise would be—would be—unmannerly,
dishonorable. She shared them with me, yes. After all, my only
sister was planning to travel to the west edge of the country to
marry a man she had never met. She wanted me to know something
about you and where she was going.”
    He felt