Laurel stood on a stool while Jean pinned the hem of her wedding dress. It was the last detail that needed tending to before the wedding. Laurel looked at her reflection in the wood-framed mirror. The gown was lovely, with a princess neckline, fitted bodice, long sleeves, and a floor-length skirt. She smoothed the material, enjoying the feel of soft crepe.
“Hold still.”
“Sorry.” Laurel held her arms out straight in front of her, admiring the pearl buttons on the cuffs. She also had matching buttons edging the neckline. It had been a splurge to buy them, but now it seemed worth it. The dress was much more elegant with the delicate adornments.
Jean pushed the last pin through the material, then straightened and stepped back. Studying Laurel, her eyes filled with tears. “You're so beautiful. It was certainly worth a dollar a yard.” She took out the handkerchief she kept in her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “My little girl is about to become a married woman.”
Laurel stepped off the stool and hugged her mother. “Things won't change that much. I'll just be next door.”
Jean nodded, her chin quivering. “No. Things will change greatly. I'm being silly. It's just that …” Her eyes refilled. “It seems like yesterday you were jumping rope and climbing trees.”
Laurel smiled. “I remember.” Tentatively, she asked, “Mama, were you scared when you and Daddy got married?”
“Oh, yes.” She blew her nose. “Well, not scared exactly, but a bride always has some anxiety.” She smiled. “You don't have to be afraid of Robert. He's a gentle man.”
“I know. He's wonderful. It's just that …” Laurel didn't know how to explain what she was feeling. She looked at her reflection again. She didn't look blissful. “Shouldn't I be ecstatically happy that I'm getting married?”
“I can only tell you what I felt. I was overjoyed at the idea of becoming your father's wife. I could barely wait for the day.”
“Mama, I don't feel overjoyed, exactly. I mean, I'm happy. Robert will be a wonderful husband, but—”
A knock sounded at the door, and Jean hurried to answer it. David Phillips, a young man who sometimes delivered mail, stood on the porch. “Good day, Mrs. Hasper.”
“Hello, David. Please, come in out of the cold.”
“Thank you, ma'am, but I have to get back.” He held out an envelope. “I have a telegram for Laurel.”
“A telegram?” Jean's voice sounded tight. “From where?”
“London, England, ma'am.”
Jean took the envelope.
He held out a ledger and pencil. “Could you sign here, please?”
Jean signed.
“Good day to you.” David walked away.
Closing the door, Jean turned and faced Laurel.
Fear surging through her, Laurel stared at her mother. It had to be from Adam! “Something must be wrong!”
Her face lined with worry, Jean held out the envelope to Laurel.
Her mouth dry, her heart thumping, Laurel stared at it. “Do you think something's happened?”
“I don't know. You have to open it to find out.”
Her hands shaking, Laurel took the envelope from her mother and opened it, steeling herself for the worst. “My dearest Laurel.” STOP. “I love you.” STOP. “Please don't marry Robert.” STOP. “I'm coming.” STOP. “Adam.”
“Laurel, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Jean took the telegram and quickly scanned it. “Oh, dear.”
Laurel sank into a chair. What should I do? she thought. Adam had told her before that he loved her, but he'd believed his career came before anything else, including her.
She looked at her mother, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can't hurt Robert that way. I just can't. How dare Adam do this!”
Adam folded the frayed newspaper he'd picked up at the Seattle airport. He'd read it, then folded it and refolded it so many times it was tattered. He'd left London four days ago, knowing he couldn't make it before the wedding. Now he was nearing Palmer. He stared at the white countryside passing by the train window. Aspen and cottonwood stood like ghost trees, their bare arms stretched out, skinny and knotted.
Even if she got my wire, she probably married Robert. He's a good man. I was foolish to believe she'd call off her wedding just because she got a wire from me.
The train rumbled over a trestle. Clouds hung like a low ceiling above a gray inlet. It looked desolate and lonely, matching Adam's mood. He'd rediscovered God, but what if he'd awakened too late? What would he do without Laurel?
He opened the paper. In large bold letters the headline announced, “King Gives Up Throne For The Woman He Loves.” Below it quoted the king's words, “I found it impossible to carry the heavy burden without the help and support of the woman I love.” Ever since Adam first heard those words, they'd echoed through his mind.
He closed the paper, letting it rest in his lap. Why didn't I understand sooner? Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. He'd been too busy trying to be important. Now he was paying the consequences.
He rested his head against the seat. I'll be a farmer. I'll be anything. Nothing matters without her.
The train slowed and stopped in front of the Palmer depot. Adam grabbed his bag, walked down the aisle, and stepped off the train. He had the distinct sense that he was going to an execution—his. What would he do if Laurel told him she was Mrs. Robert Lundeen? How would he react? He tried to prepare himself for the worst.
He looked around and remembered when he'd first arrived in Palmer; he'd been full of himself, ready to show the world who he was. Now he was simply a man who'd made a terrible mistake.
