The Bridal Veil by Alexis Harrington Read Free Book Online Page B

patience for the kind of fine needlework that her daughter
had done—life was too hard and too busy for that kind of froufrou
or gewgaw. Fancy was good for people who had nothing better to do. Get the job
done and move on to the next, that was what Cora did.
    And they’d been getting on well enough
here, she and Rose. Her granddaughter almost made her forget that
horrible night that Belinda had died, thanks to Luke Becker. If it
hadn’t been for him—
    But they’d managed just fine here at
the farm. Then Luke had to bring in Miss Fancy Manners and stir up
everything. And it wasn’t the first time he’d done that. Whenever
Cora thought she had things in place, Luke came along to upset the
applecart. She’d wanted Belinda to marry that doctor’s boy, Bradley
Tilson. He’d worked on one of the neighboring farms that summer all
those years gone now. But no, Luke Becker, the wildest boy in town,
had sweet-talked her and run Bradley off. Oh, Belinda had defended
Luke and told Cora that she was wrong, but Cora knew better. Those
Beckers were all alike, living down in that shack by the river,
their father no better than the drunken logger that he’d once been,
their mother nothing but a foolish, browbeaten female. Belinda
could have had a soft life in Portland married to a doctor, because
Bradley was studying medicine too. Instead, she’d had to marry Luke
and end up here.
    Cora looked around the room. Well, it
wasn’t a bad house. Luke had done better than she’d expected. She
had to admit that he worked hard, too. But she knew her girl had
never been happy here, no sir, never. Cora had visited often enough
to know. She’d tried to get Belinda to take Rose and come home.
When she finally had, it was too late. Too late.
    So now Cora had Emily Cannon to deal
with, in a house that Cora had come to think of as her own. Luke
claimed Rose needed a mother—well, what was she, the girl’s own
flesh and blood, if not a mother? Better her than a stranger from
Chicago with a lot of blame fool ideas about how people ought to
act and talk and eat and dress. She’d already made trouble and this
was only her first night under this roof.
    Cora hoisted her considerable bulk
from the chair and adjusted the bun on her head. If the new Mrs.
Becker thought that Cora was just going to roll over and play dead,
she had another thing coming.
    ~~*~*~*~~
    Luke lay in his bed in the darkness,
his body deep in the feather tick. The clouds had finally begun to
break up and the moon cut a long white slash across the
quilt.
    God, what a lousy damned day this had
been. He was dead tired but sleep wouldn’t come to him. He’d tossed
and turned so much the bedding was wadded into a lump. Tension
wound itself around the Becker house like fence wire pulled tight,
and he felt it.
    Rose had closed herself in her room
for the rest of the evening. Eventually, he tapped on her door,
carrying a glass of milk and a lopsided sandwich that he’d made.
But his girl wouldn’t answer him, so he left the food outside her
room. When he came up to bed, he noticed it was gone.
    Emily, his wife—hah, that was a sorry
kind of joke, wasn’t it? He linked his hands under his head and
stared at the darkened ceiling. She’d also stayed in her room after
dinner. He’d already asked himself a dozen times tonight if he’d
only made things worse by marrying her. And he got no answer. That
tall, skinny drink of water with her black clothes, stiff ways, and
city-bred notions—he was probably asking too much of them all in
bringing her here.
    Still, she had to deal with Cora. Even
Alyssa, if she had come, wouldn’t have known about her until she
arrived. He hadn’t figured out a way to tell her about his
scolding, domineering mother-in-law. So if Emily was guilty of
trying to fool him, he supposed he was equally guilty of keeping
Rose’s grandmother a secret.
    When Belinda died, he’d been so
wrapped up in his grief, he was glad to see Cora move in. After
all, what