Prologue
Brides were supposed to be beautiful and happy, Randi Howell told herself as she smoothed the front of her white satin wedding gown. Or at least reasonably attractive and content. Panic was not on the list of acceptable emotions. She didn’t want to think about what she must look like, but she had a bad feeling her eyes were wide and filled with a hunted expression. Gee, at least a “deer in the headlights” look would make the wedding photos interesting.
“It’s not so bad,” she said aloud, wishing her voice sounded more confident. “After all, I’m marrying Hal. He won’t be a horrible husband.”
Despite the nerves banging around in her stomach and the alternating urge to throw up or break out in a rash, she had to smile at that one. Hal would be annoyed if he knew she thought of him as “not so horrible.” Hardly praise every groom dreamed about.
Randi paced the length of the room. It was all of eight steps. The small meeting room, one of many at the far end of the Squaw Creek Lodge, had been converted into a temporary “bride’s room” for the wedding. Although the ballroom had been festooned with flowers, candles and beautifully set tables for the reception, the decorations didn’t extend this far back. The tiny room contained only an oval mirror in the corner, a florist’s box with her bouquet, a folding chair piled high with her street clothes and nothing else. At least the room was carpeted. The hallways weren’t. The only bright spot in an otherwise dismal situation was that she was alone.
Her mother had wanted to spend these last few minutes giving Randi instructions and reminding her how socially important the wedding would be, launching Randi into Grand Springs society. Randi grimaced at the thought, pleased she’d insisted on spending this time by herself. The only place she wanted to be launched was to another continent.
“Stop it!” she told herself firmly. “You’re getting married. Hundreds of women do this every day. Love is a difficult concept at best. How do you know you don’t love Hal?”
She stopped in midpace and slowly faced the mirror. The medieval-style gown clung to her from shoulders to hips, then flared out to the floor. The heavy satin swayed in counterpoint to her movements, creating grace from her tomboyish walk.
She raised her gaze higher, past the pearls her mother had given her to wear, to her face. Despite perfect makeup, she was pale, her skin nearly the color of ash.
The realization began slowly, a small kernel of knowledge that sprouted, then grew quickly, like one of those time-lapse images on television. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Hal, she wasn’t sure she even liked him.
She’d fallen into the engagement, as she’d fallen into everything else in her life. Because it was easy. Easier than making her own way.
“I don’t want this,” she whispered, suddenly sure she couldn’t marry Hal. But what was the alternative? How could she get out of this situation? One thing was certain. This time her daddy or her big brother Noah weren’t going to come to her rescue. This time she would have to take care of it herself.
“Mom is gonna kill me,” she muttered as she glanced around the room, trying to figure out what she was going to say to the older woman.
What if her mother tried to talk her into getting married, anyway? After all, everything was paid for, the guests were waiting. She had about three minutes of freedom left.
“I need more time,” Randi said. “I have to think and figure out what I want. Dear Lord, this would be a really great time for a miracle.”
She waited about two heartbeats, then figured God was busy. She was going to have to make her own miracle.
She grabbed her purse and considered writing a note. No time, she thought, hearing the organ music start another song. She’d been over the music list so many times, she had it memorized. The wedding march would begin next.
After slipping off her shoes so
Brides were supposed to be beautiful and happy, Randi Howell told herself as she smoothed the front of her white satin wedding gown. Or at least reasonably attractive and content. Panic was not on the list of acceptable emotions. She didn’t want to think about what she must look like, but she had a bad feeling her eyes were wide and filled with a hunted expression. Gee, at least a “deer in the headlights” look would make the wedding photos interesting.
“It’s not so bad,” she said aloud, wishing her voice sounded more confident. “After all, I’m marrying Hal. He won’t be a horrible husband.”
Despite the nerves banging around in her stomach and the alternating urge to throw up or break out in a rash, she had to smile at that one. Hal would be annoyed if he knew she thought of him as “not so horrible.” Hardly praise every groom dreamed about.
Randi paced the length of the room. It was all of eight steps. The small meeting room, one of many at the far end of the Squaw Creek Lodge, had been converted into a temporary “bride’s room” for the wedding. Although the ballroom had been festooned with flowers, candles and beautifully set tables for the reception, the decorations didn’t extend this far back. The tiny room contained only an oval mirror in the corner, a florist’s box with her bouquet, a folding chair piled high with her street clothes and nothing else. At least the room was carpeted. The hallways weren’t. The only bright spot in an otherwise dismal situation was that she was alone.
Her mother had wanted to spend these last few minutes giving Randi instructions and reminding her how socially important the wedding would be, launching Randi into Grand Springs society. Randi grimaced at the thought, pleased she’d insisted on spending this time by herself. The only place she wanted to be launched was to another continent.
“Stop it!” she told herself firmly. “You’re getting married. Hundreds of women do this every day. Love is a difficult concept at best. How do you know you don’t love Hal?”
She stopped in midpace and slowly faced the mirror. The medieval-style gown clung to her from shoulders to hips, then flared out to the floor. The heavy satin swayed in counterpoint to her movements, creating grace from her tomboyish walk.
She raised her gaze higher, past the pearls her mother had given her to wear, to her face. Despite perfect makeup, she was pale, her skin nearly the color of ash.
The realization began slowly, a small kernel of knowledge that sprouted, then grew quickly, like one of those time-lapse images on television. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Hal, she wasn’t sure she even liked him.
She’d fallen into the engagement, as she’d fallen into everything else in her life. Because it was easy. Easier than making her own way.
“I don’t want this,” she whispered, suddenly sure she couldn’t marry Hal. But what was the alternative? How could she get out of this situation? One thing was certain. This time her daddy or her big brother Noah weren’t going to come to her rescue. This time she would have to take care of it herself.
“Mom is gonna kill me,” she muttered as she glanced around the room, trying to figure out what she was going to say to the older woman.
What if her mother tried to talk her into getting married, anyway? After all, everything was paid for, the guests were waiting. She had about three minutes of freedom left.
“I need more time,” Randi said. “I have to think and figure out what I want. Dear Lord, this would be a really great time for a miracle.”
She waited about two heartbeats, then figured God was busy. She was going to have to make her own miracle.
She grabbed her purse and considered writing a note. No time, she thought, hearing the organ music start another song. She’d been over the music list so many times, she had it memorized. The wedding march would begin next.
After slipping off her shoes so
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