Every drop of defiance drained from her. She’d do anything for Mac and he knew it. “You’re sentencing yourself to a lifetime of misery.”
He shrugged. “Fifteen, sixteen years at the most. By then Dusty will be on his own and Mac will be grown. Then we’ll go our separate ways.”
His callous manner stung. “We’ll make the children miserable.”
“We’re both adults. We can put our feelings aside and see that they’re happy.”
Years of endless tension and unspoken anger loomed before her. How could they possibly make the children happy under such circumstances? “Cole, it can’t work.”
“If it doesn’t I’ll leave with Mac and Dusty.”
“It didn’t work this time.”
He shook his head. “I learn from my mistakes. Next time I won’t wrench him from you. I’ll take my time, wait until he’s gotten to know me, and then we’ll leave.”
The knifing pain she’d endured last night returned in a flash. She was trapped.
The back door slammed open. Gene and Gladys Applegate charged into the room. Slightly out of breath, their gazes darted between Rebecca and Cole.
“Did I hear right, you’re willing to marry her?” Mrs. Applegate said.
Cole clenched his jaw. “That’s right.”
Mr. Applegate yanked off his hat. “And you’d stay in town and reopen the mine?”
Cole nodded. “Yep.”
Mrs. Applegate clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful!”
Rebecca stared at Mrs. Applegate as if she’d lost her mind. “Don’t you understand? He hates me.”
“Hate. Love. There’s a fine line between the two,” Mrs. Applegate said cheerily.
Rebecca stared into Cole’s eyes, now calm as if he’d made his decision and was ready to act.
Cole looked past her to Mrs. Applegate. “There a minister in town?”
She nodded. “The circuit judge arrived last night, but he’s fixing to leave in a few hours.”
“I just need him for five minutes.”
Rebecca felt the walls closing in on her. She glanced at the door. “I need to be alone to think.”
Cole grabbed her arm; his hard eyes drilled her. He wasn’t bluffing and they both knew it. “It’s now or never.”
Rebecca looked at Mrs. Applegate, desperate for an ally. “I can’t do this.”
Mrs. Applegate smiled. “Dear, it is the best solution for everyone. Think of the boys.”
“We don’t love each other.”
“Some of the best marriages don’t start off as a love match,” the older woman reasoned.
“Real love grows with time,” Mr. Applegate added.
Cole cursed. “Yes or no, Rebecca. I want an answer now.”
The weight of her decision pressed against her chest. She glanced at Mac and Dusty who stared expectantly at her. Mrs. Applegate held her breath, while Mr. Applegate gripped the brim of his hat.
“Yes or no,” Cole persisted.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
His lips curled into a smug smile. He’d won and they both knew it.
“Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rebecca glanced at the small Swiss clock that sat on the mantel above the fireplace in her room. It read 11:44. An hour had passed since Cole had declared they’d marry and only minutes remained before the judge arrived at the inn to perform the ceremony.
It was her wedding day and she was miserable.
Rebecca stared into the tall oval mirror in the corner of her room. She’d donned a freshly laundered green muslin dress and tied back her hair with a yellow ribbon. Her pasty cheeks looked sunken and hollow, and dark rings hung under her eyes.
She turned from the mirror and sank down onto the edge of her bed. Bess had taken the children, declaring all brides needed a moment or two to themselves before the wedding. The house was quiet except for the steady thud of Cole’s pacing.
Then his footsteps stopped and a silence descended over the house. Unnatural, the quiet reminded her that she’d lose her children without this marriage.
Clutching damp palms together, Rebecca rose and walked to the window. She lifted the lace curtains and looked over her front yard, where dozens of townsfolk had gathered to witness the nuptials.
The town women scurried about a buffet table they’d set under a large shade tree. The decision had been made to resume the interrupted Fourth of July activities of yesterday and turn Cole and Rebecca’s wedding into a party. Mrs. Applegate had marshaled the women in record time and put together a feast any bride would be proud of.
The last time Rebecca had married, she’d eloped. There’d been no one present at the simple ceremony, and she and Curtis had spoken their vows without fanfare in the modest Denver vicarage. Still, Rebecca had been full of girlish excitement. Curtis had looked so dashing in his camel suit, lace cuffs and polished black boots. She’d had so much hope for the future.
Now, only dread filled her heart.
She knew how difficult life could be when a marriage went sour. She’d loved Curtis—or at least thought she had—and things had turned out miserably for them. So, what hope did she and Cole have when at the outset there was only distrust and bitterness?
A loud knock on the door startled Rebecca from her thoughts. “Come in.”
The door creaked open and Mrs. Applegate popped her head in. “You decent?”
Rebecca rose. “Yes, I’m dressed.”
“Splendid. You don’t mind a few visitors before the wedding do you?”
Yes. “No.”
“Good.” Mrs. Applegate’s ample bosom swayed as she bounded in the room, basket in hand. Prudence followed with an armful of flowers tied together with a white ribbon. “We’ve come to see that you’re properly outfitted.”
Rebecca smoothed palms over her skirt. “I am ready.”
Mrs. Applegate tittered. “All brides deserve a few finishing touches that make them special. It isn’t every day you get married.”
Thankfully.
“Now let’s have a look at that hair of yours,” Prudence said.
Rebecca touched the curly strands. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“It should sit atop your head,” said Prudence. “Like a queen.”
?
??I don’t feel much like a queen.”
Prudence squeezed Rebecca’s icy hand. “I know and I’m sorry. If I’d held my tongue yesterday, your wedding day to Cole would have been a happy one and not so filled with anger.”
Rebecca’s heart twisted as she stared into Prudence’s watery eyes. She couldn’t disguise her bitterness. “If you’d not spoken up, there’d never have been a wedding.”
Mrs. Applegate snorted. “Oh, there’d have been a wedding between the two of you sooner or later. Even a blind man could have seen that one.”
Rebecca glanced up, shocked. “Ridiculous.”
“The man can’t keep his eyes off you. Everyone could see that.”
“Cole hates me.”
Prudence shrugged. “He wouldn’t be so mad if he didn’t care.”
Mrs. Applegate winked. “Wounded pride. Men are like babies when you hurt their pride.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was afraid to trust him.”
“We know, dear,” Mrs. Applegate said patting her on the shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say we all misjudged Cole McGuire.”
“He’ll never forgive me.”
“Men need to lick their wounds,” Prudence soothed. “He’ll forgive and forget. Give him time.”
Rebecca doubted Prudence’s words, but didn’t have the chance to say so. Mrs. Applegate glanced at the clock. “Time! That’s one thing we don’t have much of. Cole was insistent that we have you downstairs at twelve noon sharp.”
“Said he’d come and get you himself if you were a minute late,” Prudence said.
“How romantic,” Mrs. Applegate cooed as she guided Rebecca in front of her full-length mirror. “I wish my Gene showed that kind of fire for me. Honestly, I think the man gets more excited about a clean house and a hot meal these days than he does me.”
Prudence giggled as she laid her bundle of flowers on the bed. “Fresh laundry made my late husband go weak at the knees.”
The women laughed as they arranged Rebecca’s hair. She let the banter drift above her head and wondered if there might be some hope she and Cole could one day build a happy marriage.
She thought about the dance they’d shared only yesterday—the touch of his palm pressing into her back, the way his natural scent mingled with soap, and the hard feel of his chest as it grazed against her.