King Maker (King Maker 3)

Violet, her husband, and my parents were coming to New York for my second wedding. Kalen and his father were working on repairing their relationship. He was too ill to make the trip here and the press would accept something big. To throw them off the scent of what we were doing here, we’d announced our wedding nuptials to take place at his father’s estate in a few days, a concession we made to repair the rift between the two.

My sister would get a taste outside of our community in Pennsylvania and decide if she wanted to stay.

“This is really happening,” I said to no one.

The dress had been my mother’s. Because modesty was prime, the only part that was fitted was at my chest. That was only because my breasts were bigger than Mother’s. The rest fell loose and showed no hint of a baby bump. Otherwise, Father might not have agreed to me marrying here.

Violet was pinching my cheeks, creating in her words, “nature’s makeup,” when my younger sister walked in and said, “Time.”

She also had no clue about my pregnancy. The only people I’d told were my parents and Violet.

She looked me over. “You do look pretty, Bailey,” Mary said almost grudgingly.

“Thanks,” I said, keeping a promise to my father to be a better sister, even the bigger one physically and mentally.

My youngest brother, John, nodded to everyone as he came in. His job was to escort me part of the way and hand me off to my other brother, Jacob. Then Jacob would pass me to my father who would walk me down the aisle.

As our hometown band played their version of the “Bridal Chorus,” butterflies took flight in my heart. I wasn’t nervous, but seeing Kalen there on the makeshift altar stole my breath, especially as his eyes never left mine.

When my father should have handed me off to Kalen, he nodded. Gabe who’d been standing next to his father came down and took my hand. I nearly cried as he was the one to walk me over to Kalen and put my hand in his father’s.

The ceremony was a blur. I didn’t hear much of anything except when I was asked to repeat.

“I will love, honor, and obey…”

Kalen smirked at me when I said it. I was only further annoyed when he was only asked to repeat, “I will love, honor, and cherish.”

I wanted to call horseshit, but bit my tongue instead as I gave my future husband the stink eye as he tried his best not to laugh at me.

We were pronounced husband and wife and Kalen was allowed to kiss me. Then I did laugh when I got the most chaste kiss I’d ever gotten from my now husband.

As we walked down the aisle as man and wife, I teased him.

“Did my father threaten you with the shotgun?”

He only grinned.

The reception followed and the men folk surrounded Kalen, leaving me to stand and watch.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mother said, coming over and slipping an arm around me in a half-hug.

“It meant a lot to me to have this here.”

Though this place couldn’t be my permanent home, it always would be home. I’d had lots of happy memories. A part of me wished Turner could have been here, and the other felt it was right he wasn’t.

When my younger sister walked over, I prepared for World War III. I braced myself for whatever insult Mary was about to throw my way, especially when Mother excused herself.

“I was always jealous of you,” she said.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Of course there is. You always got your way and did things your way.”

“Not true,” I countered.

She either hadn’t heard me or chose to ignore me.

“The boy every girl wanted, wanted you and you let him go.”

“Mary,” I began, wanting to end this.

“I’m not finished,” I huffed. “You left.”

“I wasn’t strong enough to stay. You are. You can bring the change I wasn’t strong enough to. They respect you.”

She tilted her head as if she were surprised to hear me say that.

“It’s true. I was too brash and bucked the system. No one would have listened to me. Dad needs you to be the backbone and help him make this place better than it is.”

“You’re right,” she said.

Though I’d played to her ego, I meant every word I said.

Margaret, Mary’s friend who was in love with Turner, came over. “Congratulations, Bailey.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Turner is finally free of you.”

And there was the jab I’d expected from my younger sister.

“Turner was never mine and he was never yours either. He only held your hand to make me jealous. He’s never even kissed you, has he?”

I probably shouldn’t have said that, but well, Turner deserved better.

“He might have if you hadn’t strung him along,” she spat.

“Bailey hadn’t been around for two years and he didn’t try anything. You had your chance. Let it go.”