The Brides of Chance Collection Part 16

Miriam couldn't believe he'd opened Hannah's chest and suffered all of this pain to give her the wedding gown with his blessing. She whispered tearfully, "Thank you, Daniel."

He nodded and trudged away.

Lord, he hurts so badly. Ease his sorrow and show us how to help him through his grief. The Whites' buggy rolled up, drawing Miriam back to the fact that she needed to get ready. She shut the door and turned to iron the wedding gown.

Minutes later, Reba rapped on the door and let herself in. "Wonder of wonders, will you look at that! That bridal gown is exquisite."

"It was Mama's. Hannah wore it. Daniel is loaning it to me."

"That's a fine thing, indeed. Here. I'll set myself to doing the ironing. You fix your hair."

Miriam unwound the rags from her hair and started styling it. "I appreciate your help so much."

"Honey, that's what friends are for. My, this gown is lovely. The men are going to be pea green with envy that Gideon swept you off your feet."

Miriam smiled. "We get along well enough. They're all happy I'm marrying their brother."

"Dear, I know that. I mean all of the other men. Logan and Bryce rode out yesterday and spread the word. Everyone's still coming today for the nuptials."

"But I only made one little cake!"

Reba started laughing. "Wait 'til you see what Gideon did last night." Miriam gave her a questioning look, but Reba swished her hand in the air. "Don't ask me. You'll have to wait and find out for yourself."

Logan brought Polly over. Polly's hair resembled a jumble of giant watch springs, and the sash on her dress looked just as hopelessly twisted. Logan stuck a basket of flowers into Polly's hands. "Gideon picked these with her. He said they're for your hair."

Polly wiggled like an eager puppy. "I want some in my hair, too."

"We've got to do something about it," Reba murmured.

"Anything," Logan agreed, "would be an improvement."

"That's what Unca t.i.tus said 'bout Unca Giddy's cupcakes." Polly stood on tiptoe and reached over her head. "He gots a big pile all stacked up this high."

Logan spluttered, spun away, and shut the door. His howling laughter still filtered into the cottage.

Reba got the giggles. "I guess the surprise is out. Maybe it's best you know before you see it, Miriam. It's the sorriest sight I've ever seen. That man and his brothers desperately need you."

"Gideon was trying to make today perfect." Miriam started combing Polly's hair into some semblance of order. Her heart overflowed. He was doing everything he could to turn this hurried event into something special. "He loves me."

"He's a fine man-one in a million," Reba agreed.

A short while later, Reba tucked one last flower into Miriam's hair, fussed to make sure the skirt hung just so, and scooted back to admire her. "Lovely. Just lovely! I'm going to go on out now."

Polly scrambled down from the chair over by the window. "They gots benches out there like for church. Lotsa men are here."

"It sounds as if everything's ready." Miriam retied Polly's sash and gave her a hug. "You're so pretty, Polly."

"Amazing what wonders a woman's touch can do." Laughter tinged Reba's voice. She took Polly by the hand, then looked at Miriam and asked, "Who's going to walk you down the aisle?"

"We talked it over, and I want Gideon to come claim me. There's no one present to give me away, and it just seems right to hold fast to his arm from the start."

Reba and Polly scooted out, and Miriam dabbed on a little perfume. Lord, Thou art so generous. Thou knowest my heart and hast blessed me far beyond my wildest dreams. Thank Thee for Gideon and the love we share. Help me to be a good wife to him.

A single, solid thump sounded. Gideon. It was his knock.

It's time.

She opened the door.

Gideon took a long, slow look at her-from the flowers in her hair, down her bridal gown, to the tips of her shoes. "Sweet pea, you make me believe in miracles."

"You take my breath away."

He winked. "Save enough to speak your vows, darlin'. There's nothing I want more in this world than for you to be mine."

"I love you, Gideon." She accepted the bouquet of wildflowers he handed her and stepped out to meet her future with him by her side.

SECOND CHANCE.

by Tracey Bateman.

Prologue.

San Francisco, 1871.

I'm leaving the house and the money to Alisa."

Standing with her back pressed against the wall outside the library, Alisa touched her fingers to her throat. Alarm inched its way up her spine. What could Mrs. Worthington possibly be thinking by telling her son such an outlandish tale? She inched around so that she could peer through the small crack where the door wasn't quite shut all the way. The dear woman sat regally in a black leather chair behind her husband's desk, her fingers laced together as she conversed with her son.

"Surely you're joking, Mother. Leave our money to a foundling?"

"A foundling who should never have been lost in the first place."

"Please, Mother." The sound of Mr. Worthington's long-suffering voice rankled Alisa. He should show his mother more respect, in her opinion. "Must you always throw that little indiscretion in my face?"

"That darling child is much more than an indiscretion in my eyes. I'm so thankful to G.o.d that we found her before she left the orphanage. My only heartbreak is that it took so many years to locate her. Now that I have all the legalities taken care of so that you can't prevent it from happening, I am ready to tell her of her true heritage and welcome her into the family."

Alisa shifted her gaze so that she could see Mr. Worthington. He stood by the stone fireplace, one of his elbows resting on the mantel. He leaned his forehead into the palm of one hand and gave a short laugh. "And what of me, Mother? You raised me accustomed to a certain standard of living. How do you expect me to fend for myself? Have you love only for the girl? None for your son?"

"Of course I love you, my boy. And it's true, you were much too spoiled for your own good. As for your well-being, you still own seventy-five percent of the shipping business. Alisa will own the other twenty-five percent so that she may live in comfort the rest of her life."

Frustrated by her obscured view, Alisa dared to push at the door, widening the crack so that she could see both Mrs. Worthington and her son. What was the elderly woman saying? Had her mind suddenly become unhinged? In the three months since she'd come to work for Mrs. Worthington as her companion, she'd noticed peculiarities in the way she was treated more highly than most servants. But what possessed the woman to even consider leaving her a penny, let alone part of a company? And this beautiful home?

Mr. Worthington stalked across the room, his boots clacking on the hardwood floor. He leaned across the desk. "I'll have you declared incompetent, Mother. I don't want to, but I will if you force me to."

"I thought you might try that one." She sighed. "Why do greedy children always think it's so easy to declare an old woman feebleminded? Son, I've already made the changes to the will in the presence of five witnesses, just to be safe."

Robert's fist came down hard on the sleek mahogany desktop. "I'll contest the will. I'll make the courts believe the girl tricked you into leaving her an inheritance. My inheritance."

Mrs. Worthington pushed back from the desk. Leaning heavily on her cane, she lifted herself from her chair. She limped to Robert's side. "There is nothing you can do. If you contest, the entire city will see you as a cad and a fool."

"If reputation is so important to you, why are you leaving everything to that..."

Alisa gasped at the vile word he used to describe her. While growing up in the orphanage, all of her dreams included a beautiful mother and a handsome father. They were dressed in white each time they returned to get her. What a joyous reunion it was every night while she slept. Her mother's soft kisses, her father's strong arms. Never once had Alisa considered that she might be illegitimate. Her wonderful dream had turned to a nightmare with one filthy word.

Mrs. Worthington struck with her veiny, bony hand and left a print on his cheek as a loud slap resounded through the library. "You've no right to call her that. No right at all. I've made arrangements to legitimize her. She will be given the family name."

Alisa Worthington.

"I'll not stand for it!"

"I'm afraid you've no choice in the matter. You should have done right by her years ago; then I wouldn't be forced to bring this embarra.s.sment on you now. She will be introduced into society as my granddaughter during the Christmas ball."

"Never!"

Still trying to grasp the enormity of what Mrs. Worthington had just spoken, Alisa watched in horror as Mr. Worthington took the elderly lady by the shoulders and shook her hard.

"Stop it!" Alisa leapt from her hiding place. "Turn her loose!"

Startled by the sudden interruption, he released her. Mrs. Worthington stumbled back, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady herself.

"How dare you eavesdrop on a private conversation!" the man spouted.

Ignoring him, Alisa gently took Mrs. Worthington by the shoulders. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

A smile creased the lined face. She reached up and patted Alisa's cheek. "You may call me Grandmother, my dear."

Tears sprang to Alisa's eyes. "You don't know what you're saying, Mrs. Worthington. Let's get you settled back into your chair."

"Wait." She pressed her fist to her heart and grimaced.

"Are you all right?"

"I will be. Listen to me now, darling girl. I've searched for you since you were a baby."

"Me, ma'am?"

"Yes. Your mother was the daughter of a laundress who worked out by the docks. She caught Robert's eye, and...well, you can imagine how you came to be."

"But I don't understand how you could possibly know I am the child of that union."

"But I can and do. When your mother's time came, she bravely came to our home for help. You were born soon after she arrived. I was privileged to a.s.sist in your birth. Afterward, I held you and rocked you while she slept. You were ever so precious."

"Mother, stop filling her head with this nonsense."

Alisa stared at the man standing next to her. All of her dreams of someday having a father died, and without warning, tears sprang to her eyes. Mr. Worthington's face reddened, and his gaze faltered.

Mrs. Worthington touched Alisa's cheek to regain her attention. The old, tired eyes held a look of such love that Alisa knew the precious lady believed every word she spoke. "I wrapped you in your father's baby blanket and placed you next to your mother. Then I retired to my own room. When I awoke to your mother's screaming, I knew Robert had taken you away. He returned later that evening and told me he had given you to a childless couple and that you were sailing for England that very night. I was heartbroken but powerless. The next morning your mother was gone, and she never returned."

"Then...how did you...?"

"A maid from the household had disappeared the same night you were born. In those days, we took in all sorts. About a year ago, she came back looking for work. I couldn't hire her, for she stank of spirits, and she told me, out of spite, about taking my grandchild to an orphanage. I hired a detective agency, and they combed the city. A few months later, we found you."

Alisa's thoughts went to the worn blanket she kept tucked away for safekeeping. "And when you described the blanket, Mrs. Perryman knew I was the one?"

"Yes. That is exactly how we came to find you."

"I can't believe it. I have a grandmother?"

"No, you do not."

Alisa shrank from the man she now knew to be her father, as he towered over her.

"I refuse to allow you to take advantage of an old woman's delusions."

A gasp escaped Alisa's throat. "But I would never take advantage."

"Of course she wouldn't. And I'm far from delusional. Leave the girl alone, Robert. She most certainly does have a grandmother." Mrs. Worthington moaned softly and pressed her hand more tightly against her chest. "I...believe I... must...sit."

Filled with alarm, Alisa tried to tighten her hold just as Mrs. Worthington stiffened, clutched her chest, and slipped from Alisa's grasp. Time seemed to slow as she watched in horror. The elderly woman crashed to the ground, her head hitting against the edge of the desk as she fell.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but...Madam!" Marietta, Mrs. Worthington's housekeeper of forty years, stood just inside the room. Her silver tray clattered to the floor as she rushed to her mistress's side.

"Mrs. Worthington!" Alisa dropped to her knees. Blood ran from a gash on the elderly lady's forehead.

"What have you done, girl?" Mr. Worthington grabbed her roughly and flung her away. He knelt beside his mother.

"Is she going to be all right?" Tears streamed down Marietta's face.

"Mother? Mother, please open your eyes and talk to me."

The elderly woman lay motionless.

Alisa caught her breath as Mr. Worthington's venomous gaze swept over her. "Marietta, go fetch the doctor and the police. My mother has been murdered."

Chapter 1.