Her Husband's Secret

Chapter One

October 14, 1904

Omaha, Nebraska

Cornstalks and pumpkins lined the brick walkway of the gray-stone church. A large arched window glistened in the mellow sun. As the best man paced the cobblestone path, he kicked a pebble to the side. The wind whistled as it swooped around the steeple. He shook his head and inhaled the crisp air. Turning his head to the pounding hoofs, his gaze followed the groom. Hope this is the dawn of a new day for Red. Did I do the right thing by introducing him to Edith?

Red dismounted with his carrot-colored hair fluttering in the wind from underneath his derby hat. He tied his horse to the post and ran to his friend. Been waiting long?

A little. Wondered if you—

Red raised his head to his friend. Rode about a half-mile before I realized I left the ring in the house. His mouth twitched into a nervous smile.

Hoped you didn’t have second thoughts. Wedding jitters are natural, especially since you haven’t known Edith that long. I...I—he gulped and tugged on his belt buckle—didn’t want to rush you into something.

Nay, Edith’s a good woman. I’m happy you introduced us. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the dust from his forehead.

Better than my sister?

Well, Hank swept her off her feet. The groom folded the cloth and returned it to the frock coat’s pocket.

Yep, he did. He paused. I still wish she had married you.

Florence is a lovely woman, but marrying the mayor’s son gave her prestige and the finer things in life. The wind gusts intensified.

Riches aren’t everything. You’re a good man.

I could’ve caused her a lot of grief. I-I -

What?

Never mind. The wind thrashed around them. We’d better get inside before we blow away. Red rushed toward the church with his best man following behind. Standing in front of the entrance doors, the groom shoved his hand into his left suit pocket. I know the key is in here somewhere. Steadying his fingers, he thrust his hand into the other pocket. His face grimaced, but moments later, he grabbed the church key to pull it upright. A faint smile creased his lips. Lifting it in the air, he quipped, Guess there will be a wedding after all.

Red opened the doors and stepped into the gray foyer. He slammed the heavy doors behind them and keeping his voice low said, We don’t have a lot of time. Then he turned his chapped face toward the storage closet. I’ll light the ceiling lamps.

John chuckled. No need to whisper.

You’re right. Laughing, he scratched his neatly trimmed mustache and reached for the wooden ladder.

John headed toward the candelabras that sat on the altar. He leaned the brass stick to light each ruby candle. A soft, golden hue illuminated around the two narrow stained-glass windows decorated in diamond-shaped colors of light blue, pale yellow, pearl, and maroon. He loved religious history and thought of the window’s simple design honoring the congregational churches’ Puritan roots.

XXX

The groom climbed the ladder and tipped the lighter stick toward one row after another of the ceiling lamps as the oil scent emitted throughout the sanctuary. He stepped down, patting his hair to keep his part in place.

John faced him, holding the boutonniere. This is the first time I’ve done this. His fingers fumbled over the carnation’s petals as he pinned the flower to the groom’s lapel.

Red glanced down at the flower and laughed. Thanks, you did a good job. He scanned the sanctuary. Satisfied, he picked up the ladder and marched toward the storage area.

The best man followed with candlestick in hand.

Red scooted the ladder in place then pulled out his pocket watch and the slick golden case popped open. He glanced at the eighth-grade graduation gift and stuffed it back into his pocket. Facing his friend, he said, I suppose we should take that walk.

Yes. John grinned. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

I wouldn’t want to do that. There’s so much else, he stuttered to find the words, that could go wrong. The door slammed behind them as they stepped outside. Trampling over the moist ground littered with leaves, the two picked their way under the low-hanging tree branches, stopping at a large elm tree.

Glad the winds died down, the groom leaned against its stiff bark. Releasing a long breath, he turned his face to the rustling leaves. Two squirrels scrambled up a tree. He twiddled his thumbs and thought of Edith’s and his whirlwind courtship. Edith, Edith, if I had told you my secret, would you’ve married me? He gazed at his friend, who sat on a large rock. And John would you have introduced us if you knew?

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XXX

Edith reached into the open wagon to pull the blanket off her wedding gown while her pa wrapped the horse’s reins around the hitching post. Climbing down, she carried the dress that swished in the breeze. She raised the gown high to avoid puddles and stepped toward her father.

Want me to hold it for you? Pa asked.

Edith smiled. I can manage. Looking at her father’s dusty hands, she added, Besides, your fingers are dirty, and the last thing I want is to turn this white gown brown.

Fred gazed at his daughter, her chestnut-colored hair strands blowing in the wind. Seems like I always lose the women. First your dear Ma and now you.

This must be tough on you. Her voice broke.

Yes, but I thank God for Red. You couldn’t have picked a better husband. He tapped his knuckles together.

I know, she said, struggling to keep back the tears.

I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, sweetheart. He patted her arm. Oh, how you remind me of your mother—your hair and those blue eyes.

You’ll visit us often.

He grinned. As much as you can tolerate. Fred turned and faced his horse. The steed snorted. Aye, Buster! See I told you she wouldn’t forget us. They stepped to the front of the church.

Her father guarded the entrance while Edith laid her net veil on a pew. She spread out the gown. A hair lock fell from her tightly wound, pinned-up bun. She re-pinned it and slipped her linen dress over her head, making sure her high-topped, spooled heels did not snag her hand-stitched hem. She clutched the silk-flowered crown of her veil.

Can I help you? her matron-of-honor asked.

Edith looked up at her friend. Oh, Florence, please. Taking a quick breath, she continued, Where’s Hank?

Florence gave a soft laugh. He’s outside talking to your pa, she said, setting the bouquet in her hand on the pew seat beside her. She pointed to a place next to the flowers. Sit there so I can help you with your veil.

The bride sat down.

Florence’s small-brimmed hat jerked while she bent down to weave the crown in the bride’s hair. Are you excited?

Nervous. The butterflies in Edith’s stomach swirled inside her like a strong river current. Oh, how did you get through it? I may miss a step. What if—

You’ll do fine.

But I can hardly think.

When you see Red waiting for you, all your fears will vanish.

Will they?

Florence grinned. Yes. Take it from an old married woman of six months.

The dress. What if mud splashes on it when we walk to the back of the church?

I’ll guide you. Don’t worry. Florence paused. Now, stand up and let me see you.

Edith stood up. The veil floated to her feet, her dress rustling against the pew.

Tears welled up in Florence’s eyes while she admired the laced cuffs and the scalloped bodice, finished with a fine-gold chain and a cameo locket. Oh, you look so beautiful. Adding your mother’s locket around the neck gives it such an elegant look.

Really? Her eyes filled with tears. Edith grasped the locket and clicked it open, exposing a lock of red hair.

Your gown is as lovely as one of those in a women’s magazine.

Thank you. I did work my fingers to the bone.

Florence reached for the bouquet. It’s ironic, isn’t it?

What is?

That I’m the matron of honor when a year ago I would’ve been Red’s bride.

Edith took a deep breath. Everything in her being told her Red no longer cared for Florence. But gazing at her friend, she could not help noticing how gorgeous she looked in her charcoal-brown skirt and long-sleeved blouse. She stopped herself from thinking further about it. That’s true. I’m glad you saved him for me.

Florence giggled. I’m happy he found you, she replied, as she presented the bride the mum bouquet picked from her garden, adding, You know I never could hurt you, don’t you?

Edith gave her a nervous smile then nodded. The white ribbon, which bound the mums and two ferns, glided down her upper skirt front. I can’t thank you enough. Your garden is the envy of everyone. Would you? she groped for the right words. Let me have some of your flowers to transplant?

Of course.

Edith squeezed her friend’s hand then went to the entrance door. Her father opened it and grinned. Hank stood next to him and nodded to his wife while she maneuvered herself outside and led Edith toward the back of the church. Water and mud surrounded them. Lift your skirt! Florence warned.

Edith stopped and pulled her skirt to her knees.

Dodging the water, Florence shouted, Come over here! while she pointed to a dry patch to the left.

Taking a long step, Edith avoided the puddle and landed beside her friend.

You made it.

Thanks to you.

Florence forged forward. Minutes later they reached the back porch.

Breathless, Edith ascended the porch stairs. I can’t thank you enough.

Think nothing of it. Remember when we were young girls and made mud pies?

It’s hard to imagine that now, isn’t it? Edith pressed her head against the porch post.

Florence nodded.

Inhaling the damp air, Edith clasped her hand around the locket. The sun’s rays rested upon her shoulders. Peering around the post, she scoured the terrain. Wagon wheels thumped. Horses clomped. Riders dismounted while families exited their buggies. Her lips curved up into a broad smile, recalling another hectic day. The day she first met Red...

XXX

Everyone gathered at the barn dance.

The barn-planked floors shined of fresh washing. Tugging with her free hand on the slender green ribbon that accented her tiny waist, she fanned her face a minute, her heart glowing, satisfied with the ivory evening gown patterned with pink flowers and olive-green leaves she’d sewed for the dance. The tap on her shoulder startled her. Grabbing her flowing skirt, she turned around to see her childhood friend, John.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to—

Scare me, she interrupted. She took a breath to calm her rattled nerves.

Yes. He turned his head and stretched out his arm to the muscular man beside him. I...I just wanted to introduce you to Owen, a longtime friend of mine.

Their eyes met.

Owen, John continued, this is Edith. She’s as sweet as the flowers on her dress.

Now, John, you’re flattering me. She quickened the fan over her face.

And what a beauty, the newcomer chimed in. Glad to meet you.

She stiffened then brushed her fingers over the feathers. Stealing herself from his glances, she turned her head toward John, only to find him sneaking off toward a group of ladies.

I’ll be, she stammered, losing her grip on the fan. It fell to the floor.

Owen picked it up.

Her hands trembled; his rugged fingers brushed hers as he handed her the fan. His gaze studied hers.

She shifted the feathers to the other hand.

He stepped backward.

Surprised at his sudden movement, her mouth opened. She stared at the man bowing in front of her. What are you doing? she asked, her voice soft, heart