Carrick made himself scarce as she tried it on, declaring it bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. "Not that I'm superstitious," he added hastily. "Just traditional in some ways." That night, their last as unmarried individuals under the same roof, they sat on the porch watching the sunset. Rusty lay at their feet, occasionally thumping his tail when one of them reached down to scratch his ears.
"Nervous about tomorrow," Carrick asked, breaking a comfortable silence. "A little," Amelia admitted. "Though not for the reasons you might think." "Oh, I'm not nervous about marrying you," she clarified. "I'm nervous about meeting so many new people at once, being the center of attention."
Carrick nodded, understanding. We could have had a private ceremony. No, this is better. Starting our marriage as part of the community. She turned to face him.
Are you nervous? He considered this seriously. Yes, but not about the ceremony. His hands rested on his knees, strong and capable. I'm nervous about being a good husband.
It's not a role I've prepared for. The simple honesty of his confession touched Amelia deeply. I think perhaps no one is truly prepared for marriage, she said. We can only promise to try our best and be patient with each other's mistakes. Carrick's eyes met hers warm in the fading light.
That seems like a solid foundation. Later, as Amelia prepared for bed, she thought about the strange path that had led her to this moment. 3 weeks ago, she'd been a disgraced school teacher with few prospects. Tomorrow she would be Mrs. Carrick Montgomery, rancher's wife, with a home and community that already felt more welcoming than Boston had in years. It wasn't the life she'd once imagined for herself, but standing at its threshold, she found herself unexpectedly hopeful.
Sunday morning dawned clear and mild perfect weather for a wedding. Amelia woke early, too nervous to sleep late. She washed her hair and arranged it in an elegant twist, securing it with the pearl tipped pins that had been her grandmother's. Dawning her new blue dress, she studied her reflection in the small mirror. The woman who looked back at her seemed different from the tearful, frightened creature who'd stepped off the stage coach 3 days earlier.
There was color in her cheeks, a brightness in her eyes that had been missing for months. A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. "Amelia," Carrick's voice came through the wood. "Are you ready? We should leave soon if we're to make the service on time."
"Just a moment," she called, making a final adjustment to her hair. When she opened the door, she found Carrick waiting in his best suit. dark wool, welltailored with a crisp white shirt and string tie. He trimmed his beard and sllicked back his hair, transforming from rugged rancher to distinguished gentleman. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance. "You look beautiful," he said simply.
"Thank you." Amelia felt a blush warm her cheeks. "You look quite handsome yourself." Carrick cleared his throat, seeming flustered by the compliment. I have something for you, he said, reaching into his pocket.