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  April closed her eyes and imagined Gray’s lips on hers.

  Snapping out of her reverie, she saw the newlyweds, flushed and grinning as they turned to face the congregation.

  The pastor announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Grimes.”

  Applause accompanied the pair up the aisle, then guests poured from the church to rain rice down upon the happy couple. Raymond hurried his bride into a carriage liberally decorated with ribbons, and everyone followed to the town hall, where the reception would take place.

  Menson’s Bakery had volunteered the wedding cake, an elaborate, three-tiered confection that caused many an aaah. Addy Menson had insisted on overseeing the reception, and nearly every woman in town had helped with the decorations. The new Mrs. Grimes was well loved by her neighbors, as was evident by the joy that shone in their faces.

  Almost as soon as Beulah and Raymond arrived, townsfolk started handing them gifts. The shower of presents and warm wishes continued throughout the festivities, until at last the bridal couple cut the cake. The day was indeed perfect for all in attendance.

  “Miss Truitt? A cup of punch?”

  April turned at the sound of Gray’s husky, liquid voice. She told herself one cup wouldn’t hurt.

  “I trust you’re enjoying the festivities?” They drank the punch, watching the activities.

  “I’m having a wonderful time, Dr. Fuller. And you?”

  “It’s a lovely wedding.”

  Severn and Mary Rader walked by. “Perfect wedding, eh, Doc?”

  Smiling, Gray acknowledged Severn’s greeting.

  “Gray, I’m sorry Francesca couldn’t come,” April murmured. “The Ludwigs sent an invitation. I hope she isn’t ill.”

  His eyes turned distant, reserved. “Francesca is fine.”

  “She sent a lovely gift. It’s an elephant…something.”

  Throwing his head back, he laughed. April decided it was the nicest laugh she’d ever heard.

  “Ivory tusks, no doubt?”

  “Beulah and I couldn’t decide.” She grinned. “But they’re expensive, whatever they are.”

  Conversation was easy now.

  “Perhaps you could help me with a question,” he began.

  “Of course. What is it, Dr. Fuller?”

  “Why is it that all brides are beautiful?”

  Gratefulness glowed in April’s heart. Immense gratitude that he appreciated her friend, regardless of her physical shortcomings. “That’s simple. Because her wedding day is the happiest day of her life.”

  Their eyes met, and she was caught by the candidness she saw in his, the simple honesty. “A woman’s wedding day should be just the beginning of her happiness.”

  April was stricken by the irony of it all. Francesca had everything she wanted. Money, position, and quite possibly, him.

  It was the “him” April envied the most.

  “That’s a noble sentiment, Dr. Fuller.”

  “Not so noble, Miss Truitt. If a man loves a woman, he wants to give her everything her heart desires.”

  April gazed up at him, sensing a hundred unspoken feelings hanging between them. Fool that she was, she wanted him to know—needed him to know—that she loved him. “When all she desires is her husband’s heart?”

  She could barely breathe now. His gaze confirmed what she knew. They were talking about more, much more, than a silly schoolgirl crush. They were speaking of love—deep and enduring love between a man and a woman.

  He said softly, “Perhaps you can help me with the most perplexing problem of all?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “How does a man choose between what he wants, and what he feels is his obligation?”

  “That’s harder,” she admitted.

  “But you know the answer?”

  Yes, she knew. “He follows his heart.”

  “May I borrow Miss Truitt?”

  April glanced up, her spirits sinking when she saw Henry Long. How did he have the nerve to ask to speak with her?

  Smiling, Henry bowed mockingly, offering his arm. “Miss Truitt?”

  Glancing at Gray, she shrugged. She didn’t want to cause a scene. Gray seemed to understand, and reluctantly gave her over to Henry. She felt bereft as she left the doctor’s side.

  Taking her hand, Henry swept her outside as she continued to look over her shoulder at Gray, who was threading his way toward the front of the reception hall.

  “You look ravishing, my love.”

  April kept her distance from him. When he tried to pull her closer, she resisted, keeping him at arm’s length.

  Arching his eyebrows, he gazed at her. “April, darling, I thought I had allowed you enough time to pout. Come now, let’s settle our misunderstanding and get on with it. Men will be men, my love. You know it.”

  “I didn’t know it, but I do now.”

  “What have I done so wrong? One tiny little indiscretion, and you’re ready to draw and quarter me. Grace means nothing to me. She was a mere diversion to pass the time. I was lonely, love, working long, hard hours to secure our future. Surely you won’t deny me?”

  “I expected more of you, Henry. I believed you when you said you loved me and we had a future together.”

  “More?” He seemed puzzled. “What haven’t I given you?”

  “Honor, loyalty—you, Henry. You didn’t give me you.”

  His brow pulled into an affronted frown. “I must say, April, this is a side of you I’ve never seen—and frankly, I don’t like it. You’re still angry. What must I do to win back your favor? Tell me—I’ll do anything. You know you’re the only woman I truly love.”

  “Move on with your life, Henry, and let me move on with mine.”

  He seemed contrite, shocked at her insensibility. “You don’t mean that. Have you no idea how much I regret my faux pas? Grace had no right to confront you like that—”

  “Henry, please. This is Beulah’s day. Let’s not ruin it by dredging up unpleasant memories.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Well, I must say, Porky doesn’t look as fat as usual today.”

  “What?”

  “Porky. She actually looks very nice—” he grinned “—for a hog.”

  Disgusted, April walked away leaving him red-faced, trying to look as if the parting was mutual.

  It was late when April swept the last grain of rice out of the town hall. After storing the broom in the closet, she blew out each candle and lamp.

  Closing the door behind her, she locked it, then walked slowly home in the dark.

  The sky was clear, a full moon glistened off freshly plowed fields, and thoughts of Gray were vivid in her mind. Though it was late, the lights were still on in Flora Lee’s place when April arrived. Worried that she might have eaten too much wedding cake, April made her way down the path to the cabin and knocked softly on the door. Datha opened it, grinning when she saw who it was.

  “Miss April?”

  “I was just wondering if you were all right. I saw the light on in the window….”

  Datha smiled widely. “Nothing’s wrong. Come in.”

  April stepped inside. “I thought Flora Lee might have eaten too much wedding cake.”

  “Flora Lee’s just fine,” the old woman cackled from the fireside.

  Surprised, April saw Jacel sitting next to Flora Lee. “Oh…I’m sorry I’ve intruded—”

  “You could never do that,” Datha said, closing the door.

  “Come, sit a spell,” Flora Lee invited.

  “Grandmother and Jace and I have been talking.”

  “Thank goodness,” April breathed. “I’ve been afraid…”

  “I’d take a broom to Jacel?” Flora Lee laughed, waving a hand good-naturedly.

  Seeing the grins on each of their faces, April started to smile. “What is going on here?”

  Datha rested a hand on Jacel’s shoulder, smiling at him lovingly. “She’s found out that Jacel isn’t the most evil man in
the world.”

  “Never thought he was,” Flora Lee muttered.

  “And,” Datha said, “we’ve come to an agreement.”

  “Oh?” The news was almost too good to be true, but April was glad they had apparently settled their differences. It was good to know that some things worked out for the best.

  Holding Jacel’s hand tightly, Datha said, “We, Jacel and me, made a mistake. One that almost cost me my life.”

  Jacel took Datha’s other hand in his large one, and the adoration in his eyes was nearly blinding.

  “We’re not going to talk about that,” Flora Lee said. “That’s all in the past, and you’ve learned from your mistake. The good Lord don’t hold grudges.”

  “What Datha’s trying to say,” Jacel said, “is that we’re going to wait until I’m out of school before we get married, but we’re not going to, well—”

  “I understand,” April said softly. “You’re not going to take the chance of ruining your future again.”

  “That’s right,” Datha said. “What we did was foolish—what I did was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for…”

  “It was my fault,” Jacel said.

  “It’s past,” Flora Lee repeated. “God’s going to give us a better day tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” Datha whispered. “A brand-new day.”

  Still gripping Datha’s hands, Jacel said softly, “What we have will last a lifetime. Once we’re married, we’re going to have babies, lots of babies, and we’re going to thank God every night that he forgives mistakes.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Jacel.” Somewhere in her mind April heard her mother’s voice saying, “How can we appreciate the good, if we don’t know the bad?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When April saw Flora Lee was getting tired, she quietly excused herself. “It’s late. I’ll go and let you get to bed.”

  “You want me to walk you back to the house?” Jacel asked.

  “No, I’m fine. It’s just a few steps.”

  “You take care, Miss April.”

  This was a night of celebration, of victory for everyone but her. It only made her feelings for Gray more intense, and the fact that God didn’t intend Gray Fuller for her more regretful.

  Riley had already gone to bed. The house was quiet when she let herself in the back way. Only the snap of dying embers in the kitchen stove disturbed the silence.

  Removing her hat, she tossed it onto the chair in front of her vanity. The image of her reflection caught her, and she stopped to look. Her hair was coming loose from its pins, and she took them out to let it fall over her shoulders. Her reflection gazed back at her with…what? Sadness? No. She was happy for Beulah—and for Datha.

  Then what? April wasn’t sure why she felt she was staring at a stranger.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The DuBois house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Light spilled from every window as Gray rode up. A footman took charge of his horse, and he climbed the steps to the front door.

  Louis DuBois and his daughter were in the middle of another spring celebration, he realized. These people would celebrate anything—even a rainstorm. Music and loud laughter filtered from behind the closed doors.

  “Good evening, Dr. Fuller,” the butler said as he took Gray’s overcoat and hat. “I’ll inform Miss DuBois you have arrived.”

  Gowns of red and blue and gold formed a colorful pattern on the ballroom floor as couples waltzed beneath elaborate crystal chandeliers. A large ensemble of musicians played from the alcove.

  Glass clinked against glass as guests took refreshments from four long tables heavily laden with food and drink. As usual, the room was too warm. Gray’s gaze moved over the crowd, searching for Francesca.

  He was able to single her out from among the swirling array of lavish female finery. She was dancing with a tall, older man wearing a black suit and a red cape. Her clear, tinkling laughter came to Gray as he stood in the doorway, watching.

  Spotting Louis chatting with a group of men, he moved in that direction, threading his way across the crowded room.

  When Louis spotted him, he paused in midconversation, smiling. “Gray! I wasn’t expecting you! Francesca thought you wouldn’t be attending this evening.”

  No, he wouldn’t be expecting him. Gray had sent apologies by messenger earlier this week, saying he would be unable to attend tonight’s gathering. Louis had no reason to believe he’d changed his mind.

  “Good evening, Louis. May I have a word in private?”

  The older doctor glanced at the group of men standing around him. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Making his apologies, Louis quietly excused himself from his associates.

  The two of them crossed the room to Louis’ study. As he closed the heavy double doors, Louis turned, smiling. “Should I ask Francesca to join us?”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Ah, well, she is dancing with a dear friend of mine—Count Evelyn, from England. Have you met?”

  “No, I don’t believe we have.”

  “No matter.” Louis crossed the room to his desk. “You know, Gray, at one time I thought Count Evelyn would be a perfect match for Francesca, but she set her cap for a very promising young doctor.” He smiled. “You. I have to say, my daughter is very astute. The greatest compliment you could give her is to tell her you’ve decided to join me in my clinics.” Gray’s expression turned solemn; Louis’ smiled faded. “No, that would not be why you’re here this evening.”

  “It isn’t.”

  Walking to the fire, Louis stared into the burning embers. The silence in the room was suddenly deafening.

  “So, what brings you to Dallas? Francesca isn’t expecting you.”

  Removing an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, Gray laid it on the table.

  Turning, Louis spared the missive a fleeting glance. “What is it?”

  “The final payment on the financial debt I owe you.”

  Louis looked at the envelope as if he wouldn’t take it. “I’ve told you before, this isn’t necessary,” he began.

  “Louis, I want you to know how much I appreciate your faith and confidence in me. Without you, I would not have been able to achieve my dream of becoming a doctor.”

  “Nonsense, you’re a brilliant man. I can assure you, if I hadn’t taken you under my wing, someone else would have. You give me far too much credit.”

  “You will always have my gratitude. The kind of faith you’ve shown in me can never be repaid.”

  “I don’t expect it to be repaid. When you marry my daughter—”

  “Please.” Gray stopped him. “Hear me out, Louis.”

  “Of course.” He circled the large mahogany desk and sat down.

  “It is precisely my gratitude that makes what I have to say so difficult.”

  Louis studied him, a frown forming on his distinguished features.

  “I don’t love you daughter.”

  The words were like a shotgun blast, reverberating off the richly paneled walls.

  Louis didn’t flinch, but his eyes mirrored his great disappointment.

  “I’m sorry. You have my deepest respect, but I don’t love Francesca. I would only hurt her if I were to marry her.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Louis closed his eyes, his fingers gently massaging his temples. He looked old, weary.

  “I can’t say that I saw this coming.”

  “Francesca deserves someone who will love her, Louis. I don’t. I’ve tried. Good Lord knows I have, but I don’t.”

  A deep sigh escaped the older man as he straightened and poured himself a drink. “This seems rather sudden—are you certain you’ve given this proper thought, son?”

  “It isn’t sudden, Louis.” Moving to the study window, Gray looked out. His decision wasn’t sudden. He’d thought of nothing else since the day he’d moved to Dignity. “I’ve thought about it for months.”

  “Does Francesca know?”
>
  Gray was silent for a moment. He’d tried to tell her in a hundred—a thousand different ways, but she wouldn’t accept what he knew to be true. Whatever attraction she’d once held for him was gone. “She knows, but won’t accept.”

  “Ah…yes. She wouldn’t. I’m afraid that I’ve never said no to her.”

  Life was a precious commodity. Who knew that better than he and Louis, men who dealt with life and death every day? Gray didn’t plan on wasting his in a meaningless marriage to a woman he didn’t love. “By the time I leave here tonight, she will understand. And accept.”

  Kneading his temples, Louis said softly, “Of course, I’ll see to it you’ll never practice in Dallas again.”

  “Would you do that for me, Louis? I’d deeply appreciate it.” Threats didn’t faze him, although Gray had expected more from the man. But Francesca was his daughter, and she would be embarrassed and hurt by his decision.

  “I see my power and prestige hold no meaning for you.”

  “On the contrary, I respect you, Louis. You’re my mentor, a man whose talents I admire immensely. That won’t change. But my admiration does not extend to marrying your daughter.”

  The check lay on the desk in front of Louis. He nodded. “I ask that you be gentle with her.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her, but I’ll hurt her more by marrying her. Dignity is where I belong, not in Dallas, where Francesca wants me to be.”

  Gray knew now what he had only suspected until recently. He had changed. He had gone to Dignity in search of a practice; instead, he’d found a family, a real home. A woman he wanted to spend his life with.

  “Surely there is a way you and my daughter can reach a compromise,” Louis said softly.

  Gray studied the painting of Francesca hanging over the imported mantel. “Look at her, Louis. She’s young, beautiful, spoiled. She’s known nothing but the finest things in life. She would wither away in Dignity.”

  Louis was silent for a long time, then murmured, “She is a difficult young woman. I indulged her, as my only child, far too much. Perhaps if I had been less lenient…”

  Gray’s relief was almost tangible. He hadn’t dared hope Louis would understand, and in his own way, support his decision.