Breathless(70)

Kent enjoyed the praise.

“We should probably get going, and don’t feel guilty for bringing me out here. I needed to see it because I might not be around when it’s time for you to move in.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

Driving back, Kent was glad they’d spent the time together, even if it had been brief. A question that had been plaguing him for some time came to mind. He turned to ask Oliver if he knew whether his mother had any family, but he was asleep.

When they reached the hotel, rather than awaken him, Kent gently picked him up and carried him inside. The country doctor who’d been so hale and hearty now weighed no more than a child. The realization brought such strong emotions, tears stung his eyes.

Sylvia was waiting for them inside as if knowing she’d be needed. Kent followed her to their room and laid him softly on the bed.

“Thanks, Kent,” she whispered.

Kent left her and, because cowboys weren’t supposed to cry, he went to his room and closed himself in so no one would know.





Chapter Sixteen




It was so hot the morning of her wedding, Portia almost dreaded having to put on the beautiful gown made by Luz Salinas. She was clothed in all the layers a woman traditionally wore, and adding the gown on top would only increase her discomfort. She prayed she didn’t faint from heat stroke. Regan, already dressed and looking beautiful in her pale blue gown, entered to help her with her hair.

“I’m jealous,” Regan said, plying the hot hair iron.

“Why?”

“Because later today, you’ll be Mrs. Kent Randolph and I’ll still be Miss Regan Carmichael.”

“Haven’t found your mail-order husband yet?” Portia teased.

Regan went so still, Portia turned around so she could see her face. “Regan?”

She didn’t respond, but the guilt on her face let Portia know instantly that something was very wrong. “Tell me or I swear I’ll go and get Aunt Eddy.”

“I was going to wait and tell you in a few days.”

“Tell me now, please.”

“I’ve found him. He’s a doctor in Wyoming. We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks now.”

Portia stared.

“He sounds perfect, Portia. He’s a widower. Only eight years older, and he has a young daughter. And before you say anything else, I have agreed to marry him.”

Filled with panic, Portia shouted, “What! You really are going to be a mail-order bride? But why?”

“One, because there’s no one here I want to marry and, two, for the adventure of it.”

“Sweetheart, this is marriage you’re talking about. This isn’t an adventure like delivering mail. Suppose he isn’t who he claims to be? What if he turns out to be someone who harms you? What if everything he’s written is a lie?”

“What if it isn’t?”

Portia had no response for that, but she worried that the man might be taking advantage of her sister’s quest for love. “Does Eddy know?”

“No, and I’m still trying to decide how to approach her and Uncle Rhine with the news.”

“Lord, Regan.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re not supposed to spend your wedding day wondering if I’ve lost my mind.”

“Have you?”

“No. From his letters, he needs me, Portia, and so does his daughter.”

Portia’s love for Regan and the need to keep her safe competed with her desire for Regan to find her own version of the happiness she’d found with Kent. Portia reminded herself that Regan was a grown woman and in many ways more experienced in life than she was, but still, to go all the way to Wyoming to be the bride of a man she’d only corresponded with for a few weeks?

“Can you try and be happy for me?”

“Oh, honey, you know I am, but are you sure this is wise?”

“I am.”

Portia wanted to shout that she couldn’t go but knew she didn’t have that right. Nor did she want Regan to sneak off in the middle of the night without so much as a good-bye. The girl had always been headstrong. “Okay. I’m not going to fuss. If you have your mind made up, then I’ll support you if Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine go through the roof.”

Regan smiled and hugged her. “Thanks, Portia.”

Portia held her tight and wanted to weep. They’d been together their entire lives. It had been them against a world that had initially offered nothing but poverty and heartache. What would life be without her? She was already feeling the loss. Easing away, she looked Regan in the eyes. “But if this man turns out to be a monster, I expect you to pack up and come home.”

“I will. Promise.”

Regan went back to doing Portia’s hair but Portia couldn’t rid of herself of her worry. As if reading her thoughts, Regan said gently, “Stop worrying, Portia. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Portia nodded but the worry remained. Eventually as they talked about all the day had in store, Regan’s plans no longer plagued Portia like a sore tooth. She knew the worry would return eventually but she let the prospect of becoming Mrs. Kenton Randolph rise to the fore again. With that in mind, she got dressed.

The gown was a lovely cream color with a lace inset between the neck and bodice. It had a flowing skirt, small capped sleeves that left her arms bare and was easily the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen. Her new shoes were cream colored and accented with soft gold bows. Her stockings and garters were the same color as her gown. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself.