Chapters
87-92
by
heartcat
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
This story includes adult situations and sensitive scenes that
might be too realistic for some readers.
Jarrod reined in the team of greys in the courtyard of the
Olson ranch. One of the hands came out to lead the pair away, while he helped
Catherine and Cadence down from the carriage. The Olson home was a lovely
two-storey structure, with a wrap-around porch. The house itself was white,
with green shutters at every window. There was a turret room projecting up from
the centre of the design, topped with a copper cupola. Garlands of greens hung
over the outsides of the windows, and wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied
with bright red ribbons and strings of cranberries. There was a big evergreen
wreath, with a horseshoe hanging in the middle, displayed proudly on the front
door.
Jarrod lifted his hand to the brass knocker. He had seen the two Barkley
carriages and Orion, off to the left near the stables, and he knew that the
others were still here. The door opened, and the Olson's Chinese manservant
stood there, smiling at the trio, giving a slight bow. "Mr. Barkley,"
he said warmly. "Your family is already here. Merry Christmas, Sir."
Jarrod removed his hat, and returned the greeting, then ushered Catherine and
Cadence over the threshold. The air was warm and fragrant with the scents of
roasting chestnuts, cranberries, apple and citrus. The residual aroma of the
roasted goose that the Olson family had enjoyed for their Christmas meal, still
hung on the air. They could hear the laughter beyond in the parlour, as they
stood in the foyer of the centre-hall plan residence.
A tall, grey-haired man came towards them, a scowl on his handsomely
distinguished face. His grey eyes were piercing and his pale lips pressed in a
thin line beneath his bushy moustache. He was broad of shoulder and slender of
hip and had the hard look of a man who is used to doing physical labour. He stood
before them in the hallway like a sentinel, his arms crossed over the chest of
his crisp, white dress shirt.
"Merry Christmas, Murray," Jarrod said warmly.
"You know you're always welcome in our home, Jarrod," Bobby's father
said curtly. "But you can't bring them
in here." His voice was quiet, but intense as his eye slid derisively to
Catherine and Cadence.
Catherine put her hands on Cady's shoulders and pulled the child back towards
her. Jarrod stepped to put his body between the two and the other man. "If
by them you're referring
to my future wife and my daughter, they
have names," Jarrod said, his voice also quiet, but equally intense, his
blue eyes glittering. "This is Miss Catherine Vaillancourt, my fiancée,
and our daughter, Cadence." Jarrod's heart sank. "And if you're
saying that they are not welcome in your home, then neither am I."
Murray Olson shrugged. "Then that's your choice, Jarrod. You can come in,
or not, as you see fit. You can do whatever you like up at that house of yours.
But no Indian savages are breaking bread in my house."
Jarrod burned with anger at the man's bigotry. "I can't begin to tell you
how disappointed I am in you, Murray," he said tightly. "I thought
you were better than this." Jarrod hated that Catherine and Cadence had to
witness this. That they were being treated like this, by someone that Jarrod
and the Barkley family had such a long acquaintanceship with, seemed
unfathomable. Jarrod couldn't bear the thought of anyone making his girls feel
bad, or hurt, or unwelcome.
"I can't begin to tell you how disappointed I
am in you,
Jarrod," the older man said. "I thought you were better than
this." The older man nodded towards Catherine and Cadence.
Mrs. Olson had come into the hallway then, once she received Chen's whispered
announcement that Jarrod Barkley had arrived. She stood hesitantly behind her
husband. Bobby and his sister Gertrude were in the parlour with the Barkleys,
playing charades. She saw that Jarrod had brought his Indian woman and her
child with him, and her pulse sped up. She didn't want any trouble, especially
on this holy day.
"Hello, Fanny," Jarrod said to her coolly, waiting to see what her
reaction would be. "We were just leaving, but I want to wish you a Merry
Christmas."
Fanny's eyes darted uncertainly from her husband to Jarrod, then back again.
She was a small, thin woman, very bird-like in appearance and mannerisms. She
had a long, slender neck and wispy, silver-gold curls, and small, dark eyes.
She had a habit of extending her neck whenever she spoke, then bringing it back
again, tilting it to one side. And her movements were always quick. She had
been a beautiful young maiden, and was an attractive woman still in middle age,
though Jarrod had always thought her almost painfully thin. "Merry Christmas,
Jarrod," Fanny said, as her head darted out and back. She hoped that the
three would leave quietly, without fuss.
Just then, Bobby Olson came into the hall, the light from the wall sconces
illuminating his curly blond hair like a halo around his head. He looked at his
parents, and then to the three visitors and smiled a welcome. "Merry
Christmas Jarrod! Catherine! Cady!" he called merrily. "Come on in,
we'll get you fixed up with a drink. We're just playing some games."
"Bobby," Mr. Olson said, his eyes never leaving Jarrod's,
"Jarrod was just leaving. And I thought I already told you how I felt
about..." He let the thought trail off, unsaid.
"I've invited them, as my guests, Pa" Bobby told his father.
"Well, you may live here, but this is my
roof, boy, you got that?" Murray snapped at his son. "And I
decide who's welcome under it."
Bobby flushed scarlet, all the way from his neck to his scalp. He was
humiliated by his father's remark and by his ignorance towards their three
visitors. His father's emasculation of him this way, in front of his future
brother-in-law, pained the young man deeply.
Fanny Olson looked from father to son in distress. "Murray," she said
placatingly. "Maybe just this once. It being Christmas and all..."
Her husband's stony look cut her short. "This is my
house," he repeated.
Catherine watched the scene play out sadly, as she stood there, her daughter in
front of her. She felt sorry that they were not going to be welcomed here.
Bobby Olson seemed like such a nice young man. She felt sorry for Jarrod's
humiliation. This sort of bigotry was all so new to him and outside the realm
of his experience or comprehension. She was used to it. She regretted the elder
Olson's attitude, but she felt no personal shame.
Catherine wasn't sure whether or not she should intervene, or whether she
should let Jarrod handle things. He was not used to rejection, to not
commanding respect, and couldn't understand the depth of some people's
prejudices. He was obviously taking this far more personally than she was. That
was understandable though, Catherine knew. These were people that Jarrod knew.
A home where he had been welcomed in the past. A family that he would soon be
tied to through marriage.
She decided to wait it out. Jarrod would have to learn that this sort of thing
was inevitable. There could be no rose-coloured glasses. As difficult as it
might be for him accept, he had to learn that he could not force people to
accept she and Cadence, just because he loved them and didn't see a difference
and believed that all people really were created equal.
Cadence stood still against her mother. Catherine was certain the child could
feel the undercurrents. That she knew she and her mother were the cause of the
contention. She knew her daughter had heard and experienced far worse than
this, unfortunately. Catherine wasn't prepared to allow that man to espout too
much ugliness, however, and was ready to leave as soon as Jarrod had conceded
defeat. This wasn't a jury he could sway, no matter how certain he was of his
facts, or how powerful his oratory skills. As difficult as that might be for
him to accept, loving them as he did.
"Your Pa must be turning over in his grave," Murray Olson told Jarrod
cruelly. "I'm glad he never lived to see the shame his oldest boy has
brought on his family."
There were gasps and sharp intakes of breath all around, before a shock silence
ensued. Catherine saw Jarrod's right fist clench around the brim of his
Stetson. She reached hastily, laying her hand on his arm. "Jarrod,"
she said softly, "it's not worth it. Don't sink to that level. I think we
should just leave."
Catherine's hand on his arm drained the fight out of Jarrod's body. He covered
her hand with his left, turning back to smile at her. He was not going to do
anything to cause Catherine to be embarrassed by him. The pride on her bronzed
features, her refusal to be ashamed of who she was, of who her child was,
reached through to him. "Let's go," he agreed.
"Pa," Bobby Olson said, mortified, fighting back tears. "I can
honestly say in all my years, I've never been ashamed of you. But you just
changed that, right here, right now."
Fanny's hands flew quickly to her mouth, as her eyes widened in fear. Murray
Olson turned to his son, crimson spots of colour high on the older man's
cheeks. "Get out of my house," he told his son bitterly. "You
ungrateful whelp!"
"Gladly!" Bobby countered.
Jarrod's hand reached for the doorknob, and he guided Catherine and Cadence
outside. The door closed behind them, and they could hear voices, raised in
anger. Jarrod signaled to the hand, who brought the carriage up to the front of
the house. He lifted Cadence up onto the front seat, and then took Catherine's
elbow to assist her, before climbing into the front of the rig.
"Jarrod, wait!" Nick's voice boomed out.
Jarrod turned to see Nick crossing the Olson's porch, Victoria right behind
him, Heath, Annabelle and the baby following closely. Nick loped over to the
carriage, standing by one of the greys, a scowl darkening his countenance. He
had just learned what had occurred in the front hall, and his jaw clenched with
anger, his dark eyes mirroring his disgust. "We're leaving too. Just hold
a minute and we'll head back together."
Audra came out of the house last, with Bobby. Her lovely features had crumbled
and her gentle blue eyes were swimming with tears. She twisted the skirts of
her pretty new Christmas dress in her delicate hands. Bobby left her standing
near Victoria and hastened to the buggy.
"I want to apologize," he said miserably, his eyes holding Catherine's,
"for my Pa. I honestly didn't think he'd go that far. I thought...if he
could meet you..." the young man shrugged his shoulders helplessly,
"...he would change his mind. I'm sorry for his ignorance." Bobby
looked at Jarrod. "To you too, Jarrod, for what he said. There was no call
for that."
Catherine smiled at him. "You are not responsible for someone else's
actions," she told Bobby simply and sincerely.
Bobby looked at the tawny-skinned young woman in surprise. His Pa had just
insulted and offended her, and yet she was being so incredibly calm and
gracious. It wasn't an act either, he could tell. She bore him no malice, just
because his father was a small-minded bigot. She sat there in the carriage, her
back straight, her head held high, not in the least cowed by the experience.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Bobby told her.
Heath watched Catherine in admiration. He knew first hand how hurtful it was to
be looked down on by people for superficial reasons that were beyond your control.
He knew that it still hurt him, to have someone snicker behind his back and
call him a 'bastard'.
Heath believed that in her position he would have reacted with anger, born out
of frustration and, yes...he had to admit to himself...shame. Heath had allowed
other people to make him feel ashamed of the circumstances of his birth. As
though he had in some inexplicable way failed, or that he was less than someone
else. Inside, where it really mattered, he had pride in himself and the woman
who had borne and raised him. But sometimes, people's cruelty would still get
to him.
But Catherine handled Murray Olson's contemptible behaviour with an inner
strength that Heath envied. She knew who she was, and what she was, and she
wasn't going to apologize for that. Or allow the ignorance of others to whittle
away at her sense of self-worth. And she wasn't going to hold the elder Olson's
insufferable attitudes or behaviour against his son, who had shown himself to
be a different kind of man.
The hand brought up the first carriage, and Heath and Annabelle alighted, then
Heath pulled it up and onto the path, out of the way. Victoria and Audra's
carriage was brought up next, and Bobby helped the two women up. Finally, the
ranch hand led Orion to Nick, who vaulted into the black's saddle with ease.
"I'm going to pack up some of my things, and go get a room at the
Cattleman's Hotel," Bobby explained to Audra. "If it's all right,
I'll meet you at your place later to spend the evening as we'd planned."
"Nonsense," Victoria broke in. "We have plenty of room. You're
more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you'd like," she offered.
Victoria felt bad for Bobby. His humiliation was evident. She wasn't sure what,
exactly, had taken place in the front entrance. She only knew that Murray Olson
had refused to admit Catherine and Cadence into the house. As soon as they
realized this, the other Barkleys had quickly taken their leave, sickened and
no longer desiring to remain. Bobby accepted her offer, and promised Audra he
would see her again soon.
Jarrod clicked to his horses, flicked the reins, and the pair began to move
away from the Olson place. Inwardly, he was still seething at Murray Olson's
comments, and his treatment of Catherine and Cadence. He was grateful that Catherine
had stopped him before he had done something he would later have regretted,
something that would have marred the memory of their day with an ugly, physical
confrontation. As though the verbal one had not been enough.
There was a burning in his gullet as Jarrod tried to accept what had just
happened. He had known intellectually that there would be times when the three
of them would encounter prejudice, perhaps even from people that he knew, and
had known for a long time. But to actually come face to face with it, had
shaken him. He didn't want anyone or anything to hurt Catherine or Cadence. It
caused him an almost physical ache, to know they had been subjected to that
kind of treatment. And he knew, sadly, that what had occurred in the Olson
house would be no means be the last of it. Or even the worst of it. Jarrod
sighed heavily.
Cadence looked up at him, seeming to sense his sadness. "I guess they
didn't want to hear my song. Sometimes," she said openly, "people
don't like me and Momma, because we're Michif." Jarrod was carried back to
that day in their shack, when Cady had laid her small hand over his ivory one,
and made a similar comment. She had said it then as matter-of-factly as she was
saying it now. Almost as a bland acceptance of the reality. "Momma says,
some people are just mean. It's 'cause they don't have God in their
hearts."
Jarrod looked down at the child, then over at Catherine's smiling profile.
"Well, you make sure you always listen to your Momma. She's a very
incredible, very wise woman," Jarrod affirmed.
"Nick says he has a surprise for us tonight," Cadence announced,
forgetting already the scene at the Olson's. "What do you think it
is?" she asked excitedly. For the remainder of the ride home, the three of
them laughed and chatted as they tried to guess what Nick might possibly have
in store for them later that evening, putting the ugliness behind them and
leaving it where it belonged...behind the Olson's closed door.
After spending the day visiting, and a steady succession of nibbling on
different delights at various homes, no one was really hungry for an evening
meal. Victoria and Annabelle brought out plates of cold turkey, buttered rolls,
cold shrimp, salads and sweets for anyone who wanted it, to snack on, as the
family gathered in the drawing room again. Once more the candles on the tree
were lit. As the day eased into darkness, the candles on the mantle were lit
too, as were the sconces on the walls. Handfuls of pinecones were tossed into
the fire, snapping and crackling over the Yule log.
Bobby had joined the Barkleys, and at first there had been some stiffness and
awkwardness because of what had happened at the Olson ranch. But because
Catherine and Cadence were so obviously unaffected, the others soon relaxed and
concentrated on enjoying their time together.
Victoria read Hans Christian Anderson's 'The Little Match Girl', as everyone
took a seat, nibbling on the Star of Bethlehem cookies , their pink icing and
silver-coated confectionery an eye-pleasing and tasty treat. When she had
finished, Jarrod read O. Henry's 'The Gift of the Magi'. It was the first time
Catherine had heard the story and she was touched by the ironic sacrifices the
fictional couple had made for one another. Catherine loved listening to
Jarrod's deep, mellifluous tones, closing her eyes as he spun the story.
There was dancing, as Audra sat at the piano and played popular tunes. Informal
movements to the up-tempo tunes. Bobby, an accomplished fiddler, had brought
his instrument, and stood beside Audra, accompanying her while she played. When
Catherine mentioned the jigs that they used to do back in the Red River
Settlement, Bobby grinned at her and winked. A Creole friend of his had taught
him some of the light and lively tunes of his youth, and Bobby skillfully moved
his bow across the violin, as he recalled them.
Jarrod watched as Catherine grew animated, picking up her skirts and moving her
feet quickly to the music, doing little skipping steps. She laughed gaily,
nodding to Bobby, encouraging him, calling out that the Creole music was very
similar to the Metis jigs. Jarrod thought that Catherine looked breath-takingly
beautiful. So young and vibrant, her cheeks lightly flushed with exertion as,
the lone dancer, she moved and twisted to the tunes.
She tossed back her head, her long, silken, dark hair floating around her
shoulders, her burgundy lips slightly parted, her obsidian eyes glowing. Jarrod
had never seen her so unrestrained, except, he realized, his pulse quickening,
when she moved with him in his bed. He shifted his body uncomfortably, as it
responded to his lustful thoughts and his appreciation of Catherine's dance.
The light shone on her dusky skin, and he wondered why women of his
acquaintance prized their pale skin so much. Why they wouldn't seek out the
sun, and the rays that would give them this same, lovely, healthy colour.
Cady decided to try dancing too, hopping around her mother in an enthusiastic,
but not nearly as proficient attempt. To see the child...his
daughter...laughing so freely as well, giggling as she unself-consciously moved
over the rug, made him grin. Jarrod had never felt so overwhelmingly contented
in his life.
Soon, Catherine coaxed Gene to give the dance a try. Gamely, the young man
smiled, kicking up his heels, trying to follow her steps, then giving up and
improvising. Audra, who was still seated at the piano but not playing, felt
Nick's hand on her shoulder, and met his rakish smile, rising to join him as
they added their movements to the those of the others. Gene bowed out then,
laughing, breathing heavily, and pushed his oldest brother onto the rug.
Catherine captured Jarrod's hand, winking at him, as with his other he loosened
his black, string tie. He raised an eyebrow at her, then tried to watch her
steps so that he could recreate them. Jarrod knew that he was a passable enough
dancer, but those were the ballroom waltzes that he was used to. This sort of exuberance
was not like him...he was usually so debonair and in control. Catherine assured
him with a smile that he could do no wrong, that he just needed to feel the
music and respond to it. When he finally let go, jumping around the carpet,
tapping his feet and clapping, moving loosely to the spicy beat, Jarrod felt
completely liberated and unconstrained.
At last, Bobby's repertoire came to an end, and Jarrod found himself reluctant
to see the dance end. Catherine leaned into his arms, her cheeks flushed
becomingly, a slight sheen on her forehead and upper lip, her mouth slightly
parted as she panted for breath. His arms went around her, and his blue eyes
darkened, as he leant into her embrace. She was so lovely, so desirable, and he
couldn't have stopped himself from kissing her, even if he had wanted to.
Jarrod pressed his lips against Catherine's, closing his eyes in satisfaction,
as his mouth worked softly against hers. He felt her become compliant in his
arms, felt her hand steal to the back of his neck above his collar.
The kiss didn't last for more than a few seconds, but Jarrod felt as though the
world was whirling around him. He loved this woman with all of his heart. She
made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before. He wanted her more than
he had ever wanted another woman, and he had known some beautiful, seductive
women in his time. But their memories all paled compared to what Jarrod felt
when he held his Catherine in his arms.
No one else had seemed to notice the heady passion of the kiss, and as they
broke away, reluctantly, azure eyes met jet ones and a promise of future,
private rapture passed between them.
After the dancing, Victoria brought out a small basket of sticks and twigs.
Catherine watched curiously as each of the men took a small handful. Nick
elected to go first. Tossing his sticks onto the fire, he launched into a ghost
story, a scary tale of headless knights and brave phantom steeds. He continued
to keep his eye on the burning sticks, and when they had all turned to ash,
Nick relinquished centre stage to Gene. Gene tossed his sticks on the fire and
began to spin his own tale.
Catherine sat on the chesterfield, pulling Cadence onto her lap, as the child
listened enraptured to the stories that were shared. Catherine observed that
each spooky tale had to go on as long as the sticks continued to burn, and that
the storytellers tried to gauge to life of the twigs, to coincide with the
resolution of their orations. Naturally, she thought that Jarrod's ghost story
was the best. Macabre, it was intellectually scary rather than just startling
or gruesome. Cadence was not terrified by the tales but she did close her eyes
and cover her ears a couple of times. Cadence was not a child prone to
nightmares though, despite her vivid imagination, so Catherine wasn't worried
about any ill effects from this fun tradition.
Then it was time to assemble outdoors at the back of the house. Nick's surprise
proved to be fireworks, that he had purchased in San Francisco. Annabelle
excused herself to go upstairs to where Chase was sleeping. Even though the
room she shared with Heath, and where Chase's bassinette was kept, was at the
back of the house, she still worried that the resultant explosions might wake
the child. She assured Nick that both she and Chase would be fine, and to go
ahead with the merriment.
While Jarrod helped Nick to dig holes in the earth to plant the rockets in,
Gene and Bobby went to fetch pails of water in case any malfunctioned and
needed to be put out. Cadence stood off to one side, between Audra and
Victoria, chattering to the two women. She had never seen a fireworks display
and she was as full of questions as she was anticipation.
Catherine stood just to the right of them, pulling her cashmere cape around her
shoulders. It was chilly at nights. She gazed up at the stars, the little pin
pricks of light that dotted the indigo canopy. She had never witnessed a
fireworks display before either, though she knew what they were. She too was
eager to experience their wonder.
She didn't hear Heath come up alongside her. He always moved so quietly, she
had noticed, very light on his feet for such a tall, broad-shouldered man. He
was the opposite of Nick, who announced his presence well before his coming.
She smiled at Jarrod's sandy-haired brother, who gave her a now familiar,
winsome, lop-sided grin.
"I have to say," Heath told her quietly, "how much I admire ya.
How impressed I was this afternoon. The way ya handled yourself after what
happened at the Olson's. I don't think I would've shown the same self-control,
had our positions been reversed," he admitted. "I know it's not easy,
when someone acts like a jerk like that."
Catherine gave a small shrug. "It wasn't worth getting upset over. And I
had Cadence to think about too." She was warmed by his praise though. She
had come to think very highly of Jarrod's soft-spoken sibling.
Heath nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I've been on the receiving end of that
kind of thing. I know how it hurts."
Catherine saw that he did, and knew from past conversations with Jarrod that
his brother's early years had not been easy. That his acceptance, both into the
family, and into the community of the valley, had not been without difficulty.
"It does," she told him quietly. "Actually, the person I feel
really badly for is Bobby. It must have been difficult to stand up to someone
that he loves that way, and to accept the consequences."
"I'm kinda ashamed to say, I don't always handle myself so well, when
people think they're better than me, and try to put me down," Heath
confided.
Catherine looked at him, with compassion and understanding, but no pity.
"I think it's different for you, Heath," she replied. "You've
had a lifetime of discrimination and bigotry. You've grown up often not being
accepted for who you were. Since you were just a small boy, you've had to face
the animosity and cruelty of people. Not just strangers, but those you've lived
amongst.
"I was fortunate, in that I had a wonderful life in my early years. I knew
only love and acceptance. That's not to say that there wasn't prejudice against
my people, even in Canada. There was, and is. It's something my father always
took an active role against. But my own small world was very insular. The
people who I grew up with, and lived with, the Metis, and the full-blooded
Indians and the whites who shared our world...they were all accepting of who I
was.
"I was able to grow up with a sense of pride for our unique heritage. My
father was a merchant, and while we certainly weren't rich, as a child I didn't
want for anything. I had access to books and an education. My mother was a
wonderful seamstress, and I always had nice clothes. We had plenty of food and
lots of things that other people didn't have access to, because of my father's
position. I was able to move freely through our world, able to expect to be
well treated.
"It wasn't until I came to this country, away from my people, that I was
faced with prejudice. And it wasn't until my parents were killed that I knew
poverty and struggle. And even then, I had Cadence, and you know how it is when
you have a child. No burden is too great to bear, when you have a little one to
love and care for."
Heath looked at her with interest.
Catherine continued. "If I had faced a lifetime of hatred and of being
belittled...I don't know how I would have endured that. I don't know how brave
I would have been, or how easy it would be to turn the other cheek. If I had
had to spend my entire life battling...then I would be a different person than
I am now. It's more than one or two experiences that shapes us. It's a lifetime
of things."
She paused, trying to read his expression in the dark. "If our lives had
been reversed Heath, I don't know if I would have had your courage. Your will
to go on. If I could have kept my pride the way you have, or maintained such a
goodness and generosity of spirit.
"Because I have known hardships recently, I can relate to how difficult
your life has been. But even then, I cannot ever truly know what you have
faced. I had the benefit of almost sixteen years of happiness and goodness, to
help cushion the later blows. To give me strength and good memories of a
childhood of kindnesses and love to draw on.
"That you have gone through the hardships you have faced, and have come
through, retaining such a noble and decent soul...is something that is truly
impressive. I have
nothing but the greatest respect and admiration for you,
Heath." Heath's breath caught in his throat. "And if sometimes, the
memories of the anguish that faced the small child that you were, becomes too
much to bear when brought to the fore again by miserable, mean-spirited
people...you have nothing to be ashamed of."
Heath thought he saw unshed tears shimmering in Catherine's eyes. He sensed
that there were not tears of pity, but truly a well-spring of affection and
mutual admiration. How remarkable she was, Jarrod's Catherine. She was so
young, but so very mature. And she had a knack for empathy that never ceased to
amaze him.
His own Annabelle had come from a broken home. Her father had divorced her
mother when she was only three-years-old, running off with another woman and
abandoning his family. Annabelle, her mother, a baby sister just an infant in
arms, and a four-year-old brother. Annabelle had never seen him again, and had
no recollection of her father. She had also grown up with a certain stigma
attached to her name. She had understood Heath, more so even than any of the
Barkley clan.
Catherine understood too, Heath saw. Perhaps even more than Annabelle, because
Catherine had faced even greater hardship. He wanted to tell her how glad he
was that his brother had her in his life. How glad he was that he himself was
able to know her. He wanted to tell her what a welcome addition she and Cadence
were to the Barkley family. To let Catherine know what high esteem he held her
in. But words weren't something that always came easy to Heath, and he had a
hard time sharing his feelings with people. So he leaned to give her cheek a
quick kiss, saying shyly, "Thank you. You're one of the few people whose
opinion matters to me. Your words mean a lot." Then Heath wandered over to
where his brothers were finishing setting up the fireworks,
hoping...believing...that Catherine would somehow intuit all that he was unable
to say.
Jarrod came to stand behind Catherine, crossing his arms around her middle and
pressing his cheek to hers. He was glad that what had happened with Murray
Olson hadn't put a damper on her celebration of the holiday. He felt somehow
responsible...as he always did for the people in his world. As though he should
have been able to control the actions of someone else, or at least anticipate
them and offer his protection. He didn't like feeling that he had let someone
he cared for down. He didn't like that he was unable to raise a sword of
justice and truth and strike down those with ugliness in their hearts who might
wish to hurt these two that he held closest to his heart. Jarrod was used to
being in control all of the time.
"I'm sorry, for what happened earlier," he whispered against her
skin.
Catherine knew that what had occurred had hurt Jarrod more than either she or
Cadence. "It's not your fault, Jarrod. It's a reality that we're going to
have to live with. There are going to be people like Mr. Olson. There are going
to be people who are far worse. You can't fight everyone who carries a dark
shadow in their heart, and you can't change people or 'fix' things. I know how
hard that will be for you to accept," she told him gently.
"I don't want it to be a reality," Jarrod said stubbornly. "I
don't ever want it to happen again."
Catherine sighed. "We're strong, Cady and I," she said. "We're
not going to break that easily. Knowing that we have your love, will help us to
stand up against whatever ugliness we encounter. We all, all three of us...all
four of us before too long...will have to learn how to face that ugliness."
"I wouldn't mind so much if it was me who was facing it alone,"
Jarrod told her. "But it hurts to think of you being hurt. I know how
brave you are, how indomitable your spirit. And I see the love and self-respect
you have bestowed on Cadence, the way you have taught her to be proud. You both
make me proud. And I know we've already admitted this won't be easy. Promise me
though...if it ever gets too much for you...you'll tell me? You won't ever keep
your feelings from me? And then, if one day we decide this isn't the place for
us...for our family...we can leave."
Catherine felt the tension in Jarrod's body, the rigidity of his arms. "I
promise," she agreed. "But we've got a long way to go before we give
up the fight! This is your home, and ours now too. But yes, if it becomes too
difficult... painful...especially for Cady or our new son or daughter...we know
there is a place we can go." She knew how fortunate she was that Jarrod
would be willing to give up all that he had spent his lifetime building and
nurturing, for her. For all of them.
There was a shrill whistle, and a puff of smoke, as Nick ignited the fuse on
the first rocket. Then there was an explosion, and the sky lit up with green
comet tails. Cadence began to clap, as the first spent ashes fell to the
ground. Then another and another rocket followed in quick succession, followed
my more thunderous booms and then dazzling displays of light.
Catherine was enthralled by the pyrotechnical display. "What a perfect
ending to a perfect holiday," she spoke against Jarrod's cheek, covering
his arms with her own.
"You know," Jarrod murmured suggestively, his hand stealing up under
her cape to caress the swell of flesh there. "These wonderful explosions,
discharging from those rockets like that, reminds me of something."
The shiver that passed through Catherine had nothing to do with the chill of
the night air. "Why, Mr. Barkley," she said coyly. "I do believe
you're trying to seduce me!"
Jarrod laughed against her, increasing the pressure from his searching fingers.
"Let me know when I've succeeded," he chuckled lasciviously, as the
light display continued overhead, explosion after explosion.
Later, by the light from the hearth in Jarrod's bedroom, they recreated the
blasts that they had witnessed together under the stars of their first shared
Christmas, with the fulmination of their desires.
Since bowing out of the race for governor, Jarrod had not
received another death threat. He and Catherine had discussed the issue, and he
had explained to her that sometimes in his line of work, he made enemies. It
had never really bothered him before, but now he knew that if there were
professed threats in the future, he would be concerned about she and Cadence,
and the new baby. Jarrod suggested that perhaps he should not take any high
profile or volatile cases, to help protect his new family.
Catherine appreciated the thought, but insisted that Jarrod had to be the kind
of lawyer that he had always been. That was who he was, and why he had chosen
to go into law in the first place. She told him that there were no guarantees
in life, and that when and if any problems arose, they would deal with them
then. Together.
Jarrod announced that he would be re-opening the Stockton office in the new
year, after the return from their honeymoon. He wouldn't tell Catherine where
he planned on taking her, and would only smile to himself. The couple had
decided that Cadence would accompany them on their trip. Jarrod had made his
proposal to both of them, asking both of them to share his life, and both he
and Catherine believed that Cadence should be a part of everything surrounding
their union...the ceremony and the ensuing vacation.
Besides, having never been apart for a single day since Cady's birth, Catherine
thought a separation at this stage might be too hard for either she or her
daughter. When more time had passed, and both she and Cady were feeling more
relaxed, Catherine and Jarrod could go away somewhere on their own. But for
this first trip, they would take it together. As the family that they were
becoming.
Jarrod would also be taking over more of the workload in San Francisco.
"Assuming," he'd told Catherine wryly, "that I still have a
practice." Neither of them were certain what would become of either law
office, once their marriage was announced. Jarrod did assure Catherine that
financially they didn't need to worry. In addition to his share of the Barkley
resources and income, Jarrod had amassed a significant personal fortune as an
attorney and through some private investments.
There was no pressure in that way, no absolute necessity for the law practices
to keep them fed and clothed and housed...but both wanted Jarrod to be able to
continue to pursue the career that had always meant so much to him. Jarrod
found that now, knowing that Catherine and Cady were a part of his life finally
and unalterably, he began to miss his work at times.
Catherine would find him staring into the fireplace at the Yule log, nursing a
cognac, lost in a reverie of past triumphs. She knew that a staid, life of
leisure was not for her husband-to-be. He needed to keep his mind sharp, honing
his research and oratory skills over intriguing cases. He needed to be needed...to
make a difference in the lives of people who might not have any chance at all
without him. Jarrod needed to contribute in some way, and to take a stand
against that which he saw as wrong, and to protect the individual who had no
one to champion his cause.
Gil McIntyre had swept the election and been sworn in as the new Governor of
California. Catherine could see that Jarrod was obviously delighted, as the man
shared many of the same philosophies and ideals as Jarrod himself. Jarrod
believed that Gil McIntyre was a good and decent man, and that he would do a
good job for the people of California. Catherine did sense a certain
wistfulness in Jarrod, when she asked him forthright how he felt now about
giving up the mansion.
Jarrod had assured her that while part of him regretted that he would not get
the opportunity that such a position would have offered him in helping so many
people, he knew in his heart that it wasn't the life for him. That that wasn't
the way he was meant to help out in this world, or the arena that he was to
battle in. He seemed certain that even if it had not been for Catherine and
Cadence, eventually, he would have found the lifestyle in the mansion, the
compromises he would need to make to survive in politics and get legislation
passed...all those things that Sam White had warned him about that day in his
office...would have stolen and undermined any enjoyment he would have taken
from the work.
They had decided to live out at the ranch, and for Jarrod to spend most of his
time in Stockton. When he did go to San Francisco on business, Catherine and
Cady would accompany him there, and stay at the brownstone, amusing themselves
while he worked. Neither Jarrod nor Catherine liked the thought of being apart
for even a few days.
They had also discussed moving to San Francisco permanently. If the valley
proved to be too unwelcoming to the latest Barkleys, then perhaps the more
cosmopolitan flair of the city would be a better atmosphere. They would give it
a steadfast try first though, and Catherine vowed that it would take a lot to
force her out of what had become their home too.
As she had agreed earlier, Catherine vowed to Jarrod again that she would not
keep things from him. That she would not hide ill-treatment at the hands of
others from this man who was to be her husband, and she would not keep her
feelings bottled up in order to protect his. They would need to count on one
another for total honesty. There could be no more second-guessing, no more
things left unsaid forcing one another to fill in the blanks, such as what had
caused their separation in the first place.
They spent their days between Christmas and the wedding enjoying time with the
family. Gene was remaining until the second of the new year, so that he could
be there for the wedding. Nick and Heath were doing the bare minimum required
for the ranch, spending most mornings out on the range, or about the property,
then finishing early and coming home. Both knew that it might be one of the
last times to enjoy everyone together like this.
Heath and Annabelle spent a lot of time together as a couple, while Victoria
cared for Chase. They took long walks, went riding together, and renewed their
knowing of one another as individuals, as a man and a woman, instead of just as
parents. Annabelle seemed to bloom under her husband's loving attention, much
of the fatigue and worry of being a new first-time parent, which had seemed to
intensify after Tommy Norris's death, left her.
Bobby Olson had agreed to stay at the Barkley residence until the new year.
Then, he asserted, he would get a room in Stockton. He would continue to work
on the house that he was building for he and Audra, but would need to rethink
their future. He had assumed he would be helping his father run his spread, but
since their parting ways, Bobby had to come up with another plan.
The land where he was building a new house, was set on one thousand acres that
abutted the Barkley lands to the southeast. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
The land had been deeded to Bobby by his father on his twenty-first birthday.
The elder Olson had believed that every man should have a little something to
call his own, even though the entire Olson ranch was to one day belong to
Bobby. Something to be responsible for and to take pride in. Bobby told Audra
that he had some money of his own, but that he would not be able to care for
her as extravagantly as he had first hoped, since they would need to put most
of that money into starting up their own place.
Audra assured him that she didn't care about monetary things. That what
mattered to her was the kind of man Bobby was, not the material things he could
give her. Nothing, she told him, could be a greater gift than his love. And
despite the way Audra had grown up, with privilege and lacking for nothing,
Bobby could see the truth in her eyes.
Jarrod spent time each morning teaching Cady to ride her new pony, Pearl.
Patiently, he taught her first how to care for the pony. What food she would
need to eat, and how important it was that she have fresh water available. He
taught her the correct way to curry the pony. Jarrod showed Cady how to saddle
Pearl, even though she was too young to do so herself.
"If this is going to be your very own pony, you need to help take care of
her," Jarrod explained to the child. That included learning how to muck
out Pearl's stall, which Cady did without reservation, and then laying fresh,
sweet hay on the floor. Jarrod was proud of the way his new daughter heeded
each of his lessons.
Then came the fun part. Jarrod would hoist Cadence into the air and settle her
into the new saddle. The child's legs were still too short to reach to the
metal stirrups, so Jarrod encouraged Cady to hang onto the saddle horn, while
he led the pony around the paddock. Gradually, Cady learned to grab and hold
with her legs, to give herself more stability.
Catherine would watch from the paddock fence, leaning over the top rail,
smiling as Jarrod would jog around the enclosure, the gentle Welsh Mountain
pony prancing smartly behind him, Cady looking so tiny but dignified in the
saddle. Dressed in her riding outfit, with her smart little black hat, just
like Victoria's, she looked the consummate horsewoman, with her back straight,
her head held high, and her little legs gripping the white pony's sides.
Then in the afternoons, with Victoria or Audra watching Cady, Jarrod and
Catherine would saddle up and go for a long ride over the Barkley property.
Catherine really did feel that she owned the world, as she sat atop the
beautiful, golden mare, and surveyed all that belonged to the Barkley family.
Built up over years of hard labour and sacrifice. She found it mind-boggling
that in just a few short days, the majesty of this land would be hers and
Cady's, through her marriage to Jarrod.
She knew how much the Barkleys appreciated their good fortune, and how, even
though they lived well and allowed themselves some of the luxury that came with
their riches, they also felt a duty to those less fortunate. Boxing Day had
been spent considering those in need. Gifts of money were put in envelopes and
tucked into boxes of staples and preserves, to be distributed anonymously to
needy families in the valley and in Stockton. Each of the hands was dispatched
to deliver a couple of boxes each, and the Barkley men themselves made their
way out to various locations to leave the boxes where they would be found by
the intended recipients.
There was a big dinner at the orphanage, arranged by Audra. And there were
presents for all of the children, anonymously donated by the Barkley family.
And a large sum of money was presented to the church, to help out needy
families in the parish. There was also a donation made to the school.
Boxing Day was also the day that employees traditionally received gifts. For
each of the men who worked on the Barkley ranch, there was tobacco, a new
blanket for their bunks, and a new pair of leather gloves. For Silas, there was
a new suit to wear to church, and a couple of new books.
Catherine and Cadence loved being able to participate in the giving, helping to
box up the gifts of food. The smoked meats, and the preserves, and the fresh
nuts and fruit and cheeses. And for families with children, there was always a
small toy or two. Penny whistles or paper dolls. And some candy. Catherine knew
just how meaningful these gifts would be to the recipients, and it warmed her
heart to be able to participate in the tradition.
She wasn't sure she had been able to communicate to Jarrod just how wondrous
this Christmas had been. Or how much the needy families would appreciate the
boxes. She had tried, but Catherine knew that there was no way for Jarrod, who
had never known hunger or need, to truly understand. No matter how
compassionate and empathetic he was. She knew that he truly enjoyed the giving,
and that his desire to help others was not borne out of superiority or because
it made him feel important to give, but out of true altruism and magnanimity.
All of the Barkleys truly enjoyed helping, and were appreciative of what they
had, and wanted to give freely to others. But only Catherine and Cadence, and
Heath as well, truly understood what these seemingly small gifts would and
could mean to a family who had virtually nothing.
Their rides over the Barkley lands were very special to Catherine and Jarrod.
Jarrod would usually borrow a different saddle horse each time they went out.
Catherine knew that he was missing Jingo. She had spoken to Nick about
arranging for a horse to replace Jarrod's lost gelding. She had thought it
would be a nice wedding gift to her groom. And so, Nick had made arrangements
for a new mount for Jarrod, exactly as described by Catherine, to be delivered
to the Barkley ranch on the day of the wedding, New Year's Eve.
Catherine found that in only a few days, she became an even better rider. Or
perhaps, it was just that the Palomino mare was such an incredible mount. Very
attuned to her new mistress's wishes. Quick to respond. Gentle of gait and
nature. Catherine loved to gallop across the land, her hair streaming out
behind her, the wind biting her cheeks. She loved the feeling of freedom, the exhilaration
of the speed.
On the day before their wedding, Jarrod took Catherine again to the rocky
outcropping where he had taken her the day of their first trail ride. To the
place where he had first made love to her. They had stood together, overlooking
the majestic beauty of the valley, Jarrod behind Catherine, his arms wrapped
about her waist, while an eagle sailed on unseen currents, and gave a cry that
echoed over the hills.
"Tomorrow," Jarrod said simply, sighing against Catherine's cheek.
Tomorrow night, they would stand before family and friends and exchange their
vows. In addition to the family, there would be a few friends in attendance.
Sheriff Madden and his wife Sylvia. Dr. Merar and Iva. The rest of the McNeil
clan.
Mark Treymore had wired to say that he would be attending as well. Originally,
he had planned to spend New Year's Eve at one of the San Francisco galas with
his lady friend. But the young woman, expecting an engagement on Christmas day,
and perturbed not to receive one, had pressured Mark to take their relationship
to the next level. Mark had been unwilling to do so, and so the couple had
parted ways. Mark, who had been philosophical about the break up, had been
happy to be able to attend the wedding of his friend, and boss, and was due in
on tomorrow's morning train.
A big wedding was not important to Jarrod, or to Catherine either, he knew.
They would both rather have a small group of people there who were genuinely
happy for them and supportive of their union, than a larger crowd whose best
wishes might not have been as heartfelt.
"Sometimes, this all feels like a fairy tale. Some dream that I'll wake up
from," Catherine admitted.
"If it is, it's a dream we're both sharing, and if we do awaken, we'll do
so together," Jarrod assured her. "I can't tell you how different my
life is now, from what it was when you first walked into my office that day,
almost four moths ago. I was so dissatisfied with everything. So terribly
unhappy.
"I wasn't taking joy in my work like I used to. I was plagued with
nightmares. I was seeing a young woman that I felt was the kind of woman I was expected
to have in my life. Trying to feel things for her that I couldn't really feel.
Allowing myself to get drawn in deeper and deeper into something that wasn't
what I truly wanted. I was getting ready to make a horrible mistake, because I
was lonely and dispirited and desperate."
They both thought then of Patricia Vandermeer. Of the way she had given her
life for Jarrod's. Jarrod was able to think of the lovely young woman with
sadness, but did not allow himself to feel guilt for her death. The
responsibility for that lay with Clayton Knowles, and Jarrod knew that. He
appreciated Patricia's ultimate sacrifice though, and knew that there had been
goodness in her as well. Even though she wasn't the woman for him.
"I wasn't living, Catherine, I was existing. I was going through the
motions, but I took no joy from my life. I had no purpose. Even my career,
which had always sustained me in the past, didn't hold much meaning for me
anymore. I was searching for something, but I was so frustrated because I
didn't know what it was. I didn't know that it was you." Jarrod's arms
tightened around her.
"I was consumed with guilt. Guilt about the way I had conducted my life in
the past. Guilt about how I was conducting it then. Guilt about mistakes I had
made. Guilt about Beth's death, and knowing that I was headed in the same
direction...spending time with another young woman who I'd never really love,
out of a desire to assuage my loneliness, and to find what I saw Heath had,
what I knew was out there.
"And then when you walked in my office, I felt so guilty again. I thought
you were searching for a lawyer. That there was some injustice, some wrong that
needed to be righted. I thought that you needed me in that capacity, and I knew
that I just didn't have anything left inside to give. That there was no way to
help you.
"And then I found out that that wasn't what you wanted at all. You didn't
need me to help you. I believe that some grand design had arranged to send you
to help me. After that first misunderstanding, when I thought you had seen the
poem that laid bare my feelings of culpability and my raw emotion, it was just
more for me to berate myself about.
"But finding you, to apologize, getting to know you bit by bit...I sensed
in you something that I had never found in another person before. I was intrigued
by you. Admired you. Wanted you. Fell in love with you. And throughout that
incredible journey, I found myself as well. Your love freed me from the chains
of guilt and self-recrimination that had been slowly dragging me into a morass
of pain and darkness.
"Oh, Catherine, I can't begin to tell you what your love has meant to me.
The way you make me want to be the best possible man that I can be. The way my
heart sings just to look at you. The pure joy and light that you, and Cadence
too, have brought to a life that was so shadowed and forlorn. I love you with
all of my heart, and when you stand beside me tomorrow evening, and say those
words that will make you my wife, I'm afraid that my heart will just burst
right out of my chest."
Catherine felt the wet tears on her cheeks. She was feeling so emotional these
days. She wouldn't be surprised if she wept uncontrollable tears of joy at
their wedding, though that was not her normal demeanour. She thought of her
lovely wedding dress, hanging up in her room, and all of the accessories that
went with it. In one more day, she would be Mrs. Jarrod Barkley. And in seven
more months, she would give birth to Jarrod's child.
'All human ties that bind me'.
Tomorrow night, in front of a small gathering of friends and family, she and
Jarrod would exchange their vows and pledge their lives to one another. Nothing
could bring her greater pleasure. And from there on out, their lives...hers,
Jarrod's, Cady's, and the life of the child growing inside her...would be
inexorably bound.
Dozens of candles, all shapes and sizes, all white,
illuminated the drawing room, from every available surface. The tiny flames
flickered and danced, giving a soft, romantic glow to a space that would,
before the night was out, witness the union of a very special couple. Still
decorated for Christmas, the room was at it's most beautiful. There was
greenery everywhere. The Yule log burning in the hearth had been scented with
cinnamon and other dried spices, giving a heady, spicy, aromatic scent to the
room.
Two low, embroidered footstools sat in front of the makeshift alter...a
silvered stand normally used for sheet music, wound now with vines. Behind it,
smiling benignly, stood Reverend Daye in his best grey gown, his wild, red hair
plastered down with pomade. On either side of him, were two pedestals, with
vases of fresh cut, deep burgundy roses interspersed with baby's breath.
Hanging over the spot where the couple would exchange their vows, was a gilded
cage, festooned with ribbons and bells, that contained a single, white dove who
cooed intermittently. A symbol of good luck.
There was white lace draped everywhere. White satin bows were tied to the backs
of the gold, upholstered chairs which had been brought in and arranged on
either side of the room to make an aisle. Guests had begun to arrive, dressed
in their finery, and were seated by Gene, looking handsome in his black suit.
As Gene welcomed people through the front door, they were greeted by the soft
playing of the four-piece quartet that had set up to the right of the foyer.
There would be no alcohol served until after the ceremony, so for now, Silas
circulated with a tray of cranberry punch, served in crystal glasses tied with
sprigs of holly. Each guest was also given a small, silver bell to ring once
the couple was wed, a tradition to bring luck to their new union. The assemblage
was small, but the happy anticipation hung in the air tangibly, moving over the
observers.
Leo McNeil stood off to one side, keeping an eye on his brood, who, he noticed
proudly, were on their best behaviour. Halley had come over early when a rig
from the ranch had been dispatched to go for her, and she had been here for a
couple of hours already, getting dressed and ready and helping the bride. Leo
had waited until the last minute to dress the children and load them up on the buckboard
and head over. He couldn't wait to see Halley in her new dress, and to watch
her take her place of honour with the wedding procession.
Bobby Olson, looking even taller and slimmer in his pressed, navy suit, stood
next to Audra, while they sipped punch. Audra looked exceptionally beautiful,
Bobby thought, in her pale, green, modestly cut gown. The creamy expanse of her
throat made his lips twitch to touch the soft flesh there. He couldn't wait
until he and Audra were wed. Standing here with her now, fighting the longing
to take her into his arms, Bobby wondered if there was any way he could
convince Audra to move the date of their own wedding up a few months. He
thought that perhaps he might. Lately, her kisses in return had gotten bolder
and more passionate, and Bobby worried that if he didn't put a gold band on
Audra's finger soon, he might not have the self-restraint to wait until their
wedding night to claim her as his own.
Bobby heard a voice that made him look up in surprise. Trudy?
He turned towards the door, and sure enough, his younger sister stood there on
the threshold, uncertainly, her blue eyes scanning the room for him. Seeing
him, she smiled tentatively. Gene tucked her arm through his and walked her
over to Bobby and Audra, then excused himself to return to his post.
"Gertrude!" Audra cried happily. "How nice of you to join
us!" All of Bobby's family had been invited to the wedding as a courtesy,
since the Barkley and Olson families were soon to be joined through marriage
themselves. Not surprisingly, the elder Olsons had declined. Audra hadn't known
that Gertrude intended to come though.
"Well, I'm not quite as brave as Bobby," the plump, blonde woman
admitted. "I told Ma and Pa that I had a headache and was going to be
staying in this evening. Then, as soon as they had left for the Poole's party,
I dressed and hurried over."
Bobby bent to kiss his shorter sister on the cheek. "We're just glad that
you're here, Trudy. Thanks, it means alot." Audra nodded her agreement.
Victoria fussed over rearranging vases of cut flowers that were already
perfect. She smoothed imaginary folds and creases from her beautiful, silver,
high-necked gown. She fretted that perhaps she needed more candles, then
wondered if perhaps she had too many. She thought that the orchestra might be
playing too loudly. Then, that maybe they weren't loud enough. She hoped they
would have enough food for everyone later, then chastized herself because she
knew they had plenty, and would in fact, more than likely be taking some
leftovers to the orphanage tomorrow.
"Here, Mother," Heath said at her elbow, offering Victoria a crystal
glass of punch. "Don't tell anyone, but I poured a bit of sherry in this
one. You looked like you could maybe use it." He winked at her.
Victoria smiled up at Heath. He looked so handsome in his black three-piece
suit, with tie, the burgundy silk handkerchief tucked into his pocket. A
boutonniere of white rose buds graced his lapel. "I guess I am a bit
nervous," Victoria admitted. "I just want everything to be perfect.
We weren't able to be a part of things when Jarrod eloped with Beth. It's
important to me to have us all here now to share in this ceremony. I'm just so
very happy for both of them. Jarrod couldn't have found a more perfect match
than Catherine, I don't believe." Her eyes shone with maternal happiness.
Heath nodded. "Everything is perfect, Mother." He glanced at his
pocket watch. "Well, another fifteen minutes or so, and I guess I'd better
head upstairs to get the bride. It's almost seven o'clock."
"How's Jarrod holding up?" Victoria asked, her dark eyes dancing, as
she sipped her drink.
Heath laughed lightly. "He's just eager for it to all be over, I think. He
doesn't want anything to go wrong. Nick is doing a good job keeping him
anchored though."
In the study, Jarrod paced before the big, wooden desk. He kept worrying that
at any minute he was going to wake up and find that this had all been a dream.
That he was alone in his bed with a hangover, and that Catherine and Cadence
were still gone from his life. Still with Jesse.
The man who did not exist, yet who had become so real in Jarrod's mind. He
couldn't shake the fear that something or someone was going to his girls from
him again. Jarrod clenched his fists at his sides. That just could
not happen! They all belonged together, and before
the next hour was up, they would finally and irrevocably be a family.
Nick reached to grasp his older brother's shoulder. "Do you want a
drink?" Nick asked. "Your gonna wear a hole in that floor."
Jarrod shook his head. "I've had enough to drink these past weeks to last
me a lifetime. I'll have some champagne later with my bride." His bride.
How precious the word sounded on his lips. "Besides, I want a clear head
when I say my vows. I want to be able to feel and remember every single
second." Jarrod looked at his brother then, his expression so open and
honest. "Good God, Nick. I love her so much," he said wonderingly.
"I never knew...it could be like this."
Nick smiled into the vivid blue eyes that gazed into his dark ones. "What
you and Catherine have is very special," Nick said slowly, his gravelly
voice low and sincere. "I think it's obvious to everyone how much you mean
to one another. She's a remarkable woman, Jarrod. And I'm so glad that she'll
be my sister-in-law, and Cady my niece. I mean that." Nick flushed a bit,
unable to help remembering the scene that had played out in this very room and
almost cost him his relationship with his much loved and respected older
brother.
"I know, Brother Nick. Thanks," Jarrod said, smiling. Jarrod knew
what his brother was thinking. Knew that despite how natural things were
between them now, that Nick still sometimes harboured a concern that the words
they had voiced that fateful day, would never entirely be laid to rest.
Having Nick stand up with him now as his best man, meant the world to Jarrod.
He had always been closest to Nick, despite the many ways that they were
complete opposites. He believed that they complimented one another though.
Jarrod loved and respected Heath, as much as any of his siblings, but because
of Fate, they did not share the same memories, or have that bonding in
childhood that he shared with Nick.
And Gene had been much younger, he and Jarrod had always seemed to be at
different stages in their lives. Jarrod loved his youngest brother dearly. It
wasn't that he loved Nick more than his other brothers. Just that, because of
circumstance, Nick had had the most profound effect on the man that Jarrod had
become, and shared a greater part of Jarrod's memories.
Jarrod wanted to give Nick a gift, to thank him for his support. Not just
today, but throughout his entire life. Something more than the crystal
decanters, their silver tags etched with Nick's initials that he had presented
to him earlier.
"I know you're lousy at keeping secrets," Jarrod began, chuckling as
Nick snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be put out by
that characterization. "But I want to share one with you now. You're the
only other person who knows, and I really need you to keep this to yourself for
a little while."
"You can trust me, Jarrod," Nick promised solemnly. His dark, earnest
eyes bade his brother to understand that he meant not in this matter alone, but
with everything in his life.
Jarrod saw, and knew all that his brother meant to impart with his words.
"I know, and I do," he told him. "Catherine's pregnant. About
two months along. I'll have another child, sometime late next summer."
Jarrod saw the glow in his younger brother's dark eyes. The way Nick's features
lifted in incredulous joy. "Only Catherine and I, and now you, know. We
want to wait another month or so, until we're sure things are all right, before
we..." Jarrod had been about to say, 'announce it', but the words were
lost in a great expulsion of breath as Nick suddenly grabbed him in a great
bear hug.
Jarrod knew that Catherine would understand his revelation of their precious
secret to his brother. That was one of the incredible things about her. The way
she always understood.
Nick couldn't see clearly...his vision had misted over. His heart thudded in
his chest, as he grabbed his older brother close to him. He knew, finally, with
this announcement, that his brother had truly forgiven him his ill-conceived
words that day. He thought wonderingly of the new niece or nephew that had been
created out of the strength and depth of Jarrod and Catherine's love. Suddenly,
his collar felt too tight around his neck. He had to struggle to get the words
out. "Congratulations....Pappy!"
Catherine stood in front of the full length mirror, surveying her appearance.
She had spent the last half hour, with Halley's help, putting her hair into an
upswept bun, and weaving baby's breath through the coil. Catherine looked at
the young woman who stared back at her. Suddenly, she reached her hands up
behind her head, and pulled out two of the largest clips that held the hair in
place. It began to come loose from it's bindings. Shrugging her shoulders as
she glanced back over at Halley, Catherine continued to pull out the pins that
held her hair.
Halley stepped forward and helped finish the task, removing the bits of floral
from Catherine's dark tresses. She fluffed up the young woman's hair, then
reached for the silver brush on the vanity, pulling it through the long, dark
waves. She peered around Catherine's shoulder and smiled at the reflection in
the mirror, not saying a thing.
"It just wasn't me," Catherine sighed, apologetically. "I know
it was my idea to put it up, like the women in the magazines. But it just
seemed so...foreign. I've always worn my hair down, and I know Jarrod likes it
down. I suppose that may cause a scandal, but not much more than the simple
fact of us getting married, hmmm Halley?" She giggled.
"I think it looks pretty down," Halley said. "I think ya look
like an angel, 'cept ya don't got no wings," Halley grinned her
gap-toothed grin. She came out from behind the taller woman and studied her own
reflection. "Lordy, ain't I a sight too?! I ain't never had such a fine
dress as this! My Momma must be smilin' down from Heaven, ta see her Halley Mae
like some fine lady!"
"You look lovely, Halley," Catherine agreed. The white gown that
Halley had chosen for herself was very frilly and lacy, with a high bustle. Her
short hair had been woven through with baby's breath and a burgundy rose pinned
to the left side. Another burgundy rose nestled among white buds on her
corsage.
"I want to thank you again, for agreeing to stand with me tonight,"
Catherine said. "And for the friendship that you extended to me when I had
no one, and for the wonderful way you have always treated Cady."
Halley looked away guiltily for a moment. "Well now, I gots ta admit
somethin'. When y'all first moved in, I weren't too sure 'bout ya. I'd heard
some bad things 'bout...'bout Injun people, even though I ain't never knowed
some before. I cain't hide it from God, so I might as well confess.
"Ya'd think a woman who'd been thought poorly of fo' the colour a her own
skin, woulda been a bit more understandin' and charitable. But I had some funny
ideas in my head, I's ashamed to say. And it took a while afore they all got
out."
Halley cleared her throat. "Afore I realized you was just like anybody
else. Better'n most in fact. I always had a heap o' respect fer the way ya
cared for yer young 'un. You's a good momma, Catherine. And a good person. And
I's honoured ta know ya. And ta be with ya as you marries Mr. Jarrod."
Catherine wondered how much pride it had cost Halley to make this admission.
She had known the truth of course. Had known that even victims of
discrimination themselves, can have prejudicial ideas based on misinformation
and ignorance. But the important thing was that Halley had been willing to give
she and Cady a chance. And in the end, had judged them for who they were.
"I'm honoured to know you too, Halley McNeil," Catherine said, and
gave the black woman a quick hug.
Catherine reached for her short, white kid gloves. She moved her engagement
ring to her right hand, before slipping them on and then handing her
matron-of-honour hers. She took the hanky that Annabelle had given her,
embroidered by the other woman with Catherine's maiden initials, and tucked it
into her bouquet of burgundy roses, tied with a white lace ribbon. She sat
down, and slid her feet into the low-heeled, white satin slippers. They were
decorated with bows at the instep, and Catherine had done some beadwork on the
front, desiring to bring some of her Metis culture into the ceremony.
She touched the opal necklace at her throat. The one that Jarrod had given to
her that night. Halloween. The night that Catherine believed in her heart was
the same one that their child had been conceived on. She had left the necklace
back in the shack that morning she and Cadence had fled Stockton. Jarrod had
found it later, and had kept it, finally reclasping it back around her neck
where it belonged.
Victoria had come by the room a short time ago, to see how things were
progressing, and to speak to Catherine privately. Halley had given them some privacy,
taking Cadence to Annabelle's room at that time, where the chestnut-haired
young woman waited to help Cady dress and get ready. Victoria had given
Catherine a warm embrace, pressing her smooth, white, powdered cheek against
the warm, bronzed one. Then she had taken Catherine's hands in hers.
"I can't tell you how happy it makes me, to know that you and Cady will be
a part of our lives for good now. And how grateful I am that my son has you in
his life. He's a good man, Jarrod. He's been this family's rock...since Tom
died. He's a decent, selfless, honourable man. But I know I don't need to tell
you all of that," Victoria went on. "You are the same. An exceptional
young woman, who has helped all of us to learn things about ourselves. You have
brought such joy to Jarrod's life as he has never known before."
Victoria had paused then for a moment, recalling a similar conversation she had
shared with her oldest son earlier in the day. One where she finally set him
free of his obligations to her, and his siblings and the Barkley name. Where
she gave him her blessing to pursue his own dreams, and do whatever he needed
to to preserve his own family, who must now be his primary concern.
Jarrod had at first been bewildered, then grateful, and Victoria had watched
his shoulders straighten as he shed himself of his worry and his burdens and
what he believed were his eternally entrenched duties towards all those who
lived in the white mansion. Knowing that whatever he needed to do, would not be
met with resistance or guilt, but with whole-hearted support, had been the last
piece to fall into place for the handsome, dutiful, eldest son to allow him to
enjoy his life and his future fully.
"Jarrod has always tried to do what was expected of him, in all areas of
his life. To live the way that he thought we wanted him to live. And finally,
seeking to follow his own heart, he has at last, unknowingly fulfilled all of
the dreams and hopes that either Tom or I ever had for him. You, Catherine, are
everything that we could have wanted, or expected for Jarrod.
"I wish the two of you the very best. I know that with the strength and
depth of your love, your union will survive. And you will always, always, have
the support of all of the Barkleys. You and Cady are a part of us, now and
forever, and I could not love or value either of you more. You are my daughter
now, as Audra is, and Annabelle is. And Cady is my granddaughter.
"Thank you, for coming into not only Jarrod's life, but ours as well. I
love you." Then the matriarch reached up to hug the young Metis woman
again, as tears ran down both faces. "I want you to have something.
Something special that Tom gave to me, the day of our wedding." Victoria
reached into her pocket and brought out a diamond hat pin. "I thought perhaps
you could use it to help hold your veil in place. And then I want you to keep
it. It would mean a great deal to me."
Catherine had nodded through her tears. "As it would to me. I love you,
too. Mother."
Now, Halley helped Catherine to attach her veil. It was a long, gauzy creation
of white tulle. There was a shorter front, that would cover Catherine's face,
and a longer back piece that reached below Catherine's knees. A wreath of holly
greens, and burgundy roses encircled Catherine's head, holding the veil in
place. With a shaking hand, Catherine stuck the diamond pin from Victoria
through the headpiece.
There was a knock at the door, and then Cadence burst into the room, Annabelle
standing behind her, smiling indulgently, holding a white wicker basket of rose
petals that Cady would scatter down the aisle. The little girl hopped from one
foot to the other, exclaiming over her mother. "Momma, you look beautiful!
Beau..TEE...ful!" Cadence cried. "And look at my dress, too,"
the child said proudly, pirouetting.
"You look amazing, Cady," Catherine said softly her voice full of
maternal love and pride. How delightful Cady looked in her long, white, satin
gown with it's burgundy sash that tied in a big bow over the small bustle at
the back. Cady's hair too was left long, it's dark waves shining with a healthy
glow.
"Boy howdy, lookee here," Heath's soft drawl came from where he stood
behind Annabelle. He reached to touch his wife's hip lightly, peering into the
room beyond. "I do believe all you gals are actually ready on time!"
he teased.
Catherine giggled nervously. "I guess we are," she agreed. Her dark
eyes were wide and bright. She felt the faint fluttering in the pit of her stomach,
like gossamer wings.
"Okay then. Belle, can you please go on down with Cady, and let Audra know
she can get seated and ready to play her piano piece?" Annabelle nodded at
her husband, feeling so happy for Jarrod and Catherine. She had grown to love
and respect Jarrod very much since she had joined the Barkley family, and those
feelings had grown to extend to the young woman who had captured his heart.
"Mrs. McNeil," Heath directed. "Can you please go wait at the
top of the stairs? Nick will be waiting for ya at the bottom. When ya see
Catherine come out of this room, nod to Annabelle, and she'll cue Audra. Then
you can head down the stairs to Nick. And Catherine and I will follow. Just
give us a minute first, okay?" Heath asked. Halley nodded, and went to
take her place at the top of the wide, curved staircase.
Catherine took a deep breath, smiling at Heath, her lips pressed together.
"Thank you, Heath, for agreeing to give me away," Catherine told him.
"You look very dashing in your suit!"
Heath grinned. "Thank you. And it's an honour." Then he sobered for a
moment. "I'm sorry your folks couldn't be here today. I know how much you
must miss them."
Catherine's eyes teared over. In the bustle of the holidays and getting ready
for the wedding, she had not forgotten her parents, but knew that others could
not be expected to be thinking of them. Heath's words of remembrance touched
her. "I do. I wish they could have known Jarrod. They would have been
impressed, and loved him as I do, I know."
"When Belle and I were married, even though I think of Victoria as
'Mother' and love her with all my heart, I still missed the mother who had
raised me. Who made me into the man I became, and worked so hard and so
selflessly to care for me. I wished she and Tom Barkley could have been a part
a things. I don't think of him as 'Dad', like the others do, because I never
knew him. But still, he was my father, and I woulda liked him ta be
there."
Catherine nodded her understanding. "I know that they are here in a way.
That who I am is half of who each of them were. And that their blood flows in
Cady's veins. And I believe that somewhere, they are watching and will be with
me in spirit today." She stopped, blinking, her smoky lashes sweeping her
tawny cheeks. "Thank you though, for thinking of them. It makes their presence
seem more real somehow.
Not just locked away in my own heart."
"And though I know it isn't quite the same, ya do have a new family now. A
family who loves and respects ya, and is glad to have you and Cadence in our
lives. Who will do anything in the world for ya. Who values you. And loves
ya." Heath looked slightly embarrassed at his speech.
Catherine leaned over to kiss his cheek. "And I love all of you." She
reached to pull the front of her veil over her face. "I can't believe that
the day is here. That I'll walk down those stairs as Catherine Vaillancourt for
the last time, and when I tread them again, it will be as Catherine
Barkley." Her heart plummeted for a moment, as Catherine wondered suddenly
if in giving up her name, she was turning her back on her heritage. Not that
anything mattered more to her than being Jarrod's wife.
Amazingly, Heath seemed to sense some of what she was thinking. "You'll
always be who you are, no matter what name you carry," he told her
quietly, his gaze, as he peered at her through the veil, intense. "That's
something I've learned." He took her gloved hand in his and squeezed it.
"You'll always be the same, special woman, and everything that made you
who you are...well...none of that will change. Trust me in this. In taking the
name Barkley, you aren't expected to give anything of who you are up. You will
only add to it."
Catherine squeezed his hand back. "Thank you, Heath." She took
another deep breath. "More than anything, I want go down those stairs and
say those words that will make me your brother's wife."
Heath knew there was no greater role he could play than to bring this young
woman down to the drawing room, and before their guests and the reverend, give
her to Jarrod. He remembered his own wedding day, and the joy that had washed over
him when he'd seen Belle walk down the aisle towards him. He knew how his
oldest brother was feeling right now, down there...waiting.
Heath tucked Catherine's arm into his. "Let's go make Jarrod the happiest
man on earth."
Jarrod watched Cadence come down the makeshift aisle towards
him, dropping little handfuls of dark rose petals on the carpet. She was such a
beautiful little girl, and looked truly angelic in her little white dress with
the burgundy sash and bow. Her blue eyes sought his for support and
encouragement, and Jarrod saw the love and trust there in the sapphire orbs.
Cady stopped short of the alter and stood off to one side, as she had been
instructed, then turned to peek back down the aisle.
Jarrod had entered earlier, Victoria on his arm. He had walked her down the
aisle, thinking how lovely and dignified his mother was in her silver dress,
that accentuated her soft, silver hair. He had seated her in the first chair to
the right of the alter. They had needed no words to express how moved each of
them was that this day had finally arrived. Jarrod had bent to kiss his
mother's ageless countenance, she had squeezed his hand, and then he had gone
to take his place.
Nick and Halley came next, her arm tucked into his, their steps, practiced
earlier, in synch. Both were a bit nervous, concentrating on making the slow, measured
steps towards where Jarrod, Reverend Daye, and now Cadence waited. Audra's
delicate fingers lightly caressed the piano's keyboard, eliciting soft,
romantic chords. The guests turned in their seats as the best man and
matron-of-honour moved past them.
Halley did glance quickly and furtively, searching for Leo's mahogany face. The
obvious pride and love that glowed in his dark eyes as he caught her eye and
winked, made her pulse quicken. At the end of the short journey, Nick went to
stand on Jarrod's right, and Halley moved to the left beside Cady, reaching to
take the child's hand.
Now the soft strains of the orchestra joined with the music of the grand piano,
and those who were privileged to witness this special union, rose to their
collective feet. Heath and Catherine appeared then, in the archway to the room,
between the gold, brocade curtains. Catherine's right arm was through Heath's
left, his right hand covering hers protectively.
Jarrod stared at Catherine, as she stood poised there, and time seemed to stand
still for him. As he had grown to know and love her, he had begun to see her as
truly beautiful physically as well. When she had appeared before him in San
Francisco in her butterscotch silk dress, he had almost been unable to breathe at
the sight of her, she had seemed so lovely. But tonight...tonight Jarrod was in
awe of this extraordinary woman who was to be his wife. He didn't think that
ever again could anyone or anything be as incredible as his Catherine was now.
A veil covered her tawny features, but in his mind, Jarrod could picture the
intelligent, obsidian eyes, fringed with long, thick smoky lashes. He could
picture them as they must look now, sweeping her cheeks demurely as she stood
in front of those who were sharing this wonderful day with them. He could
picture her dark, claret lips curled gently, their colour, their softness and
suppleness rivaled only by the delicate petals of the burgundy roses that
adorned her headpiece.
He saw that her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders, and was pleased to
note this. She had such beautiful hair. Thick, dark and straight. Long as it
tumbled down her back, or as it brushed across his chest when she bent over him
in the night.
Her dress was just perfect for her, Jarrod thought with awe. Not what he had
expected. Not like those in the fashion magazines that Audra was always pouring
over, and which Catherine had shown him in San Francisco. Not the kind of dress
for the women in the photographs and drawings. Not for any of the women he knew
or had ever known. But a dress that embodied all that Catherine was...if it was
possible for a simple garment to express such wonder.
It was a white, cotton brocade, not reminiscent of the current times, but
medieval in flavour and spirit. The fitted bodice was daringly low-cut, and the
curves of her flesh mounded succulently. The basque, v-shaped waist dipped over
her abdomen, serving to make her appear more slender, narrower of trunk and
hip. Silk cords laced the front of the bodice, and Jarrod's hands ached to
imagine loosening their ties and freeing the bounty contained within.
The bodice and skirt were of contrasting silk shantung, the bodice shiny, the
skirt lightly patterned, white on white. The long, flowing sleeves of the dress
were split at the elbow, and hung wide and loose, lined with satin and lace.
The full skirt fell to Catherine's ankles, fully-lined snowy brocade, with
braided trim detailing the bottom.
She looked, Jarrod thought wonderingly, like a princess from a long ago time. A
time of knights and castles and turrets. Her wedding gown proclaimed that
Catherine was different. That she was special. And that she was proud of who
she was. The dress was youthful and vibrant, as Catherine was. And it's pure
colour mirrored her pure heart. She was all of Jarrod's hopes and dreams
embodied in the flesh.
The music swelled, as Heath and Catherine came into the room and walked down
the aisle. Jarrod couldn't take his eyes off of her, as she moved over the
rose-petal strewn carpet, her hips swaying gently beneath the white brocade. He
was peripherally aware of his sandy-haired brother at her side. It was all
Jarrod could do to remain rooted to his place, and not dash down the aisle
towards Catherine, sweeping her into his arms. His body ached with his physical
wanting of her. His heart ached with love for her.
They were here now, just feet away. As if from a great distance, Jarrod heard
Reverend Daye ask, "And who gives this woman, to be married to this
man?"
He knew that it must be Heath's soft drawl that responded, "I am honoured
that I do," as his brother's dark-suited figure bowed at the waist.
Catherine handed her bouquet to Halley, and then she and Jarrod knelt on the
footstools before the alter, while Heath kept his place, as the assemblage
bowed their heads. Reverend Daye's voice boomed out with a short prayer for the
health and happiness of all who were here to witness today, and for a gentle
passing of the old year into the new. Then the bride and groom stood. And their
guests sat again.
As Catherine removed the white glove from her left hand, Jarrod remembered to
remove the white glove from his right. Then Heath was placing Catherine's right
hand in that of Reverend Daye's. Finally, he took his seat, choosing to sit on
what was traditionally the bride's side of the aisle where Belle...knowing her
husband so well...waited for him, their son in her lap.
Catherine looked through the gauzy veil at the tall, handsome man who stood to
her right. She had to bite her inner cheek as she walked down the aisle with
Heath those last few steps, to keep herself grounded and to ward off the
overpowering desire to run those final few feet and throw herself into Jarrod's
arms. She wanted the ceremony to last forever, to go slowly, so that she could
ingrain each moment, each nuance of feeling and emotion indelibly on her
memory, to recall and treasure over and over in the years to come. Yet at the
same time, she wanted the exchange to be over. She wanted to be Jarrod's wife
at last. To know that nothing could ever come between them again.
He looked aristocratic and elegant. And sensuously virile. Catherine was
totally bewitched by his masculine good-looks, as Jarrod stood there, so
straight and proud. His remarkable azure eyes, fixed on her now, were so
incredibly alluring. She found herself drowning in their cool, blue depths. His
hair was parted to the side as always, swept back from his high forehead, and
slicked back. Shiny as a raven's wing. She breathed in the tantalizing aroma of
his cologne, and the clean, fresh scent that underlay it.
Jarrod's black tuxedo stretched across his broad shoulders, tapering at his
waist, the tails hanging down the back. His neatly pressed black trousers
hugged his hips and thighs. His crisp white shirt with the folded pleats hid
the delights that Catherine knew were contained within. Her fingers itched to
undo the neat bowtie, and then the buttons of the shirt, and to caress the
broad chest and the dark hairs that she knew were scattered there, underneath
the fabric. The French cuffs of the shirt were held closed with the pair of
gold cufflinks that Victoria had given Jarrod earlier. A pair that she had
given to Tom Barkley on their wedding day. The flower on Jarrod's lapel was a
single, white rosebud, against a backdrop of green fern, with baby's breath
tucked around it.
Catherine knew that she had never seen a more attractive, prepossessing figure
in her life. And knowing that Jarrod's external perfection was exceeded even by
the generosity, decency and honour of his sweet soul, made her life complete.
There could be nowhere in the world, a man she could love more than Jarrod
Barkley. To share her life with him, through whatever God saw fit to lay in
their path, was an indescribable joy. Catherine knew that she had never been so
happy before in her life, and didn't imagine that it was possible to ever be
happier than she was at this moment, standing at Jarrod's side, ready to pledge
her life to him. She loved him and she wanted him, as she never would or could
another.
Reverend Daye spoke the age old words that would bind their lives together, as
Jarrod and Catherine professed their love to one another. As Catherine Anne
Vaillancourt promised herself to Jarrod Thomas Barkley, and he to her, they
exchanged their rings, held by Halley and Nick respectively. Before the
officiator made his final proclamation, he deviated slightly from normal vows.
Halley, who knew what was coming, even though Catherine and Cadence did
not...urged the child forward, in front of her mother.
"Do you, Cadence Marie Vaillancourt, take this man, Jarrod Thomas Barkley,
to be your daddy? To love and respect him for all time?"
Cady's mouth had dropped open, but she had hastened to close it. Knowing what
to say from observing the adults, she'd answered shyly, "I do."
Catherine felt the tears well up in her eyes. Bless
you, Jarrod, she thought.
"And do you, Jarrod Thomas Barkley, take Cadence Marie Vaillancourt to be
your daughter? To love, respect and care for her for all time?"
"I do," Jarrod said, winking at the child, as his chest swelled with
pride.
At last, Reverend Daye made the announcement that made their two hearts soar as
one. "I now pronounce you man and wife."
Finally, Jarrod lifted the veil, his blue eyes glistening as he sought the
darker ones of this woman who was now his wife. He leaned towards her,
reverently, and his lips brushed lightly across hers. He was afraid that if he
were to kiss her any deeper than that, he might not be able to avoid making a
spectacle of himself. So instead, as the tinkling of silver bells reached their
ears, Jarrod satisfied himself with leaning his forehead against Catherine's.
Their own special, private communication of love.
"And, I now pronounce you three a family," Reverend Daye concluded,
his deep voice booming out over the room. Jarrod and Catherine parted, to bring
Cadence into their embrace. "May I present Mr. and Mrs. Jarrod Barkley,
and their daughter, Cadence Barkley!"
What the assemblage lacked in numbers, they made up for in enthusiasm and
sincerity. Nick whistled shrilly, and slapped his thigh, clapping his brother
on the back, before gathering Catherine into his arms, lifting her feet off the
floor, and twirling her around. "I'd wish you all the best, but I think
you three have already found it and are guaranteed to hold onto it!" Nick
crowed. When he set her down, he did the same for Cadence, calling out merrily,
"Let Uncle Nick
be the first to welcome you to the family, Cady!"
Jarrod gave Halley McNeil a warm hug and kiss on the corner of her mouth,
thanking her for being there for both of them. Today, as well as the other
occasions when she had been there for them. Halley had hugged him in return,
backing away, shaking hands with friends and family who moved in closer to give
their best to the newlyweds. Gradually, she eased out of the throng, and moved
towards Leo and her children.
"Y'all were real good, and made yer ma real proud," she told her
brood.
"You done us
real proud, Halley," Leo replied, his dark eyes holding hers in a gaze
that suggested more for later.
Catherine, who had been so proud of herself for not crying during the ceremony,
had felt the floodgates open with Nick's heartfelt exclamations. She used the
hanky from her bouquet, to dab surreptitiously at her eyes, as she hugged her
new family members and those who had shared their New Year's Eve with them, as
she and Jarrod began their lives as husband and wife. She clung to
Victoria...her new mother...the smaller woman's love and proud spirit
transmitted through her touch.
"Tom! Tom you
old devil! Why didn't you let me know you were coming?!" Jarrod's deep
voice rang out. He had been concentrating so hard on the actual ceremony, that
the guests had only been dim shadows beforehand, and he hadn't noticed the
other man and his family seated there. Then Jarrod's hand was at Catherine's
elbow, and he was turning her gently to meet his old friend.
Jarrod had known that Tom, a fellow attorney, and full-blooded Modoc Indian,
his wife Juliet, also Modoc, and their two sons were vacationing in Europe and
were not due back until sometime in the New Year. Victoria had sent an
invitation, and Jarrod had also sent a letter, detailing for his old friend all
about Catherine and Cadence and all that had gone on to lead them to this
point.
"Catherine Barkley," how Jarrod loved
saying that, "I'd like you to meet Tom
Lightfoot, his wife Juliet, and their sons, Brandon and Wes. Tom, Juliet, this
is my wife, Catherine." Jarrod's smile beamed. "And our daughter,
Cadence, is over there, in Uncle Heath's arms."
They shook hands all around, and Tom Lightfoot kissed Catherine's cheek.
"We missed the States, came home early, and got back two days before
Christmas. Your invitation and letter were there. We decided to surprise
you," Tom grinned. "I'm so glad we could be here, Jarrod, and so
delighted to meet you Catherine."
Then Jarrod and Catherine had to mingle with their other guests. Jarrod found
it hard to get used to Fred Madden without his leather vest, tin star, beat up
old Stetson, and gun belt. He teased the Maddens by commenting that 'Fred
cleans up nicely', to which the grizzled, older lawman guffawed jocularly.
Doctor Merar and Iva gave their best wishes to the bride, and congratulations
to the groom. Catherine hadn't been to see Howard Merar since she had been back
in Stockton, so he was not yet aware of her pregnancy. Both Howard and Iva
expressed their thoughts that they had never seen Jarrod happier, and that they
knew the new couple, and the new family, were ideally suited and would have a
wonderful life together.
Mark Treymore was thrilled to be included as a guest at the wedding. He drew
Jarrod aside and mentioned that he had brought papers with him, that he had
drawn up at Jarrod's request. The first set, was a change of Jarrod's will. The
second set, was a formal adoption of Cadence as Jarrod's daughter. Jarrod was
grateful, agreeing to sign them, and have them witnessed, and then to return
them to Mark the following week.
Mark was intrigued by Jarrod's choice of bride. It didn't take him long to
discover that the young woman, Metis,
Jarrod had told him that time in San Francisco, was a perfect match for the man
he respected and admired so much. It was apparent to Mark that Jarrod had no
qualms about trading in a life in politics for one with the young woman and the
sweet child.
Silas, Heath and Nick cleared the chairs out of the room, to make a dance
floor, and soon the quartet began a waltz. Jarrod drew Catherine into his arms,
and began to move her across the floor, revelling at the feel of her in his
arms. "I love you, Mrs. Barkley," he said softly, as his cheek
pressed against hers. "With all of my heart."
"I love you too, Mr. Barkley," Catherine replied, knowing that there
was no place on earth she'd rather be than in Jarrod's embrace, their bodies
gliding to the music. "Always and forever."
"You look absolutely incredible," Jarrod whispered to her.
"Ravishing. Stunning. I've never seen a more beautiful woman. Never wanted
a woman more than I do you. Never knew love could be like this." He drew
back, amused and touched by the blush that darkened her cheeks. "And I
can't wait to show you how much I mean those words. Later."
Catherine looked into his amazingly vivid eyes. His soft words held a promise
that made her tingle from head to toe, and ache for him deep in her womanly
core. "I am the luckiest woman alive," she told him wonderingly.
"I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that not a single day goes by,
that you feel taken for granted. And I can't wait to begin. Tonight."
Jarrod groaned softly, and pulled her tighter, the soft outlines of her
inviting décolletage imprinting against his chest. His body burned, as if to
discount the garments that were a scant barrier between them. At last, as they
moved around the room, and with everyone watching, Jarrod bent his head to
Catherine's and claimed her lips in a searching kiss. A kiss so full of desire,
and heady with an avowal of the rapture that was to come, once this public
celebration had ended and they were at last alone.
Catherine felt the masterful pressure of Jarrod's lips, and closed her eyes,
her body melting against his, as for a moment she forgot that they were not the
only ones in the room. There was nothing, but the fire that burned in her veins
and the heart whose staccato beat pounded out Jarrod's name. At last she
remembered, as Jarrod reluctantly lifted his face from hers, and Catherine
stared breathless into his blue eyes, dark now with passion.
Neither had any idea of the picture they presented to those who watched. Those
touched and awed by the ardour and adulation that the newlyweds conveyed for
one another in an embrace and a kiss. Not a single observer failed to be moved
by the depth of the love shared by the pair, or the strength of their unique
bond, forged through the trials and tribulations that had preceded this...their
remarkable union.
"May I cut in, please?" Nick asked suavely,
appearing suddenly on Jarrod's left.
Jarrod bit back a sigh. He had the rest of his life left to dance with
Catherine, there was no reason to begrudge his brother a spin around the floor.
"Of course," he acquiesced.
Nick took Catherine's right hand in his left, holding it in the air, while
placing his right at her waist. He watched her eyes follow Jarrod away, and saw
the longing within. "Don't know why they call me the 'best man',"
Nick said with a low chuckle. "When it's obvious you think my big brother
walks on water."
Catherine blushed, looking away from Jarrod, who was leading Halley into the
centre of the room, and back towards Nick. Her brother-in-law. Tied together
now through marriage. And, she hoped, through mutual affection. Nick looked
handsome this evening as well, Catherine realized, though he didn't seem
entirely comfortable in his black suit. As if reading her mind, Nick removed
his hand from her waist for a moment, loosening the black, string tie, and
grinning rakishly.
"That's better," Nick said.
Catherine was surprised to find that Nick was such an accomplished dancer. She
would have thought him more at home on the back of a horse, than twirling
across the floor. Nick moved her smoothly across the room, and she realized
that more couples had joined them. In addition to Jarrod and Halley, there was
Heath and Annabelle, and Audra and Bobby.
They complimented one another on their dance skills, and how they looked in
their finery. Nick spoke again of the horse that had been brought to the ranch,
and was stabled now. Catherine's wedding gift to her groom. Catherine trusted
Nick's equine judgement, and had only stipulated the colour of her husband's
new mount, leaving the rest up to Jarrod's middle brother.
Then, as the song ended and another began, they found themselves next to Heath
and Annabelle, and traded partners. Catherine could sense immediately that
Heath wasn't entirely comfortable moving to the music, and his wry smile told
her he didn't consider himself much of a dancer.
Belle loved to dance though, and in the time Heath had known her, he had made
an effort to learn. He knew that he wouldn't be turning any heads at the big
city society galas, but he could finally swirl across the floor with a modicum
of assurance that he wouldn't tread on his partner's toes.
Neither Catherine nor Heath spoke while they danced. They simply didn't feel
the need. Enough had been said between them that they were comfortable just
moving gently, quietly celebrating this wonderful evening. Their soft smiles
indicated that they had reached a place in their relationship where each
believed they had found a true friend. There might not be many great
heart-to-hearts between them in the years to come, but both knew that in the
solid affection of the other would always be found understanding and
acceptance.
Dance led into dance, and Catherine found herself in the arms of different
partners. When she had first met Jarrod, she would never have been able to
envision this. Herself and Cady a part of his life fully. Accepted wholly by
his family and friends. A part of his world. She tried not to think of how
close she had come to losing Jarrod forever, or to dwell on the pain and
loneliness of their separation...or how it had come about. She was here now,
and would remain with Jarrod for time eternal. That was all that mattered now.
Food was brought out and set up on a long table, buffet style. There was cold
shrimp, and oysters on ice with fresh slices of lemon. There were half a dozen
different salads. Platters of cold meats...turkey, ham and beef. Of course,
there were nuts and fruits and cheeses. And in the centre of the table was the
sumptuous maraschino velvet. Catherine had watched Victoria create the dessert,
made with hot milk, currants, sugar, butter and egg whites, poured into a mould
lined with maraschino cherries. The cream mixture had been poured on top, then
the concoction set on ice. Unmoulded now, the centre had been filled with red
wine jelly, and the dessert was served with thick, fresh cream.
Gene manned the drinks table, ensuring that everyone had a full glass at all
times of their favourite wine or spirit. Only the best that the Barkley
orchards had to offer had been uncorked for the occasion. Champagne sat
chilling in enormous, standing silver buckets, to be enjoyed later with toasts
when it was time to cut the cake.
There were three cakes, actually, displayed on a circular table in the foyer.
The table was covered with a silver silk cloth, and a silver candlestick holder
that held three white candles. The largest cake was an elaborate two-tiered
confectionary, topped with a wax figurine of a white dove, to signify love and
peace. White ribbons and burgundy roses had been piped around the tiers. There
were also the simpler bride and groom cakes. In keeping with tradition,
Catherine's was dark fruit cake, Jarrod's light. These would be cut to share
with the attendants.
At the far end of the table, was a silver bowl, filled with walnuts. Cady,
Annabelle and Audra had cracked open each of the extra large walnuts neatly in
half. The meat was removed from within, and small trinkets had been placed
inside each one. A narrow bit of burgundy ribbon had been glued to one end of
the shell, and then the two halves were fastened together. There was a favour
for each guest, the trinkets ranging from small pieces of costume jewelry, to
coins, to folded tickets for plays to appear soon in Stockton, and finally
small pieces of sterling silver.
At one point, Bobby went over to the musicians, and whispered something to
them. As they ceased their playing, he brought out his fiddle. He pulled the
bow across the strings in a short, sharp command, and then Catherine caught
Cady's eye and nodded. Cadence came to her mother and they stood in the foyer,
their right hands joined, facing opposite directions.
Bobby raised his voice to be heard, as everyone looked at them curiously.
Jarrod moved through the other bodies so that he could stand at the front and
get a good view of what he presumed would be another Metis jig, performed by
his wife and daughter. Bobby held his fiddle aloft. "The two newest
Barkleys have a song they'd like to sing for Jarrod, and a little dance to
accompany it. It's a traditional song among Catherine's people back in Canada.
It's called..." Bobby hesitated, trying to remember the correct
pronunciation, "...Kispin Kisakahin. That's Michif for 'Kiss Me if You
Love Me'."
He began to play energetically, and the lively strains of the fiddle echoed in
the foyer. With Catherine's help, Bobby had found a tune he could play, to
which she could adapt her song. Catherine and Cadence danced a jig around one
another. Catherine did most of the singing, the words and the language that was
not Cady's first tongue, difficult for the child to remember. But those
passages when she did add her sweet voice to the husky, throaty tones of her
mother's, the air reverberated with the strength and beauty of the little
girl's contribution to the song.
Jarrod watched them. His wife and daughter. Hopping and skipping in a circle
around one another. He wondered what the words to the song meant, vowing to
have Catherine translate for him later. Jarrod had heard Frenchmen speaking
before, and had heard Creole dialects before. Some of the words sounded
distinctly French to Jarrod's unpracticed ear, and the flare of the song had a
Creole familiarity. But he realized that it was neither. The language of the
song was as unique as his Catherine. It was Michif. It was a song of her
heritage, that she was sharing now with their family and friends. A gift to
him.
When they had finished, their faces flushed with a mixture of exertion and
self-consciousness, and the clapping began, Jarrod hurried forward to embrace
the pair of them in his arms, kissing them both on the cheeks. "That was
lovely," he praised. "You'll have to teach me that song."
"I have something else to show you," Catherine whispered to Jarrod,
her eyes sparkling. "Can we sneak out for a minute?"
Jarrod raised a dark brow and grinned at her, his gaze dropping down to where
her bronzed flesh pushed up out of the front of the wedding gown.
"No, nothing like that," she admonished with a chuckle. "A gift
for you."
Jarrod nodded, feigning disappointment, and as the quartet started up again,
and bodies began to move across the floor, he grabbed Catherine's wrap, and
ushered her out the front door. They walked hand in hand to the stable, their
footfalls crunching over the earth in the silence of the outdoors. Jarrod
welcomed the cool air on his face, closing his eyes for a moment, the lively,
festive sounds from within the mansion muted behind closed doors and windows.
Catherine unlatched the door to the stable, and as it creaked open, Ciego came
around the corner to check to see who was there. Relaxing to see that it was
Jarrod and his new bride, he tipped his hat and wished them well, murmuring his
congratulations. Jarrod lit a lantern and then Catherine led him deeper into
the stable and to a row of stalls down on the far right, opposite from where
Dorado and Pearl were stabled. The golden mare recognized the scent of her
mistress and whinnied softly in the dark, hoping for a treat of apples or sugar.
Jarrod saw the regal flick of black mane, as the bay shot his head over the top
of the stall. He lifted the lantern higher, the glow catching and reflecting in
the horse's intelligent dark eyes. He heard Catherine say softly, "I hope
it's not too early. That you're ready...to accept a new horse. He's a gelding,
five years old. I explained to Nick what I wanted, and he made all of the
arrangements. He was very sweet about it all. The horse's name is Khan."
Jarrod reached to ruffle the gelding's dark fetlock, and as his hand brushed
the hairs of the mane aside, Jarrod saw the white star in the polished brown
hide. Catherine held her breath. She had hesitated about getting the horse,
wondering if Jingo's loss was still too fresh for Jarrod to desire another
mount of his own. Finally, she had believed that he was ready. Still, until he
spoke, she would not know for sure.
"Hello Khan," Jarrod said softly, holding out his hand, palm up, for
the gelding to sniff. The bay was tall, close to seventeen hands Jarrod
guessed. "Thank you, Catherine. He's beautiful. I miss Jingo...but I think
I'm ready for another horse. And Khan is wonderful. It's a thoughtful gift,
thank you."
Catherine relaxed. "Audra and...Mother...," Catherine began
hesitantly, rolling the word around her tongue, pleased with it's feel,
"told me a story. About a time when you tried to break a big bay stallion.
How you were thrown and got your leg broken." She heard Jarrod's soft
chuckle. "They explained how you had limped out to the paddock one night
on crutches, determined that you were going to ride that horse."
"I guess I can do some foolhardy things sometimes," Jarrod admitted
ruefully, turning towards his new bride.
Catherine shook her head. That wasn't what she had meant. "I thought that it
showed your courage. Your indomitable spirit. How, when you set your mind to a
task, there is nothing you can't accomplish Jarrod. That even though life might
throw up roadblocks, you have a determination and a strength of will that will
carry you through.
"And knowing, as we both do, that our lives won't always be easy, I am
comforted to know that there is that streak in you. That same streak that made
you decide in the first place that despite convention you wanted to get to know
me. That allowed you the courage to follow your heart, and mine, and to love
me. That determination that you would make Cady and I part of your world,
because you wanted it badly enough. That strength is what allowed you to come
after us in the end, and make everything right again. It is one of the things I
admire most about you.
"As that other bay, those many years ago, signified your grit and strength
of purpose, Jarrod, so too I want this bay to remind us of that. That when life
tries to throw us, we will not stay down. We will persevere and we will
succeed."
Nick cleared his throat, as Gertrude Olson turned to look up at him. "May
I have this dance?" Nick asked gruffly.
Trudy smiled sweetly. "It would be my pleasure," she granted.
This wasn't the first time that Nick had danced with Bobby Olson's sister.
Having grown up together in the valley, even though Nick was eight years older,
they had come into contact often at various church events and town socials.
Nick had never given the young woman much thought though. She was short, and
more than a little plump, pretty in her own way, but not the sort of young
woman who would capture and hold his attention. Nick had always enjoyed women
who made a stunning first impression. Usually tall, and then either slender and
willowy or slender but well-endowed. But always very, very beautiful.
As they danced, for the first time, Nick listened to Trudy. Really
listened to her. Rather than moving her about the floor out of some sense of
duty or obligation to a family friend, while his eyes sought other more
intriguing prospects. And Nick found that she had a delightful sense of humour.
When his loud laugh boomed out over the room, he didn't see Bobby and Audra,
dancing nearby, turn and look at him speculatively.
And her eyes were lovely. Almond-shaped and a cool, pale blue with a darker
sapphire ring around the iris and small golden flecks within. Fringed with
thick, golden lashes. For the first time, Nick noted the small scattering of
pale freckles across the bridge of her pert nose. Her hair was as fair and
curly as Bobby's, and though it was worn up now, Nick imagined it would fall
well past her shoulders if Trudy let it down.
Trudy Olson watched Nick Barkley study her, as though meeting her for the first
time. She'd danced with him before, probably dozens of times over the years,
and he had seen her less than a week ago at her family's ranch. They were not
close friends, but they certainly weren't strangers to one another. The
intensity and scrutiny of the tall man's gaze discomfited her, and she prattled
on, resorting to humour as she usually did in such situations, when a man's presence
made her feel uncomfortable.
When the dance ended and another began, and Nick showed no signs of releasing
her, Trudy felt her cheeks colour as he moved her along with him in another
dance. Of course, she was the only unaccompanied young woman here, she knew, so
it was probably only natural that Nick should seek her out. She had already
danced with Gene, and with Bobby, and with the groom himself. Even old Doctor
Merar had given her a spin, proving to be very light on his toes for a man of
his years.
Nick found that he was actually enjoying Trudy Olson's company. She had a
sweet, soft voice, an engaging smile, and a way of observing and commenting on
things that brought a smile to his lips. He looked over her blonde head, to
where his oldest brother was dancing with his new bride. The look of
contentment on both of their faces...the way they seemed so right
together...stirred something in Nick that he hadn't felt in a long while.
They had opened the champagne not long ago, and Jarrod had made a toast to his
new bride. Nick could see that Jarrod had meant every word he had spoken, as he
raised his glass, and taken Catherine's hand in his.
"I'd like you all to join me in this toast. To the woman who is my world.
An incredible, amazing woman, who has reinforced for me what is most important
in life. Who has brought peace to my troubled soul. Who has shown me what true
love encompasses. Who has looked deep into my heart and seen the man that I am
inside, and loved me for my strengths and in spite of my weaknesses.
"A beautiful woman who has touched the lives of those around her. Who has
made them better people, I believe, for knowing her. Who has certainly made me
aspire to be the very best man that I can be. I cannot begin to imagine the joy
she will continue to bring to my life over the years. She, and our dear
daughter. I truly believe that I am the luckiest man in the world.
"To my dearest Catherine. The one who knows and loves me true. I will
spend a lifetime trying to be the husband and man that you deserve.
"Dear family and friends, please join me in a toast to my incredible,
beloved bride. Catherine Barkley." Jarrod had sipped his champagne, amid
thunderous applause, while Catherine dabbed at her cheeks, and those who cared
about them partook of the toast. Then Catherine had cut the cake with the
silver knife, and pieces had been passed out.
Now, Nick watched Jarrod look at Catherine. He knew that in reality, Catherine
was nowhere near as physically beautiful as Patricia Vandermeer had been. But
when Jarrod looked at his wife, Nick knew that his brother saw the loveliest
woman in the world. One beyond compare. Because he was seeing her with his heart,
not only with his eyes. And, Nick had to admit, as strange as it might seem,
the longer that he knew Catherine too, the lovelier he found her to be. The
depth of her coal black eyes. The way the artificial lamp light in the evening
would dance on her high, bronzed cheekbones.
Nick wondered if it was always that way. If the beauty, or the ugliness, that
lay within a person's soul would eventually exude outward and mix with their
physical persona, until it changed the way you saw them. He had always lived a
life surrounded by beautiful things. A beautiful home. The best in furnishings
and accessories. Prime horseflesh and cattle. Quality boots and saddles and
spurs. Crystal decanters and fine china. And the Barkleys too, he knew without
vanity, were fine looking people. His beautiful, ageless mother, his lovely,
blonde sister, his tall, handsome brothers. Nick knew that he too, was a tall,
fit man with features that many women did not find displeasing.
He thought of the women he had pursued. All beautiful. All stunning and
desirable. Not all of them as beautiful on the inside as they were on the out.
Nick couldn't help but wonder if he had been limiting himself...cheating
himself....in refusing to consider any woman who did not make an immediate
impact on his discerning eye. Had he placed too much importance on fleeting
beauty, and not enough on substance?
There was a New Year's Day supper and dance in Stockton tomorrow evening, at
the town hall. Nick had not yet decided if he was going to attend. Impulsively,
staring down at the woman in his arms, he found himself asking, "Were you
planning to go to the supper and dance tomorrow?" Trudy looked up at him,
startled. "I was wondering if maybe...we could go together?" he
continued.
Trudy Olson looked up at Nick, stunned. He was asking her on a date?
Her blue eyes widened. He had never shown the least bit of interest in her
before. Trudy knew that she wasn't Nick Barkley's 'type'. She knew who and what
she was, and she was happy and confident in herself. But she knew that she
wasn't the sort of young woman to turn the heads of handsome, wealthy men.
"I am going," she said nervously. "Rick Foggerty has asked
me." The courthouse clerk had approached her at church services on
Christmas Eve and asked her out. She'd been out with Rick a few times now. He
was a shy man, but very sweet. He wasn't much older than her, but was a widower
whose wife and infant daughter had died in childbirth a few years ago. She
enjoyed his company. She just didn't know how much they had in common.
"I'd be happy to save you a dance though," she told Nick sincerely.
Nick grinned broadly. He wasn't sure what would come of things with Trudy
Olson. He only knew that he wanted to get to know her better, and would allow
himself that chance. Maybe, he might decide to continue to get to know her, or
even to pursue her. And perhaps he might not, and they might be better suited
as friends. But Nick couldn't help the feeling of excitement that stole over
him at feeling that a whole new world had just opened up for him, and somewhere
out there, perhaps where he might least have expected it, was the one woman for
him.
And perhaps she might be visually stunning, and perhaps she might not. Nick
knew now though that he wouldn't pursue his future entirely through his eyes
anymore, but more through his heart.
Then, Gene was beginning the countdown to New Year's. His youngest brother had
leapt up onto a chair, and was looking at his pocket watch, his cheeks flushed,
and his eyes bright with the alcohol he had been enjoying. When he got to the
end, 'three...two...one...Happy New Year!'
there was a cacophony of sound as the merry makers stomped their feet, and blew
on noisemakers, and rang bells, amidst hooting and hollering as they welcomed
in the new year.
Nick bent to kiss Trudy on the corner of her mouth. "Happy New Year,"
he murmured self-consciously.
"Happy New Year, Nick," she replied, something in her eyes causing
Nick's stomach to constrict and flutter.
The newlyweds leaned into one another for a kiss to herald the new year.
"Everything's been just perfect, Jarrod," Catherine whispered against
his mouth, one hand kneading his back beneath the tuxedo jacket.
"Happy New Year, my darling," Jarrod replied. "To our future
in the distance." And then his lips sought
hers in a kiss that made Catherine feel as though the room itself must be
spinning.
The shadowy figures moved slowly in the dark, illuminated
only by the glow of the log in the hearth. They were dancing, pressed against
one another, shuffling slowly. There was no music though, except in their happy
recollections. The only sound was their soft, contented breathing, and the
occasional crackle of bursting embers. The house was quiet, all of the guests
having gone, all of the family members having retired to bed long ago. The New
Year had been welcomed. The wedding celebration was over. There was just the
two, continuing to cling together. Lost in love.
Finally, Jarrod stopped moving. He felt for Catherine's hand, and she
wordlessly followed him up the wide staircase. The one that she had last
descended as Miss Catherine Vaillancourt, and was now ascending as Mrs. Jarrod
Barkley. There was no need to be circumspect tonight...not ever again...but
they were quiet nonetheless, not wanting to wake anyone else, as they stepped
lightly on the carpeted landing, and at last paused at the door to Jarrod's
bedroom. Their
bedroom now.
They couldn't see the other's smile in the dark, but they could feel it. Jarrod
turned the brass knob, and the door swung inward, quietly on it's well-oiled
hinges. He'd oiled them himself when they had returned from San Francisco a few
weeks ago. Just in case they had changed their minds about abstaining until the
wedding. An idea that had flown out the window as soon as they were under the
same roof, in such close proximity to one another.
But Jarrod hadn't needed to deny himself Catherine's charms prior to their
wedding night, in order to heighten his desire for her. And he had seen the way
she had looked at him all evening. Had felt the electricity in her touch. And
he knew that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
There was a fire going in his hearth, and Jarrod lit the oil lamp on the table
beside the bed. No longer just his bed. Their
bed. His and Catherine's. To share tonight as man and wife. Jarrod sat on the
edge of the bed, and Catherine leaned over him, kissing his forehead. Then she
drew back before he could reach for her, shaking her head lightly, a soft smile
on her lips.
She stood before him, and began to unlace the bodice of the wedding gown. He
watched her breasts rise and fall with the inhalations and exhalations of her
breathing, his blue eyes fixed on the soft, inviting mounds. Her fingers paused
then, her tongue coming out to slowly and sensuously circle her lips, dampening
them to an inviting sheen. Then Catherine turned suddenly, and was moving away
from him. Towards the dressing screen.
Jarrod remembered the white silk gown he had given her. When she disappeared
behind the screen, he hastily removed the remainder of his tuxedo. He had shed
the jacket and bowtie earlier. He slipped into a pair of grey, silk pajama
bottoms. He pulled an indigo coloured silk smoking jacket around his shoulders,
tying it in the front at the waist, his chest bare. Then he propped up the
pillows and sat up on the bed, his long legs extended in front of him. On the
wall above him, hung the Duncanson painting of the rainbow.
Catherine stepped out from behind the screen, still in shadows. Slowly, she
moved towards the bed where Jarrod was waiting, until she was standing at the
foot. Tall and voluptuous, the white gown stark against her dark skin, she
looked so beautiful, so sexy, that Jarrod felt his mouth go dry. She came
around to the side of the bed, and then moved onto it, sitting beside him,
facing him.
"I don't know what to say," Jarrod said at length, staring at her.
"I keep wanting to say, 'thank you'. Thank you for coming into my life.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my wife." He reached for her
hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm. "I love you Catherine,
more than I can ever possibly express." His blue eyes were wide with
wonder and shining with devotion.
"I do know, Jarrod," she said softly. "I feel the same."
He leaned over towards the night table, and drew a sheaf of papers onto his
lap. He gave Catherine a lopsided smile. "A few things I wanted to share
with you first." He looked at the first page and handed it to Catherine. "These
are the papers that you just need to sign, to open your own account. I want you
to have your own money, to spend as you choose. I don't want you to ever feel
you need to 'ask' me for anything. You will, of course, have access to my
account too. But this one is solely yours. I think it's important, for a woman
to have something of her own. To not feel that she has to be dependent on or
beholden to a man."
Catherine was touched by his thoughtfulness, her eyes widening at the amount
that was to be transferred to her special account. Before she could thank him,
he was speaking again.
"And this one is for Cadence. I thought that perhaps we could put a
certain amount in trust for her, and also have a small account of her own. That
she could access, with your signature or mine, if she wants to buy something
for someone else. Birthdays and Christmases. That sort of thing. It's something
my father did for each of us when we were children. To begin to teach us about
saving and spending and the value of money."
Catherine could only nod.
Jarrod continued. "These are the papers, to legalize my adoption of
Cadence. If you sign them, Mark can take them back to San Francisco to file
them." He didn't tell her then about the will. His will that gave
everything that he owned to her, on his death. He didn't want to shadow their
happiness with things that, however practical, might bring his new bride sad
thoughts. There would be time enough later for that.
"Oh, Jarrod," Catherine said, tears springing to her eyes. They had
spoken of his adopting Cady, of course. She just hadn't known that he intended
to move so quickly. She was aware that Jarrod had a logical, ordered mind that
would insist on looking after everything. But to know that if anything were to
ever happen to her...her
precious daughter would have a father, legally as well as emotionally, gave
Catherine such a sense of blissful security. For so long, Catherine had worried
about Cady, knowing that she was all that her daughter had in this world. Now
and forever, Cadence would be cared for, even if one day, God forbid, Catherine
was no longer able to do so herself.
"I'm not going to keep you in suspense about our honeymoon anymore
either," he said playfully. "The day after tomorrow...well, I guess
it is already 'tomorrow'," he chuckled, "the three of us are going to
Lake Tahoe." Catherine tilted her head to one side questioningly. She had
never heard of it.
"It's a beautiful lake, set in rugged mountains, northeast of here, and
the California and Nevada border runs down it's centre. In the '60s,"
Jarrod explained enthusiastically, "a man by the name of John McKinney
built a rustic resort called 'Hunter's Retreat'. There is a lodge and 20
cabins, one of which I've rented. After the discovery of the Comstock Lode in
'59, the Bonanza Road was built through the area to Virginia City. There are
lots of places for travellers along the way.
"I met a man in San Francisco named John Muir. He's a naturalist and
conservationist. He said, of the towering sugar pines around the resort at Lake
Tahoe, that they were 'priests of the forest extending their arms in
benediction over the congregation'. That always stuck with me."
"What incredible imagery," Catherine said softly.
Jarrod nodded. "I wired ahead to make sure they had snow, and they do. I
know how much you miss the Christmases of your youth, and the snow, and how you
wish Cady could see snow one day. So, that's where we'll be heading. It will be
kind of rustic, not too much pampering I'm afraid. But I've arranged for us to
have warm clothing, and snowshoes and skates...I've never tried skating but you
said that it was something you enjoyed. And we can take horse drawn sleigh
rides. And walks through the wilderness of white. And we can all sit together
by roaring fires and have hot cider and roast chestnuts and play checkers and
chess." Jarrod searched her eyes hopefully. "Does that sound all
right?"
Catherine leaned to hug him quickly. "Oh Jarrod, that sounds just
perfect," she told him in awe.
Jarrod would tell her later, once they were there and she and Cady saw
firsthand the beauty and majesty of the area, that he had previously purchased
several thousand acres of property there. He had believed, after talking to
others, that the area had the potential to become a desirable retreat for the
wealthy from nearby San Francisco, Sacramento and Virginia City.
Jarrod had presented the idea to the family, encouraging them to invest some of
the Barkley money in property around Lake Tahoe. Nick and Heath hadn't thought
it seemed very sensible. It was just a lot of empty land, much of it now
depleted by heavy logging after the discovery of the Comstock Lode. They both
felt that the family's resources would be better spent elsewhere. Jarrod had
tried to sway them with suggestions that the land could prove very lucrative in
the near future, but they had voted against him.
And so, Jarrod had taken some of his personal finances, and invested in some
land in the area. Victoria, not wholly certain that the idea was sound,
nevertheless had wanted to be supportive and had also put up some of her
personal finances towards purchase of some land at Lake Tahoe.
When Jarrod had seen how wistful Catherine became, talking about the
Christmases of her past, and her longing for one day having a 'white Christmas'
again, and sharing the experience of snow with Cadence, Jarrod had immediately
thought of Lake Tahoe and begun making arrangements. He was gratified now to
see how open and enthusiastic Catherine was about the idea.
"I have two small wedding gifts for you, my love," Jarrod went on to
say. He handed Catherine a small black, velvet box, just like the one that had
contained the lovely opal engagement ring. She opened it, and two bursts of
fire dazzled from within. Jarrod explained that the diamonds had come from her
ring, and that he had had them set in earrings. He had originally intended to
give them to her on their first anniversary, but had changed his mind.
"They're just gorgeous," Catherine said, touched by his romantic
nature.
Jarrod smiled, pleased that she enjoyed them. When he leant back over to the
nightstand on his left, Jarrod experienced a sense of deja vu. He remembered
that fateful day back at the beginning of September when Catherine had first
walked into his office to return his briefcase. He remembered her remark about
his 'poetic soul' and how he had thought she had seen the poem he had written,
confessing to his tortured soul and his inadequacies. Then he had come home,
and he had found that poem, here by his bed.
The poem that he reached for now, he wanted
Catherine to see. He had written it especially for her. Jarrod had known that
he couldn't possibly capture all that she meant to him, but he had wanted to
try. It had been poetry that had brought them together initially, and he had
wanted somehow to make that a part of this special day.
Catherine took the piece of paper from her new husband, rolled into a cylinder
and tied with a white ribbon. She pulled the bow open, and unfurled the paper,
her eyes eagerly taking in the words contained there. Words written in Jarrod's
neat, graceful hand. It was a poem, almost identical to the words Jarrod had
spoken to her that night in San Francisco at Cliff House. When Catherine had
waited with bated breath, thinking, hoping, dreaming that his next words might
be a proposal.
They say for everyone, there's that certain one
Out there, somewhere.
I'd been looking hard, searching every heart
Getting nowhere.
I didn't know I was making my way to you
Now I know how the river feels,
When it reaches the sea,
And finally finds the place
It was always meant to be.
Holding fast, home at last
Knowing the journey's through.
Lying here with you
I know how the river feels
Miles of loneliness, now make perfect sense
Here beside you.
Tears like water falls, it was worth them all
Just to find you.
And yours are the last arms I'll run to.
Now I know how the river feels,
When it reaches the sea,
And finally finds the place
It was always meant to be.
Holding fast, home at last
Knowing the journey's through
Lying here with you
I know how the river feels.
Quickly, Catherine dashed away the tears with the back of her hand, before they
could fall and mark the paper. "This is just...beautiful," she said,
her voice choked with emotion. "Jarrod Barkley, you do
have the soul of a poet." He was her Warrior
of the Rainbow. The father of both her
children...her precious Cadence, and this new child who was growing inside her
now. He was her brave hero, her incredible lover, her trusted best friend.
Jarrod was her everything, and Catherine couldn't imagine a life without him.
Jarrod took her hand once more, again kissing her palm. This time, his tongue
made tiny circles on her skin, while his lips pressed there. Catherine closed
her eyes, concentrating on the pleasurable sensation. His lips left her palm
and traced their way slowly up across her wrist and then over the underside of
her arm. To the soft skin of her inner elbow, where he licked and then blew
gently, as the gooseflesh rose on her arms. His lips continued their travels up
to her shoulder, where his teeth nipped lightly, and Catherine moaned. She
opened her eyes again when she felt Jarrod slip the thin straps of her gown
over her shoulders.
His face was close to hers. Catherine laid a hand on either side of his face,
bringing him nearer. Their lips touched, then broke apart, then sought one
another again. First slow and sensual, the kisses deepened. Jarrod's lips
parted her own, and his tongue was seeking hers. Sucking on the flesh. Dancing
over the cavern of her mouth, as he explored and tasted. Then she did the same.
His hands pushed the gown lower, and Catherine felt the air move across her
exposed skin. When he touched her, cupping the flesh there, she gave a small
shudder, as her body responded instantly and obviously to his touch. Jarrod
caressed her softly at first, then kneaded the bronzed mounds as his ardour
grew.
When Jarrod reached to lift the gown over her head, then laid Catherine down
beside him on the bed, she began explorations of her own. Her hands untied the
jacket and slipped it back from Jarrod's shoulders. She began to nuzzle his
chest, running her fingers and lips through the short, dark hair there, then
raising her mouth back to his, while her hands continued to dip lower. Deftly,
they slipped inside the waistband of the silk pajamas, and a ragged groan
escaped Jarrod as her searching hands found new territory to fondle and stroke.
While Catherine's soft, sure touch elicited gasps of pleasure from him, Jarrod
bent his head to the outside curve of her neck. He nibbled the sinewy cord
beneath her skin, while she arched her back and pressed her body close to him.
His hands continued to roam over the soft, delectable bounty of her bosom,
kneading and tweaking. Jarrod's kisses trailed to the base of Catherine's
throat, where her pulse beat rapidly against the soft hollow. He licked the
spot and expelled warm air there, causing her to shiver in his arms.
Catherine's touch was driving him mad, and Jarrod fought for control as his
responded to her incredible manipulations. He bent his lips to places vacated
by his hands, as his fingers probed lower across her abdomen and across her
hips, seeking to give back the same intense pleasure that she was giving to
him. Jarrod was barely aware when she had manouevered the silk fabric from his
hips and down his thighs, as he then strove to twist his body and free his legs
of the encumbrance.
With gentle, searching fingers and soft, nuzzling lips, they brought one
another to dizzying heights of passion that had them both gasping and begging
for more, as they strove to reach that incredible plateau without taking one
another over the edge just yet. They had learned the most delicate, subtlest
nuances of one another's bodies in the time that they had shared their physical
love. A certain touch or caress could bring forth cries of need and stoke
internal flames to turn their bodies into raging cauldrons of desire.
When at last Catherine leaned back, parting her thighs and guiding Jarrod
towards their cumulative destinies, each of the lovers gasped and cried out
with delight as their bodies joined as one, the way their hearts and souls
already were. It was, for both of them, as Jarrod had first experienced their
intimacy on the cliffs. A true joining, not just physically, but emotionally,
intellectually and spiritually.
As they moved together, giving and taking immeasurable joy, their bodies
writhing with blissful sensation, Catherine and Jarrod stood together on the
edge of the chasm, then fell over together, panting and crying out in one
another's arms as the incredible waves of release rolled over them.
Jarrod rolled onto his back, pulling Catherine on top of him, holding her tight
against his chest, gazing into her obsidian eyes as the shadows played over the
curves of her lovely face. He held her wordlessly, then pressed his forehead to
hers, as the familiar words...infused with greater depth and meaning than he
would ever have believed possible before finding this one who completed him...reverberated
in the depths of Jarrod Barkley's soul.
'I live for those who love me, for those who know
me true...'
THE END
(The poem that Jarrod 'wrote' for Catherine is actually a song, written by
Steven Dale Jones and Amy Powers and originally recorded by Diamond Rio. I have
only heard the version that's sung by Clay Aiken. But I think it is perhaps one
of the most beautiful love songs I have ever heard, and it has been, since this
story's inception, Jarrod's song for Catherine.)