House Of Secrets (25 page)

At seven-thirty the next morning I was dressed in jeans and a sweater and ready to head off to the great unknown. I found Judith in the kitchen making coffee.

“I see you’re already up and running.”

She turned around to beam me a smile. I swear the woman was always happy. She made a good mother for this family, I decided. We had been too long without cheerful people.

“Your father and I plan to take the T into the city and spend the day at the Marketplace. Should be a lot of fun.”

“Do you know where Mark is taking me?”

She shook her head. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s a surprise. I don’t think your father even knows.”

I nodded. I was sure Mark had kept this entire adventure to himself. He loved to plan surprises for me, and while such things used to strike me with terror, I was starting to kind of enjoy them. When he knocked on the door a few minutes later, I was more than ready and waiting for our adventure.

“So where are we going?” I asked.

“I told you it was a surprise,” Mark replied.

“Yes, but now we’re actually participating in the surprise.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said, helping me into the car. He hurried around to the driver’s side as I secured my seatbelt. Once he was in the car and ready to go, he threw me a grin. “Just be patient. I think you’re going to like this.”

We headed out and away from Boston. I could see that we weren’t going to be driving to the coast, so that eliminated a few ideas from mind. By the time an hour had passed, I was fairly certain we were heading to Connecticut, but I had no idea as to why. When we took the ramp for Hartford, I fixed Mark with a curious look.

“This is definitely holding my interest.”

“Good. I’m happy to say that we’ve very nearly arrived. Just enjoy the fall colors. You know tourists pay good money to come here just to see what’s in your backyard.”

I laughed, but he was right. The scenery was incredible, and the rich tapestry of golds, oranges, reds, and browns made autumn clearly one of the most beautiful times of year for this area of the country.

It was only a short time later that we arrived at the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center. “Surprise!” Mark exclaimed. He brought us to a stop in the parking area and turned the car off. “I figured because we’re book people we should take advantage of all the book-related places in our corner of the world.”

“I agree.” It wasn’t at all what I had thought we might do. I had envisioned a walk on the beach or picking apples or some other wonderful outdoor activity, but coming here was even more delightful. I loved the thoughtfulness of the plan. “This is perfect,” I said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

We toured the facilities and talked about the woman who’d written
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
so long ago. I marveled at how impressive it was that one piece of literature could have such an impact on society.

The leaves crunched beneath our feet as we passed the area where Harriet had once gardened. “ ‘A garden is a healing place for the soul,’ ” I murmured, quoting Harriet’s own words. Her gardens had been a passion of hers.

“I can see why,” Mark said, taking hold of my hand. “There is a certain anticipation of new life, working with the soil and seeds.”

“I think I’d like to have a garden someday. Of course, I’d have to learn how. I kill my houseplants, so I can only imagine what I might do to an entire yard full of flowers.”

“You can always learn. I’m sure Harriet wasn’t born with all her gardening knowledge.”

“I don’t know. She was a phenomenal woman,” I said. “I’m so glad you thought of coming here.”

“You’re quite phenomenal yourself.” Mark raised my hand to his lips.

I smiled. “Thank you. You always make me feel that I am.”

“It’s true, though.” He tucked my arm close against him.

Walking for several moments in the autumn air, the swirl of colorful leaves beneath our feet, the temperature chilling our cheeks, I found I’d never been happier. I stopped all at once and turned to him.

“I love you,” I told him. My heart beat faster. “I honestly and truly love you.”

He looked at me intently for a moment, then grinned in that self-assured way of his. “I know that.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me soundly on the mouth. “But I’m glad you finally got around to saying it,” he whispered against my lips. “Makes what I want to say so much better.”

He let me go and reached into his pocket. Dropping to one knee right there in the middle of the sidewalk, Mark opened the box and held it before me. “Will you marry me?”

I could hardly believe he’d just proposed in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s yard. I looked at him and then to the ring sparkling inside the box. He wanted to marry me—to spend the rest of his life with me.

“Well?” he asked.

The things that had once haunted me no longer seemed a barrier to a future filled with love and companionship. “I will,” I said, fighting back tears.

He got up and pulled me into his arms once again. “I’m so glad you said yes. My knee was freezing on that pavement.”

I giggled. “Is that the only reason you’re glad?”

Shaking his head, he took the beautiful antique ring and slipped it on my finger. “No, silly. I’m also glad because now we can move ahead to finish out phase two and go right into phase three.”

“And exactly what might that entail?” I raised a brow.

His blue eyes twinkled. “A wedding will complete phase two quite nicely. I suggest a lovely Christmastime wedding. I know it’s short notice, but I have friends and we can pull strings if you need some exotic designer gown and special location for the ceremony.”

I shook my head. “I only need you.” I could scarcely believe this was happening. Six months ago I was mired in the past. Now I felt almost as though I could fly.

He kissed me again, and I leaned into the solid strength of him. Weak in the knees, I finally pulled away. “And phase three?”

“Ah,” he said in a low husky voice. “The honeymoon.”

“Hmm.” I imagined a warm location with long days spent in each other’s company. “I think I shall very much enjoy working with you through that phase . . . and all the others.”

Laughing, he put his arm around me and we headed for the car. “I think, Miss Cooper, that this will be the first of many successful projects together.”

W
e set the wedding for two days after Christmas. Piper had already journeyed to London but arranged to be back for the celebration. She and Geena agreed to be my dual maids of honor and dressed beautifully in black and white and red; they made a striking addition to the church decorations.

Mom had helped me to arrange the décor. She teased that since Mark and I were both in publishing we should have everything done in black and white, but that was a little too stark for me, and we added red in honor of the holidays. The church, already dressed for Christmas, needed very few additional touches. We’d decked the sides of the pews with pine garlands trimmed with red bows earlier in the month as a donation from the Cooper family for the holidays. That not only worked well with the season, but also with our plans for the wedding. Several artfully designed arrangements of red roses and calla lilies, as well as beautiful brass stands of candles, rounded off the setting. I was quite pleased with the way it had turned out. It looked tasteful and elegant without being pretentious.

I wanted a simple wedding and so did Mark. In fact, he suggested more than once that we elope and put an end to the festivities. I held my ground that a girl only married once, hopefully, and that I wanted to have this moment to remember. He understood, as I knew he would. We decided against having lengthy sermons or singing. A short exchange of vows along with the recitation of Scripture that had become very important to us would keep the focus on what was most important—our covenant with God and each other.

“You doing all right?” Dad asked before he escorted me to the altar.

I smoothed down the lines of my strapless white silk gown and nodded. He reached over to touch my cheek. “You’re so very beautiful.”

“Thank you, Dad. May I say that you’re quite dashing in that tuxedo.”

He smiled and pulled at the lapels. “So your stepmom already told me.”

I laughed. “I’m sure she did.”

Geena and Piper popped into the alcove and hugged me. I couldn’t help but remember all the times we’d huddled together as children. Those had been dark days, but now we were sharing a moment of light.

“I’m so excited for you,” Geena whispered against my ear.

Piper leaned in to do likewise. “I hope you’ll always be happy.”

“With God’s help,” I said, holding tight to them for a moment, “I pray we’ll all be happy.”

My sisters nodded and pulled away. Geena stepped toward Dad and straightened his bow tie, while Piper adjusted her sash and glanced at the wall clock.

“It’s time,” Piper said. “Do we look all right?”

Piper gave a turn in her sleek strapless black dress. A sash of white, overlaid with a smaller one of red, trimmed her waist and accented the flowers she held. Her bobbed hair only served to accent her elfish face. Geena had left her hair to cascade down her back. I thought they both looked incredible. “You look stunning. You both do.”

“You too.” They both smiled and Geena cocked her head to the door. “Come on.”

I drew a deep breath and looked at Dad. “I guess it’s time to give me away.”

“Mark’s a good man, and I know I can trust him to do right by you. You’re going to have a good life, Bailee. I just feel God’s hand is upon you and this marriage.”

His encouragement brought tears to my eyes. “Don’t make me cry,” I said, hugging him one more time.

We followed Geena and Piper, who had already taken their spots at the back of the church. The processional began to play and Piper stepped forward and then Geena. At the front of the church I saw Mark standing beside two of his longtime friends, Chris and Thomas.

“He’s waiting,” Dad whispered in my ear.

I met Dad’s gaze and drew a deep breath. “And so phase two concludes.” He looked at me oddly, but I only giggled. “It’s a long story.”

Mark looked so very serious as I walked down the aisle. With each step I found my heart picking up speed and my breathing quickening. And then he smiled at me, and I felt as if the entire world had disappeared. How could it be that one man could so completely change my life?

His grin deepened as my father brought me to stand beside him. Mark leaned close.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

I smiled and touched the sleeve of his tux. “Not likely,” I whispered.

I can’t say that I remember all the details of the ceremony. I was so nervous about doing everything just right that when the moment finally came and the pastor said we were man and wife, I wanted to take hold of Mark and drag him out of the church. I was tired of crowds and fanfare and wished only to be alone in his arms. Instead, we kissed very briefly.

“More of that later,” Mark whispered.

“Phase three, eh?” I said in a very serious manner.

He winked. “You have no idea.”

Geena leaned in. “Get a move on, you two. There’s a reception and dinner to be completed before you can go traipsing off on your honeymoon.”

I looked at her over my shoulder and shook my head. “Nobody says we have to stay for either one.”

Mark chuckled and pulled me down the aisle. “You are creating a major scandal, Mrs. Delahunt.”

“Mrs. Delahunt,” I breathed. I liked the sound of that very much. Bailee Delahunt. Sounded like a strong and successful name. A fleeting thought passed through my head, but I pushed it aside. My twenty-eighth birthday was shortly after New Year’s. Thirty wasn’t that far off, and so far I had no reason to worry that schizophrenia would play a part in my future, the way it had my past. The blessing, however, was that Mark and I had thoroughly discussed the matter. He knew it was a possibility, but we both agreed it wasn’t going to be a sword hanging over our heads—neither would we allow our home to be a house of secrets. I thought of a quote by Harriet Beecher Stowe and smiled.
The past, the present and the future are really one: they are today.

I will live for today
, I told myself and smiled at my new husband. With God’s help and his, I felt there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish—nothing I couldn’t endure. I would do as God said in Isaiah and fear not—and in doing so focus on the other verses that Mark had shared with me.

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I could smell the sweet scent of my bouquet and took in a long, deep breath. “A new thing,” I whispered as we reached the end of the church aisle.

Mark seemed to completely understand. He looked at me and smiled. “A new thing.”