Chapter Eight
Nora sat frozen for what it felt an eternity, with her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat.
Fury still hung in the air where Weston Crane had just been, as though the room itself hadn’t caught up to the suddenness of his departure.
Through the window, she could see the wooden gate swinging once more on its hinge before settling with a hollow clunk.
“What in the world…” she whispered, mostly to herself.
Her cheeks burned, not from the glass of wine she had had to celebrate her new life, but from the sharp heat of embarrassment.
Everyone had seen it. Sadie, Cade, June.
Mary Jane was silently staring at her food.
Nora pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the thud of her heartbeat.
Sadie cleared her throat delicately and came up beside her. “Well. That was dramatic,” she said with a small smile, clearly trying to make light of the moment. “I suppose he won’t be needing that coffee after all.”
She paused, then lowered her voice just a touch and looked at Cade. “Though, if I’m honest, I think you might’ve pushed a little too far with those questions, Cade.”
Cade shrugged, unbothered. “If he can’t handle a few harmless questions, maybe he’s not the kind of man you want around your best friend, Sadie.” He then protectively looked toward Nora. “You said it yourself. You don’t know him. I was just trying to help you find out what kind of man he is.”
Nora’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood. “There’s a difference between asking questions and cornering someone,” she said sharply. “You weren’t helping, Cade, you were trying to rile him. And I won’t have that.”
The room went quiet, but Nora didn’t waver.
“You’ve known me long enough to know I can judge a man for myself.” She fixed her eyes on the gate as if Weston might come back through it, apologize, explain, anything but disappear. But the road beyond remained empty.
“I was just trying to protect you, Nora. And as you can see, some men don’t take kindly to being asked too many questions,” Cade replied, stepping forward. “He’s got a temper on him, Nora. You’d do well to be careful.”
Nora turned to Cade, searching his face. She had expected a flicker of remorse, or at the very least, restraint. But the set of his mouth, the narrowed eyes, the way he stood there like he’d done her a favor, it all made her stomach turn.
“You say you care about me,” she said finally, “but what you did just now wasn’t care. That was pride. That was control.”
Cade’s mouth opened, but she didn’t let him speak.
“You humiliated him. On my wedding day. In front of everyone. And for what? To prove a point? To make me second-guess myself?”
She shook her head, breath tight.
“You think you’re protecting me. But real protection doesn’t come from tearing someone down just because you don’t like what you see. You don’t get to do that. Not to him. And not to me.”
He gave her a small, lopsided smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Don’t try to smooth this over,” June put in. “Her husband just stormed off, so don’t think you can act like nothing happened.”
But her discomfort wasn’t totally because of that, Nora realized. It was because of that kiss back in the church. It was quick. Gentle. And it stirred something in her, a flutter of warmth, a rush of confusion. Her eyes dropped to the hem of her dress, to her hands twisted in the fabric.
She hadn’t let herself think about it too much before, but now the memory rose uninvited, catching in her chest like a breath she couldn’t release.
Then, a small hand slipped into hers. Nora looked down to find Mary Jane at her side, frowning in that serious way a little girls would.
“He’ll be back,” Mary Jane said quietly, with the kind of certainty only children could afford. “Look,” she was pointing at the window. “He forgot his horse.”
Nora blinked, and a short, unexpected laugh caught at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t much. But it was comforting.
She should have felt flattered by everyone’s attention, the way they claimed to care. But all she felt was a rising heat behind her ribs and a slow burn of anger she hadn’t let herself name until now. Cade had questioned her judgment, humiliated her husband, and called it concern.
She looked around at faces that suddenly felt a little too familiar.
They don’t know him. But worse…neither do I.
Yet there she was, still thinking about the kiss.
That moment in the church when, without asking, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek.
It had startled her, yes, but it hadn’t felt empty.
It was the kind of gesture that lingered, not because it was perfect, but because it meant something. Only now, it just felt silly. Childish.
“Nora?” Sadie’s voice broke into her thoughts again, gentle and concerned now. “Do you want me to bring you something?”
“No,” Nora said, shaking her head. “No, I’m all right,” she replied, even though everyone—most of all Nora herself—knew how untrue that was.
***
By the time they gathered their things and stepped outside, the light had shifted.
It was almost golden now, low in the sky.
The laughter and conversation from the gathering still drifted faintly behind them, but Nora heard none of it.
She held Mary Jane’s hand in one of hers, as June trailed quietly behind with the basket Sadie had packed for them.
Sadie walked them as far as the porch. There was a soft crease of worry still in her brow.
“Get home safe, okay?” she said gently, adjusting Mary Jane’s shawl. “And…don’t go too hard on him. Cade pushed too hard. As for Weston…Give him some time.”
Nora nodded, but her voice caught too far back in her throat to speak.
Cade stood a few steps behind. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were watching with the same steady expression he always wore. He gave Nora a small nod.
“Bye, Cade,” June said, giving him a little wave. “Don’t think you won this one.”
He smirked. “Didn’t know it was a game.”
Nora offered the faintest of smiles and managed, “Thank you…both. For everything.”
Sadie reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. “Go on now. Before it gets dark.”
The ride back was quiet. The horses trotted steadily as their hooves clapped soft against the dirt road, and the carriage creaked gently with each turn of the wheels.
Mary Jane leaned her head against Nora’s arm and dozed without a word.
Even June, usually quick with commentary, said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the road.
Nora stared ahead, but her thoughts were a tangled knot, one that pulled tighter with each mile.
I have to speak to Weston. Not just about what happened, but about what’s about to happen.
This couldn’t stay in silence, not if they were truly going to build something together. And yet, as the house came into view, a chill crept into her chest. His room looked empty. Her breath caught.
Is he gone, for real?
For a moment, she just sat there, hands gripping her skirt, heart lodging somewhere in her throat.
And what if he’s left? I hardly know him.
“I’ll take Mary Jane inside,” June said. Her voice sounded quieter than usual, as she lifted the sleeping child into her arms. “Go find him.”
Nora hesitated.
“What if he’s not here?” she asked, before she could stop herself. She sounded insecure, almost embarrassed. And she hated it.
June turned and gave her a reassuring look. “Then you’ll know.”
With that, she walked up the steps and into the house, as the screen door creaked softly behind her.
Nora just stood there for a moment, letting her hands rest at her sides. She listened to the wind stirring the dry grass along the edge of the barn. A bird called once, distant. Finally, everything fell silent. There were no footsteps, no voice, no sign of him.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly uncertain whether she wanted to find him angry… or gone.
***
The house was still quiet when Nora stepped inside.
She unpinned her hair first. Her fingers were moving more out of habit than thought.
Then she stepped out of her shoes by the back door and made her way to the bedroom.
The blue dress, the one Sadie had insisted she wear for the wedding, rustled faintly as she moved.
It was simple, but finely made, with a square neckline and little pearl buttons down the front.
The sleeves were three-quarter length, hemmed with lace Sadie had stitched herself.
It had felt like a new beginning when she put it on that morning. Now, it just felt like someone else’s.
She folded it carefully and placed it at the end of the bed, then reached for her work dress, the faded calico one, the one with the stubborn flour stain at the hip and a rip near the hem she kept meaning to mend. She pulled it over her head, tied the apron at her waist, and exhaled.
The change in clothing grounded her. It reminded her who she was beneath all the expectation, the hope, the foolishness of thinking that today would go well. But no, she thought inwardly. It had gone beautifully… until Cade got hold of it.
She moved back through the house, lit the lamp in the kitchen, and began straightening what was left from the morning.
She still had time to finish the little things before dark, like wiping down the counter had already been waiting for her, or rinsing a few stray cups, sweeping up flour tracked in from Mary Jane’s footsteps—even though she’d been told dozen times not to go inside with her shoes on.
The quiet repetition soothed her nerves, giving her hands something to do while her mind churned.
She knew she ought to go out and look for him. But pride, hers and his both, held her in place.
Maybe he’s gone to the barn? Maybe he needed air? Maybe he’s pacing the far side of the field, in need of a walk to sort things out?