ELEVEN
Eleven
Bel woke the morning of the wedding wondering what had roused her. It couldn’t be . Her eyes shot open. Oh no … The rain was more torrential than ever.
She considered pulling the covers back over her head, but there was really no point. Sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with Larkin, who was not going to handle this meteorological road bump at all well. Deciding she was not going to deal with this uncaffeinated, Bel gave a fatalistic sigh, pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt then headed downstairs in search of a coffee.
It was still early and there were no signs of anyone else being up, which was a small relief. She didn’t feel up to morning small talk. Not that that was going to be on anyone’s agenda today. Already she could picture the entire household walking on eggshells around Larkin and Lois. Gisele would be earning her exorbitant salary today.
A movement outside the large kitchen window caught Bel’s eye and she spotted a figure across the yard, walking over from the shearers’ quarters the men had been staying in. Tate. Her stomach did a curious little flutter as she thought back to the previous night and an almost shy smile crossed her face. She still found it hard to believe this man was somehow attracted to her … her! She felt a flutter of panic as he jogged across the yard to the back door, her anxiety laced with a dash of terror at being found out. She wasn’t part of this life, no matter how Larkin dressed her up, and, sooner or later, Tate would work that out. A small wave of sadness washed over her as reality hit: time was running out. Tomorrow, everyone would start leaving and Cinderella would have to return to Dwyers’ and life would go back to the way it had been B.T.—Before Tate.
‘Good morning,’ Bel said, forcing away the sadness that threatened to overshadow her mood.
‘It is now,’ he said. He took off his coat, shook it out then slipped his arms around her waist. They shared a long, unhurried kiss. How was she supposed to give this up?
The sound of another heavy downpour interrupted the moment.
‘Oh no,’ she whispered as her gaze turned to the windows. A white curtain of rain blocked the view of the cottage outside. There was no deluding themselves that this was going to miraculously clear up in time for the wedding. Even if it did, the manicured lawn was already under ankle-deep water.
‘Oh crap,’ Tate said softly.
‘Larkin is going to—’ Bel started before she was interrupted by a loud scream from inside the house, ‘—freak out.’ ‘Oh, well,’ Tate mused. ‘Lucky they finished the Orangery with a day to spare. Without that, it’d be a disaster.’
‘This is a fucking disaster!’ Larkin screamed a mere hour later when Stan came in to announce that the roof of the new Orangery had begun leaking and part of it had collapsed, throwing the back-up plans into chaos.
‘What are we going to do?’ Lois gasped, turning to the wedding planner with a distraught look.
For the first time since Bel had met her, Gisele looked oddly panicked, not the kind of thing you would hope to see in your wedding planner during a crisis. ‘I just need a moment,’ she said, touching her fingertips to her temple.
‘We don’t have a moment!’ Larkin shrieked as she threw her hands in the air. ‘We’re expecting two hundred and fifty guests to start arriving within a few hours! You said the rain would stop!’ she cried, turning on her father.
‘We may have to consider postpon—’ Stan started before being drowned out by both his wife and his daughter with their emphatic ‘No!’
‘We have to be practical about this,’ he said, trying for a gentler tone. ‘Where are we going to fit that many people at such short notice?’
‘Uh, sorry to interrupt,’ Henry said from the lounge, looking up from his phone, ‘but about that. They’ve just announced road closures.’ He winced. ‘The road to here is one of them.’
‘What? No! No, no, no,’ Gisele uttered as she snatched the phone from Henry’s hand and stared at the screen. ‘Maya!’
‘I’m here,’ the assistant announced from two steps behind her boss. It was barely seven o’clock and the woman was already dressed in a pencil skirt and button-up blouse, tablet in hand and ready for action.
‘Get me the bus company. There has to be another way.’
Bel chewed on the inside of her lip as she sat quietly on the other side of the room, next to Tate.
‘Is there?’ he asked.
‘Not that a bus would be able to use. And even then, if the main roads are closed, any dirt track would most likely be under as well, or too boggy to use.’
‘So we won’t have any guests?’ Larkin asked, frantically searching the faces around her. She burst into noisy tears.
There was a knock on the door and Tristan’s muffled voice sounded on the other side. ‘Can I come in?’
‘No!’ Gisele and Lois both yelled back, eyeing the door in alarm.
‘It’s bad luck!’ Lois added.
‘Oh, seriously, Mother!’ Larkin said, wiping her eyes as she marched to the door. ‘How much more bad luck can we have? I want to see my fiancé.’
‘Oh, God,’ Aunt Lois said in a tone that suggested her daughter had just opened the gates to hell.
‘Is it just me or does this entire thing feel like it should be a reality show on prime-time TV?’ Tate murmured close to Bel’s ear, sending a trail of goosebumps down her arm.
‘Right?’ She shouldn’t be wishing they could sneak back to her warm bed while her cousin was having a complete meltdown, but with Tate seated so close, her body was not listening to her brain.
Gigi and Niki appeared at the open door, model-gorgeous even as they were blinking and blurry-eyed, asking what had happened.
‘It’s raining,’ Larkin wailed.
The two women turned their gazes to the windows before looking back at each other. ‘My hair will never stay straightened in this!’ Niki bleated.
Bel bit back a retort.
‘All right. Listen up, people,’ Gisele announced, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. ‘It does seem that all roads leading in and out of Glentoberon are currently closed and guests will be stranded in Toormanlee. However,’ she said, raising her voice over the sudden outrage, ‘we can get the groom’s family here from Wessex, and there will be a number of local guests who should be able to make it. So while numbers are down significantly, we will at least be able to relocate the reception venue to the house, which makes everything achievable, given the limited time. But we will need all hands on deck.’
It was decided they would set up at the rear of the house, where the dining room opened up through large French doors. They would position the bridal table to take centre stage inside, and more tables and chairs could spill out onto the wide back verandah.
With a solid plan now in place and not a moment to lose, the whole house sprang into action.
The inside of the Orangery was a disaster zone, but thankfully most of the table decorations hadn’t yet been set up. It was now a case of moving the tables and chairs out and redistributing the decorations with a little creative genius.
Throughout the morning, the rain continued to fall. Bel knew everyone was keeping an eye on the water levels, which were steadily on the rise.
She was walking past a gathered group of men when she heard her uncle delegating a number of jobs, which included taking the four-wheel drive to meet the guests who were being brought out from town by boat.
‘I’ll do that,’ Tristan volunteered, opening the door of the vehicle. ‘Uh …’ he said, turning back to face Bel’s uncle. ‘Is there another car?’
‘Not big enough to carry that many passengers or to handle the wet roads out there. Why?’
‘I … uh … it’s not automatic.’
‘Well, of course it’s not automatic,’ Uncle Stan said impatiently. ‘What? You can’t drive a manual?’
Bel saw Tristan shuffle uncomfortably before giving a small shrug.
‘Do any of you know how to drive?’ Uncle Stan asked, incredulous.
Uncle Stan was being a tad harsh, Bel thought, feeling sorry for Tristan. He seemed genuinely deflated that he’d fallen short in his soon-to-be father-in-law’s eyes.
‘Well, we know how to drive ,’ Leo declared, sounding somewhat insulted by the question. ‘But I haven’t heard of anyone driving a manual lately. They’re almost an extinct species.’
‘Not around here, sonny,’ Stan growled.
Why isn’t Tate stepping forward? Bel frowned. Surely he could … her stomach dropped. This wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. Jax would have instantly stepped forward. He drove Jeeps through the jungle and armoured vehicles through war zones. He’d even taken control of a helicopter when the pilot was shot!
Stop it. Tate isn’t Jax. Jax isn’t real.
‘I don’t have flamin’ time to play courier as well as check on the livestock,’ Uncle Stan muttered.
‘I’ll go, Uncle Stan,’ Bel said.
She crossed to the big four-wheel drive and hoisted herself into the driver’s seat.
‘Well thank God someone around here is useful,’ Stan muttered, turning away.
She avoided looking at any of the other men, not wanting to embarrass anyone and uncomfortably aware of Tate’s gaze. But when she did risk a quick glance as she started the engine, he simply gave her a cheerful wave before heading back inside.
The rain was relentless, and by Bel’s second trip, it was evident that the flood situation was worsening by the hour. The first trip, she’d made it almost to the edge of town. By the second run, she could barely make it fifteen minutes up the road.
She grabbed two umbrellas and climbed out of the cabin as she spotted the silver tinny moving towards her. As far as the eye could see was an ocean of water where paddocks had been only the day before. Her uncle and his workers had been out moving livestock and, seeing how fast the water was rising, it was lucky they’d done so. Animals would stand no chance out there alone.
The rain fell heavily and was loud on the umbrella she held over her head as she leaned down to help steady the boat for the bedraggled passengers who clambered to their feet, clutching plastic garment bags and suitcases, looking like refugees instead of the well-off socialites Bel knew they were. Tristan’s parents had arrived in the first load and had been given a room at Glentoberon. This lot were his brothers and their wives. They were expecting two more boats with the celebrant, photographer and caterers any minute. How Gisele was making all this happen, God only knew, but Bel suspected the woman’s talent for organisation would rival the most operationally experienced military quartermaster’s.
‘They’re getting their money’s worth out of you,’ a familiar voice called. Bel looked up to find Dean, dressed in a bright orange rain jacket with ‘SES’ printed on the front, climbing out of the boat.
‘Sorry?’ she asked, tilting her head slightly.
‘Bridesmaid and chauffeur? I would have thought you’d be busy getting your hair done or something. Where are all the men?’
‘You think only men can come out in the rain and pick up passengers?’ she quipped.
‘Nope, just thought maybe there’d be enough of them hanging round and they might make themselves useful.’
‘It’s all hands on deck. Everyone else has been enlisted into relocating the reception.’
‘I see. Well, I guess that’s pretty important,’ he said lightly, turning away to steady the boat.
‘How’s it in town?’
‘Town’s okay, only a few houses on the outskirts have minor flooding so far, but we’re cut off. The roads in and out are going to be closed for a few days, depending on how much more rain we get.’ He lifted a suitcase out and placed it on the bitumen. ‘Oi!’ he called as the last man got out of the boat and started hurrying towards the four-wheel drive. Dean nodded at the suitcase. ‘No baggage porters here, mate.’
The man trudged back, mumbling an apology before picking up the case and jogging towards the vehicle again.
‘They’re a different breed, all right,’ Dean muttered.
‘Well, I better get them back to dry land,’ Bel said, lifting her hand in farewell as he got back into the boat. She watched him wipe a hand across his face beneath the hood of the raincoat. It always humbled her how SES members volunteered their time and lives to help people, going out in the kind of weather most others took refuge from. It was heroic.
She tried not to think about Tate and the others back at Glentoberon, sitting around drinking hot chocolate. That’s not fair . They were visitors. It wasn’t as though they could put their hands up to do SES work. That involved training. She felt a twinge of something like disappointment then chastised herself. Not everyone can be a hero.
‘Be careful out there,’ she said. Something shifted on his face, a fleeting expression that she wasn’t even sure how to describe. He looked … almost serious? Or taken aback? And then it was gone.
‘Hope the wedding goes well. Stay dry.’
Back at the house, it was surprisingly calm, considering all the upheaval. Aunt Lois was in her element as Lady of the Manor, fussing about and making sure everyone was comfortable. There was plenty of food and drink flowing, and spirits seemed to be holding up remarkably well … although that could have something to do with the fact there was a lot of drink flowing.
When Gisele was satisfied she had everything mostly under control, Larkin and the bridesmaids were sent inside to get ready. Bel reluctantly traipsed up the staircase to endure make-up and hair.
Finally it was time to put on her gown. The soft fabric slid over her body and flowed like a dusty pink waterfall. Her long hair had been braided to one side and pinned in a messy low bun, with a few loosened tendrils to help soften the look. As Bel stared at her reflection, she found herself wondering. She was no longer the plain-Jane girl-next-door who worked at Dwyers’. She wasn’t sure she ever would be again, even when she had to give up the glam squad and the Adonis-like lover. Who was this glamorous woman staring back at her, really?
With one final glance in the mirror, Bel took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself to head back into the fray.
On a normal wedding day, bridesmaid duties would involve the odd pep talk and bucketloads of reassurance. This bridesmaid gig, however, demanded a whole new level of dedication. The fact that it involved a natural disaster, a last-minute change of venue and around seventy-five per cent of the guest list being unable to attend made it well and truly above Bel’s pay grade. This kind of thing should have come with a handbook, but it didn’t, so everyone was fumbling their way through it as best they could.
After a few glasses of champagne, they’d finally managed to calm Larkin down enough to get her dressed and ready for photos. Larkin wasn’t the first bride to have her wedding day sabotaged by rain and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. At least she had a team of people working nonstop to ensure it would still be a dream wedding day.
As she and the other bridesmaids walked down the grand staircase and through a gorgeous archway of fresh flowers, Bel couldn’t help but catch her breath at how beautifully everything had been transformed. Fairy lights were draped along the wrought-iron lacework of the front verandah posts, while bunches of freshly picked gum leaves and greenery hung from the roof beams above the foyer, interspersed with delicate glass tea light globes. The rustic French provincial theme looked just as stunning set against the timber and ironwork of the homestead building as it would have in the purpose-built Orangery.
Her gaze moved towards the men lined up in their black tuxedos at the side of the archway, pausing on the tallest, most handsome one as she neared them, before she veered to the opposite side of the arch. She’d always thought he was drop-dead handsome, but in a tux, Tate was downright lethal, like a real-life Jax Lexington. She felt his eyes on her and lifted her gaze. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop. Smitten was a word that she’d always heard her gran use, and for some reason it came to her then. She was smitten. Completely and utterly smitten.
The ‘Bridal March’ struck up and Bel reluctantly dragged her eyes from Tate’s face to watch Larkin make her way down the staircase on the arm of her father. Bel’s heart hitched a little at the sight of father and daughter. That was something she would never experience, walking down the aisle with her dad. Her mother would never be sitting at the front of the congregation, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, and Gran wouldn’t be sitting beside her, wearing that proud, beaming smile she always wore. But Bel could imagine them all here now, still connected and part of the family even though they’d been gone for so long.
She cleared her throat and blinked hard to fight the tears that were threatening. She met her cousin’s gaze and smiled reassuringly. Larkin looked like a princess. Her ivory satin gown glowed like moonlight as she moved gracefully towards her soon-to-be husband and took his hand.
The celebrant’s soothing tone rose above the falling rain. ‘Welcome, friends and family. We are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Larkin and Tristan.’