The Tree Keeper's Promise: A Novel (A Shafer Farm Romance Book 2) Read online

  Mark heard the words. He was sure he had heard them. “I come for your wedding.” It may have been broken English, but the woman had clearly said, “Your mother say you are getting married.”

  This should be interesting.

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off Angela. He’d watched her surprised expression change to pure joy and then to shock, and possibly fright. Now she was glaring at Cathy, who was almost sobbing. Almost, because that woman had as much composure as the Queen’s guard. The thing was, Mark couldn’t tell if she was happy to see Angela and Florinda reunited—or if she knew those were flames coming out of Angela’s ears.

  No one had spoken yet. Just three teary-eyed women all looking at each other—and probably for different reasons.

  Just when Mark decided he should take Caroline to find a snack in the kitchen, Angela stepped back and looked straight at him.

  Bewildered. Completely bewildered, if Mark had to guess.

  “Next Friday morning,” Cathy said. “Florinda returns.”

  “Could you excuse us for a moment?” Angela asked calmly.

  They found refuge in the kitchen. Angela took to pacing from one end to the other, stopping at the refrigerator, spinning around, and marching to the cabinets.

  “She did it. She really did it,” Angela huffed.

  “She found Florinda. It’s amazing!” Mark said, pretty sure that wasn’t what she was referring to but hoping the mention could ease her nerves.

  “I know! Do you know how much I’ve wanted you to meet Florinda and for her to meet you?”

  “Seems like your mother did.” Mark smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Oh, my mother. She’s going to get her way. I can’t believe it. How does she do it?”

  “What way? What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? Don’t play dumb here. That mother of mine has been trying to set the date for our wedding before we were even engaged. And here we are. Getting married next Thursday.”

  “Whoa, wait. Next Thursday? Says who? That’s two days before Christmas.” Mark hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d been leaning against the sink, about the midpoint of Angela’s pacing track. But now he stood straight, his weight no longer on the counter.

  “Good thing you’re catching on, since you’re the groom here,” Angela said dryly, still pacing, still steaming.

  “You’re not serious? Cathy’s not serious? It’s December, remember?”

  “Mark, that sweet woman flew all the way from Portugal to attend my wedding. You think I’m going to let her go back without seeing it?” Angela didn’t stop pacing. This wasn’t up for discussion.

  “You are serious. But—”

  “But what? ‘Let’s just go with it.’ Remember saying that?” Angela asked.

  “Yes, but—”

  “No matter what she brings, right?”

  “Right, but this isn’t a tree. This isn’t a knickknack from Germany or a purse from Italy.”

  “Exactly, Mark. Welcome to my life. No, wait—our life.”

  “Angela, I don’t see how we can pull off a wedding by next week! You said yourself it takes months.”

  “We don’t have months, Mark. We have days. About four of them.”

  Mark stretched his arms out, palms up, as if to plead with some mysterious kitchen appliance deity.

  Angela stopped directly in front of Mark, tears welling up in her eyes.

  Mark stopped thinking of the farm and customers and the holiday and wrapped his arms around Angela instead. He pulled her close and let her sob.

  He smoothed back her hair and whispered in her ear.

  “How about we get married next week. Right here, with our friends and family. A small, sweet ceremony. Anything you want. It may even be the winter solstice. What do you say to that?”

  Angela pulled away enough to search Mark’s face. She did that when she was trying to figure him out, it seemed. More tears tumbled from her eyes as she nodded.

  “I’ll go ahead and call Papa, give him the good news,” Mark said when it had been quiet for a moment.

  Angela lifted her head. “Oh no. When are they coming back? They were going to spend the holiday with Dorothy’s daughter,” she said.

  Mark could see another storm of tears threatening. “Let’s call them right now. Maybe they can find a flight.”

  Papa answered, and Mark related the events of the day and how, as of that moment, they were planning a wedding for next Thursday. “Could they make it?” he asked, understanding it would be costly to change their flights. When he hung up the phone, he smiled to Angela and hugged her close.

  “Papa said Dorothy was already calling the airline. They’ll come in on Wednesday.”

  “Do you think her daughter will be upset?”

  “I didn’t ask, but they’ve been there for three weeks already. I think she’ll understand. It is a wedding, after all,” Mark said.

  Any other time she and her mother set out shopping, Angela would be resigned to acquiesce. But something had changed. Who was she kidding? Everything had changed. Somehow Cathy was getting what she wanted—Angela married sooner than later. And Angela was getting what she wanted—a small gathering of close family and friends. And Florinda. And best of all she was marrying a man who was so good and genuine she wasn’t sure if she would ever deserve him. They were both having their way without it costing the happiness of the other.

  What stars could be aligned?

  Or, rather, what trees were aligned?

  After all, Caroline had chosen two trees.

  “This is the place I was telling you about,” her mom said.

  One glance of the storefront and Angela moaned. “You said it was understated. Why is there valet parking?”

  “You never said anything against that,” Cathy said innocently, like what could be wrong with a dress shop that had valet parking?

  “I didn’t think I had to,” Angela said.

  Maybe this is where their shared dreams would come to an end. Maybe this would be the undoing of the entire event.

  “Our definitions of understated may be vastly different,” Angela said as they approached the doors. “My other conditions still stand, right? Nothing over the amount we discussed, nothing imported, and I have the final say.”

  “Of course you have the final say. You’re the bride.”

  Again, Cathy’s tone worried Angela. How did she get into fixes like this?

  An hour and a half later, Angela was trying on her last dress and couldn’t believe what she was about to tell her mother.

  “I like them. I like them all.”

  “That’s wonderful, dear, but you do have to choose one,” Cathy said.

  “I didn’t think you could do it. I’m amazed.”

  “Do what? Find American-made, no hoop skirts, no taffeta? Honestly, those were easy requests. Now the no-train requirement was harder to handle, but mostly because I don’t think a dress is a wedding dress unless it has a train. But this is your traditional mother talking. The Markum’s daughter didn’t have a train.” Her voice trailed off.

  “I meant I didn’t think you could stay within a budget,” Angela said, staring at the last dress.

  “Oh, well, that. I can compromise when I need to.”

  Angela may have been too distracted by the way the dress accentuated parts of her body she didn’t usually accentuate—but something in that comment raised her suspicion.

  “What do you mean compromise?”

  “This doesn’t have to be the only dress you wear. I mean, should you and Mark decide to go through with another ceremony, like the wedding you were planning for the spring, I’d be more than happy to get you a real dress.”

  A real dress? What am I wearing, then?

  “Mom.” Angela turned to face her mother, and with all the intensity she could manage, she said, “We are only having one wedding. This is it. Not another one in a few months. Not another one in some grand hall. And not another dress. This week will b
e everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  Cathy was stunned. She took to arranging the skirt portion of Angela’s dress. “This is lovely. It was just a suggestion. Of course you only need one ceremony.” Her voice was flat.

  “Don’t do this, please,” Angela said quietly, watching her mother.

  “Do what?” Cathy asked simply.

  “Don’t ruin it. I don’t need a bigger, better, more expensive anything. Mark and the farm and you and Caroline and Florinda. I couldn’t ask for anything more. No, I wouldn’t ask for anything more because it is enough. I’m so full of love I don’t need to try and fill it with more clothes or shoes or jewelry. Please be content with me. Let this be enough.”

  Cathy met Angela’s eyes with a surprised but softened expression. “You are a beautiful bride. And I know you and Mark are going to be very happy.”

  That did it? Had she only known, she would have confessed her happiness much sooner.

  “Have you chosen the one you like?” Cathy asked.

  Angela eyed the dresses. It’s not about the dresses, she thought. But I still have to pick one.

  The dress took up much of the closet space in the master bedroom. She unzipped the plastic cover, allowing it to air out. She lifted the long lace sleeves away from the bodice.

  Caroline walked in. “Are you going to try it on?” she asked excitedly.

  “No, I was letting it breathe,” Angela answered. “It fit when I tried it on. It will fit tomorrow. What about your dress? It’s still on the hanger, right?”

  Angela’s phone rang. It was Dorothy calling from the airport in DC.

  “Have you seen the news?” she asked.

  “Not recently. What is it?” She instantly knew something was wrong, but she looked at Caroline, not wanting to alarm her.

  “The weather. It’s gotten worse,” Dorothy said.

  “I thought the storm wasn’t as bad as they thought. We’ve had a fresh layer of snow but nothing like the blizzard they predicted.”

  Again, Angela kept her voice even as Caroline listened to every word.

  “Our flight to Boston has been cancelled, as have many others. It’s not the snow. We’ve been told Logan airport is closed due to the freezing rain. I’m so sorry, dear. We tried our hardest to be there with you.”

  “They don’t have another flight? What about Providence? What about that small airport in Worcester?” She couldn’t contain her panic, not even for Caroline’s sake. “What about the morning? Will they be resuming flights?”

  Angela listened as Dorothy shared how many other passengers needed flights too. And how she and Papa were quite tired as they’d had a four-hour layover in Denver early that morning. And how very sorry she was. When Angela suggested they postpone the wedding, knowing that would mean Florinda would miss it—Dorothy insisted they go through with it.

  “We’ll celebrate when we get there, whenever that may be.”

  When she finished the call, she looked up at Caroline’s face. It was full of questions.

  “I don’t think they’ll make it,” Angela said softly. “They want us to still have the wedding, but I’ll talk to Mark. I can’t imagine Papa not here with us, not here for him.”

  “You have to get married tomorrow. We picked out a love-match tree. And Papa said.” Her lower lip quivered. “Papa and Dorothy need to be here.”

  Caroline ran from the room. Angela called after her, following her to the front of the farmhouse. “Come back. It will work out,” she said. But could it?

  Caroline had thrown on her coat, pulled on her boots, and was already off the porch. Angela grabbed her coat and headed out to find her daughter. The sun had set almost an hour ago, and except for a few of the lot lights, darkness had settled around them. She fought back tears, knowing they would only chap her cheeks if she let them fall. She had allowed herself all the excitement a bride-to-be should have, only in this moment to feel like they might have made a mistake. Papa and Dorothy were stranded in DC and short of a miracle, they wouldn’t make it home in time.

  She stopped in the slushy snow. Caroline was standing in between two trees, facing one with her back to Angela.

  “It’s Papa and Dorothy,” Caroline said. “They have to be here. You know it, and I know it.”

  Angela strained to hear all of Caroline’s words. Mark approached, jogging up to where she stood.

  “What’s going on?”

  She put a finger to her lips for him to be quiet, then pointed.

  “We need a wedding here one way or another.” Caroline had become quiet after she’d spoken. She brushed the snow off a branch and held on to it.

  “What’s going on?” Mark whispered. “What’s she doing?”

  “Dorothy called. Their flight’s canceled. Logan is closed. I’m so sorry, Mark. We can wait. It’s not right for them to miss it.”

  “Is that what they said?”

  Angela hesitated, watching Caroline. “Actually, they insisted we go through with it.”

  Mark stretched his arms out wide and then brought them together again, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Would you be okay with that?”

  “I am if you are,” Angela said.

  “Caroline,” Mark called to her. “Let’s go in. I want to marry your mom tomorrow, and I don’t want anyone to get cold feet.”

  Caroline came running. “Do you think they’ll make it home in time?”

  “We hope so,” Angela said.

  Chapter 24

  Mark stood near the decorated tree, adjusting his tuxedo. It fit fine, though it was a little tight through the shoulders. He pulled on his shirtsleeves to allow at least a half inch to show, as the man at the tux rental shop had told him.

  The windows and fireplace mantel and any other fixtures Cathy had gotten her hands on were adorned with white roses, satin bows, and large pinecones. She had strings of lights from corner to corner. She’d insisted on white, padded chairs for the guests, a catered meal, and enough candles to survive a lengthy power outage. But Angela refused the horse-drawn carriage.

  Not that any of the guests were paying much attention to the decorations or Mark’s shirt cuffs. They were watching Angela.

  He waited an extra moment, breathed deeply, and then turned to see her emerge from the bedroom walking, maybe floating, down the hall and into the dining room.

  Her dark, curly hair was a stunning contrast against the white of her dress. Half of it had been left long and down her back, and half of it was pulled up on the sides and tucked back in a way that showed off her creamy cheeks.

  A snow angel, Mark thought at first. No, a snow queen.

  She moved effortlessly toward him across the living room and joined him by the tree. He remembered her first night on the farm, wanting to know her name. He thought of how he’d kissed her last Christmas Day and how he proposed on the night of the flood. And how she had accepted him as the keeper on their trip to the chasm. He thought of what their future might hold, and that led to one overriding thought that seemed to quiet all the others.

  Don’t mess this up.

  Mark stood by her side, and the new, young pastor spoke and smiled a lot, which Mark thought he was doing to cover his nervousness. For some reason it put Mark at ease. If their pastor was anxious, he didn’t have to be.

  Suddenly the front door burst wide open, followed by a rush of cold air and the stomping of feet.

  “Papa!” Caroline shouted.

  “Dorothy!” Angela said, though not as loudly as Caroline. “You made it!” she said, rushing over to hug Dorothy.

  “Looks like barely just,” she said, unwrapping the scarf from her neck and shaking off some of the snow that had fallen on it. “What a stunning bride you are!”

  “Didn’t know what time the ceremony was. We got the last rental car they had on the lot and decided we didn’t have anything to lose by giving the roads a try,” Papa said.

  Mark came and gave him a quick embrace.

  “Please excuse our traveling clo
thes,” Dorothy said.

  “You’re here. That’s all that matters,” Angela reassured them.

  “I knew you’d make it. I knew it,” Caroline said giving them each hugs.

  “Don’t let us stop the proceedings. Pastor Kenny is waiting.”

  With that, Mark and Angela returned to their places and the pastor gave a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow with his own handkerchief.

  It looked to Mark like he was still nervous.

  Though Mark wasn’t. He felt like he was in a dream—Angela standing beside him and saying “I do,” and then him saying “I do,” and then Caroline and Cathy hugging them and Papa being introduced to Gary.

  Dorothy helped with the glasses, and Brett raised a toast. Florinda had brought a gift for them and insisted they open it right away. Angela peeled back the paper to reveal a set of hand-embroidered linens with an intricate floral design.

  “Did you stitch these?” Angela asked. “They’re beautiful. Priceless.”

  “From my hands to your table, for your precious family,” she said.

  “This must have taken so much time,” Mark said. Not that he knew too much about sewing, but Donna had taught him a thing or two. “Thank you.”

  “Time we spend loving—it’s why we have time, no?” she said and gave them both hugs and cheek kisses.

  Cathy was motioning to the caterer she’d brought that it was time for some dinner and insisting they sit at the table and eat.

  After dinner, Mark took Angela by the hand and led her to their dance floor and motioned for Brett to turn the music on from inside the studio. Finally, Mark had a chance to be “alone” with Angela amid the bustle of people and food and music.

  “You know the winter solstice is the shortest day of the year. But this one will live the longest in my memory. Thank you for wanting to spend four seasons with me and sharing what all our future seasons have in store. I love you, Mrs. Shafer.”

  “I love you,” she replied, tightening her arms around his neck. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Thank you for this room—and thank you for making room.”

  Chapter 25

  Angela and Mark sat side by side on the couch. As he put his arms around her, she nestled into him.