Chapter Seventeen
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Luke and Sarah held hands at the front of the church, listening as the preacher droned on about love and God. Luke tried to pay attention, but his mind raced.
What in the world was he doing? How could this marriage work when the lie of his past still stood between them? How had he allowed things to come this far without telling her the truth?
If he didn’t tell her himself, she’d find out in some other way. There wasn’t a soul in this town who didn’t know he’d lost his foot during the war. It could happen at any time. One wrong word and she’d never trust him again.
He came back from his musings at the sound of Sarah’s sweet voice. She was pledging her vows, and he swore to himself he’d tell her the truth at the next opportune moment. He’d waited too long for this moment. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
Then it was his turn. Determined not to make a mistake, he carefully repeated the words that would bind them together. As he spoke, Sarah’s green eyes filled with tears, but he chose to believe they were tears of happiness and not regret.
When he slid the ring on her slim finger, she gave him a blinding smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher announced in a bored monotone. “You may kiss the bride.”
Luke took immediate advantage of the opportunity, bending to capture Sarah’s lips with his own. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, and he lost himself in the taste and touch and feel of his wife.
Hiswife.
One of their reluctant witnesses, an old woman who played the piano during church services, coughed. Sarah pulled away, adorably flustered.
The preacher offered half-hearted congratulations, while his wife and the pianist signed the marriage license. The entire thing had taken less than five minutes. Such a short time for an event that would change the rest of his life.
After they left the church, Sarah and Luke made their way to the town’s lone restaurant. Luke’s leg was bothering him again, and he thought longingly of the soft sheepskin he’d left at the hotel. He should have taken the time to make the changes Sarah had suggested, but he’d been in such a hurry to get this whole thing over with he hadn’t bothered.
Now he was afraid he would regret it. Tonight, of all nights, he didn’t want to be troubled by the constant pain that plagued him.
When they entered the restaurant, everyone turned to look at them. Dead silence fell across the room. Luke ignored them all and let his gaze fall upon Mrs. Davis, the old hag who had hurt Sarah’s feeling earlier.
“Mrs. Davis,” he said, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry to the farthest reaches of the room. “My new bride and I would like a table.”
The woman flushed crimson, but she hurried forward. “Of course, Mr. Chandler. Right this way.” They followed her to a table in the middle of the room. “Will this be acceptable?”
Luke would have laughed at the woman’s fawning attitude if he wasn’t so damned angry at the way she’d treated Sarah. “This will be fine,” he muttered, pulling out a chair for his wife.
“Everyone is staring,” Sarah whispered.
