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Lark knew the two of them had made steps toward healing their relationship, and she hoped today would cement the progress since Jessamyn had asked her mother to walk her down the aisle. Their father had opted not to attend the wedding even though Jessamyn hadn’t revoked his invitation.
Mateo Barclay hadn’t spoken to them since he’d left town after losing the ranch.
Now, Jessamyn stepped forward to take her mom’s hands in hers. “I’m really happy, too. Especially now that I’m going to be a mother.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’ll have a new take on the mother-daughter relationship now.”
Mom squeezed her hands before spinning to face all three of them. “You’ll be a wonderful mother. Better than I’ve been.”
All three of them opened their mouths to argue, but their mom shook her head, cutting them off. “No, listen to me. I had a duty to my family, and I failed you all when my life went off the rails once your father left us.”
Lark refused to be silent. “Mom, you were ill. No one can fault you for depression. We had a duty to you, too.”
She’d tried to be there for her mother. But Jennifer Barclay’s road to wellness had been a long one, worsened by setbacks with her personal life. Lark realized now it might have helped her mother more if she’d reached out to Jessamyn herself, to be a good older sister and substitute maternal figure through Jennifer’s illness. Instead, Lark had been too wrapped up in anger with her sibling.
“I know that, sweetheart. I’ve accepted that I couldn’t change my illness. But it doesn’t take away the fact that I checked out of my job as a mother during those years.” As she spoke, a warm breeze stirred the curtains behind her, even lifting the lace mantilla to flutter softly.
All their eyes went to the movement.
Lark wasn’t the superstitious sort, but even she saw it as a sign. Gran was there. Approving of the moment. Being a part of this day.
Fleur cleared her throat, her gray gaze bright with emotion. “I think Gran is saying that it’s okay. We forgive each other, and we all want to do better. Tobebetter for one another.”
And they were, Lark knew. She’d tried harder this week, reserving judgment, not assuming a negative motive on anyone else’s part, and it had paid off. She was in this wedding, a part of Jessamyn’s life once more.
What if she’d tried that hard in other areas of her life? Like with Gibson?
Her mother stepped forward, reaching a hand out to Fleur and Jessamyn, who in turn both reached out to Lark. So they stood in an unbroken circle of four. From the backyard, strains of country love songs drifted through the window from a guitar and fiddle player who’d been hired for the day.
It was almost time for the vows.
Drawing a deep breath, her mom spoke softly. “Each of you has filled me with pride in your own way. You might seem different from one another on the surface, but in your hearts, you’re all strong, independent women, brave enough to live the lives you imagined for yourselves. That takes courage.”
Lark felt a twinge at the words that were meant as a compliment but felt hollow for her personally. She could see how her sisters had done that. Fleur had taken a chance by coming to Catamount with nothing but her dreams of owning a restaurant, determined to sell the property for a profit so she had the resources to start her business. But she’d adapted her dream to encompass the town and the man she’d grown to love.
Jessamyn, too, had followed her heart to Catamount, and now she was planning to use her real estate development skills to initiate agritourism in the area, finding ways to showcase Ryder’s off-grid living initiatives in ways that would inspire others. She had plans for self-sustaining yurts in a range of wilderness locations so tourists could experience the beauty of the region as well as a commitment to the land.
All while preparing to have a baby.
But what had Lark done besides show up for the wedding and make nice with her siblings? She was planning to catch a flight in the morning to return to Los Angeles. Was that really living the life of her dreams? Or had she been playing it safe with Gibson, pushing him away before he could hurt her?
Yes, her parents’ disastrous marriage had made her gun-shy. But she’d told herself she’d grown beyond that when she took a chance on romance and married Gibson. When the going got hard, however, had she fought for her dreams? Or their shared dreams?
Not by a long shot. She’d cut and run, scared he wouldn’t be there to support her when she needed him. Afraid to give him a second chance after he hadn’t rushed to her side on that night she’d needed him.
But she wasn’t the same woman that she used to be. Two years apart had only reinforced that Gibson was the only one for her. And she’d had time to appreciate the way her sisters has fostered the love in their lives, even when there were obstacles.
She needed more courage. Before today, she hadn’t known where to find it. Yet right now, feeling the love of her family around her in a way she hadn’t experienced in over a decade, Lark felt a welling up of new fortitude.
And yes, love.
She had more to give, and she wasn’t going to leave Catamount without trying harder to live her dreams with Gibson at her side.
After the circle of four disbanded, Lark, her mom and sisters picked up their bouquets and descended the stairs.
Lark was the last one to step outside into the sunshine while the guitarist picked out the strains of a wedding march. Ahead of her, forty white folding chairs adorned with tulle and flowers sat in rows facing an arbor with four rough log posts where an officiant waited to perform the ceremony. The posts were draped in pink roses, white hydrangeas and grape hyacinths, the stems wrapped in clouds of white tulle. More white tulle fluttered around the top of the posts to provide a thin canopy from the sun.
The effect was country elegance, a perfect blend of Jessamyn’s refined preferences and her love of Western life. Ryder waited for her under the canopy in a dark gray suit, an ivory rose boutonniere complementing the bride.
With every fiber of her being, she wished that Gibson was in the crowd waiting for her. Looking toward her with even a fraction of the feeling that she could see in the groom’s eyes as he awaited his bride.
