Epilogue
Snowflakes fell thick and fast from the cloud
blanket that covered the Triple C. Now and then a blustery north
wind sent them swirling against The Homestead’s windows, creating
shifting patterns of gray and white. Try as they might, the cold
and the snow couldn’t penetrate the towering white house that stood
so proud and tall on the knoll overlooking the ranch
headquarters.
Lights gleamed from its windows in
defiance of the premature darkness the November storm had brought
to the afternoon. In the den, flames crackled and leaped over the
stack of split logs in the fireplace, the heat from it bringing an
extra warmth to the room.
Chase dozed in a wingbacked chair next
to the fire, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. A heavy sweater
hung loosely from his stooped shoulders, the added layer of
clothing an attempt to warm his old bones. Dimly he felt the brush
of something across his legs and stirred. His drowsy eyes were slow
to identify the petitely built woman standing by his chair. For a
moment her features swam in and out of focus, but the striking
green of her eyes and the shining darkness of her hair, only
faintly threaded with gray, registered immediately. Joy swelled
within him and a tightness gripped his throat at the sight of his
beloved Maggie.
As he reached out to her, she spoke.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, Dad.”
Dad. His hand fell back onto the
armrest, the illusion shattered. Chase worked to conceal the bitter
disappointment he felt at the discovery it was his daughter Cat
standing before him and not his late wife.
He used gruffness to hide any lingering
ache in his voice. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Of course not.” Cat smiled in dry
disbelief and bent to tuck the edges of a heavy blanket around his
legs.
The action prompted him to notice the
new weight of it on his leg. “What’s this about?” Chase demanded,
the sight of it making him feel like an invalid.
“I don’t want you getting
chilled.”
“So you’re going to roast me instead?”
His glance was sharp with reproof.
“Now you know what the doctor said,
Dad.” Her voice had that indulgent tone parents used when speaking
to their children, further irritating him.
“The man’s a quack,” Chase grumbled.
“He claimed I had pneumonia, but it was nothing but a damned
cold.”
The instant the diagnosis had been made
Cat had appointed herself as his personal nurse and moved into The
Homestead to care for him. Although Cat had never said so, Chase
knew the move was to be a permanent one. Living in the ranch house
she had once shared with Logan had proved to be too painful and too
lonely. Truthfully, Chase welcomed her presence even if she fussed
over him too much.
“It doesn’t matter whether it was
pneumonia or a common cold, we still can’t risk a relapse,” Cat
insisted, “not with the wedding coming up next week. You know how
determined Laura is that you be the one who gives her
away.”
At the mention of Laura, Chase suddenly
noticed the lack of chattering voices and other sounds of the
flurry of pre-wedding activity that had filled The Homestead these
last few days. “Where is Laura?”
“Upstairs with Tara and the seamstress.
They’re finishing up the final fitting.”
He frowned. “How come you aren’t up
there with them?”
“I was. I just came down to check on
you,” Cat replied with a kind of studied nonchalance and drifted
over to the window as if drawn by the thickening curtain of white
flakes. “The snow’s coming down a lot heavier. I hope the roads
aren’t slick.”
Chase knew at once that the remark was
more than just an idle one and guessed, “Quint went over to the
Circle Six, did he?”
Cat hesitated fractionally, then
nodded. “He wanted to check on the cattle—make sure there was
enough hay out for them. I thought he’d be back by now,” she added
with a faint note of worry.
The day after his father’s funeral
Quint had handed in his letter of resignation. Chase wasn’t
surprised by his decision. The boy had always had a strong sense of
duty, and there wasn’t any doubt that Cat had needed him
desperately in those first months following Logan’s
death.
“Quint’s never been the kind to take
unnecessary risks.” Chase said to allay her concern. “If the roads
are bad, he’ll just stay at the ranch.” After a slight pause, he
added. “It’s natural to worry about him. All parents worry about
their children, whether they’re four years old or forty. But you
can’t continue to lean on Quint. It isn’t healthy for either of
you.”
“I know,” Cat admitted on a faint
sigh.
Chase was about to say more when an
upstairs door opened and the house echoed with the sound of
multiple footsteps and feminine chatter. He listened to it flow
down the staircase and arched an amused glance at his
daughter.
“With Laura in the house, the quiet
couldn’t last.” He knew he’d miss the noise when she moved to
England.
“How true,” Cat agreed and moved away
from the window. “A snowy afternoon like this seems to call for a
cup of hot cocoa. Would you like me to fix you one?”
“I’d rather have coffee.” Chase
replied.
“I’ll bring you a cup.” She crossed to
the doorway and paused there, her attention transfixed on something
in the living room. “Laura,” she murmured, the single word
conveying a wealth of utter appreciation and approval.
“Is Gramps in the den?” The familiar
voice of his granddaughter reached his ears.
Chase spoke up before Cat could answer.
“I’m here.”
“Close your eyes, Gramps. I have
something I want to show you,” Laura said.
The beginnings of a small smile edged
the corners of his mouth. “I think it might be hard to see it if I
close my eyes.”
“Very cute,” Laura chided with
affection. “Just cover your eyes and I’ll tell you when you can
look. Let me know when he’s ready, Aunt Cat,” she
added.
Realizing that Laura was determined to
have it her way, as usual, Chase chose to indulge her whim and
placed a hand over his eyes. Almost immediately light footsteps
approached the den’s entrance, accompanied by the soft rustle of
fabric.
“You can look now,
Gramps.”
He lowered his hand and beheld the
vision of his granddaughter poised in the doorway and dressed in a
wedding gown of white satin. Its line was simple but incredibly
elegant, with long, flowing sleeves and an artful studding of
pearls. She was all beauty and grace, a sight that caused a
swelling of pride in his chest.
“I wanted you to see me in the gown
I’ll be wearing at our ceremony in Scotland,” Laura exclaimed,
careful not to make any direct reference to the fact that he
wouldn’t be present. It was the consensus that the trip would be
too long and hard for him at his advanced age. “What do you think?
Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, of course, but”—Chase
frowned—“are you saying you have two wedding gowns?”
“Really Gramps, I can’t have Sebastian
seeing me in the same one twice. It just isn’t done,” Laura chided.
“Besides, since the wedding will take place in Skibo Castle, I
thought I should wear something with a slightly medieval
look.”
“Having two gowns is as foolish as
having two weddings,” he grumped. “One should be good
enough.”
“Now, Gramps, we’ve been through all
that.” With an indulgent smile, she glided across the room to his
chair and sat sideways on the arm of it, facing him. “It simply
wasn’t feasible for Sebastian’s family and friends to fly over here
for the wedding. There wouldn’t have been enough room to put them
all up.” She lightly smoothed his coarse gray hair. “And nearly
every Calder bride has been married right here in the den. I
couldn’t very well break that tradition, now could I?”
“No, you couldn’t do that. You are,
after all, a Calder.” A calmness settled over him. And Chase knew
that long after he was gone, the Calder tradition would continue.
That tradition of passion and pain, loving and losing, trial and
triumph would never die. It was the Calder way.