Her eyes filled at the sound of the familiar endearment. Max Jamison was sitting on the edge of the huge four-poster bed, holding her hand. She remembered the feel of it, the way he'd held on to her hand while she'd ridden her first pony, so long ago.
She couldn't stop herself from staring at him. Though she'd never forgotten how he looked, he'd been frozen in time in photos and films. Now that same dear face was in front of her, a little more weathered, a few more lines, a sprinkling of white hair at the temples. But he was still her father. Max Jamison was alive.
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be. Bridal nerves." He grinned, and Amelia felt the tears start to run down her cheeks. He had a grin just like Clark Gable's in Gone with the Wind. Cocky and self-assured. And full of such love for her.
No one had ever loved her like her father had. Until Hugh.
"Now, Ami," he said, his deep voice so suddenly familiar. "Sure you want to marry this man? You can tell me otherwise up until we get to the altar, and after that it's in God's hands."
She sat up on the bed, wiped away her tears, and threw her arms around him, hugging him close, so close she felt as if she might crack his ribs.
"I do," she whispered. "But he'll never take your place in my life."
"He isn't supposed to," Max replied, his voice sounding only a little gruff. "But marriage is serious business, darling. Once you make that commitment, you can't back out."
"I know." She wanted to ask where her mother was, but didn't know how. But he answered that question soon enough.
"Your mother's in London, doing some last-minute shopping. Something came in that she'd ordered for you and Hugh. You know how mad about shopping that woman is." He laughed, his gray eyes alive with mischief. "I thought about picking her up at the train station and telling her you and Hugh eloped!"
"You wouldn't!" But she giggled, and remembered her mother as a different woman when she'd been married to her father. She'd laughed a lot more.
Amelia couldn't wait to meet her.
"Up to any more visitors?"
They both turned their heads, and saw John Lindsey standing in the bedroom doorway, a wriggling Charlie in his arms.
"Of course!" How she adored that old man.
He let the terrier go, and the little dog bounded out of his arms, hit the ground running, then leaped up on the bed and began to prance all around Amelia, barking and trying to get in a few swipes on her face with his tongue.
Charlie's having a bad day.… the vet says I'll have to be making my mind up about him soon…
This little dog was in perfect health.
"Charlie." She picked him up and hugged him, and his wiry doggie body squirmed with delight. "Oh, Charlie."
Then she burst into tears.
She went with her father to the train station. Amelia recognized her mother instantly, but not the tall, striking woman with the dark auburn hair and intelligent hazel eyes who was with her.
"Amelia," she said, "I left my car here at the station. Would you ride back with me?"
She looked to her parents, unsure.
The hazel eyes were sympathetic. "I don't mean to take you away from time you'd like to spend with your mother-"
"Oh, it's all right, Frances," her mother said. "We'll have plenty of time once we get back to the house."
Hugh's mother…
"Oh, dear," Max said. "Does this mean we can't stop off for a quick kiss at the lake like I'd planned?"
"Maxwell!" But Catherine Jamison patted his cheek as she said it.
"No, it's fine. I'll ride back with you." As she got into the familiar battered old Range Rover, Amelia wondered how long she'd actually known Hugh's mother.
Maybe she wanted to have a private word with her before the ceremony. After all, he was her beloved only son.
After today was over, nothing would ever surprise her again. How strange were the ways of the Universe. And how wise.
They were a third of the way to Lindsey House before Frances Lindsey spoke.
"I'm probably overreacting… and Hugh would throttle me if he even suspected what I was up to."
"It's all right." Amelia had a feeling she knew what was coming. She could handle it.
"I just… are you sure, Amelia? Really sure? My Hugh has never fallen in love before, and I don't want to see him hurt. I know he seems rather formidable and… something of a terror at times, but he has the softest of hearts. I know him as only a mother can."
Frances was having a hard time of this, but she plunged on and Amelia admired her for it. It was such a demonstration of love for her son.
"So if you have any doubts, please voice them now."
What a fierce mother hen, protecting her only chick.
"I'm sure." Her voice was perfectly steady. How much Jane had taught her. She'd needed to go back through time, needed to see things through different eyes, through a different and very courageous soul, in order to find peace within herself.
She would never, ever forget Emma. Though her health had been frail, the tiny woman had possessed the heart of a lion.
"Personally, I think the two of you are perfect for each other," Frances continued, her eyes on the road. "I knew from the moment you came to the house. Amelia, I never had any doubts, but there were times when I sensed you were afraid."
"I was. I'm not anymore."
"Good." Frances smiled, then reached for her hand and gave it a brief squeeze. "Don't think of me as an ogre of a mother-in-law, will you?"
"Never."
"I know I'm being overprotective, but Hugh is my firstborn, and holds a very special place in my heart. I know that must seem strange, what with seven other children, but-"
Amelia didn't hear any more; she turned her head ever so slightly so her future mother-in-law wouldn't see the sheen of tears in her eyes and misconstrue them.
She had eight children, not just Hugh.
Amelia remembered that day with John, when he showed her the family photos lining the walls. Hugh's teddy bear tea, how Frances had wanted more children, that awful fall from her horse. She'd bet there were many more photos along that wall now.
You'll have seven sisters and brothers now. And who knows how many nieces and nephews.
She sat forward in the car seat, and glanced at her future mother-in-law. Amelia had the feeling they were going to get along just fine.
"Anxious to get back?" Now Frances was smiling.
"Yes."
She was ready to be married.
The wedding took place in the middle of the garden, in the early evening. The weather was gorgeous; everyone commented on it for weeks afterward. The garden was alive with starlings, sparrows, dogs, and cats. Children laughed and an excited anticipation seemed to grip the guests.
Amelia approached the heart of the garden with her father, along a walkway Penny had made through the grounds by draping and knotting white satin ribbon from tree to tree. Tiny white lights sparkled among the branches, making the garden seem magical, inhabited by fairies. The overlapping white runner, scattered with rose petals, protected the hem of her gown.
They reached the arch that Penny had designed, twined with more of Jonathan's lilies, and also gardenias, lilacs, and roses. Hugh looked so dashing in his cutaway suit, trousers, and wing-collar shirt. The expression on his face when he saw her approaching in her bridal finery made her glad he hadn't seen her in it before this moment in time.
Amelia and her father reached the altar, and she found this particular good-bye wasn't difficult at all. He squeezed her hand, then gave her over to Hugh with a wink that seemed to say, No backing out now. She smiled at Penny, her maid of honor, who was trying valiantly not to cry. Then Amelia handed her the bridal bouquet.