Chapter 4: The Wedding Night Pact

Having thought it through, I said to Mom, "Since you’re trusting me with them, I have to do the job right. Caleb is a handful—if he acts up, can I spank him?"

I sat across from her at the old oak table, the one with my sister’s initials carved in the underside. The sun was just starting to dip behind the pines outside.

Mom nodded fast. "Of course! If you don’t keep him in line, I’d worry he’ll get spoiled."

She meant it, too—she’d never coddled us, even when it broke her heart. She wanted those kids tough enough for the world, not caged by it.

That’s more like it.

I felt a little tension slip from my shoulders, finally sensing she understood what I was getting into.

I continued, "What about Natalie? Can I scold her?"

I thought of my sister’s gentle voice, how she’d guide Natalie through her ABCs. Could I fill those shoes, even a little?

"No problem."

Mom was still reasonable.

I took comfort in the way her answer came without hesitation, as if trusting me was the most natural thing in the world.

Finally, I said, "What about Daniel? I’ve always found him a pain—can I hit him?"

I raised an eyebrow, hoping to lighten the mood. Mom just groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Mom wiped her brow. "That you’ll have to ask your mother-in-law. He’s not my kid…"

We both laughed, just a little, breaking the tension.

“….”

The silence hung in the air, filled with all the things we couldn’t say.

Finally, I said seriously, "Mom, do you trust me?"

My voice was softer, almost a plea, but I needed to know she was truly behind me.

Mom looked at me for a long moment and said, "You’re my daughter, and you were raised by your grandpa—smart, brave, and honest. If I can’t trust you, who can I trust?"

Her voice wavered, but there was steel beneath it—the same grit that ran through our family like a backbone.

That was enough for me.

So, I brought my people and a big dowry from Flagstaff and, as everyone wished, married into the McAllister family with all the bells and whistles.

We arrived in a caravan of old pickup trucks and one shiny SUV loaded with cedar chests and quilt bundles, drawing every neighbor’s gaze from their porch swings. Aunt Ruth brought her infamous lemon bars, and Uncle Joe cracked jokes about the whole house shaking from so many people.

A second marriage rarely comes with such a lavish dowry and fuss, so the folks at the McAllister place immediately understood my status in my own family was no less than my sister’s.

The side glances and low whispers from the McAllister cousins said it all—nobody expected the new Mrs. McAllister to arrive with such fanfare, or for my grandpa to give a toast that made even Daniel look uncomfortable.

On the wedding night, I’d planned to be upfront with Daniel: from now on, we’d raise the kids together and keep to our own business.

I spent an hour rehearsing what I’d say, pacing in my new room with my sister’s wedding photo on the dresser. My wedding dress still smelled like mothballs and lilacs.

Who’d have thought that, until midnight, the guy came home drunk, stumbling, supported by a couple of young attendants, and passed out as soon as he hit the bed.

He reeked of whiskey and stale cologne, slurring a half-hearted apology before collapsing across the covers. The attendants muttered apologies and hurried out, leaving me alone with a snoring groom.

My maids looked at each other and whispered, “How can the young master act like this?”

They shared a look, the kind that said, ‘So much for romance.’ My cousin Sarah snuck a flask from her purse and handed it to me, grinning.

No wedding toast, no wedding night—really something.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Daniel drool on the pillow, and wondered if this was the universe’s idea of a joke.

Besides, he’s not some college kid. How could he get drunk that easily?

It crossed my mind that maybe he’d done it on purpose—no one gets that drunk on light beer and county politics unless they’re avoiding something big.

In the end, it just showed he didn’t value me, the second wife.

There’s a kind of insult in being ignored so thoroughly, even if you’re not looking for romance. It stung more than I cared to admit.

I figured, maybe he didn’t want me getting pregnant right away, so it wouldn’t affect my sister’s two kids.

He’d made his priorities clear: the kids came first, my place was to fill a gap, not create new ones.

Since we wanted the same thing, I didn’t make things hard for him. I waved my hand, had my maids change his clothes, and rolled him onto the couch.

I let the maids tuck him in with a throw blanket, then turned the thermostat down, the hum of the heater filling the silence.

As Daniel snored off his whiskey, I sat in my wedding dress, wide awake, wondering if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.