Susan Fox: To Tame a Bride

Though it had broken her heart, she’d understood how unfair it was that a woman as beautiful as her mother had been left alone to raise a homely little girl. She’d worried about how embarrassing it must be for Rosalind to be seen with her, and to have to present such an ugly child to her glamorous friends—whose own children were so pretty and handsome... and cruel.

Her worst fears came true the summer she turned eight. She’d known then that it was too late; her mother had waited long enough for her ugly duckling to show some sign of becoming a swan. Rosalind St. John had taken Madison to her grandmother, Clara Chandler, introduced her to the elderly woman whom she’d never met, then abandoned her to her grandmother’s dour mercies.

As an adult, Madison understood how crippling her childhood had been, how desolate and misguided. Living with her grandmother had been a new little hell of its own. But through her grandmother, she’d gotten to meet her country cousin, Caitlin Bodine. Though dark-haired Caitlin was as beautiful as a little angel, she’d never seemed to notice that Madison was homely. She never made fun of her face or her hair, never was mean to her in any way.

Caitlin’s mother had just died and her father didn’t care about her either. With so much in common, they’d bonded to each other instantly. Madison had been so grateful for Caitlin’s unconditional friendship that she’d cried herself to sleep with happiness every night that first week.

Madison blinked away the sentimental sting. Caitlin... The painful moral dilemma she’d been wrestling with for weeks sent another wave of chaos through her heart. Could she truly forgive her cousin and dearest friend for what she’d done? Only the distraction of her mother’s phone call could have quieted that chaos and given her a strong enough focus to ignore it.

She walked into the library and paused to close the door. The moment she was certain she was alone, she dashed across to the big desk and snatched up the telephone receiver. She hesitated before she spoke, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to moderate her excited breaths to sound completely normal and composed. Her pulse rate accelerated until her heart battered her chest.

Her quiet, “Madison St. John,” was as unaffected as she could make it. She gripped the phone receiver so tightly that her fingers ached.

“Hello, Maddie! My goodness, you sound so grown-up—how are you, dear?”

Rosalind’s question was a practised social opener, not one she seriously wanted an answer to. Madison forced a smile into her voice and came right back with a saccharine, “How are you, Mother? You sound wonderful.”

“I’ve remarried,” Rosalind burst out, as if she were too happy to contain herself.

Madison lowered herself slowly to the swivel chair behind the desk and bit her lower lip viciously as she listened to her mother’s excited voice.

Rosalind had remarried. How many husbands did that make now? Her new husband, Roz said, was a very rich older man who showered her with attention and fun and the most exquisite gifts. His grown children adored her, and she was now a grandmother.

“Stepgrandmother, of course,” Rosalind chirped on. “Of course, no one can believe that I’m old enough to be a grandmother—” She paused to laugh at that. “I get so tired of everyone constantly remarking that I look too young to be a grandma. I’m thinking of simply claiming that I’m their mommy. Oh, they’re such little dears—three of them now—two precious, precious little girls, and one very handsome little boy...”

Madison bowed her head, hurt beyond words. The “little dears” must have had the good fortune to be born beautiful. And God, three of them!

“Hastings is eager to meet you, dear,” her mother went on, oblivious to the painful silence on Madison’s end of the line. “He wants you to come up to Aspen for the weekend. All the children will be here—”

Madison lifted her head as an agony of hope and excitement stormed through her. She’d never ever been invited anywhere by her mother. She was acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d even seen Rosalind, because some part of her heart had kept constant track. Twelve years, three months, a few odd weeks, a handful of days...

The reminder sent a flash of outrage through her as the truth dawned. The new husband—Hastings?—must have asked more questions than any of Roz’s other men had had the sense to. Rosalind probably felt compelled to summon her ugly duckling daughter to her side. Had she somehow found out that Madison had at long last grown into a swan? Maddie knew instantly that she would be expected to parade herself before Roz’s new husband and stepfamily to provide her errant mother with some sort of legitimacy and standing with them.

Hastings must be a billionaire.

The cynical thought came naturally to Madison. Her mind darted between the only two options she had, yes or no.

Yes, I’ll come today... No, you never wanted me...

Yes to the glimmer of hope? No to the nightmare of pretense. The pain and resentment of a lifetime gave her pride a hard nudge.

“I—I don’t know when I can get away,” she made herself say.

“Oh dear, we’ll only be here until Sunday afternoon!” The coaxing whine Madison had forgotten stirred up more old anger and made her grit her teeth.

“I’ll see what I can do, mother. It’s so hard to get away on such short notice.”

Rosalind was oblivious to the little dig. “Oh, sweetheart, do please try. Hastings and the children will be so disappointed. I’ll be just devastated if you can’t come up...” She let her voice trail away as if she’d become too emotional to go on.

Someone on Rosalind’s end of the line must have been close enough to eavesdrop, which accounted for her Oscar-worthy performance. Madison was suddenly and profoundly sick to her stomach.

“I’ll try, Mother,” she finally got out.

“Oh, that’s my darling.” Roz’s tone switched so quickly to business that she confirmed Madison’s suspicion that Roz’s pleading just seconds ago was a puton because she had an audience she wanted to impress.

Roz prattled off a series of directions to the Aspen residence—one of Hastings’s five homes in the U.S. Madison didn’t bother to write them down. Because they were her mother’s words, she’d remember each one as if they’d been carved on her heart with a dull knife.

Clearly confident that Madison would rush to Aspen, Roz ended the brief conversation and hung up.

Madison sat stiffly, dazed, her heart still beating wildly, her stomach still heavy with nausea. The dial tone droned unnoticed for several moments. Finally, she realized she was still pressing the receiver to her ear. She pulled it away and reached over to set it in its cradle. Her hand was shaking violently.

Madison retreated to her room and spent most of Friday pacing. How could Rosalind expect her to fall all over herself to get to Colorado? How could she possibly stay away? The dilemma tied her in knots that seemed to be spiked with thousands of sharp little pins.

She wrestled with the choice, reliving the pain of a lifetime, so wary of opening herself for more that she was literally unable to reach a decision that didn’t make her feel ill. By the time she went to bed that night, her head was pounding. She managed to sleep only because she’d worn herself out.

By morning, she convinced herself that she had to go to Colorado, and called the airlines in San Antonio to book a flight. She soon discovered that the world had conspired to keep her in Texas at least another day.

At first, she was merely annoyed that every flight with connections to Colorado was booked. By midmoming, she was desperate. She’d tried to hire a private flight out of Coulter City, but there were no local pilots available that day, no matter how much money she offered.