Walker Bride by Bernadette Marie Page A

months, but she had just learned that her father had stage four
lung cancer and might not live but a few weeks. She wanted her
dress altered so she could get married tomorrow and he could walk
her down the aisle.”
    Her mother nodded slowly as if she were
trying to figure out the meaning of her story. “Did she buy the
dress from you?”
    “No. It was a hand-me-down dress she needed
to be altered.”
    “She thought you could alter a wedding dress
over night? I don’t understand people.”
    Pearl winced. No, she most certainly didn’t
understand people.
    “It wasn’t a problem. It was sweet that they
wanted to get married so he could be there. She’s very close to her
father.” It nearly hurt to say that.
    “I wonder where they will get married.
Churches are busy on Sundays.”
    Pearl stared at her mother. If it weren’t a
damning phrase to herself, she’d label her mother a typical dumb
blonde.
    She watched as her mother nearly downed the
glass of wine she’d been carrying around. How in the world had she
thought this was going to be comforting?
    The thought then zipped into her head that
she should have driven all the way out to her Aunt Glenda’s house.
Glenda Walker was the epitome of a caring mother. Next time she’d
consider that. The longer drive would be nothing compared to the
discomfort she was feeling in her mother’s house.
    Pearl decided this would be an opportunity to
soften the conversation by including her mother—that usually seemed
to work.
    “I’m sure they’ll work her in, or she’ll get
married at her house or something. But it got me thinking about how
devastating it would be to lose a parent—or expect to lose
one.”
    Her mother nodded. “I can’t imagine my mother
or father dying,” she said. “Daddy set up that trust fund all those
years ago. I don’t know if your grandmother would know how it
works.”
    And at that moment, Pearl was sure she’d been
adopted. Seriously, how could her mother be so shallow?
    “I’m sure grandma would figure it out.” She
drank down the water in her glass. “Would you like this in the
dishwasher?”
    Her mother looked perplexed. “Yes. Alexa will
find it there when she comes to clean.”
    “Alexa?”
    “My housekeeper,” she said as if she’d had
the same conversation with Pearl a hundred times. Yet Pearl had
never heard of Alexa.
    “Why do you have a housekeeper?”
    “Don’t you?” She looked offended.
    “No. I clean the store and my house.” Pearl
stood, and her mother followed. “Thanks for letting me stop
by.”
    “Oh, call ahead next time. I must look a
fright,” she said, leaning in to kiss Pearl on each cheek, but at a
distance.
    “I will.”
    Pearl left her mother’s house, and once she
was only a block away, the tears began to stream down her cheeks.
She understood that her father was a mess of a man. And the older
she got, she understood her mother was a perfect match for him.
    Her brothers’ mother, Naomi, wasn’t quite the
wreck of a woman Pearl’s mother was. Perhaps out of the three women
her father had children with, Naomi was the sanest.
    Was it too much to wish that she’d been born
on the other side of the Walker family?
    Even though Eric wasn’t Glenda’s blood son,
she treated him as she treated her other four boys. They were loved
and cared for. She was concerned for them, and their future and she
wasn’t afraid to show them how much she loved them—even as
adults.
    Glenda doted on her husband, Everett. She had
even become a very intricate part of Susan’s catering company, and
Susan had yet to marry her son.
    Even as a child, Pearl remembered wishing
that she lived out in the house on the Walker land. A part of her
felt as though she belonged there.
    But it was more than just a name. It was a
feeling when she was at the house.
    Glenda baked cookies. Her mother drank wine.
Glenda didn’t have any girls, so when Pearl and Audrey were around,
they’d even play dress-up. Again, her mother drank