Page 145 of True North

If there is one thing a mother is certain of about their child, it’s the day they find the other half of their soul. It’s not something to take lightly and must be treasured. It’s as if that one person simply locks into place for them. They feel it. I saw the shift in my Harry, the day I first met you.

You remember the day, I’m sure. It’s my guess you felt the same way my son did. Does. That’s one thing I’m certain will never waiver in his brilliant mind, his commitment to you.

It never has.

On that note...

Something old ~ my crystal hair pin. It was my mother’s and hers before. That’s as old as anything has the right to get.

Something new ~ don’t tell Harry but I splurged a little after we bought the ranch. I bought one for me and one for you. A silk handkerchief. I figured we’d need them in the near future.

I let the box slide from my lap and pluck out the pin and handkerchief. It’s smooth and luscious, with an L embroidered in silver thread. The tears that welled in my eyes with the first half of the note slip over my cheeks. I sniff them back, desperate not to spoil my makeup, as basic as it is. Rosie was right, as she always was—I’m in need of a fine handkerchief today. And I’m yet to see Harry.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, I continue reading the note.

Something borrowed ~ well, this one was a little harder to come by, and it must be returned. Mama lent her finest cake slide to you and Harry for the cutting of the cake. And if it’s a quiet little affair, like I suspect both of you will want, make my boy something sweet. He mentioned something about a chocolate cake you made him once? Maybe that.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Rosie and Mama had exchanged the cake knife before I’d asked about buying the restaurant. Was that why they were so easy about the arrangement?

Something blue ~ ah, now this one might be my favorite. The best thing I have to give to you meeting this requirement is the long, steady gaze that will meet you at the end of the aisle. The shade varies with his mood, and we all know he has those in spades, but I promise you, they will always be yours.

A sob chugs from my throat.

My makeup is absolutely ruined, tears flowing freely now. God, I wish she was here. To see Harry stand at the end of the aisle. To witness all her sacrifices blossom into a big, beautiful life. She founded this. Us. Without Rosie, her cooking lessons request—when I knew she clearly just wanted to find a way to have me in their life—her soul-deep faith in the two of us, her gumption ’til the very end, I wouldn’t be sitting in this house that is about to be my home for the rest of my days. About to take her last name and stand beside her son.

She has handed over the helm.

I could never take her place. But I will make certain I live up to her legacy every day as Mrs. Harry Rawlins.

A soft knock snaps me from my reverie.

“Honey? You ready? The preacher is waiting. Harry’s getting more fidgety with every minute.”

My mother stands in the doorway to Rosie’s room, her long, slightly silvered blonde hair tied up in a French knot. Her Sunday best still fits her like it did ten years ago, on the day of the last service I attended with her. Her green eyes, the exact replica of my own, travel my tear-stained face. She pushes off the frame and comes to sit beside me.

“I realize your father and I haven’t been around much. But I am so glad you found your home here. I kind of always expected you to.”

Her words only make my tears turn from a stemmed smolder to a searing flow. I grip my face with both hands. I don’t want to be puffy-eyed and splotchy on my wedding day. I don’t want to look a mess for Harry.

“What’s all this?” Mom asks.

I show her the note, and she reads it quickly. Her face pinches, and she scrunches her nose up. Her eyes line with silver as mine did.

“She was one hell of a woman, that Rosie Rawlins.”

“Yeah?” I don’t understand why the word comes out a question. I already know she was.

“Gosh, the woman was a saint. Putting up with that man. Raising a boy like Harry to the man he is today. I can tell you that was no accident. She gave up a lot.”

“She did.” More than my own mother, or anyone else, will ever know.

I take grounding breaths, straightening out my lacy dress and wiping my face dry. I channel my inner Rosie Rawlins and stand. Mom helps me fix the items in place and I do one last check in the old vintage mirror on her dresser before I crook my arm and escort my mother into the hallway.

“If I could be half the woman Rosie was, I would be happy. And you taught me well enough to make it happen.” I kiss Mom’s cheek, and she nudges my shoulder with hers.

“Well, let’s get you married.”

“Let’s.”

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