Defying the Darkness
Page 8
Lydia had been wanting to talk to Millie’s brother herself, considering that he was Reverend Bing, but she didn’t think she’d do it in the middle of a busy restaurant. “That’s all right, Millie. I know you aren’t the type to spread stories. But since I’m already involved, just what did the reverend recommend that Mr. Murdoch do?”
Millie laughed. “I think I’ve said quite enough already. It was sound advice, though.” When Lydia pulled an impatient face, Millie said, “Sit down and I’ll bring you some lunch on the house for my impertinence.”
Lydia sat down and ate, and then she waited. And she waited some more. Millie brought out some green beans to snap, and they sat and snapped green beans together. With every minute that passed, Lydia grew more impatient. Now that she’d made up her mind, there was nothing she wanted more than to tell him, but if he wasn’t even here to tell . . .
And maybe she didn’t even want to tell him! Maybe if he couldn’t be where he said he was going to be, he’d just miss out on the opportunity altogether!
“My goodness,” Millie said with amusement. “What did those poor beans ever do to you?”
Lydia looked down at her bowl. The last four beans weren’t just snapped—they’d had their heads ripped clean off. “I suppose I’m getting a little frustrated,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make your food ugly.”
“They’ll look all right when they’re cooked. I’m just worried about you. Are you all right?”
Lydia exhaled. “I just think that when someone says they’re going to be somewhere, they should be somewhere.”
“I understand.”
The smile on Millie’s face, though, looked more like a smirk than an understanding sort of smile.
At last, the door to the restaurant opened and the men tromped in, laughing and joking. Bradley was right in the thick of it, looking like he’d had the time of his life. Lydia stood up, put her bowl of beans on the table, and crossed her arms, waiting for him to notice her.
It took him about thirty seconds and then he stopped talking to Arthur. “Hello, Lydia. Have you had a nice day?”
“What?” Such impertinence. “Have I had a nice day? Why, yes. I think that sitting here for hours while I wait for you to come back is very nice. It’s my new favorite activity of all time. In fact, I shall do it by choice the next time I find myself bored.”
The men in the group slowly backed toward the door. “Thanks for coming with us, Bradley,” Hans said. “Nice to know you—er, meet you.”
They left, and Bradley stood by himself in the center of the room. “I didn’t realize you’d be waiting so long,” he said. “I thought you’d be at work all day.”
“When I told Mrs. Deveraux the situation, she sent me right over. I’ve been here since lunchtime. Honestly, you’d think that when a person has come to tell another person that yes, she’ll marry them, that person of the second part would actually be present in the location where they said they were going to be!”
Millie also slipped out of the room. Discreet, these people were not.
Bradley held up a hand. “Wait. Did you say you’d decided to marry me?”
“Yes, but I’m not at all sure that’s my final decision. While sitting here snapping beans, I’ve had much time to reflect, and I believe that a man who keeps a woman waiting—”
He spread his arms wide, and that was all she needed. She ran toward him and flung her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the floor. Then he set her back down and kissed her. He smelled like the woods, but all the best parts—fresh air, crisp leaves, and sunshine.
“Now, what was that about changing your mind?” he said a moment later.
“I’m not changing my mind. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Oh, something you said about being made to wait . . .”
“I’m still not happy about that, but I figure, I have the rest of our lives to make you live that down.”
He grinned. “The rest of our lives, huh?”
“Yes. Far too much time has been wasted already—I think it’s time we got started on forever.”
Epilogue
Mrs. Bradley Murdoch moved through the crowd of wedding guests who had assembled at the Hearth and Home after the ceremony. She and her new husband had decided to marry just three short days after becoming engaged—just long enough for Mrs. Deveraux to pick up a needle and make the wedding dress herself, just long enough for Millie to plan and bake a beautiful, fragrant wedding cake, and just long enough for Mrs. North to find someone else to stay with her and help out.
Lydia looked around the room and smiled. She hadn’t realized how many people in the community cared about her. Julianne and Hugh Fontaine were there, as was Clara, another girl who had been abducted and held captive with them. People from church, people from the neighborhood—they all gathered to wish her well, and she was moved that they’d gone out of their way for her.
Mr. Redfern stood in the corner, and he cleared his throat as she approached. “Miss Pullman—er, I should say, Mrs. Murdoch, congratulations on your wedding. I wish you joy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Redfern. That’s very kind of you.”
He held out a bundle tied with a piece of twine. “I told you I wanted to give you some books before you left town. I still do, but now they’re a wedding present.”
She turned them in her hands and read the spines. “These are some of my favorite plays.”
He shrugged. “I noticed that you gravitated toward plays whenever I got some into the shop, so I thought they might make a good gift for you.”
“You ordered these in just for me?”
“I did.”
His kindness touched her heart. “Thank you so much. This means a great deal to me.”
He nodded, then disappeared through the crowd.
Madeline wandered up to her side a moment later, a glass of lemonade in her hand. “This is quite a party,” she said, looking around the room. “See all these people whose lives you’ve influenced?”
“That’s rather amazing to me, considering how much I’ve kept to myself.”
“You did keep to yourself, but even in that small circle of influence, you created ripples of good. That’s something everyone can do even when they don’t feel particularly influential.” She pressed the cup of lemonade into Lydia’s hands. “I’m so proud of you.”
She began to fade, and Lydia called out, “Wait! Will I ever see you again?”
Madeline smiled. “I don’t know. Do you think you still need me?”
“Maybe. What will I do if it’s dark? You always made it seem lighter for me.”
Madeline reached out and placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “No, my dear. You battled the darkness yourself. I simply helped you understand that it could be done.” With that, she was gone.
Lydia stood there holding books in one hand and lemonade in the other. When Bradley walked up to her a moment later, he had to speak twice to get her attention because she was so wrapped up in her thoughts.
“Where did you get the lemonade?” he asked. “I didn’t see any being served.”
“You didn’t?” She glanced over at the refreshment table. “That’s odd. Someone just handed it to me.”
He chuckled. “Strangest thing. That’s the second time this week with a case of unexplained lemonade. Never mind, though. I’ve come to ask you a very important question.”
“I’ve already married you, so I think you know the answer to that one.”
“I do, and I couldn’t be more glad of it. This question is different, though. I’m about to go buy train tickets, but I don’t know where we’re going.”
“Chances are they’ll want to know that.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard that’s helpful. So tell me, my dear bride—where?”
She thought about it for a moment, looking down at the books in her hand. Then she looked back up and met his gaze. “I want to live in a nice little house on the edge of Ames, Iowa.”
&
nbsp; He looked stunned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am. You see, I realized something—I thought I was ready to embrace my dream of writing plays, but I’m not. I was ready to move across the country and try something new, but I haven’t spent enough time studying plays and how to write dialogue and how to create good characters and plots. If I tried to venture into that field right now, I’d be horribly unprepared. So I’d like to go live in your beautiful house and study playwriting, and then maybe in a year or two, we can take a trip out to San Francisco and meet a few people and see what happens from there.”
“And will that fulfill your dreams? Will you be happy?”
“I’ll be working toward my dreams, and that will make me very happy. The best thing of all, though, will be doing it with your support.”
“And that’s something you will always have,” he said, leaning forward to give her a kiss—but this time, not holding her too tightly lest the unexplained cup of lemonade get spilled.
The End
About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia C. Adams is a wife, a mother, an eater of tacos, and a taker of naps. She spends her days thinking up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you just might see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels.
You can reach her at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.
Please join Amelia on her website to learn more about her, sign up for her newsletter, stay on top of news and upcoming releases, and follow her on Facebook. In fact, you can join her readers’ group by clicking here!
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The Dark and the Dawn
A Clean Slate
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A Careless Wind
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The Bitter and the Sweet
The Calm of Night
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