Cupid Valentine (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 11)
Page 8
“Where will ya spend the night?” he asked. “Yer house burned to the ground.”
Another hurdle to face. Not only was her family dead, so was every memory of them wiped from the face of the earth. How ironic.
The thought of curling up on the cot in the back room on the site of this night’s tragedy unsteadied her nerves. “I’ll stay at Fran’s boarding house tonight.” The idea appealed to the loneliness that swept over her.
Forty minutes later, Kara stood on the porch, facing the darkened boarding house. She walked the perimeter until she noticed a light from one of the bedrooms. She inhaled deeply and knocked lightly on the glass. Almost immediately a young head peeped out from behind the closed curtain. Kara watched as her eyes rounded in surprise. Chris beckoned to the front of the house, let the drapery fall, grabbed a lantern and took off on the run through the hall to the entrance. She unbolted the door and flung it open. Kara appeared seconds later.
Chris pulled the reluctant visitor inside. “It’s freezing out there. What are you doing wandering around this time of the night?”
The overanxious child spoke loudly and soon brought her mother and Fran out to investigate. Straight off Fran spotted the ghostly white of Kara’s face. She peeled off the winter coat, hat, and mitts and guided her into the fire-lit parlor. Fran steered Kara to an oversized comfy chair then shimmied the boots from her feet. Tamara sped to the kitchen to heat milk, while Chris stood in a state of bewilderment over the entire mysterious visit.
“Oh, my, yer feet are like ice blocks.” Fran removed Kara’s socks and hung them close to the fire then returned to rub her feet and calves until circulation restored life to them. Chris hurried to the fireplace and added a log, igniting the flames.
Kara’s voice trembled. “Thank you, all. I think I got lost.”
“Lost?” Chris’ confused eyes questioned that anyone could get lost in Livingston. “Where’s your house?”
“Gone.”
“Gone? Child don’t talk in riddles,” Fran said to Kara who continued to bite her trembling lip.
Tamara arrived with the soothing drink and passed it to her. “Drink this. A sure remedy for comfort.”
Kara accepted it but needed help to wrap both hands around the cup. “Please speak to us, Kara. What’s happened?”
Kara sipped her beverage and started to become aware of her surroundings. “Not sure how I got here. It was my destination when I left the shop, but somehow I got disorientated. My head is not talking to my feet tonight.”
“Why are you not at home with your mother? I know how you dote over her,” said Fran.
Kara’s voice cracked. “She’s gone, too.”
“Your mother is dead?” Tamara was fearful to ask for clarification lest she’s heard wrong and upset the young woman further.
“A fire. Pa set the house ablaze but not before he suffocated my mother. They’re all gone, and I’m alone, in the cold.”
“Nonsense, girl. You are never alone as long as I draw breath,” said Tamara. “You have obviously had a big night. Are you tired enough to sleep?”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Ya can use the room at the end of the hall,” said Fran. Doesn’t get a blast of sunlight streamin’ in the window first thing in the mornin’. You sleep as long as ya like, hear me, and we’ll talk again when yer head ain’t so muddled.”
“And I’ll find you a warm flannelette nightdress from my drawer,” said Tamara.
“I’ll run ahead and start the fire going in her room,” said Chris already on the run. Kara caught the worry on the young girl’s expression. She wished that her composure would return and she could ease their confused pain, but there was nothing to summon but ruin. Instead, Kara allowed herself to be led around and tucked under the covers like a child.
When they all left her alone, in the room at the end of the hall, Kara began, with a squeaky voice, to recite the four-line goodnight rhyme that her mother had encouraged her to pray every night. Over and over she prayed until the words lulled her into a peaceful sleep.
MOVING FORWARD
The next few days passed as if walking blindly in a dense fog – far more oppressive than the one that settled over the mountains since the first morning Kara awakened at the boarding house. Kara often stared into the foothills and beyond, imagining that their mystique somehow wrapped Livingston under a shroud – as if to join in her time of mourning. It was only right to grieve for such a loss as one’s entire family – gone in one night. Kara had told herself that very thing every day during the week that followed while she numbly hid away in the sewing room, stitching new garments for herself from leftover pieces of fabric.
Inside her shop, Kara felt strangely alive – despite the gruesome fact that her father had been shot to death just two feet beyond the closed door of the room where she sat. She gazed on the exit, imagining she might overhear rebuke or anger hissing from her father’s ghost beyond. For his soul was plainly not ready to meet his Maker, and she suspected that he dwelled in a painful place on the other side. Her mind eased when she pictured her mother, liberated and free, dancing through fields of flowers and picking exotic herbs to celebrate her new life.
Kara only left her place of business to check on Stephen. The wound from the bullet hole he’d taken for her was healing and the doctor sent him home to recuperate. Kara made him soup and stocked his food closet with bread and desserts, laying out meals for him when she was unavailable to serve him. During these visits, Kara uncovered details of his life before he came to Montana – his family, school, jobs, the awakening of his dreams and the heartbreak of first love.
She, in turn, told him of her childhood – the happy time before the death of her brother, the life-sucking grief that tore her family apart, and her final walk to the altar – just yesterday – to give all the pain of her past over to her Lord for His safe keeping. Kara vowed to embrace freedom, resurrect all her quenched dreams and dare to share her story with Stephen. Their time together was redemptive and satisfying, a place where Kara’s heart surrendered to the perfect piercing of Cupid’s arrow.
The frozen ground saved her the hypocrisy of a funeral for the late Sam Frankford. He lay in a box in the gravedigger’s storage shed, frozen solid by now, and waiting to be dug six feet under. Most likely she would be the only one in attendance – or perhaps Stephen if their love continued to bloom from the ashes of this tragedy. By springtime, everyone will have forgotten that Sam Frankford ever existed – his life and death a mere ripple in a mud puddle that the Livingston community stepped around to avoid.
For her mother, Kara held a private ceremony. She gathered ashes from the location of the bedroom in their burnt home, and after crying over a wasted life, Kara dug what she deemed to be her mothers remains deep inside a flowerpot that she would transplant later in a spring garden.
As far as her home, she turned her back on it with no regret. She recalled but a few good memories from her childhood and chose to cherish them alone as her legacy. The further she walked, putting the ruins behind her, the greater freedom Kara experienced. Each footstep taken in the opposite direction produced a lighter bounce, and she marveled at the deadweight that fell from her shoulders.
A closed sign hung at the entrance door of the Made to Order tailor shop. Tamara, Chris, Joel, and Annie worked all Saturday morning erasing every sign of the fatal night and restoring the space to its former welcome and client-friendly service area. Chris used the time to incorporate the last of her design ideas, and the group finished the task with a sense of great satisfaction.
The foursome moved into the storage room to join Stephen and Kara with their overwhelming job. On one end of the space, they pushed the remaining shelves and cabinets and filled them with unused clutter or product, not for customer viewing. A heavy curtain was hung across the entire middle ceiling, from one end to the other, and fell to the floor separating the huge space into two. Men from the community arrived and positioned the donated items.
“Kara, do you prefer this flowery bedspread or the striped one to lay as a top cover?” Chris asked.
Kara turned from the small kitchen area where she worked. The men had reconstructed it from the basic version built to serve a business, not a home. It now consisted of upper shelves, an extension of counter space under the existing pump and basin, and a closed-in cabinet to store food. It was far from spacious, but more than sufficient for one person. For now, she would use the potbelly heater to cook on, but she’d already picked a real cook stove from the order catalog at the Mercantile and would own it soon if the orders for clothing kept coming in.
A double bed had arrived earlier from a church member, and Chris and Annie were busy making it up. Kara joined them. “I like the flowers. It’s colorful and holds the promise of spring.”
Chris and Annie both giggled and hugged. Kara laughed. “I suspect you girls are anxiously waiting for the season to change, as well.”
“Our dreams came true at Christmas time. Did you know both Annie and I, while living at opposite ends of this great country, both wished on the same wishing star?”
“Now we don’t know that it’s the same star, Chris. You mustn’t exaggerate all the time.”
“Phooey – what does it matter? The result is still the same. We both wanted a sister, and we both wanted our parents to find love. Isn’t that just about the happiest love story you heard told, Kara?”
“It is indeed. I am thrilled for you all.”
Chris leaned in close, her eye remaining pasted in Kara’s direction, but the tilt of her head nodding in Stephen’s. “There’s plenty of magic left in that old wishing star, Miss Frankford.”
Kara considered the child’s words. Ever since she’d met Stephen, he’d been overly attentive to her. And Kara liked it. The old maid prediction, with which the gossipers had labeled and teased her, and more importantly, she had believed, was slowly fading into the background of her mind. Stephen brought out the best in Kara and had managed to open her heart to the possibility of exploring her personal happily-ever-after.
“We will see. The man is taking his time.”
“You can’t deny the Cupid angels their belated Christmas magic, now can you?” Annie said.
Stephen stepped up behind the group. “Not if I can help it.” The glow from his expression spilled adoration upon Kara. She blushed, and the girls giggled.
“Gifts from the North Pole can’t be cast aside easily,” Chris said.
Annie corrected her again. “Now Chris, anyone could have written that return address – maybe even Cupid.”
“Or two angels in disguise,” Chris added.
That caused Annie to squirm. “Best get back to the bed making, Chris.”
Kara could now care less how the miracle happened – just that it did. She and Stephen walked off toward the small kitchen.
*****
Annie sidled in close to Chris. “You need to watch your tongue unless you want us to stay on the naughty list for the entire year.”
“Don’t you see Annie – we can create this magic on our own. Start up our own business. Maybe name it Love’s Little Helpers or our original idea the Dream Team.”
Annie stopped fluffing the pillow. “Or Dream Creations.”
“Or Mini Match Makers. The options are endless.” Chris whispered excitedly. “So what do you think? Our first match is looking like a hit. Two more lonely hearts scratched off the list.”
“But Mrs. Claus might be offended – not to mention Cupid. Do you think he’s a real character too?” asked Annie.
“We saw the Claus family with our own eyes back at the ranch. Can’t deny that. Don’t see why there can’t be a Cupid thrown into the come-to-life fairy-tale mix.”
“Oh, Chris. It’s so nerve-wracking. What if we make the wrong match and cause unnecessary grief?”
“You always like to play on the safe side,” said Chris. “Tell you what – next time we won’t rush into it so fast, do a bit of homework on the side. Say a few prayers. Will that calm your nerves?”
Annie grinned. “Good chance it might – but I‘m a tad nervous about the magic element. Mrs. Claus won’t be doing the gift sending so it won’t be touched by love-frost from the North Pole.”
“Didn’t you listen? She gets her love from the Miracle Maker. We all have access to Him. We will make him an active member of our club.”
“Like a mystic overseeing leader?” asked Annie.
“You bet.” Chris moved to the side and ushered the unseen guest into their midst. She stuck out her baby finger to Annie and motioned for the third silent member to do the same. They wrapped pinkie’s together, tugging them up and down in the signed and sealed movement.
“I feel better about it all now. God in, and Mrs. Claus out. Loyalty issues successfully transferred,” said Annie.
“That’s what I love best about you, Annie. You are the most loyal, trustworthy, best friend, and soon to be sister that a girl could ever have wished possible.”
Chris hugged Annie, and the girls returned to making the bed for the first recipient of their matchmaking endeavour to sleep tonight. The counterpart, the banker, Stephen, had proven to be an unopened gift waiting for the right girl to pull the blue ribbon. The couple wasn’t married yet, but Chris could see new love shining from both their eyes. And that was a great place to start any romance.
*****
Epilogue
Kara counted the days until the Valentine dance. She’d be attending this year with an escort. First time ever. She’d worked late into the night finishing up the final stitches on a fancy red dress that she’d designed for the occasion. One of a kind, with all the tucks and flows precisely in the places she knew flattered the shape of her body. On the afternoon of the event, Kara closed the shop early and poured warm water into the basin for a sponge bath. She had splurged on a bar of rose smelling soup and lathered herself with the sweet fragrance. Throwing on a wrap, she dumped the dirty water out back in a snowdrift and scurried back inside. After pouring clean water into the deep basin, she leaned over and plunged her head under. When her hair was wet, she held the soap firmly in her grasp and worked it in. Then her fingernails dug into her scalp. It felt good, and after a final rinse wound a towel around her locks to leave it dry for a while.
From the closet, she withdrew the new gown, a delicate flowing skirt that would billow when Stephen twirled her around the dance floor. For the bodice, Kara had dared to dip the front lower than any dress she’d worn in her entire life. Her father would have called her a dance-hall-girl, but many respectable ladies wore garments such as this one. Kara only cared that Stephen would be proud to walk into the public building with her on his arm.
When the knock sounded on her backroom door, she inhaled and snuck one final peek in the mirror. Her hair had yielded their stubborn curls to the combs, and she wore an upsweep with natural ringlets resting on her shoulders. Her face glowed with untreated beauty, and her eyes sparkled anticipating an evening designed for lovers.
The knock sounded again, and she knew her preparation time had come to an end. Kara need not have been concerned, for when she opened the door she saw the response she longed for on Stephen’s face. A descent man had finally noticed and appreciated her – not just any man, but Stephen.
“You are far more lovely than the grandest star blinking in the Montana sky outside your door, Miss Kara Frankford. And to think the heavens have shared you with me for the entire evening.” He bowed slightly and kissed the back of her hand. “I am genuinely honored.”
“My, but you have a way with words, sir,” Kara said with flushed
cheeks.
“None impressive enough to compliment you on your appearance tonight. Spectacular! And to know that you’ve filled your dance card with my name alone is all a man can hope to ask for.”
Kara reached for an ivory furry shawl she’d whipped together at the last minute. It was waist length and lined with leftover material from the red fabric of the dress. He took it from her hands and wrapped it around her, his eyes never leaving her face for a moment. When the last clasp was hooked, Stephen invited her to step out into the evening.
“It’s a short walk to the hall, but it’s cold. Let’s hurry.”
Music filled the room. The décor draped with hanging hearts, cupids and arrows shooting everywhere, and Kara imagined that the social committee had explicitly designed it with her and Stephen in mind. Crowds gathered at the food table. Kara noticed Chris and Annie filling their plates, and waved a hand in greeting. Stephen relieved her of her coat. When she turned back, she saw the girl’s broad smiles as they bent low to tither whatever young girlfriends talked about among themselves. Kara had never known such a friend, but it was not self-pity that consumed her now, but a joy that these carefree girls could know this particular time in their lives. All too soon, they would be adults, peering on the horizon for a cowboy to ride in and steal them away.
“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Stephen.
“Chris and Annie appear happy that you and I have come to this event together.”
“No more than I.”
“And I. Time will fly and soon they will strolling in here arm in arm with the Cowboy of their choice.”
“So, you see those gals with Cowboys, do you?”
“Well, Annie lives on a ranch. Seems inevitable that she’d be attracted to that sort of man.”
“And Chris?”
“That one is another story altogether. Chris will probably lay in wait for a circus man with a top hat and whimsical, airy tone to draw in her heart. Or perhaps the star of some Broadway show will pass through and sweep her off her feet.” Kara laughed. “Chris will be high maintenance for any man brave enough to attempt to tame her.”