No Place Like Home

by Lisa Prysock

  “Those rooms to the right are for guests. Over here are Jill and Logan’s family quarters.” Bronson led them through the hall at the top of the stairs with a railing on their right and opened another set of double doors to reveal a family room. He took the calico cat gently from her arms and deposited the creature happily into the comfortably furnished room. Boots blinked up at them and meowed thankfully before darting away toward the sofa and making an effortless leap onto a cushion. “This is the normal domain for Boots.” He closed the doors after she had a brief peek inside. “She’ll be fine here.”

  “Ah, I see.” Now that the cat was safely returned, Tory couldn’t help but take in the gorgeous view of dark beams and rafters above them.

  Bronson took her hand in his. “Let’s pray and return before our food gets cold. I’m sure Mrs. Wright will bring Boots food and fresh water every day, so we won’t have to worry about her.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes. “Is Boots a she or or a he-cat?”

  “I think Boots is a girl, but I honestly don’t remember. I’ve heard of boy and girl animals with the same name. We’ll have to ask Jill and Logan when they return from Ireland, I guess.” He chuckled. “Let’s pray right here by the railing.”

  “It’s beautiful up here. What a view!” she breathed, allowing him to take her by the hand and lead her to the railing across from the double doors where they could see the sunken living room below.

  He nodded and began to pray, taking both of her hands into his. “Dear Heavenly Father, please grant Tory a favorable outcome in this situation. You brought her this far, Lord, and she’s trying to do the right thing by helping her family. She has a heart for Your creatures. We ask that neither this incident nor any other will prevent or harm her from doing well in this pageant. We ask that You grant her favor so she can help her mom and family with the finances. Your Word says where two or more are gathered together as touching, anything we ask in Your name, it shall be done. We ask these things in the name of Jesus, Amen.”

  “Amen.” Tory opened her eyes. Instant relief swept over her. She breathed deeply as if for the first time that day and her shoulders finally relaxed as tension flowed away from her. It seemed like a heavy burden had lifted from her mind and heart. “Thank you, Bronson. I can’t tell you how much that prayer means to me. It feels like the weight of the world has been removed.”

  “Good,” he whispered as he ran a finger along her jawline. Bronson was so close she could hear his heart beating. He leaned closer and kissed her gently on the lips, barely brushing hers with his. His touch was tender and patient, because he lingered, but then stopped. His body language said I’m not done; there will be more of these for you, but not yet.

  She swayed, her knees weak from his kiss, and as he drew back to look at her, she looked down, her dark curls hiding her shy eyes from his. The man stirred every passion within her. Wordlessly, he took her by the hand and gently led her back to the library downstairs.

  At the doors, he paused and turned to look at her. “Don’t worry now. They were pretty happy about you catching the cat before, remember? Ready?”

  She was in such a dreamy daze from the romantic kiss. All she could do was nod. The whole world could collapse and she wouldn’t mind as long as he was there to catch her. The man was intoxicatingly wonderful. “Ready.”

  “I’ll be here for you no matter what happens,” he said, giving her a strong and comforting look. Bronson meant what he said, and she could tell by the look in his eyes. She blushed and a shy, happy smile lit up her face.

  When he opened the door, everyone clapped as they entered. It seemed they were heroes for rescuing the cat. Or maybe they’d interrupted something else?

  Tory blinked and gulped. Then she saw Mrs. Ava Taylor take the podium and pick up the microphone. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Oh, dear Lord, let it be all right.

  “Miss Johnson,” Ava began, a very stern sound in her voice, “I personally want to thank you for rescuing that cat! Or maybe I should say, for rescuing me from that cat. I’m terribly allergic to cats. You’ve spared me from a horrific reaction. Thank you, all of you who helped for your wonderful actions today. Ladies and gentlemen, would you please join me in thanking Miss Tory Johnson, Bronson Edwards, and I believe a young lady over here at this table named Melanie, and the wranglers who helped out with this very important task.”

  As she and Bronson returned to their table, Arianna and Jasmine didn’t look happy about the situation and barely clapped, but Kylie and Melanie grinned ear-to-ear, clapping vigorously with the other guests. A waiter even brought them out fresh plates of food. Who knew the Pageant Director would have turned out to be allergic to cats and so appreciative? She whispered up a prayer of thanks to the Lord above and drew in another deep sigh of relief. God was so good, and Bronson, so handsome!

  Chapter 9

  “The times we find ourselves having to wait on others may be the perfect opportunities to train ourselves to wait on the Lord.”

  —Joni Eareckson Tada, an evangelical Christian, author, radio host, and founder of Joni and Friends, an organization "accelerating Christian ministry in the disability community."

  FIVE DAYS LATER, JILL and Logan had toured everything they’d wanted to see in northern Ireland. The three mornings of cooking classes they’d taken at Tara-House had been incredibly fun. Together, they’d learned to make all kinds of Irish food, including a round loaf of bread called Irish Bannock, Boxty Pancakes, Glazed Irish Breakfast Tea Madeleines, Potato Bread, Irish Fruit Crisp, Irish breakfast scones, and a skillet breakfast. Then they’d learned to make a traditional Irish lunch called Colcannon—made from mashed potatoes, boiled cabbage, bacon, onions, butter, and topped with bread crumbs.

  The instructor gave each of the students in her classes a small book containing copies of each of the recipes they’d learned along with a few others. Jill liked the book so much, she purchased extra for Sadie, Aunt Meredith, Mrs. Wright, and her mom. They’d found miniature replicas of the lighthouse they’d toured in Donegal for the boys, the wranglers, Corky, and Logan’s dad, Jack.

  They’d also enjoyed long romantic walks on the grounds, a drive to a northern beach, more swimming, fine dining in the mansion’s dining room, and plenty of writing time. Five days seemed to fly by and soon it was time to make the drive to Dublin for the final leg of their honeymoon.

  “Stop the car, Logan!” Jill hollered as they traveled over country roads which would eventually lead toward a main highway. He wasn’t speeding, but as he drove around a bend, there was definitely a sudden obstacle awaiting them.

  Logan—mildly distracted by the beautiful meadows and pastures of the countryside—slammed on the brakes in time to avoid a collision. The royal blue Mercedes came to a screeching halt about seven feet in front of a number of lingering cows, one in particular resting patiently in the middle of the road while his owner tried to persuade them all to cross.

  “Sorry, hon, I know that was a close call,” he admitted. “I only glanced away for a moment.”

  “It’s all right. No harm done. At least there doesn’t seem to be much traffic today.” Jill relaxed and took in the scene before them.

  At first, they waited with long-suffering for the farmer to move the cows along. The research they’d done about driving on the country roads in Ireland had recommended not honking or trying to rush farmers along if one encountered them. So they waited.

  “Jill, I don’t think this farmer is having much success with moving his cows.” Logan stared at the farmer tending the herd.

  She studied the situation. The cow, straight ahead, just lay there in the middle of the road. Occasionally, she swished her tail and turned to look at them, sometimes blinking her eyes. It looked to her as though the cow had even winked at them as she waited on the rest of the herd in front of her to move forward. Well, at least Jill thought the cow was a girl. The farmer kept trying to push other cows out of the culvert on the left, and they couldn’t move the car aroun
d to pass on the right due to the presence of a long, low stone wall; although the entire herd had easily passed through a narrow opening in the wall to cross the road. If only the farmer didn’t have a traffic jam of cows becoming stuck in the culvert.

  “You know, I kinda think you’re right. There are at least seven or more cows stuck in that drainage tunnel. Almost every time he rescues one up and into the meadow, two more seem to go back down into the culvert. The farmer hasn’t looked in our direction but once, and I think it’s because he’s so busy trying to get them to move forward. Something tells me we’re in for a long stop if he doesn’t find a more efficient way to move these cows.” Jill sighed and drank some of the spring water from her water bottle.

  “You see that cow right there, the big one with his nose in all those purple thistle flowers?” Logan pointed to a cow in the culvert eating flowers growing along the edge of it.

  “Yes,” she nodded.

  “That’s the lead cow. See how they all follow along, jamming up the tunnel behind him? These cows will follow whatever that cow does and Mr. Irish Farmer here knows it. Notice how he keeps coming back to argue with him. Then he gives up and goes to some of the others, but he always comes back to that cow.” Logan had summed up the situation perfectly.

  “I guess the lead cow really likes purple thistle flowers. Must be his morning snack.” Jill couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.

  “You think I should try to help the farmer push and prod these cows along?” Logan eyed the farmer’s plight.

  “No, I read somewhere we should be patient in rural areas like these because some farmers might not take kindly to strangers interfering.” She reached for a book to read from her colorful pink and orange striped travel bag. She rummaged around inside the tote bag until she found the book she wanted, removed her favorite Michael Kors sunglasses, and opened to where her bookmark held her last read spot.

  “How long do you think before more cars pile up behind us?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “Long-suffering, dear,” Jill reminded her husband as she turned a page of The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith. “Try to be long-suffering.”

  “If he’d only try to move this cow blocking the road to join the others closer to the culvert, we could be on our way.” Logan looked at his watch impatiently.

  “A thoughtful sentiment, indeed.” Jill giggled and Logan turned to look at her and rolled his eyes, a slight grin at the corners of his mouth. At least he seemed to be taking the delay in stride and keeping his humor in place.

  “What’s your rush, darling?” she asked in her sweetest voice. “We’re early enough to make our check-in time even if this takes a while.”

  “It’s definitely going to take a while at this rate!” Logan ran a hand through his hair, something he did whenever he was mildly frustrated. His patience had grown thin. He sighed before adding, “I suppose you’re right. The Lord spoke to us through our encounter with Herb and Bonnie about not being so easily offended and being forgiving. It makes sense that He’d use this cow to teach us about long-suffering and patience.”

  “It does seem He wants to give us these lessons while we’re here in Ireland. Do you think we’re being tested?” She set the book down in her lap and glanced over at the farmer to see if he’d made any progress.

  “I have no idea, but I’m practicing.” He took a sip of coffee from his to-go cup he’d filled at the coffee station in the foyer at Tara-House when they’d loaded their suitcases and travel bags into the car.

  “Practicing what?” She looked at him with a wondering look, the sunlight bringing out the gold in the golden-brown curls framing her face. “Being tested?”

  “No. Long-suffering. I’m practicing suffering long.” Logan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Jill giggled again and looked out the window on her left. It still seemed odd to her that the driver and steering wheel were positioned on her right in vehicles in the U.K. She didn’t think she’d adapt and hadn’t asked to try out driving yet.

  “So, tell me again, what’s on the agenda for today, if we ever make it to Dublin, that is?” He glanced up at the cow still sitting in the middle of the road, her legs tucked under her, oblivious to what she was doing to his blood pressure or their timetable. Animals had a mind of their own—and didn’t he know it from owning a ranch in the middle of Wyoming?

  Jill fished through her Dooney and Bourke Florentine Bristol Satchel leather purse in a shade of natural tan to match her ankle boots. She produced their itinerary and began reading to him. “We’re checking in this afternoon at Luttrellstown Castle Resort and staying in the Duchess of Cumberland room with a spectacular view of the courtyard and surrounding gardens.”

  “Not if this cow doesn’t move,” he cajoled. “This is the castle where Queen Victoria visited, right?”

  She looked up from the itinerary to glance at the cow and then her husband. “Patience, my love. Right. She was a guest in 1849 and 1900. Prince Rainier and Princess Grace, Ronald Reagan, and Fred Astaire were also guests there. And oh, David and Victoria Beckham were married there.”

  “A Spice Girl and royalty have stayed there? Are you sure we can we afford this?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

  “This is all part of the wonderful package deal we purchased from a travel agency who regularly sends us some of our best clients,” she reminded him before sipping more of her spring water.

  “Ah, of course, I remember now. I started to worry it wasn’t included in what we’ve already paid for. I guess I’m just distracted.” His knuckles were turning white from clutching the steering wheel.

  “Perfectly understandable, dear.” Jill continued reading the description of the castle to him, being careful to speak in soft tones when she noticed him clenching the wheel. “The castle dates back to medieval times, but most believe Sir Henry Luttrell seized the property in 1436. The Luttrells owned the estate until 1811. The castle has been updated to the comfortable estate it is today and has a lovely blend of Tudor and Gothic features. There is a courtyard, walled gardens, parkland, a golf course, horseback riding, and a lake.”

  “It sounds really nice. Is it going to be dark and drab like some castles?” Logan loosened his grip on the wheel and swirled his coffee cup to stir his coffee.

  “No, this one has gorgeous windows and many light and airy rooms. I looked at the website before choosing our room. We have a beautiful room with a four-poster bed, a vanity, an amazing writing desk, and windows. It’s going to be the highlight of our stay in Ireland, I’m sure.” She smiled just thinking about it.

  “And this is where we go to see St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin and Trinity College, right?” he asked.

  “Yep.” She looked down, continuing to read from the itinerary. “It says here that Trinity is the oldest university in Ireland. The library’s Long Room is a vast hall holding over two-hundred thousand books and fourteen marble busts under a barrel-vaulted ceiling. Plus there are lovely buildings and green lawns there.”

  “What’s it say about the cathedral?”

  “Gothic archways, stained glass windows, medieval flags, and a vibrant tiled floor.” She tucked the itinerary back in her purse.

  “I think I’m getting hungry.” Logan looked at his watch.

  Jill laughed. “You’re always hungry.”

  “I know, but I think I’m hungrier than usual. We ate a huge breakfast before we left Tara-House. I must be having your cravings for you.” Logan sighed and put one hand on the door handle. “Tell you what. Sometimes the Lord tells us to help our fellow man. I’m gonna offer to help this farmer out. He looks like he’s ready to accept a friendly hand. Promise me you’ll stay put in the car.”

  “All right, I promise. I’m fine though, really.” Ever since she’d told him about the baby, Logan was even more careful of her than usual. She hadn’t even suffered from morning sickness. His care of her was endearing. Patience might not be a strong suit of his
that morning, but for his few faults, he was truly her beloved.

  Chapter 10

  And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28, KJV

  TORY WAS LATE TO THE barns. Being on time was not her trademark, but she had managed to be on time to everything else concerning the pageant, even early a few times. In general, she was fashionably late for everything. She’d been practicing her violin when she should’ve been heading to the big barns on the north side of the property. Mrs. Ava Taylor and Miss Marla Tremont had arranged a picnic lunch and an afternoon of horseback riding for the contestants.

  The last one to the two horse barns, Jed had pointed her in the direction of a stallion, saddled and ready to ride. “Thanks, Jed.” The mustang looked like a dream to ride, and tall for the breed.

  Someone approached to ask him a question, so Jed and the inquisitive guest disappeared around the corner leaving Tory to mount the horse without help. This wasn’t any problem at all in her mind. She had her own horse at home and considered herself a seasoned equestrian.

  Only this horse wasn’t cooperating. She stuck one of her pink leather cowgirl boots in the stirrup, but the horse was fidgety and took several steps forward as soon as she attempted to swing into the saddle. Her hand slipped from the horn of the saddle and her foot dislodged. Somehow, she landed face and belly down on the rump of the horse, the edge of the rear of the saddle digging into her rib cage.

  Her hands still held the reins, but her arms and legs dangled down over each side of the horse. It crossed her mind that being unfamiliar with the horse, she should’ve waited for Jed to offer an introduction and mounting assistance, but she’d been all too eager to prove her own worth. Besides, she was late. The rest of her party had already ridden out toward a pond somewhere out on trail number three.