by Leah Atwood
As the organist played before the service, I felt Ryan’s hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I miss my daddy, Ryan.” A tear slipped down my cheek and onto my new navy blue dress. Staring at it, I watched as the spot deepened and spread. Then I crossed my arms over my chest in a vain attempt to stop trembling.
Rising to his feet—Ryan had grown three inches in the past year alone—he skirted around the end of the pew and dropped down beside me. When he moved his arm around my shoulders, it felt completely natural. Ryan’s presence, his kindness, and his warmth, helped to soothe my emotions and profound sense of loss.
“Ryan, did you know Dad got baptized in the Cuyahoga River when he was twelve?”
“No. If he was brave enough to do that, he’s definitely going to Heaven.” The Cuyahoga River was polluted with industrial waste and an oil slick caught fire in the river in 1969, bringing a certain amount of infamy and shame to the Cleveland area. I knew Ryan was teasing, but as the men from the funeral home stepped forward, closed the top of the coffin, and then draped an American flag over it, I sat as though in a stupor. More tears welled in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks. I let them go.
“Shh.” Ryan brushed one gentle finger beneath my right eye and then did the same under the left eye. In my blurry haze, I was vaguely aware when he rubbed his fingers together to absorb the wetness from my tears. Funny the odd things you remember at a time like that.
Lorraine Bennett, the church organist, climbed back onto her bench and began playing “It Is Well with My Soul,” my father’s favorite hymn, to signal the beginning of the service. My father had a resonant tenor voice, and I’d heard him sing this hymn many times. I softly hummed the tune under my breath.
I tried to imagine where Dad was now, but my finite mind couldn’t comprehend what Heaven was like. Kara thought it was paved with gold and jewels. Winged horses carried us wherever we wanted to go.
As hard as it was to accept the reality of Dad’s sudden death, it’d have been worse if he’d been diagnosed with slow-moving cancer. If I’d been forced to watch him whittle away, that would have been terrible for all of us. Dad would have hated it most of all. So, in a strange way, the way he died was ultimately a blessing.
“It was his time,” so many people said. I hated that expression. I didn’t want it to be his time.
From what little I heard of the message, Pastor Derek honored my father with a touching, heartfelt service, and eulogy. Then several of Dad’s friends and co-workers at his accounting firm spoke and said meaningful and poignant things about him. They’d respected him greatly. Then a few of the church elders and deacons said a few words. I knew they meant every word, and their anecdotes made me smile. Hank Young mentioned how much his daughters meant to Dad, and he even mentioned the walks he took with me.
Eldridge Gray concluded the remarks and winked at me as he passed by my pew. I shrank back in horror. Good grief, he’d never had that cracked tooth fixed? The man knew how to manage money, and I know he made enough to pay a dentist. I’d never understand people. I determined from that point on I’d forever cook the life out of broccoli and carrots, so I’d never risk cracking someone’s tooth ever again.
Ryan and I sat together, not speaking until Mom told us it was time to come outside. Dad was to be buried in the small cemetery behind the church. Mom’s plot was next to his. Dad couldn’t have had any idea he’d need his plot so soon, but he’d been prepared.
We stood and watched as the pallbearers carried the casket out of the sanctuary and then followed them down the front steps.
“Please don’t let them stumble,” I said under my breath.
“They’re steady.” As if to reinforce his point, Ryan kept his arm around me. I leaned into him, and I appreciated his support more than I could ever express.
At the gravesite, Ryan stood behind us with his family. Because my father had served in the Army, an Honor Guard—in full military dress—attended the service, wearing solemn expressions. Although I didn’t know if any of them had personally known my dad, their respect for his service to his country was clear.
Silently, they removed and folded the American flag that had been draped over Dad’s coffin and presented it to my mom along with their murmured sympathies. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and modeled grace and poise. My sisters wept quietly beside her, and it was all I could do not to break down and bawl. We were happy Dad was in Heaven, of course, but he’d been ripped from our lives so abruptly. Later, we’d rejoice, but not now. For now, we’d go through the motions and put on a brave face in public. Any breakdowns would be suffered in private.
When the officers shot their rifles into the air in a full military salute, I jumped. Stepping closer, Ryan slipped his hand over mine. In front of God, our families, our friends, everyone. And held on tight.
My daddy might be gone, but God had given me another protector. Another hero.
In that moment, I knew—no matter where our lives would take us—I would forever hold this boy close in my heart.
Chapter 14
~~♥~~
Saturday Afternoon—Perchance to Dream Office
The envelope from Beckett!
How could I have forgotten to open it? Reaching for my purse beside my desk, I rummaged through its contents. I’d buried it deep, and I had a lot of papers in there—last Sunday’s church bulletin, gift registry printouts, emails, wedding trip confirmations, and other assorted pieces of wedding correspondence.
“Where are you?” I mumbled, frustrated. I didn’t want to dump the contents of my purse on my desktop.
Finally locating the plain, business-size envelope with Beckett’s small, precise lettering spelling out my name, I pulled it out. I grabbed my letter opener—I couldn’t risk a paper cut on my to-be-manicured fingers before the wedding—and slid it beneath the flap.
As usual, Beckett had written the note on a sheet of plain, ruled, white paper. The type kids used in school, but the wide-ruled variety for the younger grades. And senior citizens, too, apparently. Most of his notes to me at the agency had been written on this same ruled paper.
Dear Ellie,
I know you’ve only been with The Beckett Agency a short time, but in that time, you’ve proven yourself invaluable. I don’t know if you’re aware, but my dear wife, Babs, and I were not able to have children. We’d always hoped to have a child who could continue the agency once I retire or move on to greener pastures, shall we say. However, in the absence of our own child, we’d hoped someone would come along who could carry on the legacy I’ve started.
This may come as a surprise to you, and I realize you have a lot going on in your personal life at the moment, but after you return from your wedding trip, might we sit down and have a chat about your future at Beckett? Not to sound mysterious, and to be more specific, I think you might be the right person to take over for me at The Beckett Agency in the next few years.
You have a unique gift for bringing out the good in the people around you, Ellie. You possess a sharp wit and a quick mind that could carry you far in the advertising world.
We can discuss this matter further in the New Year. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.
With utmost admiration for your many talents,
Beckett Larsen
My hand shook almost uncontrollably. I’d noted a check tucked inside the envelope. I pulled it out and stared at the number of zeroes. What I’d thought was a holiday bonus for $50 or thereabouts was more. Much more. In the memo line of the check Beckett had written, Investment in the Future.
“Miss Franklin?”
I glanced up to see a young woman and a small girl, who looked to be about five years old, standing in the doorway of my office. Tall and thin with short, curly dark hair, the woman was dressed in jeans, a red wool jacket, and she wore a tentative smile. The child wore jeans and bright pink outerwear that surely glows in the dark.
In one hand, the woman held a department store shopping bag.
“That’s me. Please, come in.” I hastily stuffed the letter and check back inside the envelope and then put them in my desk drawer. I stood and offered my hand. “Please call me Ellie.”
The woman appeared slightly ill at ease. “I’m Kate Simms, and this is my daughter, Ellie.”
I smiled at the girl. “Hi, Ellie! I love meeting someone else who shares my name. If your mommy says it’s okay, would you like a piece of candy?” I had a whole drawer filled with leftover sweets from Halloween.
As expected, my offer brought a light to the little girl’s blue eyes and she looked up at her mother for confirmation. “Can I, Mama? Please?”
When Kate nodded, Ellie moved closer to my desk.
“Come around here and you can choose a few pieces.” I opened the drawer as she scooted around the corner of the desk.
“You have a lot of candy!”
“Just pick three. That’s all,” Kate told her daughter. After poking around the drawer, Ellie selected three fruit-flavored candies and then scurried back to her mother’s side.
“We don’t want to keep you.” Kate pulled up the other chair for Ellie and the child scampered onto it.
“That’s okay. My time is yours.” I returned to my chair and motioned for them to sit.
“My husband, Mike, was a police officer in Cleveland.” Ducking her head, Kate avoided my gaze. “He was killed in the line of duty four years ago.”
“I’m very sorry.” My words sounded so woefully inadequate. “I’m thankful for your husband’s service.” I couldn’t bring myself to use the word “sacrifice.”
“Thank you.” Kate fiddled with her fingers on her lap. When she raised her head and met my gaze, I could see she was struggling to maintain her composure. “Even though we got a good settlement from the police force, we fell into some hard times.” She straightened in the chair. “But that’s not why we’re here. We’re here to thank you, Miss Franklin.”
“Thank me?” I shook my head, confused.
“Perchance to Dream helped me out a couple of years ago when things were very tight financially. You provided three wonderful gifts for my daughter. And the Bible we read every night.” Ellie had removed her knit cap, and Kate smoothed one hand over the girl’s curly blonde hair.
“I got a pretty dolly,” Ellie said around a mouthful of candy. Her lips and tongue were now bright red. “Her name is Splendiferous. She has beautiful red hair and a blue sparkly dress, but Mama wouldn’t let me bring her on the bus.”
“That’s a very creative name. I’m sure your Mama wanted to protect…your dolly…so she wouldn’t get lost on the trip.”
“We wanted to come and thank you in person,” Kate said. “Ellie calls you ‘the nice lady.’”
I sat back in my chair, overwhelmed by the unexpected sweetness of it all. First the letter from Beckett, and now this? “I’m thankful we could help. Do you…” I faltered, uncertain as to how to phrase my question.
Kate shook her head. “We don’t need anything. But we brought you something.”
Surprised, I glanced at the girl. “You brought me a gift, Ellie?”
“Uh huh.” Ellie’s feet didn’t touch the floor, and she swung her legs back and forth. “It’s a Christmas gift, but you can have it now if you want.”
“That sounds fine if it’s okay with you.”
“Are your hands clean, Ellie?” Kate said. “They’re not sticky from the candy, are they?”
“No, Mama.” The girl held out her hands for inspection.
Satisfied, Kate nodded. “Show Miss Franklin what you’ve brought for her.”
I watched, wide-eyed, as Ellie pulled a plush, soft puppy dog out of the shopping bag. Light brown in color, the stuffed animal resembled a Cocker Spaniel with long hair, floppy ears, and an irresistible grin.
“Here.” Ellie plopped the puppy in the middle of my desk. “I picked him out myself.”
“For me?” Rising from my chair, I hugged him and relished his softness next to my cheek. I walked around my desk and crouched next to Ellie. “This gift is so special. I will treasure him, especially since you gave him to me. May I give you a hug, too?”
In response, the little girl threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. I needed that hug more than I could have imagined, and I clung to her for a few moments. Over Ellie’s shoulder, I caught Kate’s gentle smile.
“We know you’re getting married soon, and that your fiancé is returning home next week,” Kate said. “We should have come earlier in the season, but I couldn’t get off work in time to make the trip out here.”
Ellie released me from the hug. “Mama doesn’t like to take the bus after dark.”
“I can’t blame her. Ellie, what do you think I should call my puppy?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Ryan.”
I looked into the sweet face of this adorable child. “Okay, then. Ryan it is.”
Kate smiled, and it relaxed her features. “I tried to tell Ellie you’d have your own Ryan to keep you…company…soon enough. But she seemed determined.”
I smiled at the little girl. “I love the name. Thank you so much, Ellie. It means a lot that you came all the way to Cade’s Corner to bring Ryan to me.”
Ellie’s smile lit her cherubic face. The child positively beamed. “Welcome.”
Kate rose to her feet. “We need to go now so we can catch the next bus back to the city.”
“May I drive you home? I’ll be happy to, but I’d just have to run home and get my car.” And call Maura and explain.
“That’s not necessary. We’ll be fine,” Kate said. “Merry Christmas.”
I returned her smile. “You, too. Thanks again for coming.”
When Kate hesitated, I could tell she had something else to say. “I just wanted you to know that your efforts reach a lot of people you’ll probably never meet, Miss Franklin. You can’t know their stories, but that doesn’t matter to you.” Her cheeks flushed. “That didn’t come out right. I mean you’d do it, anyway, because that’s the kind of person you are. You and”—her gaze went to the plush puppy still in my arms—“your Ryan. God bless you both.”
“God bless you and Ellie, too,” I said.
With that, Kate helped Ellie with her hat and pulled it down over her head.
“Bye, nice lady!” Ellie put her hand in Kate’s, and they departed. Stopping outside the front window, they waved.
After waving back, I picked up Ryan and smiled. “Hello there, little guy. Welcome to my world.”
Chapter 15
~~♥~~
Tuesday, December 19
“Ellie, can you tell us the story of how you and Ryan got engaged?”
Half-turning in my chair, I saw that a small group of the staff had gathered in the doorway. I’d dropped off another tin of holiday cookies and fudge, and the ladies told me how much they looked forward to my visits with Cora.
“Not just for the baked goods,” Trudy assured me. “Some of us are living vicariously through your stories.” She took a bite of a snowflake sugar cookie.
“They’re nothing special. But they’re mine.”
“Goodness, girl, you make them interesting. You could be a professional storyteller.” Patsy crossed her arms and leaned against the door. “I hope you’re writing down or recording your stories. You’ll want to share them with your children and grandchildren one day.”
I shook my head. “They’re only written on my heart at this point.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet,” one of the newer aides said—Jennifer, I think.
Maybe I should consider writing them down as a legacy. Good idea. Our children would never know my father. As much as possible, I wanted to preserve his memory. Not to mention Grandpa Franklin and other relatives we’ve lost. I shelved a mental note to work on that project early in the New Year.
“So,” I said, glancing at the ladies gathered in the room, “you want to hear the engagement story? I’ll admit that one is quite…different.”
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“We’re all ears,” Trudy said.
As it was, I was almost beside myself counting down the final hours. In less than 24 hours, I’d be in Ryan’s arms again. In my mind, I’ve anticipated our glorious reunion over and over again. I hardly slept a wink last night. Nick and his dad, Mark, planned on making the all-day trip to Wright-Patterson Air Force in Dayton tomorrow—a 213-mile, one-way trip—to meet the Army transport bringing Ryan and some of his fellow soldiers home. I was itching to go, and I’d made Nick promise he’d take lots of photos and drive carefully (not to worry since he sometimes drives like an old man). I’d recorded a video on Nick’s phone welcoming my favorite soldier home.
I hadn’t heard from Ryan, but that was to be expected. Although surely he would text. I pushed the thought aside. I knew he was busy and most likely catching up on his sleep.
Mary, Mom, and I planned a private family dinner back at the Sullivan home. The trip would be good for Nick and Ryan to catch up and spend some quality time together.
I couldn’t stop my smile as I began to tell the ladies our engagement story.
~~♥~~
The summer before his second deployment, Ryan started delivering gifts to me one week in June. One gift a day. Each one was a little more lavish or expensive, beginning with an oversized greeting card. Then a book. Two tickets to a play I’d wanted to see. Then a bracelet. A matching necklace. He either took me to lunch or dinner every day that week, and he had sweets delivered to me or brought them to me himself. He’d never been so attentive, and I could tell he was building up to something special, especially when he asked me to spend the day with him on Saturday.
So, late on Saturday morning, he picked me up in his red truck (at least his third vehicle—always a truck, forever red). I could tell he was nervous, and Ryan is rarely anxious about anything. He’d left a long-stemmed deep pink rose on my seat, and then he drove out to Marblehead State Park. He’d even packed a picnic basket for us. After parking the truck, we started to walk toward the picnic area. Then Ryan realized he’d forgotten to lock the truck. When he clicked the lock and glanced back at the truck, the color drained from his face.