“Rosita, she was there. She knows. Her madre help. Señora Howard has…”
Alonzo was searching for an unfamiliar word or phrase, so Ethan thought he’d offer help. “Had her baby?”
Alonzo shook his head in frustration. “Echar a patadas.”
“Rápido, Alonzo.” Rosita turned to Ethan. “Go, go.”
“Señora Howard told Señorita Rivers to go. Leave,” Alonzo finally said.
Ethan furrowed his brow. “She kicked her out?”
“That is not all. Señorita Rivers leaves town. She buys stagecoach ticket.” Ethan’s insides twisted. He thought he would have more time to woo her. “I have to find her.” He started off for the stagecoach ticket office. “Rosita, she says Señorita Rivers go to church first.” He spun around and headed for the church.
Chapter 10
Laurel stood by the piano and picked up the sheet of music. She ran her fingers over it. She would never see the piece completed, but she would always carry it in her heart. It was time to continue her journey west. She would miss the song most of all, but she couldn’t stay. Pa had ultimately let Ma’s dream destroy him. California hadn’t been good for either Ma or Pa, but maybe it would be good for her. She pulled out the thank-you note she’d written.
The door at the back creaked, and she heard footsteps. She kept her gaze on the piano. Whoever it was would leave once they saw her.
“Laurel.”
She turned. Ethan! Her heart pitter-pattered at the sight of him. She wanted to run into his arms, let him take the undue responsibility he thought he had. But she didn’t. She stayed rooted in place. “Mr. Burke.” For the first time since Pa shot him, she didn’t still see the sling. Forgiveness was a sweet thing.
He walked to the front where she stood. “What am I going to have to do to get you to call me by my given name?”
She lowered her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know.” She saw his foot take the last step between them and looked up.
His cobalt-blue eyes met hers. They were trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t figure out what.
“Rosita said that Mrs. Howard put you out. Is it true?” He held his hat in his hand.
“Yes.” And there was relief in being put out. Though she didn’t know just what she was going to do, she was glad to be out from under the Howards’ roof.
“What will you do?”
“I have a little money now. I’ll buy a coach ticket to another town where they don’t know about Pa and get a job.”
“Don’t go.”
“I must. The people of Hollow Springs don’t want me here. It is best for everyone if I go.”
“Not for me.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Did he truly care? Or did he only feel responsible?
He stepped closer. “From the moment I saw you, the Lord put you in my heart. I don’t want you to leave without me. Marry me. I can give you a place to live, provide for you, and I’ll take you to California. Unless there is someone else. Someone in California?”
Ethan wanted to marry her? Her heart sang. The paper in her hand called out to her, and she looked down at the sheet of music.
He looked, too. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a hymn. I don’t know who wrote it, but I’ve been wondering about this person.”
“Would you choose the unknown author over me?”
She stared up at him. Would she? If the composer walked in right now and professed his love for her, which she knew he wouldn’t, would she choose him? The composer had only been the Lord’s instrument to comfort her. To her, God was the true author of the music.
“It’s okay if you would. More than anything, I want the truth.”
Ethan was here and real. She’d loved him before she ever discovered the music, but the song had helped heal her. She set the sheet on the bench. “You. I would choose you.”
His smile stretched his mouth. “You have made me the happiest man in the world.” He picked up the music. “Would you play it for me?”
Glad to finally share it with someone, she sat and put her fingers to the keys. “I don’t sing well, so I’ll just play it.”
“How about if I sing the words?”
She would like that. She hadn’t heard both parts together yet. She began, and so did Ethan.
“I am here for you through everything.” His voice was smooth and deep. “In the wind and rain, I am here.” Deeper than his speaking voice. “Through good and bad, call on me; My love for you is true and faithful.” The song fit his voice, seemed to be written for him. “Believe in me; I believe in you.”
As she came to the last line, she knew he’d have to stop, but she would play to the end. But he didn’t stop. He sang the last line, sure and strong. She stopped in the middle of the line, but he continued.
“No other man will love you more than I do.”
She stared at the sheet of music as he finished. Ethan was the author. It wasn’t a song about God’s love, but a song about a man’s love for a woman. She turned slowly on the bench. “You?”
He nodded.
“For me?”
“I wanted to give you something for what I took from you. I couldn’t bring your father back, but I could give you my love. I didn’t think you would let me in person, so I wrote it down in a language I hoped you wouldn’t reject.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.”
Ethan took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve loved you since the day you came into town.”
“I love you, too.”
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.
The clearing of a throat caused her to push away from him. The minister stood at the back of the church.
“Minister Howard, I’m sorry.”
Ethan hooked his arm around her waist. “I’m not. I love her, and she loves me.”
Minister Howard smiled back. “You two make a fine couple.”
“Minister, has Mrs. Howard had the baby yet?”
He nodded. “Peter Sean Howard.”
“Is he healthy?”
Minister Howard nodded. “He’s tiny but a fighter like his mother.”
“How is Mrs. Howard?”
“Right as rain. She’s resting.” He smiled at them. “Let me know when you two want to tie the knot.”
Ethan stood taller. “Now.”
She jerked her gaze up to him. “Now?”
“You need a place to live. I could pay for a room at the hotel, but that would start tongues to wagging. Marry me now? I don’t want to wait one day and risk losing you.”
She wanted to be Mrs. Ethan Burke right now, today. “I have Ma’s wedding dress in my carpetbag. Can I change first?”
Ethan smiled, and the minister said, “I’ll go round up a witness or two and meet the two of you back here.”
“Alonzo and Rosita are probably not far away,” Ethan said. “I’ll bring them back with me.”
The minister directed his gaze at her. “You can go over to the house to change. Mrs. Howard is asleep and won’t even know you are there.” He closed the door behind him.
“This is for you.” She handed the thank-you letter to Ethan.
He tucked his eyebrows. “What is it?”
“I wrote a letter to the song’s composer. That’s you.”
He unfolded it and read it. “I never knew if you were actually playing it until yesterday morning when you almost caught me here. I’m glad it helped you. I was praying it would.”
“Some days, other than the Lord, it was the only good thing I had to look forward to. Do you have a title for it?”
“‘A Song for Laurel.’”
A smile stretched her lips. “I like that.”
He took her hands. “So you’re really going to marry me today?”
“Yes, Ethan. I’m going to marry you.”
He shook his head. “So it took asking you to marry me to get you to call me Ethan. I should have asked you a long time ago, then.” He drew her into his
arms and kissed her before they went their separate ways to prepare.
Laurel put her carpetbag on the bed she used in Tommy’s room and took out everything to get to the bottom, then she pulled out the bedsheet-wrapped dress. It was a simple white dress with a touch of lace at the cuffs and neck and wrinkles galore. Was there even time to iron it? She shook her head. Even if there was time, she would rather wear wrinkles than spend time in the kitchen with the clucking hens.
A light knock sounded at the door. She opened it, and Rosita walked into the room. “I help you.” She gingerly touched the dress lying on the bed. “Muy bonita.” She held the dress up to Laurel. “Bonita, señorita. You … make … beautiful bride.”
“Thank you.” Tears gathered in her eyes. Was it just because someone gave her a kind word? Or was it because she was getting married? Or was it because Ma and Pa weren’t here with her?
Rosita scooped up the dress over both arms. “I go iron.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Rosita rattled off several sentences in Spanish then swept out the door with the dress.
The tears that had gathered spilled over her cheeks at Rosita’s kindness. She pulled out Pa’s pocket watch and opened it. Ma and Pa on their wedding day looked up at her. “I wish you both were here.” She paced the room until Rosita returned with her pressed dress.
Rosita laid it on the bed.
“Thank you so very much.” Laurel gave her darling, black-haired angel a hug.
Rosita hugged her back then helped her dress. “You wait.” And Rosita left her again.
She wanted to call her back. Rosita had been so kind to her, she just wanted her to stay. She wasn’t sure how long she would need to wait and suddenly grew nervous. She was going to get married today. She was going to be someone’s wife. Her life would forever change. Lord, am I doing the right thing?
She knelt down beside the bed, careful not to undo Rosita’s hard work, and poured out her hopes and fears to the Lord. When the knock came on the door, she was at peace with what her future held.
Minister Howard stood in the hall. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure this is what you want? I can speak to Mrs. Howard. I can make her understand. Or I can make arrangements for you to stay with another family.”
She didn’t have to get married out of necessity. She had a choice. Did she want to marry Ethan for no other reason than that she could? Yes! her heart cried. From the day she’d first seen him, she’d known. She took a deep breath. “Very sure. I want to be Mrs. Ethan Burke.”
“Ethan Burke is a good man.” Minister Howard smiled and handed her a bouquet of wildflowers. “These are from Miss Menendez.”
That was thoughtful of her. They were tied with a blue ribbon. Her dress was old, the flowers new, the ribbon blue. Rosita probably wasn’t even aware of the tradition. The only thing missing was something borrowed. She would borrow Ma’s favorite prayer: Lord, from sunup to sundown, may my actions shine glory to You.
Minister Howard walked her to the entrance door of the church. “Wait here until you hear the music start.” The minister slipped inside.
Music? Who had he found to play the piano—and on such short notice? The music started, and she stepped inside then stopped and stared. The pews were half full of the townspeople: Mr. Gonzales and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the ladies from the Howards’ kitchen, as well as a few others. They’d certainly not come for her. They must be here at the minister’s request and for Ethan, but their presence gave her a sense of acceptance anyway. The Lord was working extra for her today.
She turned her focus to the front of the church and headed down the aisle. Ethan sat at the piano. Of course it would be him. As she walked down the aisle, she could see Rosita giving Alonzo a look that said she wanted to be getting married next. Alonzo just smiled back at her and winked. When she reached the front, Ethan played the final notes and then joined her.
She was very sure and couldn’t wait to become Mrs. Ethan Burke.
After the vows, Minister Howard smiled as he said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Then he looked directly at Ethan. “You may kiss your bride.”
Ethan cupped Laurel’s face in both of his hands and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss.
Very, very sure.
Epilogue
One month later
Laurel stood on the sandy shore and stared out at the Pacific Ocean with the salt breeze caressing her face. “We made it, Ma.” She pulled out Pa’s pocket watch from her handbag and opened it, Ma and Pa gazing up at her. “We all made it.”
She pulled the small photograph free. A cinnamon-colored curl lay beneath along with Pa’s ashen one. She took them out. “I love you, Ma and Pa.” She separated the hairs between her fingers and let the salt breeze take them away. How apropos to bring Ma to the Pacific Ocean on the anniversary of her death. Now Ma and Pa would forever be a part of California, and she could move on with her life.
She turned to her new husband, took his hand, and folded the watch into it. “My wedding gift to you.”
Ethan opened his hand and stared at it. “I can’t take this.”
“Ma gave it to Pa on their wedding day. I know it’s not our wedding day, but I want you to have it.”
“Thank you.”
She slipped her arms around his waist. “Thank you for bringing us here.”
Ethan looped his arms around her. “My pleasure.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now that we’re here, where do you want to live?”
“Anywhere you are.” She turned in his embrace to look up at him. “I love you, Mr. Burke.” He didn’t seem to mind her calling him Mr. Burke anymore.
He gave her a squeeze. “I love you, too, Mrs. Burke.” He kissed her. “I think the Lord has good things planned for us here in California.”
She was sure of it.
MARY DAVIS is a full-time fiction writer who enjoys going into schools and talking to kids about writing. Mary lives near Colorado’s Rocky Mountains with her husband, three children, and six pets.
Mother’s Old Quilt
by Lena Nelson Dooley
Dedication
To my two best friends, Rita Booth and Aleene Harward.
They have prayed for every book I’ve written,
every proposal I’ve sent in, and every meeting
at which I was the speaker.
I love you both from the bottom of my heart.
You have added a special dimension to my life.
I’m glad God tied our heartstrings together.
The book is also my small tribute to John Collins,
a wonderful youth minister and strong man of God
who is now at home with the Lord.
As with every book, it is also dedicated to my husband, James,
who has helped our family create a colorful tapestry of love.
Chapter 1
Wayzata, Minnesota—Early March 1905
If one more thing happens, I think I’ll scream.”
Maggie Swenson trudged through snowdrifts on the way from her house to the barn. The tops of her boots didn’t come above the snow, so the cold stuff spilled over, wetting her thick wool socks. Before she had to come out here again, she needed to borrow some of Valter’s trousers. She knew it wouldn’t be ladylike to wear her brother’s long pants, but it would be better than dragging a woolen skirt that grew heavier and heavier because of the damp snow clinging to it.
It had been so long since she had any time to herself. Only six months ago, both her parents died when the buggy they were riding in smashed against an outcropping of rocks because something startled their horse, making it run away. Maggie and her brother, who at twenty-one was two years older than she, inherited the farm their parents had worked hard to sustain through summer droughts and harsh Minnesota winters. Now Maggie tried to run the farm all by herself. Valter lay in the house with a high fever, growing weaker every day no matter what she did for him.
She feared he had the dreaded influenza that was taking such a toll this year.
Just as she reached up to unlatch the door to the barn, Maggie heard a soft moan followed by a pain-filled whine. She glanced around, and the sun glinting off the white world around her stabbed her eyes. As she squinted, her gaze traveled over the landscape around the barn. The few bushes were laden with snow, as were the trees in the pasture and beyond. When she heard the sound again, she determined that it came from the side of the building. Maggie plunged into the drift that had blown against the wall of the secure structure. Now her long underwear was wet up to her knees. If she didn’t go inside soon, she might get as sick as Valter.
With her curiosity stronger than the desire to get out of the biting wind, Maggie rounded the corner of the barn in search of the origin of the sound. She almost stumbled over a warm lump in the snow. Horror filled her mind when she realized what it was.
“Rolf!”
She fell to her knees and lifted the head of her beloved dog. His thick, light brown coat was clumped with dampness, and a red stain spread across one shoulder and down his leg. Already his eyes were glassy, and he didn’t seem to recognize her.
“Rolf.” Ignoring the damp snow, she sat back and pulled his large head into her lap. “What happened?” Maggie whispered against the wet fur and wished her pet could answer. While she held him, crooning encouragement into his ear, his head went limp in her hands and his labored breathing ceased. An icicle fell from the edge of the roof, shattering on the crust of the snow behind her. Silence surrounded her, broken only by the irregular click of icy tree limbs tapping a staccato rhythm in the cold wind.
Maggie looked beyond the lifeless body and noticed a bloody trail in the snow, leading toward the woods that ran from the back of the barn all the way to the creek a couple of miles away. She knew Rolf liked to romp in those woods, and she had allowed him that freedom. After all, it was on their property, so the animal should have been perfectly safe.
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