Her bright eyes and flushed cheeks made Polly take note. “What did the doctor have to say?”
“He’s so nice, Polly.”
“Yes, he is.” Polly didn’t have much of an appetite. It seemed the courtship she wanted was going to happen—but for April instead of herself.
“Haven’t you noticed how he loves children?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s gentle. You can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.”
Polly nodded.
“And sincere—he speaks from the heart. And his heart is in the right place.”
Unable to speak, Polly nodded. But my heart is in the wrong place. If he really prefers April, and April obviously cares for him, I should be happy for them. I don’t understand, Jesus, how I misread this. I don’t understand how You could let someone come into my life and win my respect and affection—even my love, only to intend him for some other woman.
It felt like an eternity, April chattering all about what a wonderful man Dr. Eric Walcott was. Others sitting on nearby blankets chimed in to attest to his good qualities. Unable to hide her distress much longer, Polly slipped Elvera onto the blanket. “Excuse me.”
She rushed off to the outhouse. It was the only place she’d get any privacy. A couple of minutes alone, and she scolded herself into composure. For years, Mama had taught her to keep her feelings hidden. Those lessons now served a completely different purpose.
Polly slipped from the outhouse and wandered off past a line of trees. She hoped for a little time and space of her own. Ever since her cousins had all moved in, she missed her privacy and times of solitude. If ever she needed them, it was now. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, she closed her stinging eyes.
Changes are always for the better if given to God. Daddy’s wisdom filtered through her mind.
Lord, I have to give this to You.
“Polly?”
It was the doctor. She stiffened and didn’t open her eyes.
“Aw, honey, not another headache,” he said in a whisper-quiet voice. He moved close. His fingertips skimmed across her forehead.
How easy it would be to lie! It would let her save face. Someone would take her home and leave her alone in the dark where she could weep in utter privacy.
“Here. Sit down.”
Her watery knees just gave way. Against her will, she opened her eyes. Doc knelt beside her, concern creasing his forehead. An armful of wildflowers lay strewn across her hem and at their feet.
He was gathering those for April. Her breath caught on that painful realization. Straining to maintain the slender thread of her composure, she whispered, “I really don’t have a headache. I just wanted to be alone.”
He sat back on his heels as a slow, low chuckle rumbled out of him. “With both clans together? You must believe in miracles.”
She managed a wan smile.
“I hold a lot of faith, and I believe in miracles, Polly.” He leaned to the side and scooped up several flowers. “Healing and loving are acts of faith.”
She stared at the mariposa lilies, mustard, poppies, and shooting star in his strong, large hand.
“I once told you a handful of flowers didn’t make a healer. You’ve taught me it’s not the flowers—it’s the hands God puts them in and blesses that makes the difference.”
“Thank you.”
He placed the flowers in her lap—all but one bunch of white buckwheat blossoms. “But today, I’m hoping for a different kind of miracle. I love you, Polly Chance.”
Her heart leapt.
“Will you marry me?”
He’d just asked what she most wanted—and she’d given it to God. Polly looked at him in stunned silence.
His eyes sparkled. “I have your parents’ blessing—I let you go saddle Blossom today just so I could be alone with them. If that’s not enough, April’s promised to bake us a spectacular wedding cake. I figured if I was going to be part of the family, I’d better get them on my side from the very beginning.”
“My family loves you. . . .” She slid her hand up to his and took the flower. It looked like a simple, sweet bridal bouquet. “But not as much as I do.”
“Well?” a voice prodded from not far away.
They both turned. Everyone stood around them. Polly and he had been so intent upon one another, they hadn’t heard a thing.
“Polly’s consented to be my wife.”
“Well, then, what’re ya waitin’ on?” Uncle Obie asked. “Kiss the gal!”
Eric cupped her face and smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Polly didn’t mind, either.
Epilogue
“You’re going to be late,” Aunt Delilah called through the door.
“It can’t be helped,” Polly called back as her gaze met Eric’s.
“They can’t do it without us,” he said in a practical tone.
“I cain’t do it without you, neither,” Aunt Lois moaned. “I’m powerful sorrowed by that. Truly, I am.”
“We aren’t. We’re glad to be with you.” Polly wiped her aunt’s face.
“Awww, merrrcyyy!” Lois curled up, grabbed Polly’s hand, and bore down.
“Lord, help my Lois in her travail!” Uncle Obie groaned from beneath the window outside.
After that contraction, Eric went to the window and called out, “You keep praying, Obie. I’m glad you found the ax. Lois is grateful to have it under your bed today.”
“And we’re more’n grateful to the both of you fer bein’ here with us today,” Obie hollered back.
Polly smiled at her fiancé. He winked back. He’d learned to understand the oddities, rituals, and special ways of doing things for the people of Reliable, and now he didn’t balk at mixing them with “sound medicine.” He’d come a long way, and she loved him all the more for it.
“Merrrcyyy!”
“Oh, no!” Obie moaned from outside. He waited until his wife’s contraction ended; then he cleared his throat. “Lois, we’ve got ourselves a problem. There was twelve disciples, but I don’t want no child of mine named Judas Iscariot.”
Lois’s beet-red face blanched. “This babe is our twelfth,” she whispered to Eric.
“That’s not a problem whatsoever,” he soothed. “Acts chapter one speaks of the apostles deciding on a replacement for Judas. The choice was between Barsabbas, who was also called Justus, and Matthias. They cast lots, so Matthias won.”
“Matthias’ll do if hit’s a man-child. What’ll I do iff’n hit’s a girl?”
“Matilda,” Polly suggested.
“Merrrcyyy!” Lois bore down, then caught her breath. As Polly mopped her brow, Lois caught her hand. “Don’t you dare go a-tellin’ Obie ’bout those other two names. He’ll want me to have two more children, and I’m plumb wore out.”
“It’ll be our secret,” Polly said.
“Patients deserve privacy, after all.” Eric’s voice stayed low, but he wore a conspiratorial grin.
By the time they’d delivered baby Matilda and made sure mother and child were both stable, it was obvious Polly and Eric would arrive at the church thirty minutes late. He strode up to the altar, leaving Kate and April to keep guard in front of the door to the coatroom. Five aunts and Laurel all bumped around, dressing the bride.
“I just can’t imagine this,” Laurel fretted. “Bad enough, you’re late to your own wedding, but don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day?”
“We don’t need luck. We have love, and we have God.” Polly felt her bun slipping.
“That you do,” Mama said as she calmly reached up and tamed Polly’s hair into submission and pinned the veil in place.
Her aunts and Mama all took their seats. Dressed in new lavender dresses, Kate and April walked down the aisle. Just before Laurel took her walk, she kissed Polly. “I’ll mind them. Don’t worry. And by the way—throw the bouquet to me!”
Step-by-step, holding Daddy’s arm, Polly walked to the handsome
doctor, to the love God had given her, and into her future.
About the Author
daughter, a son, and two dogs, so life is never dull or quiet. Cathy considers herself a sentimental pack rat, collecting antiques and Hummel figurines. In spare moments, she reads, bargain hunts, and makes a huge mess with her new hobby of scrapbooking.
Dedication
To nurses and doctors everywhere, whose dedication transcends long hours and lousy pay. So many of them reach out their hands in the name of the Lord and minister with loving care. God bless you one and all.
Also to Elvera Smith, my mama—a nurse who brought up both of her daughters to be nurses.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Cathy Marie Hake
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
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