by Verna Clay
Joy's Return
Unconventional Series
Verna Clay
This book is dedicated to women with compassionate hearts.
Order of Unconventional Series:
*Abby: Mail Order Bride
Broken Angel
Ryder's Salvation
Joy's Return
*Gold Medal Winner Readers' Favorite International Book Contest/Historical Romance
Joy's Return
Unconventional Series
Copyright © 2014 by Verna Clay
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information contact:
[email protected]
Website: www.VernaClay.com
Published by:
M.O.I. Publishing
"Mirrors of Imagination"
Cover Design:
Verna Clay
Pictures:
Woman: CanStock (Massonforstock)
Child's hand: CanStock (Crysrob)
Genealogy chart: Verna Clay
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Preface
It has been almost two years since I completed the previous book in this series, Ryder's Salvation. While I was putting finishing touches on a book in another series, the heroine of Joy's Return began talking to me about her frustration of feeling trapped by a life dictated to women by society. She was desperate to make me understand that she wants to travel and paint, just as her father, Jake Ryder, had done at her age. So, I decided to listen.
But then, another voice, a male one, began conveying the sadness he felt over losing his wife to a freak accident. When he told me about his five-year-old daughter who hadn't spoken since her mother's death, I began to wonder if a woman who wants to experience the world, might possibly feel a greater calling to help a brokenhearted child. And what would happen if she fell in love with the child's father. I also wondered if Joy was that special woman who could return joyful hearts to this family.
You've probably already guessed the outcome of this story, but it's the journey of arriving there that makes one laugh and weep.
Oh, yes, I also tied this series to the Finding Home series to catch up with Cooper and Hallie Jerome, now in their eighties. I just couldn't help myself. And lest I forget, I created a genealogy chart so readers (and me, too) could keep track of this enlarging family.
Verna Clay
Table of Contents
Preface
Genealogy
Chapter One: It's a Family Tradition
Chapter Two: Decision
Chapter Three: Farewells and Good Wishes
Chapter Four: Chastisement
Chapter Five: Arrival
Chapter Six: Seeing the Invisible
Chapter Seven: Painting Heaven
Chapter Eight: Who Is She?
Chapter Nine: Murphy
Chapter Ten: Arrangement
Chapter Eleven: Dead Set Against It
Chapter Twelve: Pearly Gates
Chapter Thirteen: Lavender
Chapter Fourteen: Under the Petals
Chapter Fifteen: A Month of Sundays
Chapter Sixteen: Soon Departure
Chapter Seventeen: Admission
Chapter Eighteen: His Blasted Conscience
Chapter Nineteen: Thunderstorm
Chapter Twenty: Under the Canopy
Chapter Twenty-One: Dressed like the Little People
Chapter Twenty-Two: Aunt Zena Speaks
Chapter Twenty-Three: Letters
Chapter Twenty-Four: Cookie
Chapter Twenty-Five: Fried Chicken
Chapter Twenty-Six: If Wishes were Horses…
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Hellish Coffee
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Aliza
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Walker Meets Ryder
Chapter Thirty: Thunderbird Mountain
Chapter Thirty-One: Close Behind
Chapter Thirty-Two: Stalkers
Chapter Thirty-Three: Culmination
Chapter Thirty-Four: Continuation
Chapter Thirty-Five: Confessions
Chapter Thirty-Six: Fairy Tale Wedding
Epilogue
Surprise Guest
Author's Note
Cry of the West: Hallie (excerpt) Finding Home Series
Stranded In Oasis (excerpt) Oasis Series
Novels and Novellas by Verna Clay
Genealogy
Chapter One: It's a Family Tradition
Spring 1919
Joy Abigail Ryder stood beside her grandmother, Abby Samson, and glanced lovingly at the gathering of family members. In all of her twenty-three years, no one in her family, unless they were ill, had missed the annual trek to the graves under the old oak on her grandparents' property. The visitation always took place on the birthday of Molly Samson, her grandfather's first wife, who had birthed Joy's mother, her Uncle Luke, and her Uncle Ty, who had died as a toddler.
Her eyes, alighting on the newest grave, released a floodgate of tears. Only four months had passed since the burial of her beloved grandfather, Brant Samson. Sometimes, Joy missed him so much she cried herself to sleep.
Lowering her lashes, she glanced sideways at her Grammy Abby to see how she was faring. At that moment, her grandmother appeared to be doing better than everyone else. Joy reached to squeeze her hand and the sweetest woman Joy had ever known, firmly squeezed back.
As tradition dictated, each family member, if so inclined, would speak to their dear departed loved ones. Everyone waited for Abby to begin.
In a voice made beautiful with years of wisdom, Abby said, "Brant, honey, we're all here. And although we miss you dearly, we know you're with loved ones. Your death was unexpected, but you died on the land you loved, doing what you loved, riding your favorite horse across your grassy hills. I wish I could have been there to say goodbye, but I know you visited me in spirit before moving on to be with those we so faithfully visit each year. I knew the moment your heart stopped beating, so I was prepared by the time Luke galloped to the ranch."
Joy glanced at her Uncle Luke to see tears streaming down his cheeks, which released a fresh wave of her own, and she lifted a hankie to blot her eyes.
Abby gave Joy's hand another squeeze and continued. "So, my darling husband, we are all here and I pray that our tradition continues throughout many lifetimes." She glanced at the grave beside Brant's. "Molly, it may seem strange for the second wife to pay homage to the first wife, but as always, I thank you for being the kind of woman Brant could love so dearly, and for the beautiful children you birthed."
Abby released Joy's hand and stepped toward another, smaller grave. She knelt and placed her hands over words etched into the stone marker, BELOVED BABY BOY. The tears she had yet to shed found release in her voice. "My sweet, sweet, baby Ty, you are once again in your father's arms and before many years pass, you will be in mine, also."
Joy lifted a hand to her mouth. She couldn't begin to comprehend the death of her grandmother.
Abby lowered her head and now her shoulders shook with heartbreak. Luke stepped forward and knelt beside his stepmother, placing his arm around her. Quietly, his half-brothers, Rusty and James, joined him. Rusty positioned himself on the other side of his mother and James knelt behind her. Next, Joy's mother knelt beside James. And finally, Abby and Brant's adopted son, Nate, joined his brothers and sister. Abby's children had cocooned her in love.
Except for quiet s
obs, the only sound was wind rustling leaves in the ancient oak that had stood as a powerful guardian over the family burial site since the beginning. Joy shifted her gaze from Abby and those kneeling, to the rest of her family.
Rusty's wife stood beside James' wife and both women blotted their eyes with handkerchiefs. Rusty's three boys, ages seven, eight, and nine, and James' two girls, ages ten and eleven, stood behind their mothers. Across from them, Nate's wife held their newborn son. Her Uncle Nate hadn't married until the previous year at the age of thirty-five to a much younger woman, and if the sweet girl hadn't been so persistent in pursuing him, he might still be single.
Joy moved her gaze to her cousins Evangeline and Charity, the daughters of her Uncle Luke and Aunt Angel. Like Joy, Eva—short for Evangeline—had never married, even though both women were well into their twenties, with Eva being a year older. Charity, three years younger than Joy, had married a local boy a couple of years back. Heavy with child, she leaned against her husband and turned her face into his chest. He reached his arm around her shoulders offering comfort.
Next, Joy sought out her father, Jake Ryder. She loved her parents dearly and appreciated the fact that they had never tried to hide their turbulent past. She knew her mother had been unwed when she'd birthed Joy. When Joy was three, however, her father had arrived at Luke's Ranch, aptly named, Slice of Heaven, looking for Jenny. He'd just discovered he was a father and was determined to marry her. Jenny had resisted him in a desperate attempt to preserve her heart, but Ryder had been persistent and eventually won her over.
Joy found it difficult to believe that her parents had ever been on the outs with each other. They were so loving and considerate of one another. Both were accomplished artists with no competition or jealousy marring their relationship.
Joy's reminiscences ended when Abby, assisted by her children, rose to her feet. In a clear voice she declared, "I've said my peace. Luke, would you like to go next?"
"Yes, Ma."
For the next hour, each family member said whatever was in their heart. When it was Joy's turn, she dabbed her eyes with her hankie and said, "Gramps, I miss you so much that it hurts. I remember how you used to toss me in the air and catch me when I was little. I remember how you used to tickle me and Grammy and make us laugh until we couldn't breathe. I remember how tall you looked on your horse. I remember–" her voice cracked, "I remember how proud you always were of Ma's and Pa's paintings and mine, too. And I want you to know that whenever I paint, I'll be thinking of you." She could no longer stifle a sob. "You're forever in my heart, Gramps."
Joy felt arms encircle her and it was then that she allowed her sorrow to find release against her Grammy Abby's breast.
Chapter Two: Decision
Joy brought her grandmother the cup of tea she'd steeped and dashed a dollop of cream into. Joy's own tea was liberally laced with sugar. Her Grandpa Brandt had always teased her about her sweet tooth.
Handing the china cup to Grammy Abby who was resting in her rocking chair in front of the unlit hearth, she knelt on her knees beside her and cradled her own cup. This had been her favorite spot growing up. Abby would gently rock while talking to Brandt in the other rocking chair, and Joy would contentedly read a book. Her Uncle Luke had collected hundreds of books and publications, many of which were dime novels that thrilled her. His own publications were also thrilling and she'd devoured them when she was old enough. However, her grammy, having been a teacher in Philadelphia before coming to Texas, had encouraged her to read great literary works, insisting that her education wouldn't be complete without doing so. Joy had read most of the classics, but her heart always returned to the adventure stories of the Wild West.
Now, lazing beside Abby, she sipped her tea, set it in the saucer next to her on the floor, and then rested her head on her grandmother's lap.
Abby gently stroked her granddaughter's hair, and asked, "Joy, are you ready to tell me what's bothering you?"
Joy smiled against Abby's knee. "How do you always know when something's going on with loved ones?"
Abby laughed softly, a sound that always reminded Joy of tinkling chimes, and responded, "I think the key words are loved ones. Love knows all things. So, my sweetness, are you ready to talk?"
Joy nodded against the soft cloth of Abby's old dressing gown. "I feel…" She choked up. "I feel restless. I want to do something."
Abby remained silent.
Joy blinked back tears. "My father traveled the West painting its wonders; my mother traveled to New York, a place she'd never been, to study at my father's art academy; my Uncle Luke traveled everywhere writing his stories; my Aunt Angel was on her way to San Francisco when she met Luke." She fingered a tear. "And you, Grammy, you came west after answering an advertisement for a mail order bride." She gave a little sob. "I've never done anything."
Abby continued smoothing Joy's hair. After a moment, she said, "Then you must do something. What is it that burns in your heart, little one?"
Joy's voice hitched. "I…I want to travel like my father and paint the West. Oh, I know it's not the same now with the railroads and modernity, but I just know there are still places that would take my breath away they're so beautiful."
Abby placed a finger under Joy's chin and lifted her head. "Then you shall paint those places. We must make plans for your departure."
Joy's eyes widened. "But what about Mama and Daddy?"
"What about them? Are you living their life or your own?"
A creak caused both women to glance toward the other rocking chair where Brandt used to sit. The chair imperceptibly rocked. Joy jerked her gaze to Abby's.
Abby smiled. "See, your grandfather agrees with me."
Chapter Three: Farewells and Good Wishes
Joy watched the approach of the evening train in Bingham, the county center. Her entire family had ridden the recently completed short line railroad from Two Rivers to Bingham to see her off. It had been Grammy Abby's idea that a railroad jaunt would be a grand adventure for the family and it would give everyone time to prepare themselves for Joy's departure westward.
The time spent with her family had been filled with laughter, joy, and tears. Her mother and father had issued warnings about speaking to strangers, her Uncle Luke and Aunt Angel had made her promise to write at least weekly, her cousins Eva and Charity had told her how brave she was, and her grammy had insisted she paint the wonders of the West daily so others could live her adventures vicariously through her.
Now, standing on the platform at Bingham's railroad depot, with the whistle of the approaching train drowning out conversation, Joy swallowed against the lump in her throat. The time had come for her to do something utterly crazy—leave the safety of her family and strike out on the adventure of a lifetime. Well, perhaps that was a little exaggerated considering the great adventurers Lewis and Clark or Christopher Columbus.
When she had approached her parents a month earlier with the notion of painting the West as her father had done, they had come unglued. Her mother had gasped, "No! Never! A woman does not travel unescorted!"
Her father's eyes had rounded and anything he'd been about to say was interrupted by Grammy Abby. "It seems to me I remember an unescorted young woman traveling to New York to study art."
Jenny retorted, "That was different! I was on my way to school and I had a boarding house to live in that was safe and respectable!"
Abby replied calmly, "And so shall Joy have places to stay that are safe and respectable."
Jenny turned to her husband, aghast. "You must talk some sense into my mother and your strong-willed daughter!"
Ryder glanced from Joy to his mother-in-law and then to his wife. After a long hesitation, he said, "Jenny, your mother is right. Joy must paint the beauty of this country."
Jenny gasped and her eyes filled with tears. With a fist over her mouth, she'd fled the room.
Knowing she could never make her mother so unhappy, Joy turned sad eyes on her father. On the tip o
f her tongue were words relenting her dream, but her father had smiled and said, "She'll come around and be happy for you."
Joy's mouth gaped. That was the last thing she'd expected her overprotective father to say. Grammy Abby clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Now, Joy, we must find suitable housing for you, and the person to speak to is Luke. He's traveled from coast to coast and made many friends along the way. He'll know of families that live on the fringes of frontier lands who will open their homes to you while you paint."
Just as her father had predicted, her mother stopped protesting and eventually joined in the excitement of her daughter's adventure. One evening, while they sat on the porch of their home—the home her father had surprised her mother with before they were married—Jenny reached for her daughter's hand as they rocked on the swing. She said, "I just want you to know that I understand your heart's desire to experience the world. When I was a little younger than you and traveled to New York, it was a grand feeling. I was filled with hope and dreams for my future. But the best part of all was meeting your father, and even though our relationship didn't go well for a long time, I wouldn't change anything. It's our experiences that mold us for the better if we allow them to. Your father suffered the loss of his first family, and then his painting arm, and for a long time it made him harsh and bitter. But then he allowed those experiences to turn his bitterness into compassion.
"When he eventually came looking for me, I had become the embittered one. Not only was I angry with him, but with those in the community who had shunned and gossiped about me. At first, it was the love of Abby and my father that sustained me, but when Ryder showed up, it was his love that made me realize something important. If he could overcome such horrific losses, I could overcome a few folks snubbing me, and…" She squeezed Joy's hand, "give Ryder his second family."