I think everyone knew the wedding was over—for right now, at least. Some folks walked outside, others still sat looking around bewildered. Some of the ladies were uttering comments along the lines of, “Well, I never—” and “Gracious sakes, in all my days . . .”
“Wait! Wait, people—please!” Rev. Rutledge shouted, trying to be heard above the chaos and confusion. “Take your seats until we get this all sorted out! . . . Mr. Hollister!”
But Pa was moving slowly away from Rev. Rutledge now, limping toward where I was sitting. He didn’t hear the minister calling his name. I don’t think he was aware of the church quieting, and the turning of every eye upon him to see what he was going to do. He was coming toward the row where all of us kids were sitting, but he wasn’t looking at us. His eyes were fixed on someone else.
By the time he got to Mrs. Parrish, the church was quiet again.
Pa stopped.
I reckon she could sense he was there. After a moment, Mrs. Parrish slowly looked up. Her eyes were all wet. Pa stood gazing down on her with the nicest, most sheepish, half-embarrassed smile I could ever have imagined on his face.
She half-laughed, but it was sort of a half-cry, too. Her handkerchief quickly went to her eyes, and she glanced away. But only for a second. She looked right back at Pa, and her eyes found his.
“Mrs. Parrish, ma’am,” said Pa sort of timidly, “I reckon there’s a thing or two you an’ me oughta be talking about.”
“Yes, Mr. Hollister,” she said, nodding, dropping her gaze and smiling softly. “I think you are right.”
Pa reached out his hand. She took it, rose to her feet, and joined him in the aisle while everyone sat and watched them.
As they started toward the door, Mrs. Parrish said, “But don’t you think, Drummond—” She said his name slowly, and though I’d heard her use his given name a time or two before, now it suddenly meant so much more as she said it. “Don’t you think that it’s finally time you started calling me Almeda?”
Even from where I was sitting in the front pew, I could see the back of Pa’s neck getting red.
“I reckon you’re right, ma’am,” he replied.
Mrs. Parrish looked up into Pa’s face with a most radiant smile. I could tell that she loved him. I think she probably had for quite a while.
They walked through the open door, outside, and down the stairs. I could hear Pa’s uneven footfall as he struggled down the steps. Inside the church it was dead silent.
Suddenly I was on my feet. I ran back to the door and looked out.
Pa was limping across the meadow next to the church with Mrs. Parrish beside him. I could tell they were talking, but their voices were much too soft and far away to hear. Mrs. Parrish slipped her hand through Pa’s arm and looked up at his face every so often.
Nobody else was around, so nobody ever heard what they said to each other. I asked them both, more than once, to tell me what they’d said.
But Pa would only reply, “That is one conversation, Corrie Belle, that ain’t never gonna find its way into your journal!” It was a good while before he said any more. But seeing the two of them like that was a sight I will never forget.
Behind me, the noise of commotion was rising again. Now it grew even louder than before. The wives didn’t know whether to be scandalized at the proceedings or happy. The men were all telling their versions of “I knew ol’ Drum would . . .”, or “Did I tell you the time when Drum . . .” Some of the saloon girls were still crying. Others were laughing and making jokes and already heading for the door to leave. I suppose Alkali Jones said it best. His only comment was, “Well, if that don’t beat all!”
I don’t know where Katie and Uncle Nick had gone, but now Uncle Nick came back into the church, more calmly this time. Katie was right behind him. He put up his hands and tried to get everyone’s attention.
“Hey, you all—quiet down!” he called out, motioning with his arms. “I got somethin’ to say!”
Pretty soon most of the folks’ eyes were on him.
“Well, I reckon I done it, huh?” he said, “I made a plumb nincompoop outta myself!”
Everyone laughed.
“But the way me an’ Katie’s got it figured is that Drum looks to be a mite too occupied right at the moment—”
More laughter and some shouts from a few of Uncle Nick’s rowdier friends. “And it seems a shame, with Katie comin’ so far an’ all, an’ all you good folks comin’ here today—well, it seems a shame to put such a colorful pretty wedding dress an’ a church full of guests to waste. So we figure we oughta go on ahead with this here wedding. An’ since Drum’s busy, I’ll take his place! Katie says none of you’d object . . . and she don’t object, neither!”
Now the place really erupted with shouts and cheers, and finally a round of applause.
Rev. Rutledge had a look of astonishment all over his face. But everyone else seemed to agree that the idea made all the sense in the world.
“’Course Katie’d like me to get cleaned up just a tad,” said Uncle Nick when he could be heard again. “So if you folks don’t mind waitin’, I’m gonna hightail it home an’ shave off some o’ these whiskers an’ throw on some clean duds, an’ I’ll be back inside an hour. That oughta give you time to round up Drum and tell him about the change in plans!”
A wave of laughter swept the room. Uncle Nick turned and ran out the door. Several seconds later we heard the galloping hoofbeats like those that had started the uproar. They quickly died in the distance.
Everyone started milling around in little groups, and slowly filed outside. Katie marched through the crowd to where Rev. Rutledge was standing and spent about five minutes with him, making whatever arrangements she had to, I reckon. Then she came over to me and the other kids. Even if she wasn’t going to marry Pa after all, she was still going to be kin, so I guess she felt it was her duty to see to us. She knelt down and explained to Tad and Becky and Emily what had happened, and told them she was going to be their Aunt Katie.
And an hour and a half later, as we all left the church for the last time that day, that’s exactly what she was.
Chapter 42
Wondering About the Future
Uncle Nick and Aunt Katie went to San Francisco for a honeymoon.
If I thought the town was buzzing before, now there wasn’t anything more the subject of conversation—from the school to the Gold Nugget to the General Store to the groups of men standing around the streets—than what Uncle Nick had done at what was supposed to have been Pa’s wedding! Those folks who hadn’t attended were kicking themselves for weeks!
I suppose the one person who wasn’t thrilled with the sudden way everything had gone topsy-turvy was Rev. Rutledge. He went through the wedding ceremony with Katie and Uncle Nick with a smile on his face. And I think down inside even he could see how much better it was for Pa to walk down the aisle—still in that handsome black suit, with Katie on his arm—to give her away to Uncle Nick, than it would have been to marry the two of them.
Still, the change was bound to affect his fortunes probably as much as anyone’s, and nobody saw him much for several days.
All us kids were positively dying to know what was going to happen next. That night we pestered Pa with question after question. But he wouldn’t say much. There was a kind of crafty smile on his face, but he just kept saying, “We’ll see, kids . . . we’ll see.”
He did make more than his usual number of trips into town during the next few days, and he hardly went up to the mine at all. Mr. Ashton and Marcus Weber ran the Mine and Freight Company mostly by themselves for the next week.
I knew Pa and Mrs. Parrish were trying to figure a lot of things out. They’d had their differences. They had both had another wife and husband whose memories they still loved. And they both had homes and businesses they didn’t want to give up. But neither one of them would let on a word about what they intended to do about all those things.
And when they finally did say—we
ll, that was another whole story!
About the Authors
Michael Phillips is a bestselling author with more than seventy of his own titles. In addition, he has served as editor/redactor of nearly thirty more books. He is known as the man responsible for the reawakened interest in George MacDonald of the last thirty years. In addition to the MacDonald titles adapted/edited for today’s reader, his publishing efforts in bringing back full-length quality facsimile editions also spawned renewed interest in MacDonald’s original work. Michael and his wife, Judy, spend time each year in Scotland, but make their home near Sacramento, California. Visit Michael’s website at www.fatheroftheinklings.com
Judith Pella is a bestselling, award-winning author whose writing career spans more than two decades. Her in-depth historical and geographical research combines with her skillful storytelling to provide readers with dramatic, thought-provoking novels. She and her husband make their home in Scapoose, Oregon.
Books by Michael Phillips
Fiction
THE RUSSIANS*
The Crown and the Crucible • A House Divided • Travail and Triumph
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke • Flight from Stonewycke • Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke • Shadows over Stonewycke • Treasure of Stonewycke
THE SECRETS OF HEATHERSLEIGH HALL
Wild Grows the Heather in Devon • Wayward Winds
Heathersleigh Homecoming • A New Dawn Over Devon
SHENANDOAH SISTERS
Angels Watching Over Me • A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart • Together Is All We Need
CAROLINA COUSINS
A Perilous Proposal • The Soldier’s Lady
Never Too Late • Miss Katie’s Rosewood
CALEDONIA
Legend of the Celtic Stone • An Ancient Strife
THE HIGHLAND COLLECTION*
Jamie MacLeod: Highland Lass • Robbie Taggart: Highland Sailor
THE JOURNALS OF CORRIE BELLE HOLLISTER
My Father’s World* • Daughter of Grace* • On the Trail of the Truth
A Place in the Sun • Sea to Shining Sea • Into the Long Dark Night
Land of the Brave and the Free • A Home for the Heart
Grayfox • A New Beginning • The Braxtons of Miracle Springs
THE SECRET OF THE ROSE
The Eleventh Hour • A Rose Remembered
Escape to Freedom • Dawn of Liberty
AMERICAN DREAMS
Dream of Freedom • Dream of Life • Dream of Love
The Sword, the Garden, and the King
Heaven and Beyond
Angel Harp
Murder By Quill
From Across the Ancient Waters
Angel Dreams**
SECRETS OF THE SHETLANDS
The Inheritance
Nonfiction
The Eyewitness New Testament (3 volumes)
The Commands
The Commands of the Apostles
George MacDonald: Scotland’s Beloved Storyteller
*with Judith Pella **with Chris Schneider
Books by Judith Pella
Texas Angel
Heaven’s Road
Beloved Stranger
Mark of the Cross
THE RUSSIANS
The Crown and the Crucible*
A House Divided*
Travail and Triumph*
Heirs of the Motherland
Dawning of Deliverance
White Nights, Red Morning
Passage Into Light
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke
Flight from Stonewycke
Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke
Shadows Over Stonewycke
Treasure of Stonewycke
DAUGHTERS OF FORTUNE
Written on the Wind
Somewhere a Song
Toward the Sunrise
Homeward My Heart
LONE STAR LEGACY
Frontier Lady
Stoner’s Crossing
Warrior’s Song
PATCHWORK CIRCLE
Bachelor’s Puzzle
Sister’s Choice
RIBBONS OF STEEL**
Distant Dreams
A Hope Beyond
A Promise for Tomorrow
RIBBONS WEST**
Westward the Dream
Separate Roads
Ties That Bind
*with Michael Phillips **with Tracie Peterson
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
Twitter: @Bethany House
Daughter of Grace Page 26