by Caryl McAdoo
The second of those he called perfectly good was quite threadbare. Plus the same establishment also carried a right nice selection of hats and parasols.
For a few steps, she let her mind wander the store's aisles, then a story Vili passed on from Rupert crowded out the finery. She bumped her shoulder against Zeke's. “Hey, according to Servilia, Rupert says you were quite the pugilist in your younger days, is that true?”
The same shoulder she'd accosted, hiked a quarter inch. “Before I knew better.”
She nodded. “So you could have whipped Mister Grissom if you would have been a mind?”
“Sweetheart.” He stopped and faced her. “I've purposed in my heart not to defend myself, but have no fear. I'll protect you—or any other helpless person—to the utmost of my abilities.”
Raising on her tiptoes, she licked her lips. “Good. Now kiss me.”
“Ah, brazen, are we?” He did, right there on the sidewalk in front of the jewelry store. Too soon though, he pulled back. Was he self-conscious about loving on his wife in public? She'd have to talk to him about that once back at the hotel.
“So exactly what are you wanting to buy me here?”
“Just wait.” He put his hand on the door's knob, then faced her. “You see, my father bought a locket for my mother here. I'm hoping I can find one similar to hers for you. It was her prized possession.”
“Oh, how sweet. Did you bury it with her?”
“No. I couldn't bear to. It was all I had left of her.” Standing aside, he let her pass.
That was odd. He could have given her that one, couldn't he? “You needn't spend more money, dearest. I would be so honored to wear hers. And it would be so special to me as well.”
“Actually, that's what I'd planned, but a couple of thieves robbed me. They took it and left me for dead.”
“Oh, Zeke!”
“Come on, let's see if Mister Miller is still here and what he has.”
A young man greeted her and Zeke with a broad smile. “Hello, you're back. How may I be of service this fine day?”
“I beg your pardon?”
The jeweler laughed. “Well, I saw you earlier out on the walk. The gentleman was in quite the hurry, wasn't he? Told me when he bought the ring yesterday morning, he'd never seen the woman he planned to propose to.
“Never figured he'd ask her right there in front of the store. It isn't often we get to see the proposal. Are you looking for a ring, too?”
Stepping up to the counter, Zeke extended his hand, shook, then turned to Melody and signed.
“My husband asked if a Mister Miller still owned the shop.”
“I'm Matthew Miller, but yes, my father owns the shop. He's in the back.” He looked to Zeke. “You know him?”
The young man's manner made it so easy to like him. Melody explained what she knew about the story without waiting for her husband to sign.
“His mother's was stolen, and he hoped to find a similar one for me.”
“Of course. There's some over in that case.” He pointed to the opposite side of the store. “And there are a few in back. I'll get those, if you'll excuse me.” He raised the volume and spoke plainly to Zeke. “And I'll tell my father you're here, sir.”
Grinning, Zeke nodded then meandered over to the case across the shop. She followed, and together, side by side, she and her husband examined the stock.
In no time, an older version of the young jeweler came from the same door the young one disappeared through. She touched Zeke's elbow, and he turned.
When the old man saw him, his eyes widened and his countenance softened with obvious glee or relief or . . . what was it?
He extended his hand and as soon as Zeke took it, Mister Miller covered it with his other hand. “You are here. You came. I never believed . . . but something told me.”
Zeke turned to Melody, and his hands and fingers went to dancing. “He says you haven't changed a bit, Mister Miller. But that he can't imagine you remember him since he was only a boy when his family came to your shop before.”
“I do. I do. Your papa.” He faced Melody. “He came here, right? If I remember.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah, yes. So your papa, he buy a beautiful gold locket for your mama. Yes?”
Zeke nodded.
“It was stolen, you see, and he wanted me to have one.” She hoped to dissuade him after seeing the prices on the ones in the case. “But I told him, I don't need—”
“Wait!” The sweet old man almost hollered. “I have the perfect one for you, Mis'ess . . . I cannot remember like I used to.”
“Sheffield.”
“Yes, I remember now after you help me.” He padded off back through the door. His son had gone on to help another couple. “You wait.”
After the man left her and Zeke alone, she started in, trying to thwart the extravagant spending. “Sweetheart, it really isn't necessary—”
“No one mentioned necessary, my darling. You are so exceptional, Wife, and I know how much my mother prized her locket . . . I'm certain you'll—”
“Here it is.” The dear old man handed Zeke a box, and he opened it.
Tears immediately filled Zeke's eyes and spilled over.
He turned the locket over. 'I love you more today than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.' was engraved on the back. Could it be?
But how?
Meeting the old man's glistening eyes, he knew it was true. He held his mother's locket in his hands. The very one. ‘But how,’ he signed to his beautiful wife.
“He says, 'but how'? What does he mean, Mister Miller? What is it?”
“This is the locket I sold to his father, the very same one. It is his mother's locket. Everyone knows for miles around if anyone wants a locket, The Bavarian Jewelry Shop in Saint Joseph is the place to come—to buy or sell.”
A gasp escaped, and she looked into the jeweler’s eyes then her husband’s. “Oh, Ezekiel!”
“I knew it immediately of course. Those men . . . they brought it to us for the best price. I couldn't bring myself to sell it though. I put it back in the desk drawer.” He motioned toward Zeke. “For just such a time . . .”
Her husband opened the locket and stared. It held photographs.
“Are those . . .”
He looked up and held the treasure out to her. “It's my father and mother.”
A miracle!
And he hadn't stuttered! And in front of the jeweler.
“Oh, Ezekiel!” She took it and studied the faces of his parents. The likeness was so evident. “How can it be?”
“When those men came, I knew who it belonged to; they had no idea, of course. I bought it, then kept it with the pictures intact. I couldn't say why. I guess I hoped . . .”
“Oh, Mister Miller. This is so wonderful.”
He took the box from her and removed the beautiful locket on its long gold chain. With his finger, he made little circles in the air, turning her around. She lifted her hair from her neck and held it higher while he fastened it on her.
She grasped it, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Ezekiel, it's a miracle.”
“How much, Mister Miller? I'll pay all that I have.”
The old grayed eyes glittered with moisture. Then a single tear made its way down the old wrinkled cheek. “It's yours, son. Already bought and paid for.”
Epilogue
T
he sisters had long and fruitful marriages, but as oft happened in those days, the three wives outlived their dearly beloveds. Earl was the first to go, but by then, Harmony and her husband worked at the school for the deaf and were close enough to check on Lucinda every week.
The stubborn-to-the-end oldest insisted on staying in her own home, and cooked supper for the whole family—Melody and Zeke and all their sugars included—every Sunday.
Then Ezekiel and Rupert died within weeks of each other. Both men's tickers gave out while they were doing what they loved, teaching.
Servilia came ba
ck to Texas, accompanied by her only child Sharon, and lived with Lucy in the old homeplace again. That eased Harmony's nagging for her mother to come live on the school property.
And Rupert left his beloved well cared for. Her bank account meant she and her sister never wanted for a thing.
Melody soon joined them, and the three Parker sisters ended their days together in their childhood home. Seldom did a day go by one or more of their seven children, sixteen grandsugars, or four of the greatest great-grandsugars missed coming by for a visit or to see to some chore that needed doing.
The truce Melody and Servilia forged mostly lasted to the end, but then what sisters didn't fuss a bit now and again?
Would you enjoy seeing the American Sign Language alphabet? I thought you might.
As an added treat, I’ve gotten permission from Heather Blanton to give you a sneak peek at the first chapter of her title in the Lockets & Lace collection! It’s my pleasure to offer for your enjoyment:
A Locket Full of Love
by Heather Blanton
Chapter One
Rimfire, Texas, 1867
Had he lost his mind?
“Hugh,” Juliet yelled after her husband. Fighting his way through a throng of panicked Texans headed for the bay, he didn’t seem to hear. “For God’s sake, Hugh, where are you going?”
“I forgot something,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Get on the boat.”
No. I won’t. “Not without you!” She lunged after him, pushing, dodging, ricocheting off the mass of bodies flowing over her. Yet, in moments, she was able to slip her hand inside her husband’s.
“I told you to get on that boat.” Anger reddened his cheeks and the flush was visible in his scalp through his thinning, ginger hair.
“I’m not leaving without you, Hugh.”
“The Comanche are on their way.”
“Then we’d best hurry.”
Her husband’s sweaty brow wrinkled with anger and frustration, and he dragged a hand through his hair. “Fine. We don’t have time to argue.”
He pulled her, hard and fast, and they were all but running. His long legs carried them quickly, challenged her to keep up with him. What could be so important? “Hugh, what did you forget?”
He pinched his lip, wiping away the sweat glistening in his mustache. “Your—your locket. We can’t leave without it.”
“My locket?” she practically squealed.
“It’s the first gift I ever gave you. I must have it. You must have it, I mean.”
Juliet thought he sounded almost dismissive with his explanation. Regardless, if the locket was this important—she hiked her skirt higher. “Then let’s run.”
The further away they got from the dock, the thinner the crowd grew. Another block and Juliet was convinced Rimfire was a ghost town. Surely they would all make it safely into the bay to wait out the Comanches. The Indians were on a rampage. Most likely, they would burn the town and then move on, but if she and Hugh went to the water, they and the others in town would be alive to tell the tale.
At least, if they hurried.
Another hundred feet and then they scurried like panicked mice up the front steps of their neat, white clapboard home. They stopped in the foyer.
“Where is your locket?”
“Upstairs on my vanity.”
Hugh didn’t hesitate. He shot up the stairs, vaulting over them two at a time. Juliet took the brief pause in their race against death to say goodbye to the modest little house. She and Hugh had only been married two years, and this was their first home. She’d been so happy here. They’d planned and dreamed here, about children, his mercantile growing, branching out into ranching—
She stopped the woolgathering. There would be time for that later. Hugh thundered down the steps, the locket swinging in his fingers. “Here, put this on and let’s go.”
He dropped the necklace around her neck and pulled her toward the door—
A shadow fell across the entrance, obscured by the frosted glass. Before she could react, the door burst in and a dozen whooping, hollering Comanche flooded into the foyer. Hugh blocked a hatchet wielded by a dark-eyed, screaming brave intent on murder.
But there were too many. Juliet screamed. Hands grabbed her. Like surging, angry flood waters, the Comanche shoved her and Hugh down the hall and out into the backyard. She heard the thuds and grunts of blows. Hugh was swinging, delivering vicious punches, but the braves retaliated with clubs, hatchets. Blood streamed down his face.
“Hugh,”she screamed, reaching for him. No, God, please, no—
Their eyes met for an instant. “Juliet, I’m sorr—”
A rifle shot cut off his words. Hugh crumpled to the ground and Juliet screamed again. No, no, NOOO! The warriors’ laughter nearly drowned out her own cries.
She kicked and writhed, but the dusky hands held her fast. Dark faces, painted in bright, primitive designs peered at her…ravenous…curious. Her dress ripped, the sound as shrill as a banshee, and cool air bit her shoulders.
The braves laughed again and tugged at her corset, snatching her around by it, nearly giving her whiplash. One Indian, taller, thicker, meaner-looking than the rest, grabbed the garment with both hands just above her breasts and snatched, apparently sure it would rip apart just as easily as her cotton dress, or at least fall open and expose her.
It didn’t weaken in the slightest. Juliet’s shock turned to fury and she screamed and clawed at the savages. “Get away from me!” She kicked, punched, bit. Her struggle only evoked more howls of laughter from the savages. Her golden hair fell loose from its pins and this seemed to amuse them as well as they grabbed at the strands, yanking on it.
She was terrified, yet insane with anger. This was Hugh’s fault. And God’s fault. She lashed out with her nails, trying to pull flesh from anywhere her hands might fall, but she wanted more. Her mind boiling with madness, she wanted to wrap her hands around Hugh’s throat and scream at him. Why wasn’t he here to protect her? She cursed him and God. Utter terror, coupled with a soul-scarring disappointment, seized her mind, burying it under this avalanche of crazed thoughts. She reacted like an incensed animal, snarling and growling at everything, everyone around her.
The tugging and pawing went on and on until a warrior new to the group appeared on the back stoop, bellowing something in Comanche. His comrades sobered immediately and rushed to the door.
Juliet barely had an instant to register her freedom and that she was still on her feet. Before meaningful thoughts could take form, the last brave, the mean one, sneered and fired an arrow into her chest. White-hot, breath-stealing pain bloomed in her breast like liquid fire. Pain so intense, it crushed her lungs, froze them. The warrior spared not even a bored glance back as he turned away and Juliet fell to the ground. A black mix of agony and grief swamping her, she whispered a prayer, one laced with the bitterness of hate, the last she would ever utter. “Why, God, why didn’t you save us…?”
Be sure to enjoy the rest of
A Locket Full of Love
By Heather Blanton
The Lockets and Lace Collection
The Lockets & Lace authors also blog at Sweet Americana Sweethearts daily posting bits of history.
Book Two,
Otto’s
Offer
Zina Abbott
Book Two,
Oregon
Dreams
Patricia Carroll
Book Three,
Silent
Harmony
Caryl McAdoo
Book Four,
Melly
Unyielding
Abagail Eldan
Book Five,
A Locket Full of Love
Heather Blanton
Book Six,
Tending
Troubles
Linda Carroll-
Bradd
Book Seven,
Chasing
a Chance
Angela Raines
Book Eight,
&
nbsp; Disarming
Amy
Sandra E. Brown
Book Nine,
Pearl’s
Will
Sophie Dawson
Book Ten,
The Bavarian Jeweler Zina Abbott
We hope you’ll visit Sweet Americana Sweethearts Blog, enjoy, and follow us.
Five Star Reviews on
Silent Harmony!
Silent Harmony is a sweet Christian historical romance that will warm the reader's heart. Set in the years following the American Civil War, people have lost so much but the love of the Lord remains. McAdoo has created some delightful characters that took up residence in my soul. Grown up sisters were realistically drawn with their sibling quibbles and their loyalty to each other.
A perfectly delightful tale. Grab yourself a copy and enjoy it today. –Julia Wilson, UK reader
Three sisters, Lucy, Servilia, and Melody Parker, live together in unhappy disharmony. Lucy the peace keeper must constantly separate and discipline Servilia, the sour, and Melody, the sweet, even though they ought to know better. Harmony, Lucy’s daughter, can’t speak, but nothing’s wrong with her mind.
Ezekiel “Zeke” Sheffield loses his mother on his way to his new teaching post. Further along the road, he loses her locket to robbers. Zeke is particularly suited to teach the deaf.
Throw in a tornado, a split old tree, and fields of cotton needing to be picked, all prophesied before they happened, and the story takes off like lightning flashing through a storm. This tale captures the reader’s imagination. A body can almost feel the Texas dust and smell the rain. Caryl McAdoo’s story grips the heart and carries the reader along to the very end. This reviewer absolutely loved it! ***** Five stars
Silent Harmony is definitely another winner! Love love loved it! --Louise Koiner, a Texas reader