Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  His foot throbbed. He needed to prop it up again. Pastor David was making an announcement. Myles tried to focus his mind.

  “A new brother in Christ has something to share with us this morning. Please join me in welcoming Myles Trent Van Huysen into our fellowship of believers.”

  Myles rose and turned to face the crowd, leaning on his crutch. Expectant, friendly faces met his gaze. He swallowed hard. “Many of you know that I have been living a lie among you these past few years. Today I wish to apologize for my deceit and ask your forgiveness.”

  There was Beulah, seated between her mother and Eunice. Her dark eyes held encouragement and concern. She pressed three fingers against her trembling lips.

  “My grandmother, Virginia Van Huysen, has prayed for me these many long years. She never gave up hope that God would chase me down. I stand before you to confess that I am now a child of God, saved by the shed blood of Jesus Christ. My life, such as it is, belongs to Him forevermore. I do not yet know how or where He will lead, but I know that I will humbly follow.” His voice cracked.

  Marva sat beside her father in the fourth row. Although her eyes glittered with unshed tears, she gave Myles an encouraging smile.

  “I’m having difficulty even talking—don’t know how I’ll manage to sing. But I want to share my testimony with a song.”

  He limped to the piano. After leaning his crutch against the wall, he settled on the bench. This piano needed tuning, and several of its keys were missing their ivories. One key sagged below the rest, dead. Myles played a prolonged introduction while begging God to carry him through this ordeal.

  Lifting his face, he closed his eyes and began to sing Elizabeth Clephane’s beautiful hymn:

  “Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand…”

  Myles knew that the Lord’s hand was upon him. His voice rang true and clear. The third verse was his testimony:

  “I take, O cross, thy shadow for my abiding place—

  I ask no other sunshine than the sunshine of His face;

  Content to let the world go by, to know no gain nor loss,

  My sinful self my only shame, my glory all the cross.”

  The last notes faded away. Myles opened his eyes. His grandmother was beaming, wiping her face with a handkerchief. He collected his crutch and stood. Someone near the back of the room clapped, another person joined in, and soon applause filled the church. “Amen!” Myles recognized Al’s voice.

  Pastor Schoengard wrapped an arm around Myles’s shoulder and asked, “Would anyone like to hear more from our brother?”

  The clapping and shouts increased in volume. “ ‘Amazing Grace.’ ” It was Cyrus Thwaite’s creaky voice.

  “ ‘Holy, Holy, Holy,’ ” someone else requested.

  Pastor David lifted his hand, chuckling. “This is still a worship service, friends. Please maintain order and do not overwhelm our new brother.” He turned to Myles. “Will you sing again, or do you need rest?” he asked in an undertone. “Don’t feel obliged, Myles. There will be other days.”

  Myles stared at the floor, dazed by this openhearted reception. He smiled at the pastor. “It is an honor.” He returned to the bench and began to play, making the ancient spinet sound like a concert grand.

  Chapter 16

  But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

  1 CORINTHIANS 2:9

  Whoa, girl.” Myles hauled the horse to a stop and set the buggy’s brake. On the other side of a pasture fence, Al and Buck kept watch over a smoldering fire, feeding it with branches and dead leaves. Smoke shifted across the sodden field, hampered by drifting snowflakes.

  Myles hoisted a large basket up to the seat beside him, unlatched the lid, and peeked inside. Indignant yellow eyes met his gaze. “Meow,” Pushy complained.

  “I’ll be right back, I promise. I need to talk to Buck for a minute. You should be warm enough in there.” Leaving the basket on the floor, he climbed down and vaulted the fence, hopping on his good foot before regaining his balance.

  Cold seeped through his layers of clothing. “Not a great day to be outside,” he commented to the other men as he approached. “That fire feels good.” He held out gloved hands to the blaze.

  “Need to get rid of this brush before winter sets in for good,” Buck answered, forking another bundle of dead leaves into the fire. Flames crackled, and ashes drifted upward. “This is the best weather for it. Little danger of fire spreading.”

  “Um, I need to talk with you, Buck. Do you have a minute?”

  Al looked from Myles to Buck and back. “Need privacy? I can head for the house and visit the family.”

  Myles shifted his weight, winced at the pain in his leg, and tried to smile. “Thanks. Would you take the buggy, Al? I’ve got Pushy and the kittens with me—planned to let Beulah see them. I’m afraid they’ll get cold.”

  Al smirked and shook his head. “You and those cats! All right, I’ll deliver the litter to Beulah, but that’s all. Should I tell her you’re coming?”

  Myles nodded. “Soon.”

  He stood beside Buck and watched Al drive away. The rooftop of Fairfield’s Folly was visible through the leafless trees surrounding it. Smoke drifted from its chimneys. Myles could easily imagine Beulah working at the stove or washing dishes.

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Better every day.”

  “Good. Violet is in town visiting Caroline and the Schoengard baby,” Buck said. “Had you heard? Little girl, arrived last night, big and healthy. They named her Jemima after Pastor David’s mother.”

  “That’s wonderful! A healthy girl, eh?” Myles fidgeted. “Great news.”

  “Beulah is watching Daniel. Samuel stayed home from school; said he was sick. I have my doubts.” A smile curled Buck’s thick mustache and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Beulah is home?”

  “That’s what I said. Washing laundry, last I saw.”

  “I, uh, need to talk with you. About the future. I mean, about Beulah and me. I need advice.”

  Buck threw a branch on the fire. “I’m listening.”

  Myles shifted his gaze from the fire to the house to the trees and back to Buck. He crossed and uncrossed his arms. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  Buck smiled. Sparks flew when he tossed a large pine knot into the blaze.

  “I want to ask your permission to marry Beulah, but I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to support a wife. I must return to New York and give a concert tour. Along with a few remaining stocks and bonds and whatever is left from the sale of the family house after I pay off debts, the money I earn should be enough to purchase the Thwaite farm. Cyrus agreed to hold it for me…at least for a few months.” Myles spoke rapidly. Realizing that he was rubbing the front of his coat, he stuffed the errant hand into his pocket.

  “Do you plan to propose before you leave or after you return?”

  “I don’t know.” Myles rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hat over his forehead. “Do you think she will accept my proposal at all? I mean, I haven’t spoken with her—not a real conversation—since the time she blew up at me. I can’t leave without knowing, but at the same time it would be tough to leave her behind once we’re engaged. What do you think I ought to do, Buck?”

  “Have you prayed about this?”

  “God must be sick of my voice by now. I’ve been begging for wisdom and guidance. I feel so puny and stupid. After years of regarding God with—I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it’s the truth—with a superior attitude, I’m feeling like small potatoes these days.”

  “God likes small potatoes. They are useful to Him.”

  Myles shoved his hat back into place. His smile felt unsteady, as did his knees. “If Beulah won’t have me, I’ll set up housekeeping with my grandmother. Gram has decided she likes Longtree better than New York, believe it or not. Most of her old
friends have died, and she prefers to live out her earthly days with me here. She’s a great lady.”

  “That she is. And what are her plans if you marry?”

  “She would be willing either to settle in town at Miss Amelia’s boardinghouse or to stay with us at the farm, whichever Beulah would prefer. Gram has money of her own, enough to keep her in modest comfort for life.” Myles tossed a handful of twigs into the fire, one at a time. “Do you…do you think Beulah will see me today? I mean, is she still angry? I was terrible to her that day—I swore at her, threatened her, and manhandled her.”

  Buck shook his head. A little chuckle escaped.

  “What are you thinking?” Myles asked in frustration.

  “Beulah and her mother have been sewing a wedding gown these past few weeks while you’ve been stewing in remorse and uncertainty. She forgave you even before you professed your faith at church. Beulah’s temper is quick, but she seldom holds a grudge. I hope you know what a moody little firebrand you’re getting. That girl will require plenty of loving attention.”

  Myles gaped as a glow spread throughout his soul. “She’s been making a wedding dress? For me?”

  “Actually, I believe she intends to wear it herself,” Buck said dryly.

  Myles was too intent to be amused. “And I have your permission to propose?”

  “You do. Violet and I are well acquainted with your industry and fidelity, my friend. You will be an excellent husband to our girl.”

  Myles stared at the ground, blinking hard. “And I had the gall to believe God had deserted me,” he mumbled. Biting his lip, he turned away. “I don’t deserve this.”

  Buck wrapped a strong arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “I felt the same way when Violet accepted me.”

  “You did?”

  Buck laughed aloud. “Go talk to the girl and decide together on a wedding date. It might be wiser to wait until your return from New York to marry; but then again it might be pleasant for the two of you to make that concert tour together—a kind of paid honeymoon. Beulah could be your inspiration.”

  Myles stared into space until Buck gave him a shove. “Get on with you. She’s waiting.”

  Beulah jabbed a clothespin into place, securing Samuel’s overalls on the cord Papa had suspended across the kitchen. The laundry nearest the stove steamed. Beulah tested one of Daniel’s diapers. It was still damp.

  “You could at least try to talk to me,” she accused the absent Myles. “How am I supposed to demonstrate unselfish love to a man I never see?” Her lips trembled. Clenching her jaw, she stabbed another clothespin at an undervest but missed. “No one tells me anything. For all I know, he’s going back to New York without me.”

  Recalling Myles’s singing in church, she brushed a tear away with the back of one hand. “He was so handsome. I hardly knew him without his beard. He looked like a stranger. And oh, his song made my soul ache.” Pressing a hand to her breast, she allowed a quiet sob. “You have changed his heart, haven’t You, God? Mama was so right. After all my accusations that Mama wouldn’t give Myles a chance, I’m the one who quit on him at the crucial moment. Please let me try again, Lord.”

  Samuel’s wool sock joined its mate on the line.

  A whimper of sound escaped as Beulah’s lips moved. “If you have changed your mind about me, the least you could do is come and tell me so. Oh Myles, I love you so much!”

  A lid rattled. “Who are you talking to, Beulah?” Samuel slipped an oatmeal cookie from the crock and took an enormous bite. Watchful sat at his feet, tail waving, hopeful eyes fixed upon the cookie.

  Startled to discover that she was not alone, Beulah glared. “Myself.”

  “Finally found someone who wants to listen, hmm?” Samuel ducked when she threw a wet towel at his head. Laughing, he left the kitchen with Watchful at his heels.

  “I thought you were too sick to go to school,” Beulah yelled after him. “You’d better get in bed before Mama comes home.”

  She retrieved the towel, brushing off dust. Sighing, she decided it needed washing again. “My penalty for a temper tantrum.”

  Scraping damp hair from her face with water-shriveled fingers, she drifted to the window and stared outside. Movement drew her attention to her garden. A doe and two large fawns, dressed in their gray winter coats, nibbled at bolted cabbages. Resting her arms on the windowsill, Beulah felt her heart lighten. “Better not let anyone else see you,” she warned the deer. “One of your former companions is hanging on the meat hook by the barn. We have plenty of venison for the winter, but you never know.”

  The animals’ ears twitched. All three stared toward Beulah’s window. After a tense moment, the doe flicked her tail and returned to her browsing. Then the three deer lifted their heads to stare toward the barn before springing away into the forest.

  Watchful barked from the entryway, and Beulah heard a man’s deep voice. Her hands flew to her messy hair, and her eyes widened.

  “Al is here!” Samuel shouted. “He brought something in a basket.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, relaxing. It was only Al. “Why aren’t you in bed, Sam?”

  Samuel pounded upstairs, skipping steps on the way.

  Myles lifted his hand to knock just as the door opened. Al waved an arm to usher him inside. “Enter, please. I’m on my way out. I’ll take my mare back and leave the buggy for you. Want me to stable Bess before I go?”

  Myles nodded as he limped inside. “Thanks, Al.” He swallowed hard. “Where is Beulah?”

  Al’s grin widened. “In the parlor. Sitting on your bear.”

  “My bear?” Myles stopped, puzzled.

  “It makes a nice rug.”

  “Oh, the bear.”

  Shaking his head, Al laughed. “Go on. Talking to you is useless.” He clapped his hat on his head and slammed the door as he left.

  Myles licked his lips and took a fortifying breath. Lord, please help me.

  He stepped into the parlor. A shaggy brown rug lay before the stone hearth. Beulah sat Indian style in the middle of the bear’s back, and in the hammock of her skirt lay Pushy and four tiny kittens. Firelight glowed in Beulah’s eyes and hair. The cat purred with her eyes closed while her babies nursed.

  “Myles!” Beulah’s voice held all the encouragement Myles required. “You came.”

  Daniel lay on his back near the rug, waving a wooden rattle with one hand. At the sight of Myles, the baby rolled to his stomach and called a cheerful greeting. Myles bent to pick up the baby, enjoying the feel of his solid little body. Daniel crowed again and whacked Myles in the face with a slimy hand. Bouncing for joy, he dropped his rattle.

  “I came. You like my kittens?” Favoring his left leg, he settled near her on the rug. Daniel wriggled out of his grasp and scooted toward the fallen toy. “I wanted you to see them before their eyes opened.”

  “They are adorable.” Beulah lifted a black and white kitten. Its pink feet splayed, and its mouth opened in a silent meow. Pushy opened her eyes partway until Beulah returned her baby. “I love them, Myles.”

  Hearing a catch in her voice, he inspected her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Does this mean you’re leaving? You brought the kittens to me for safekeeping.”

  Myles noted the dots of perspiration on her pert nose, the quivering of her full lips. Tenderness seemed to swell his heart until he could scarcely draw breath. “No, my dearest. I simply wanted you to see them. I have just spoken to your stepfather, as your mother wisely advised.”

  Beulah’s dark eyes held puzzlement. “You spoke to Papa?”

  “Have you changed your mind, Beulah? Do you still wish to marry me? Can you forgive me for swearing at you and threatening you?”

  She clasped her hands at her breast. “Yes, Myles! More than anything I want to marry you!” She started to rise then remembered the burden in her lap.

  Chuckling, Myles scrambled to his hands and knees, leaned over, and kissed her gently. Below his chest, Pushy’s p
urring increased in volume.

  When he pulled away, Beulah’s eyelashes fluttered. Her lips were still parted. He returned to place a kiss on her nose. “We need to talk, honey.”

  “Your mustache tickles.”

  Just then, Daniel let out a squawk. Startled, Myles and Beulah turned. Only the baby’s feet projected from beneath the davenport.

  “Oh Daniel!” Beulah cried. “He rolled under there again. Would you get him, Myles?” She deposited kitten after kitten in the blanket-lined basket. Pushy hopped in and curled up with her brood.

  After crawling across the room, Myles took hold of Daniel’s feet and pulled him out from under the davenport. As soon as he saw Myles, Daniel grinned. “You’re a pretty decent chaperone, fella,” Myles said. “Better than Pushy is, at any rate.”

  Beulah hurried to scoop up her dusty brother. “He moves so quickly. I got used to him staying in one place, but now he’s into everything.”

  “Can I come in yet? Are you done kissing?” Poised in the parlor doorway, Samuel wore a pained expression.

  “Don’t count on it,” Myles said.

  Beulah shrugged. “You might as well join us. You’re no more sick than I am, you scamp. But at least this way you get to be first to hear our news: Myles and I are getting married.”

  Samuel stretched out on the bearskin, combing its fur with his fingers. “I know. I heard you.”

  “You were listening? Samuel, how could you?”

  “Easy enough. I was sitting on the stairs.” He lifted a gray kitten from the basket and cradled it against his face.

  While Beulah gasped with indignation, Myles began to chuckle. He sat on the davenport and patted the seat beside him. “Come on, honey. It doesn’t matter. We’ve got important things to discuss.” After depositing Daniel on the rug for Samuel to entertain, Beulah snuggled beneath Myles’s arm and soon regained her good humor.