by Lily George
She nodded, placing her coffee cup on the table. “I used to feel kind of sorry for Emily. I could tell she was a sweet child, but one who had been used to getting her own way in everything. When she had to compromise or when things got tough, she cracked. You’ve been through worse with Ada than you faced with Emily, and you see how well she came through? The Westmores are made of sterner stuff than the St. Clairs.” She chuckled.
“I agree. Thank you for having a hand in the matter—for arranging our marriage,” he replied.
“It wasn’t me.” She gave him a wry smile. “I asked Ada that first day if she had faith, and she has grown in faith just as rapidly as a zinnia in the sun since her arrival here. So have you, for that matter. After being so badly burned by love the first time around, I could kind of see your perspective on the Lord. Mind you, I said kind of. I was always a little appalled by it, but I also understood how very bitter you were. It was God who brought you two together, and it’s been a real pleasure to sit back and watch your faith and love grow. I’ll be mighty happy to dance at your wedding today.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. It was a little discomforting to know that he had scandalized Pearl Colgan with his lack of faith and that she had loved him anyway and had entrusted her niece to his care. “I reckon you knew what was in me the whole time,” he admitted at length.
“I reckon I did.” She turned her attention back to her coffee, her eyes bright with what looked suspiciously like tears.
Laura bounded into the dining room, her long blond ringlets topped with a wide pink bow. “Oh, Pa,” she exclaimed cheerfully, holding out a handful of flowers. “Pick one of these for your boutonniere. Reverend Caussey says that the groom should have flowers just like the bride.”
Jack plucked a white zinnia from her offering. They were hardy flowers that would stand up to a day of wearing without looking wilted in just a few moments. “Have you been pestering Reverend Caussey already today?” Laura had been at the reverend’s house weekly since his arrival, spending hours with the reverend’s wife over lemonade. Already the Causseys had become an integral part of life in Winchester Falls.
“I was not pestering. I was helping.” Laura fixed him with a gravely injured look. “Someone had to help decorate the chapel. Mrs. Caussey says I have a natural gift for tying ribbons.”
“I’m sure you do.” Pearl patted the chair beside her. “Would you like to go with me to pick up Miss Delia and Miss Vi from the station? They are going to be your aunts, you know.”
“I’d love to.” Laura squealed with glee. “I can’t wait to meet them. Are they just like Ada?”
“Not exactly. They’re younger, but they look like her. They are both concerned with politics, just like your stepmother, but they are more concerned about the conditions for poor people. Violet is a writer, and Cordelia used to assist in the slums of New York as a relief worker.”
Jack inadvertently let out a long, low whistle. The Westmore gals sure were in possession of social conscience—that much was certain.
Laura fixed him with a sassy look. “What’d you whistle for?”
Pearl laughed. “I suppose he just understood what he was marrying into.”
“To be real honest, I’d rather marry into a bunch of people who are ready to take on the world and change it than a bunch of people who are happy to just be in their own small corner of it,” he admitted. It was true. Bring him all the suffragists and social workers in the world rather than a bunch of snobs.
“C’mon, let’s go.” Pearl rose, a little stiffly. “We’ll be cutting it close as it is. As soon as we fetch the girls, we’ll need to make tracks for the chapel. You don’t want to be late, since you’re the bridesmaid.”
“All right.” Laura followed Pearl out of the room and then paused on the doorway. Turning back, she gave her father the broadest, most genuine smile he had ever seen. “Bye, Pa.”
He waited until the door shut behind his daughter before allowing the full weight of that cheery little goodbye to take effect. He had been so sure he had lost her to the St. Clairs. He’d felt the love she had for him that day when she told St. Clair that she would stay in Texas. She had called him Pa.
The richness of the blessings being showered upon him this day was truly overwhelming. Not only was he marrying, in truth this time, the most fascinating and wonderful woman he had ever met, he was also gaining a family. Some members of it, like Pearl, he had known and trusted for a long time. Some members, like Vi and Delia, he had never met. The most important inclusion, the one that made his heart leap with joy, was his own daughter. She was his little chickadee once more.
“Father, make me worthy of them all,” he pleaded aloud to the Lord above, his fervent voice echoing through the empty dining room. “Make me worthy of them all, I pray.”
*
Ada turned to look at her veil in Mrs. Stillman’s mirror once more. Her neighbor had provided her own bedroom as a dressing room prior to the ceremony, so that Ada wouldn’t run the risk of accidentally seeing Jack before they made it to the chapel. “Are you sure I look all right?” Her reflection showed someone distinctly bridal, her hair arranged in careful swirls and her eyes bright with a heady combination of nervousness and joy. “I think the flowers are too much. I look silly.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Stillman replied heartily. “You look lovely, honey.”
“Don’t you dare touch them,” Violet snapped, fanning herself briskly. “You’ll spoil my handiwork.”
Ada smiled at both of her sisters in the mirror. That they were here, before the ceremony, was a surprise. Aunt Pearl had not been sure they would be able to fetch them and get them to the chapel without being late. The train had been early, however, and Aunt Pearl had not spared the whip.
Delia sprawled across the settee. “You look bridal because you are a bride,” she replied sensibly. “Aren’t you happy to be so?”
“I am.” Ada looked down at the silver-backed hairbrush on Mrs. Stillman’s dressing table. Somehow, she didn’t want anyone to see the depth of emotion on her face at this moment. It was too great to hide and yet too private to share.
“Good, because I’d hate to walk in there and tell folks the wedding was off.” Mrs. Stillman gave a chuckle. “Pearl Colgan would give me a talking-to, no doubt about it.”
Ada smiled wanly at this jest, and at the same time, found it profoundly unfunny that anyone would joke about calling off the wedding. Not after all the time she had fretted about whether or not Laura would be staying with them and whether or not Jack would want to still be married to her. Of course, Mrs. Stillman didn’t know any of her struggles. In fact, that worthy lady didn’t realize that this was her first real wedding to Jack. She merely thought it was “kind of cute” that Jack and Ada were insisting on renewing their vows in the chapel.
Mrs. Stillman shooed them all out of the room and down the stairs. Laura met them in the vestibule, her entire face glowing with joy. Ada stopped to embrace her.
“Your veil,” Vi moaned. “Please don’t wreck it.”
Ada fought an irresistible impulse to stick her tongue out at everyone and skip to the chapel with Laura, hand in hand. Her nerves were merely getting the best of her, and she simply must calm herself.
They were bundled into the Stillman carriage, with Ada squeezed between Vi and Delia, and Laura sat up front with the Stillmans. Aunt Pearl was meeting them at the chapel. Nervousness claimed Ada as it never had during even the most daunting feminist marches or even the day of the tornado. Was she really worthy of Jack and Laura? They were such treasures. How could she ever have felt against marriage or worried about having children? She couldn’t imagine life without them now.
They made their way across the pasture toward the chapel. Vi and Delia kept craning their necks, exclaiming at the rugged terrain. “You can see for miles out here,” Delia avowed. “It does look like the earth touches the sky. What a fantastic place. I never knew anything like this existed.”
“Ar
e there really Indian tribes out here?” Vi peered around her as though expecting to see an Indian village pop out of the open field.
“I think so,” Ada replied distantly. It was actually the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. “I don’t know for certain. We shall have to ask Jack.”
“I like it here,” replied Vi. “I think we should stay. What do you think, Delia?”
“I agree.” Delia smiled at her eldest sister. “It will be nice to be one big family again.”
“Jack has already said that you may stay if you want to.” Ada patted both of her sisters. “He thinks that New York is no place for a civilized young woman to live.”
The carriage traced a semicircle in front of the chapel and drew to a halt. The sisters gasped excitedly at the sight of it.
The chapel was beautiful and had been since the day they put the final coat of paint on it. Today, however, it was touched with majesty and grandeur. It gleamed, as pure and white as a string of pearls against the deep azure sky. The spire seemed to touch the heavens. As she gazed at the chapel, a deep feeling of peace and intense joy stole over her. No matter what happened, she and Jack would face life together. Their families would be with them the whole time.
She would never be alone to face the world again.
She had thought she had the world figured out and that she could be responsible for every person under her care. What she had found, however, was that much of life had to be taken on faith, and that only by dedicating her heart to God could she begin to understand the depth of love she had for others.
Vi and Delia embraced her once more, and Vi fussed with her veil, and then they scurried inside the chapel to find their seats. The Stillmans congratulated her, and Mr. Stillman gave Laura a coin and then they, too, went inside the chapel. It was just Laura and Ada alone, waiting to go in.
The wind whipped her veil around her head, and she held it close with her free hand.
Laura turned to her. “Are you nervous?”
Ada smiled. “I was. I don’t think I am any longer.”
“That’s good.” Laura took her hand in hers. “C’mon, Ma. Let’s go.”
Ada gasped with joy as Laura pushed open the heavy oak door of the chapel. The entire assembled population of Winchester Falls rose as they walked in.
Laura led her down the aisle, presenting Ada to her father with the same aplomb she would use to bestow a gift. As they joined hands, Ada leaned close to him.
“She called me Ma,” she whispered. “My cup of joy runneth over.”
Jack smiled at her, a tender expression in his eyes. “She called me Pa,” he whispered back. “My daughter has finally come home.”
They stood before Reverend Caussey and repeated their vows, affirming their love for and dedication to each other and the Lord. They were in the company of their family and their town, and she could not ask for a more auspicious beginning to their real marriage. Gathered under this roof were the people who mattered most.
The ceremony was over in a whirlwind of applause and kisses and shaking of hands. Ada marched out of the chapel on her handsome husband’s arm, shielding her face with her hand as the bright radiance of the midafternoon sun hit her full force.
After the wedding luncheon, served by Maggie and Cathy and Mrs. H., a group of musicians from the town assembled under the trees and struck up a few chords. Jack led her out onto the platform they had hastily assembled for dancing and swung her along with a lilting waltz.
“This is the first time we’ve danced together,” he remarked. “I can’t believe I waited this long.”
Ada laughed. “I can’t believe it, either. Waltzing used to be a regular pastime of mine. When I wasn’t marching in parades, of course.”
“Do you miss your life in New York?” He gazed down into her eyes.
“My life now is real and vital,” she responded. It was the simple truth. “When I was living in my father’s home, it’s hard to describe, but everything seemed to be a mere theory. As though I were simply spouting a philosophy of how I wanted to live or what I wanted to be. When I came here, though, life was no longer merely theoretical. I had to learn to do rather than to say. There is a rough kind of equality to life out here, isn’t there?”
“I would agree to that.” He swooped her around another turn. “Does it make you happy?”
She gazed up at her husband, so tall and so handsome and so infinitely wonderful that she caught her breath a little. “Happier than I have any right to be.”
A little scuffle sounded above the music, and Jack halted their dance. They turned to see the cause of the commotion.
A group of townspeople had started arguing vociferously. One of the men was the little old man with the bushy beard, who had been part of the throng outside the post office when she went to send the telegram. “Well, I don’t care what y’all say. We ought to have a fire department. The first time that a fire starts up on the prairie, you’ll be wishing for one. Why we didn’t have a fire in the midst of that tornado, I don’t know. But we need one. We’re a proper town with a proper chapel.”
The townspeople murmured and muttered, turning to each other for confirmation. “Well, I don’t see the point of having a fire department if we don’t have a mayor.” One of the other men banged his fist on the wooden picnic table. “Until we get a mayor, no fire department.”
Stella Cotton broke free from her dancing partner and stood on top of a picnic table. “I think Ada Burnett oughta be our mayor,” she hollered. “Miz Burnett sure did help us after the twister, and she knew how to handle those reporters.”
“Here, here!” Mr. Pollitt banged on the picnic table.
An excited murmur ran through the crowd. Ada turned to Jack. “I don’t know what to say. Mayor?” She had always dreamed of holding political office, but of course, that had to wait until women got the vote. Didn’t it?
Jack gave his loud whistle, the one that stopped all activity. Everyone paused to look at the couple standing, hand in hand, on the dance floor. Some, possibly a little shamefaced at breaking up Ada and Jack’s wedding dance, looked uncomfortably at the ground.
“As y’all know, my wife helped put the town back together after the twister hit because she knows how to organize people and how to play to people’s strengths. Like y’all said, she knows how to handle the press. She’s also right smart about politics, and she’s brave.” He smiled down at her encouragingly, the corners of his green eyes wrinkling. “Well, if y’all want her and she wants the job, I reckon you couldn’t do better.” He turned to Ada. “Do you want the job?”
Ada nodded, her eyes glowing like stars.
“All right,” the old man with the beard shouted. “We’ll elect her mayor, and then we’ll draw up our town charter. Winchester Falls will be on the map at last.”
“All in favor?” Someone in the back of the throng called.
A resounding “aye” welled up from the assembled crowd, followed by catcalls and whistles. Ada burst into laughter, tears coming to her eyes. So many things had happened in the space of just a few short hours. She had become Laura’s ma. She had married her husband in truth. Now she was mayor of Winchester Falls, the best little town in Texas.
“I hope that was okay with you,” Jack whispered, bending down close. “I just knew you were right for the job.”
“Perfect,” she managed to respond before the next roar from the crowd.
“Mayor, we need a fire department,” the little man bellowed, standing up on the picnic table to be heard above the crowd.
“Now, now.” Ada yelled as loud as she could to be heard above the fray. “We’ll meet tomorrow evening at the ranch—around seven o’clock. Now, we need to celebrate. Let’s dance.”
Everyone broke into applause as Jack led her out onto the dance floor to resume their waltz. Ada beamed up at her husband as they whirled around in time to the music.
She was no longer living in theory. She was living in fact.
She could not t
hank God enough for all He had given her.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt from A NANNY FOR KEEPS by Janet Lee Barton.
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Dear Reader,
This is my first Western story ever, and I hope you liked it. My family and I recently moved from the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex to a small, almost ghost town near Wichita Falls. We awaken to the sounds of our neighbor’s horses neighing or to the sound of windmill blades whining in the strong Texas wind. We are restoring a small 1920s bungalow. To say this has been a family adventure would be an understatement!
The experiences we’ve had out here have formed the backdrop for my story about Ada Westmore, Jack Burnett and his daughter, Laura. Even the little church they built is modeled on one that is right next door to us. It was built by Czech immigrants in 1916, and it’s where we attend services on Sunday morning. In a way, it’s a place where time has stood still, and I am so blessed to be living here and to be sharing stories about this land with you.
In Christ,
Lily George
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