“Grammy! Grammy!”
“Ohh, my sweet grandchildren! You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen!” She grasped their hands and showered kisses on them.
“Now, step back a mite and let me see my daughter Kari. Go stand with her so I can take it in all t’gether.”
The children ran back to Kari and stood next to her.
“What a picture you all are. I shall never forget this day.”
“Kari’s gonna be our new mama, Grammy. And Søren’s gonna be our new papa,” Shannon shouted.
“Papa!” Robbie shouted.
Polly raised a tissue to her eyes. “What a blessed, blessed day this is. You have turned my sorrow into joy, O Lord!”
Kari leaned into the window and kissed Polly’s damp cheek, and Polly clasped Kari’s hand.
“Kari, have you seen our Laynie? Is she here yet?”
“I, um, I received word a bit ago, Mama Polly. She won’t be able to come. I’m so sorry.”
“I see.” Polly was silent a moment, and then her creased brow smoothed. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry that we are going to celebrate this blessed day without her. But celebrate we shall! Come on, now. Everybody in this big ol’ car! We need to get the bride to her weddin’!”
Kari and the children climbed into the back seat of her Caddy, the two children on either side of her. Shannon grinned and fluffed her skirt. Kari grinned back and fluffed her skirt as well.
Shannon giggled.
It took only four minutes for Gene to deliver them to the top of Søren’s pasture. Three adjoining white tents were arranged on the grassy lawn. Through the tied-back folds of the nearest tent, Kari spied round tables already laid with snowy cloths, silverware, china, and crystal. Caterers scurried about, preparing for the reception.
The upper pasture was filled with guests’ vehicles. Gene parked in the spot designated for him. Lars and Dalia were waiting. With little effort, Lars lifted Polly onto a seat on a golf cart and Dalia held her steady while Lars drove them down the pasture to Polly’s front row seat.
More than two hundred guests waited at the bottom of the pasture for the wedding to start. Their chairs faced the creek and a sea of poppies. The rich harmonies of a harpist, three horns, and seven strings players wafted in the air.
“Here is your bouquet, Kari,” Ilsa grinned. Søren’s sister was radiant in pale yellow. Her red-blonde braid, hanging below her waist, glowed with the poppies twined into it.
Kari caressed her bouquet of red poppies, white lilies, and trailing golden wheat. “Thank you, Ilsa.”
“I’m sorry your sister isn’t here.”
“But you’re my sister, now, Ilsa. And I’m so glad you are here.”
As they embraced, the strains of Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring floated to them.
“That’s our signal. Shannon, here is your basket of petals.” Ilsa handed the large basket to Shannon.
“You and Robbie hold the basket together, like we practiced, and scatter the petals on the way down to the creek. See Søren and Max and the pastor down there? Keep walking until you get to them. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Let everyone enjoy watching you, okay?”
Shannon nodded. She was all business now. “Come on, Robbie. Hold the basket handle with me.”
The two of them set off, and Shannon began to scatter scarlet rose petals along the way. Robbie wobbled like one of his toy Weebles, but he kept up with Shannon.
Ilsa turned to Kari. “Guess it’s my turn. I-I’m so happy for you and Søren—”
“Please don’t cry, Ilsa! If you set me off, I won’t be able to stop!”
They chuckled. Ilsa sniffed back the tears and lifted her chin. “Here I go, then.”
Swaying gracefully, Ilsa began her walk down the sloping pasture.
Arm in arm, Kari and Gene watched Shannon and Robbie’s progress ahead of Ilsa. The children were nearing the rows of assembled guests when Robbie let go of the basket.
“Oh, dear,” Kari murmured.
Robbie, apparently called aside to see some Wondrous Sight, veered off in the direction of the barn. His departure was followed by Shannon’s outraged, “No, Robbie!”
And then they heard Max’s voice. “Robbie! Over here, buddy!”
Robbie changed course instantly. He “raced” on his stubby legs toward Max. With only a few yards of the sloping path left, Robbie’s forward momentum overcame his short legs’ ability to keep up.
Kari and Gene sucked in their breath as Robbie tumbled, end over end, and came to a halt face down in the mown pasture grass. The assembled guests inhaled as one.
After a breathless pause, Robbie raised his head and bellowed out a wounded protest of which Kari was certain half of Nebraska took note.
Amid laughter that drowned out the music, a large number of guests rose to their feet to help Robbie, but Max—resplendent in an ivory tuxedo—was faster. He sprinted up the slope, scooped up Robbie, and raced back to his spot next to Søren. Robbie, still bawling, reached out for Søren, who took him and kissed away the “injuries.”
The guests’ mirth floated to the top of the pasture where Gene and Kari, too, were gasping with laughter. Shannon, who had finished her journey as rehearsed, now stood between Søren and Max. Ilsa was approaching them.
“Think we should get moving, Kari?” Gene asked. “I’m not sure how much longer that boy will hold out.”
“That’s our signal, Papa Gene,” Kari murmured. She shivered as the horns of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March resounded in the open air followed by the combined strings.
Gene and Kari began their long march down to the creek.
Unexpected and unanticipated, Kari’s thoughts turned toward Laynie.
Elaine. My little sister. I’m so glad we found you at last.
The sadness against which Kari struggled when she thought of her sister glistened in her eyes.
Lord, Laynie’s heart is damaged in ways I cannot imagine . . . but you will draw her back to us. I know you will. And Lord? I am leaning upon you to bring her all the way. All the way home to you.
As Gene and Kari came down the pasture, the guests’ faces became clearer. Kari struggled to keep her composure as those dear to her smiled, nodded, and wept tears of happiness.
On Søren’s side, Thoresen relations and friends abounded: Uncle Matthew and Aunt Linda. Uncles Jacob and Luke and their families. Sean Carmichael. Alannah Carmichael.
On Kari’s side, precious friends: Ruth. Clover and Lorene. Owen and Mercy. Oskar, Melanie, and Scarlett. Bettina, Cadie, and a raft of Kari’s management team. Anthony and Gloria.
And then, in the front row on Kari’s left, Polly Portland. Bill and Mary Greene. Talia, Don, and their children.
Immediately behind them, frail and failing but adamant about attending, sat Shan-Rose Liáng. On one side, supporting Shan-Rose, was her brother Quan; on the other side, sat Mixxie.
Kari nodded to Mixxie and, for the first time in Kari’s acquaintance with the girl, Mixxie smiled.
And then there was only Søren and the children.
Søren stood tall. Solemn. His close-cropped red-blonde hair gleamed in the sun. Like Max and Robbie, Søren, too, wore an ivory tuxedo. The ivory accentuated Søren’s deep tan and piercing blue eyes. From within Søren’s jacket peeped a crimson cummerbund that matched the poppies at his feet.
O Father, my Søren is so handsome!
Søren!
And Max.
Shannon.
Robbie.
Our children.
Kari’s entire world.
Standing together in an ocean of swaying poppies.
Waiting for her to join them.
And over their shoulders, beyond the creek . . . Rose’s tiny house.
Rose! How I thank you for your courage. Your faithful walk with God.
“Stop, Papa Gene.”
Startled, Gene slid his eyes her way.
“Stop. Please.” She pulled on his arm a little, and he slowed to a halt.
Kari didn’t care. She wanted to take in this image, burn it into her heart where she could hold it forever.
She smiled her reassurance to Søren and he nodded. He understood.
Kari looked up at the wide blue sky and back to the sight that she would never have enough of. She filled her eyes with it.
“O God! How I thank you!”
Next to her, Gene sniffed, and Kari turned her smile on him.
“I . . . I just needed to savor this moment. I’m ready now.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, then . . .”
And they finished their walk into the field of poppies.
—
BEFORE GOD AND THE ASSEMBLED WITNESSES, Søren and Kari pledged themselves to each other.
It wasn’t a typical ceremony.
Søren and Kari held hands—with Shannon and Max squeezed between them. Robbie, perched on Søren’s shoulders and gripping Søren’s short hair in one fist, waved at his grandparents and anyone else who smiled and wiggled their fingers at him—which was, actually, quite a large number.
“I, Søren, do take you, Kari, as my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do we part.”
He cleared his throat. “And I, Søren, do take you, Shannon, and you, Robert, as my daughter and my son. I pledge to love you and raise you as my very own. From this day forward, till death do we part.”
Through her tears, Kari replied, “I, Kari, do take you, Søren, as my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do we part.
“And I, Kari, do take you, Max, to be my son—”
Kari’s voice broke. Shannon turned around and stared up at her. She patted Kari’s dress in a very adult manner.
“It’s okay, Mama. It’s okay.”
“I know, honey. I’m j-just s-so happy.”
Kari swallowed the lump in her throat and looked into Max’s tearful face. “Max, I pledge to love you and raise you as my very own son. From this day forward, till death do we part.”
Max crushed Kari in a hug that no one was expecting.
“I love you, Kari—I mean Mama!”
Kari raised her eyes to Søren’s as the pastor said, “In the presence of Almighty God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Søren, you may kiss your bride.”
He did.
It went on a long time.
Shannon squealed and covered her face.
Max blushed red. “Oh, man . . .”
The crowd stood and roared its approval.
And Robbie toppled off Søren’s shoulders.
—
LATER, AS THEY SLICED INTO THEIR WEDDING CAKE, Søren murmured into Kari’s ear, “I was sorry when Ilsa told me Laynie wasn’t coming, Kari. I know you had your heart set on her being here, on being part of our wedding. Our lives.”
Kari nodded. “I was disappointed, of course, but Rose said something in her last journal that I cling to. She said that God’s promises are the only things of which we can be certain—and they are certain because they are eternal, not subject to time, death, or decay.
“I believe that the Lord will continue the work he has begun in Laynie. And I believe he will bring it to completion. Someday she will be restored to him and to us.”
“I will believe with you, Kari Thoresen.”
Kari lifted her face to Søren’s.
“Søren. My husband. It took us long enough, didn’t it?”
“It took as long as was necessary.” He smiled and kissed her fingers.
“As Rose said, God’s promises are timeless.”
~~**~~
The End
Thank you, my dear readers, for going with me on this amazing journey. I love and appreciate you. To God be the glory.
—Vikki
The Books of
A Prairie Heritage
One family . . . steeped in the love and grace of God, indomitable in their faith, tried and tested in the fires of life, passing forward a legacy to change their world. The compelling saga of family, faith, and great courage.
Book 1: A Rose Blooms Twice
(A free eBook available from most online book retailers.)
Book 2: Wild Heart on the Prairie
Book 3: Joy on This Mountain
Book 4: The Captive Within
Book 5: Stolen
Book 6: Lost Are Found
Book 7: All God’s Promises
Tabitha,
Girls from the Mountain, Book 1
by Vikki Kestell
If you loved my series, A Prairie Heritage, then you will love the full stories of a select group of women whom you met first at the lodge in the little mountain village of Corinth (hence the series title, “Girls from the Mountain”) and later at Palmer House in Denver.
Tabitha is one such story—the testimony of a fallen woman redeemed by God’s amazing grace, led out of darkness herself to become a light on the battlefields of The Great War.
~~Vikki Kestell, Author of Faith-Filled Fiction™
—
“A timeless story of redemption and hope, Tabitha will pull at your heartstrings and delight you with its rich characterization and impeccable details. Tabitha is a book you will not soon forget.”
~~Chautona Havig, Author of Christian Fiction without Apology or Pretense—Lived, Not Preached
—
From the author of the groundbreaking series, A Prairie Heritage, comes the compelling story of fiery-haired, fiery-tempered Tabitha Hale. Rescued from a life of depravity, Tabitha gives her heart to God and her life to nursing.
As this tenacious, redeemed woman perseveres toward her vocation, her temper and stubborn independence threaten to derail her aspirations. Will Tabitha pass the trial by fire that is necessary for God to truly use her?
And what is Tabitha to do with her feelings for Mason Carpenter, the man who simply refuses to give up on her? Is it even possible for God to ordain a shared future for two such different people, both with fervent callings upon their hearts?
When the Great War erupts in Europe, Carpenter leaves for England to train British pilots to fly reconnaissance missions over Belgium and France. Soon after, Tabitha hears God asking her to nurse the war wounded. However, because America has not joined in the fight, Tabitha has few options. Will the elite British Nursing Service make a place for her? Will they accept the services of an American volunteer?
And will Tabitha and Mason overcome the differences that stand between them?
Revisit Palmer House—a most extraordinary refuge for young women rescued from prostitution. Renew your acquaintance with Rose Thoresen, Joy Michaels, and the others who live at Palmer House. Glimpse the years between Stolen and Lost Are Found.
Tabitha, Girls from the Mountain, Book 1
—
Why the Series Title,
“Girls from the Mountain”?
A short excerpt from The Captive Within.
Denver, 1909.
Joy was thoughtful. “You said something just now . . .” You called them girls from the mountain. I rather like that.”
“Certainly less degrading than ‘former prostitutes.’” Grant smiled his endearing half-smile.
“Perhaps that is how we should refer to them from now on. Of course, when the Lord gives us women from Denver, the phrase will no longer apply.”
“Denver is surrounded by mountains. I don’t see a problem with it. It could be our own little code for the young ladies of Palmer House.”
Joy nodded. “I like that.”
—
Girls from the Mountain is a follow-on series to A Prairie Heritage. Each book can be read as a “standalone” volume, but having already read A Prairie Heritage may increase your enjoyment. A Rose Blooms Twice, Book 1 in A Prairie Heritage, is a FREE eBook on most other eRea
ding platforms.
Stealthy Steps,
Nanostealth, Book 1
Book 1: Stealthy Steps, also available in print and audiobook format
Book 2: Stealth Power, fall 2016
Book 3: Stealth Beyond Borders, 2017
—
Excerpt from Stealthy Steps:
My name is Gemma Keyes. Other than my name, I am utterly forgettable—so those who never paid much attention to me in the first place aren’t likely to notice that I’ve disappeared. Vanished. Oh, it’s much more complicated than that.
I should tell you about Dr. Samuel Bickel, world-renowned nanophysicist. We used to work together, but I’ll be candid with you: He’s supposed to be dead. Well, he’s not. (Imagine my surprise.) Instead of the proverbial “six feet under,” he’s subsisting in an abandoned devolution cavern beneath the old Manzano Weapons Storage Facility on Kirtland Air Force Base here in Albuquerque.
“I need to show you what I am protecting here, Gemma,” he insisted.
I stared into the clear glass case. I could hear . . . humming, clicking, buzzing. A faint haze inside the box formed and moved. It reminded me of how mercury, when released on a plate, will flow and form. Only this, this . . . thing was “flowing and forming” in mid-air.
“Do you see them?” Dr. Bickel asked.
“Them?” I was confused. My mouth opened to a stunned “o” as the silver haze flowed and formed blue letters spelling out H E L L O.
Hello.
I blanched. Dr. Bickel hadn’t pressed any buttons. Hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t gestured.
He grinned. “Ah. They’ve noticed you. They know that they’ve not seen you before.”
“Well, I wish they wouldn’t notice me!” I choked on the words, my eyes fastened on the glass case.
And I need to warn you about General Cushing. The rank and name likely conjure images of a lean but muscled soldier, posture rigid, iron-gray hair cut “high and tight,” and a face cemented in weathered, unyielding lines.
All God's Promises (A Prairie Heritage Book 7) Page 41
