The Preacher's Lady

by Lori Copeland

  “Breaking up? Yes.” Pursing her lips, she said, “It’s a painful decision, but a wise one. The right one. Thank you for seeing what I’d refused to recognize.”

  He dropped to his knees. “What a relief. You don’t know how I’ve worried and prayed about this. I don’t want to hurt you, Elly. You’re the last person on earth I want to hurt, but somehow, Cee seems so right for me.”

  Elly didn’t have the heart to tell him why she’d come that day. Why heap misery on top of what seemed to be genuine happiness, especially when the outcome was the same? God did work in mysterious ways when left to His own methods.

  Gideon quickly gathered her coat and gloves. “I’m so relieved we had this talk.” He helped her into her warm coat. “I have a piece of Cee’s gooseberry pie left. I’m going to wrap it and send it home for your lunch.”

  “Thank you.” Elly determined to give the pie to Pa. Even though the conversation had had its happy conclusion, she didn’t have the stomach for Cee’s pie anymore.

  He left and was back in minutes carrying a wrapped bundle. “Enjoy the pie.” He opened the door and ushered her out, firmly closing the door behind her.

  Standing alone on the front porch, Elly felt as though she had been felled by grace. God’s incomprehensible compassion flattened her, in a very lovely way. She allowed every worry about her encounter with Gideon, every mumbled rehearsal of apologies and explanations, to evaporate into thin air.

  Stepping down, she hummed “Amazing Grace” all the way to the buggy and then all the way home.

  Chapter 19

  Elly nudged the horse to a faster clip. She sang a marching song and encouraged him on with hip-hips, just as Pa taught her. A burden had been lifted, chains broken, her heart lightened. The cold no longer needled. Winter’s bite enlivened her to renewed possibilities. She allowed herself to think of other mornings like this, of the fire in the stove warming the kitchen, of her and Bo sharing a late-morning coffee.

  The buckboard rattled into the Sullivan yard. Elly drove the horse to the back of the house to the barn and braked. She whirled toward the sound of Faye Garrett’s screams.

  Jumping down, she raced around the corner of the house. She expected to see that Old Jake, the community hound, had cornered Bo’s mother near the front step. He’d become more of a menace as winter deepened. Instead, Elly saw Milt Garrett lying in the snow near the smokehouse, a shovel beside him. Faye knelt in the dirty drifts, calling out his name. Her shoulders heaved with sobs.

  Sometimes at the most unexpected times, life strikes with a rattler’s vengeance.

  Bo rounded the house and Adele stepped on the porch, called there by their mother’s cries. Bo raced to his father as Adele carefully maneuvered the porch stairs as fast as her swollen body would allow.

  Bo bent over Milt’s form, checking his neck for a pulse. His head dropped to his chest and he stood and gathered his mother and sister into his arms and held them close. The family’s mingled sobs carried over the brittle landscape.

  The front door opened, and Willow ran out of the house to the fallen man. “Papa!” she cried. The wind picked up her innocent words and carried them to Elly. “Get up, Papa. It’s cold.” The little girl tugged at the lifeless arm until Bo reached down and scooped her up.

  The community flooded the Garrett home with edible tributes in the following days—cakes, pies, casseroles, meats, bags of vegetables, and loaves of freshly baked bread—all offered to assuage pain. Not one mourner thought to say Milt had gone to a better place when he loved the Wisconsin countryside and his family so openly. A pall hung over the small community; preparations were made and a fresh grave dug in the small family cemetery.

  God shone on the Garrett family when He sent three calm, snow-free days in which to bury Milt. Friends and loved ones gathered beneath a copse of trees as the sun rose over the bogs.

  Gideon stood beside Cee on the morning of the service, his arm supporting her as she cried softly. If anyone wondered about which lady he should have been comforting, no one voiced their puzzlement.

  Elly hovered near Bo, Faye, Adele, and Willow. Anne had not been able to travel, too great with child to make the long journey. Elly was mindful that standing too close would be seen as out-of-place and inappropriate, but she didn’t want to be too far from Faye if grief overwhelmed her during the service. Bo supported his stoic and proud mother as the light breeze lifted her dark cloak.

  When the assembly gathered close, Bo stepped to the open grave, holding a piece of paper his father had written and handed him weeks earlier. Elly doubted there was a hint of moisture left in Faye’s tiny frame.

  Clearing his throat, Bo opened the service with a short prayer and then began. “Pa said he didn’t want a big fuss when this day came. He instructed me to read this particular Scripture when we laid him to rest and then tell everyone to go home. He didn’t want anyone getting frostbite.”

  Reverend Richardson shuffled and huffed. Elly knew how it pained the man to endure a short service. She bit down hard on her lip to control an unexpected smile. Richardson would have them stand until their feet were frozen to the ground, reciting Scripture after Scripture. And then he’d point his stubby finger at all in attendance to tell them a funeral was a wake-up call best heeded.

  Bo opened his Bible, but he didn’t look at the page as he recited.

  Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

  Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

  Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

  Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

  Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

  Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

  Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

  Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

  Kneeling, he scooped up a handful of earth and sprinkled it over the casket. “See you soon, Pa.” Stepping away from the gaping grave, he reached for Elly’s and Willow’s hands.

  With the weariness of grief heavy on her shoulders, Elly leaned on the kitchen sink and washed the last plate later that evening. Ma and Pa hosted a light supper for some of the churchgoers who had attended the funeral.

  The guests lingered with her parents in the parlor, reliving memories of Milt and his delightful sense of humor. Although the thought of socializing only added to her weariness, Elly loved to hear the stories of happier days.

  Lawrence Simms’s energetic voice sounded. “Remember the time when ol’ Milt pressed you into a wager that he could run five miles and never flinch? You full remember that you showed up in long johns, ready to prove yourself tougher than Milt. The two of you agreed the monies would be given to the church.

  “As I recall, you two thought the joke was private. You were both mightily surprised by the turnout on a bitterly cold morning. I do believe the whole community was there to witness the spectacle. Why you picked sunrise, I’ll never know. I nearly froze to death myself with two coats and a muffler. You both stood hopping and slapping your shoulders to keep warm until someone yelled out to get going. Red-faced but good-natured, the two of you made it across the finish line. Funny, but I don’t recollect who won.”

  Pa said softly, “Milt, who else?”

  As they exchanged stories, laughter, at first guarded and then enthusiastic, sounded from the parlor.

  Elly couldn’t imagine a world without Milt. In her heart, she spoke to him: I wish there had been time to tell you that Bo and I are mending fences. That there’s hope for us yet.

  The busyne
ss of death left no private time for her to talk to Bo. How she longed to fly to him, to take him in her arms and kiss away the sadness in his eyes.

  A snowball hit the window.

  Sighing, she wondered why the love of her life couldn’t knock on the front door like everyone else. Lifting the window, she called, “You knocked?” Her gaze settled on his outline in the winter’s moon and her pulse thrummed. She didn’t care if he threw boulders; he was always a welcome sight. She eased the glass open a bit more. “Bo, come closer.”

  Seconds later he stood at the window. Shivering, she rubbed her arms. “Goose, why didn’t you come in?”

  “I was about to, and then I thought, I don’t want an audience for this.”

  The solemnity in his voice quickened her pulse. He was here to tell her that whatever had taken place a few days back had been a mistake.

  She summoned the courage to say, “Whatever you have to say, say it.”

  “Well, now you sound downright unfriendly.” He moved closer to the window, removing his hat. “I heard an ugly rumor that you and Gideon rethought your engagement and decided to drop it.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “I wanted to tell you, but I haven’t had a moment alone with you. I went to Gideon’s the morning after… ”

  Words trailed when his arm reached through the open window and drew her closer. “You’re going to have to get closer. I don’t want to scream this, but I will. “

  Offering a shy grin, she taunted, “I can hear from this distance.”

  “Come on, Elly, I don’t want to disturb your parents and their company.”

  Everyone would know who said what by morning anyway. Nothing was sacred in Berrytop, including private conversations. Just the same, a girl couldn’t be too careful. “You’ll have to wait a minute if you want to talk to me properly.”

  She closed and locked the window. Bo looked positively crestfallen. Elly didn’t linger. She rushed to gather her coat and mittens and stepped outside to meet him, leaving the door open in her haste. “You have something to say to me?”

  Drawing her slowly to him, he whispered, “Just wanted to be friendly. Hello, Elly.” Her eyes drifted shut and the exquisite touch of his mouth closed over hers.

  The kisses came softly, and then hungrily. Years peeled away and she was hopelessly lost in his embrace, both ecstatic and needy. Bo was no longer a young boy. He was a man, and she was a woman.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. She’d waited for this moment longer than she cared to remember. Even her dreams focused on this time and place, and she didn’t care if curious eyes were staring out the back window.

  Bo was finally home.

  Breathless, they kissed, each encounter growing longer and more urgent with hasty snatches between breaths, minds crying, I love you. What took you so long to surrender? I can’t hold you close enough.

  She had no idea how long the embrace would have lasted, if Ma hadn’t made herself and the others known.

  “Good heavens! What is the back door doing open? It’s winter… ” Ma paused with her head half out the door. Once she’d taken in Bo and Elly’s embrace, she disappeared and closed the door quietly.

  Far too soon, Bo pulled back but didn’t completely release her. He clung to her with the desperation of a drowning man, and she held him, knowing this was his way of releasing his pain. For three long days he’d carried the crushing loss of his father. He’d lost the man who watched him born into the world, seen his first step, helped pull his first tooth. Milt had taught him how to set a hook and flush out game in the woods. Milt taught him to ride. He took Bo to the woodshed when needed and shared an abundant measure of unconditional love afterward. Milt made Bo the man he was today.

  Now, grief poured out of Bo Garrett. In Elly’s arms, his shoulders heaved and she drew his face to her heart. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as pain rolled out of him. A barn owl hooted from a nearby tree, but no other sound touched the night.

  They were together now. Bo was right where he belonged.

  Chapter 20

  Turning off the lantern, Elly crawled beneath the covers with morning only a few hours away. Saying goodnight to Bo had been difficult. There was so much to catch up on, so many misunderstandings to clarify. Elly laid her head on her pillow, blanketed by peace.

  She’d come to anticipate bedtime as a time to continue the heart-to-heart talk she’d started with God. The way Bo talked about Him made His presence so much more real. And His grace? Knowing all of her sin had been paid for in full and secured her a place in eternity made her love God even more. Not only that, His blessing extended to her in the here and now. He’d been faithful and brought Bo back to her, a little damaged and worn, but better from his experiences.

  In a way, she was thankful for the years of Reverend Richardson’s teaching. Although he hadn’t presented a full picture of God, she appreciated a loving God, chock-full of grace and mercy, all the more for the contrast.

  Settling beneath the blanket, she said softly, “It’s been a good day, God. I know Milt is resting in Your eternal love. Comfort Bo, Faye, Adele, and Anne. Give Faye more strength than she’ll need for the coming days—”

  Something hit the window.

  Her bare feet touched the frigid floor in seconds and the window sash flew up. Bo was back. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she teased.

  He twisted his hat in his hands. “Willow isn’t in her bed.”

  Elly sucked in a breath. “It’s past two in the morning.”

  “We’ve looked everywhere. The barn. Under her bed. Every closet and pigeonhole in the house. We’ve checked every cellar and outbuilding. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  Blood turned to ice in Elly’s veins. The warmth of her bed faded. Above her, the black sky was crystalline. “I’ll get dressed.” Closing the window, she hurriedly discarded her gown for long johns, britches, and a wool shirt.

  Within twenty minutes—a very long time for a young child to be out wandering on a winter’s night—the able-bodied had been woken to join the search, and the good people of Berrytop, for the second time that day, had come to support the Garrett family.

  Lantern light bobbed across the frozen landscape as groups of searchers spread out across the bogs and fields. Elly led one of the groups, mostly men, through a thick pine grove. The trees’ bare branches cast grotesque shadows across the snow and gave her a sense of foreboding. She dismissed the thought and said a prayer for Willow’s safe return.

  Within an hour, Elly’s teeth were chattering and she could no longer feel her toes, although she wiggled them wildly inside her boots. All around her, she heard searchers calling the girl’s name. Sweeping the lantern for tracks yielded nothing except rabbit and deer prints. The thought of continuing the search washed her with fatigue, but giving up was not possible. Willow was too precious and vulnerable.

  The sky lightened to charcoal and then to the color of a mourning dove’s feathers. The searchers looked behind every fallen log and under every bush for hours, and still Willow had not been found.

  Two parties met up, soon joined by three others. “Well,” someone said, “I can’t say what to do. We’ve looked everywhere but the river, and it’s frozen solid. I don’t see how she could have fallen through. If anyone’s willing, I’ll take a party to search from the bridge to where the river joins the creek. I don’t expect to find her there.”

  Bo shook his head. “A party has been up and down the river, but thanks for your willingness to press on, Fred. I have no idea where else to look.”

  Faye insisted on joining the search, and nobody had the heart to deny her. Everyone understood the need for distraction in grief. She added a sense of clarity to the discussion. “She’s been incredibly upset about Milt all day. She hasn’t eaten a bite since yesterday. She’s done nothing but look out the window. It’s like she was looking for him. I can’t help but think she’s closer than we think. You searched every inch of the barn?”

  “We
have, Faye. If you want, we’ll retrace our steps,” a neighbor offered.

  The widow shook her head. “Why don’t we go back to the house? I’ll make breakfast and some hot coffee. Once we thaw out, we can make a new plan.”

  When others turned back, Bo stayed put. Faye turned to look over her shoulder. She beckoned him. “Don’t be stubborn, son. You can’t do any good out here if you’re frozen solid. The sun will clear the trees in half an hour. Our chances of finding Willow will improve with morning.”

  Elly sidled up to Bo. “She’s right, Bo. In half an hour we’ll be able to spot her tracks.”

  Bo appeared to hear, but he was obviously deep in thought. “Did anyone check Pa’s grave?”

  Elly shook her head. “Not that I know of.” With a quick survey of the search parties, it turned out no one had been eager to walk in a graveyard in the black of night.

  Bo turned and ran toward the family plot. Faye shouted after him. “Bo, the child could be anywhere! Come home and get warm.” She turned to Elly.

  “I think Bo might be on to something. It’s worth a try.”

  Before the idea was fully formed, Elly whirled and raced after Bo.

  Breathing hard, Elly raced toward the family cemetery. Bo was well ahead of her, calling, “Willow!”

  “Willow!” Elly echoed.

  “Where are you, girl?”

  “Willow, answer me!”

  “Willow!” Bo unlatched the gate enclosing the seven Garrett graves. The soft light of dawn revealed six graves and one fresh one. Elly wiggled through the gate behind him. Willow lay on top of the fresh grave. Jake, the old farm dog, lay beside her to keep sentry.

  Holding up, Elly bent with hands to her knees to catch her breath. The frigid air burned her lungs. “Bo, is she all right?” She braced herself for the answer.

  Bo stepped into the soft dirt and gathered the child into his arms. “Good dog, Jake. Good boy.”

  The dog whined. His tail thumped on the fresh dirt.