by Stephen Bly
If the weather allowed, the two ladies sat on the porch in the evening, sipping tea.
“A rough morning,” Catherine related at one of the sessions. “I’m sorry I fled the house when the baby died. I offered no help weeping like that.”
“That’s okay. I weep too. They expect me to save their loved ones. It’s like I have disappointed them when I don’t.”
“There is nothing you could do.”
“I pray, Catherine. I pray about every patient. However, it’s the Lord who makes the final decision. I learned in my first year of practice that I had to trust him. I can’t always understand, but I can trust. It reminded you of your little Marie, didn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m still in shock.”
“Did you go back up today?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, it is my quiet place. I know it’s strange to put two grave markers up on the mountainside, when they are buried somewhere in northern New Jersey. But it helps me to find some sanity.”
The doctor sat down her tea cup. “Do you still blame yourself?”
“If it was indeed an accident, I blame myself for leaving Catelynn that last time in an argument. But if she took her life on purpose . . . Oh, Patricia, I couldn’t live with that.”
“Can you trust God anyway?”
“I hope I can. These three weeks with you have given me rest for my mind.”
“I know your body hasn’t rested much. You’ve done so much for me.”
“Every act has been a pleasure.”
Patricia poured more tea in both of their cups. “Rev. Whiteside will be arriving tomorrow afternoon. Have you decided what to tell him?”
“Yes. I’ve told Phillip for several weeks now that I will not marry him. He seems difficult to convince. He is sure I’ll change my mind, just as he is sure I have some great wealth that will miraculously materialize.”
“It’s the prospector’s curse. Every one of them think they are only a day or two away from striking it rich. They haven’t found a decent gold claim around here in over ten years, but the hills are filled with men still looking. Everyone of them getting close. So it is with Phillip . . . tomorrow he thinks he will hit paydirt.”
A leather tanned man with black shaggy hair led two burros down the road towards Faraway Basin.
“Just like Tuley out there. He’s going to be rich one day and move to back home to Tupelo. It’s that anticipation that keeps him going each day. Same with Phillip. Do you need any help from me? We can be gone on some ‘emergency call’ when the preacher arrives.”
The tea was too hot to sip, Catherine enjoyed the warmth to steam her face. “No, I want to confront Phillip in front of the Reverend.”
“Then I will stay home and make a cake,” Patricia announced.
“What for? I said, no wedding.”
“In celebration of Miss Catherine Marie Goodwin who looks forward to the next stage of her life.”
“It will be a relief. No more awkward coffees on the front porch of the store.”
“I will make an angel’s food cake, to commemorate ‘good news of great joy.’”
Catherine chuckled. “You make it sound prophetic.”
Patricia winked. “Perhaps it will be.”
Catherine had known slow days, when time stalled . . . in a college classroom . . . or a family reunion in Richmond . . . or on the riverboat down the Ohio. But this day drug beyond comparison.
She fed the horse.
Washed, dried and put away the dishes.
Retrieved the laundry from Mrs. Chin.
Groomed the horse.
Swept the front porch.
Scrubbed the buggy.
Still the clock on the mantle had just struck 10:00 a.m..
Catherine glimpsed Dr. Drefert at her desk. “Anything you need, Patricia?”
“You are more nervous not getting married, than many who say yes.”
Catherine strolled towards the desk. “I just want to get this day over with.”
“What is your plan?”
“Since Rev. Whiteside drives right over to the church, I’ll meet Phillip on the church steps and we’ll clear everything up.”
“When do you need to meet him?”
“At three o’clock or so. But that seems like a year away.”
The doctor waved towards the door. “Go for a ride.”
“I’ve got him fed and groomed for the day.”
“He won’t care.” Patricia strolled around the desk. “Go on. You’ll wear out my carpet pacing like that.” She pushed Catherine out of the room.
The black horse pouted for a mile or two, then resigned himself to the ride. Aspen trees had turned yellow, sun rays warmed her as long as she stayed out of the shade. She tied the horse off to a six foot aspen, then hiked over to the large and small crosses.
She straddled the log that she rolled to the site weeks before. She gazed at the larger cross. “Do you remember that day that father sent us to New England? We were so mad at him. We wanted to shoot Yankees, not live with them. He seemed to know, didn’t he? Everything was changing. We thought it was only for a short while, but it was the turning point. That’s the last day we saw mother and daddy. Our world had changed completely, but we didn’t know it for a long time.”
She wiped her eyes on her dress sleeve.
“Oh, Cate, you and the baby died. Again, my world had changed and I didn’t know it. Like with mother and daddy, I didn’t even get to tell you goodbye. I don’t know if I will ever get over that . . . but I will trust the Lord through it all.”
She plucked pine needles off the dirt and weaved them together. “But this time it is different. I know that today is a turning point. I will tell Phillip goodbye and it will end this saga. I wish you could have met Patricia. She’s just like Penny Randolf. Always focused. Always consistent. Always doing the gracious thing. She is my gift, a present from the Lord to get through this transition.”
She tossed the needles down.
“Sometimes I am amazed that I found her. What’s more amazing is that I’m a grown woman and sitting here on a mountain side in California talking aloud to a deceased sister who is buried in New Jersey. Those Goodwin twins . . . always a little strange, weren’t they? Honey, I’ll carry those good memories forever, but if you don’t mind, I need to forget the bad ones.”
For several minutes she gazed at the trees and said nothing.
“It’s fall here. There’s a change in the air. And I know there is a change in my life. For almost thirty years other people have done things that controlled my destiny. No more. Just me and the Lord. There are no limits. I don’t know how often I’ll get back up here, but I’ll carry you and Marie in my heart.”
She stood and tugged her sleeves down.
“Race is wrong. I still have my heart.”
Catherine moseyed back down the mountain. She saw Phillip on the steps of the church, but didn’t hurry while brushing down the black gelding.
Patricia had a patient in her office, so Catherine cleaned up in the kitchen, then took one last look in the mirror.
If this were my wedding day, I look quite ragged. But it’s not. This afternoon, I find direction for my life, and tonight . . . there is angel food cake. Lord, you’ve brought some wonderful angels into my life lately. Race . . . and Francine . . . and now Patricia. I need a lot of upkeep, don’t I?
She strolled to the church. Phillip stood, hat in hand. He looked scrubbed clean, with a fresh shirt and tie. What little hair he had lay plastered to his head. He clutched a small bouquet of wild sunflowers. His gold tooth reflected like a beacon on some rocky coast.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming,” he muttered.
“I promised I’d be here.”
“I got all dressed up, in case you changed your mind.”
“You look very nice, Phillip.”
“Mr. Champion lets me buy these shirts for one half the price.”
“That’s generous.” She climbed up the stairs and sat down on the top one. �
�Phillip, I came over to be with you to explain the change in plans to Rev. Whiteside. I wanted you and him to understand I’m not going to marry you today.”
“We could postpone it a few weeks, if you’d like.”
“We’ve been through that. Not today. Not ever.”
“He ain’t here yet.” He pointed at the empty road from the south. “There’s still time for a miracle. You believe in miracles, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“That’s what I pray for. I asked the good Lord to let me and you get married and that you will be restored to your rightful Virginia inheritance.”
She looked down at the worn steps. “That would take a miracle.”
Phillip talked non-stop for the next hour about gold mines he almost discovered, fast horses that he came close to buying, and famous people that he just about met.
Catherine never took her eye off the road from the west.
Two riders.
Three men on foot.
A freighter rattled by. None stopped in Paradise Springs.
Finally, a black panel wagon pulled by a wide mule broke out of the trees and rolled to the edge of town.
Phillip jumped to his feet. “That’s him. That’s the Reverend.”
Catherine stood and brushed down her skirt.
He handed her the now wilted sunflowers.
“No, you hold them. I wouldn’t want the Rev. Whiteside to get the wrong impression.”
“You ain’t been hit by a miracle yet, have ya?”
“No, not yet.”
The gray haired man with leathered face and wide brimmed black hat tied the lead lines to the hand brake and scooted out of the wagon.
“Here is the happy couple,” he beamed. “You must be Catherine Goodwin?”
“Yes. I need to talk to you, Rev. Whiteside.”
“And I need to talk to you.”
Catherine tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You do?”
“And I need a miracle, two of them,” Phillip mumbled.
The Reverend pulled off his hat. “Don’t we all, son?”
“Reverend, let me say this right away. I am not marrying Phillip Draper. Not now, not in the future.”
Phillip rocked back on his heels. “I don’t think she loves me anymore.”
“That’s a very fine reason for not getting married. You must be convinced that the other person is one that the Lord has created for you to share love, laughter and faith for a lifetime.”
“You make it sound so serious,” Phillip said.
“Reverend, I was told by a friend that I gave my heart away too easy. He warned me that I would not have any of my true heart left to give when the right man came along. My heart has been wounded at times. And I didn’t treat it with the respect it deserves. But I am not going to give it away out of convenience or hope in some miracle.”
“Well said.” The Reverend nodded.
“So, you won’t be havin’ a wedding tonight,” Phillip added.
“Unless, as you mentioned, there is a miracle.” The Reverend grinned. “Now, Miss Goodwin, there is a friend of yours in the back of my wagon.”
“A friend?” Catherine dashed to the back and flung open the door.
A familiar saddle perched on top of the luggage.
“Mr. Walker! How nice of you to come for a visit.”
“The gentleman who sent it said to give you the saddle and say, ‘Mr. Walker missed you.’”
She reached over and hauled the saddle out of the wagon. “Oh, Mr. Walker, I missed you very much, too.”
Phillip watched her tote it up the stairs. “Don’t that beat all. I lost my girl to a dadgum saddle.”
A deep voice boomed from the other side of the wagon. “Yeah, the same thing happened to me, kid.”
Her chin sagged. Her breath stopped. Her hands clenched. Then she spied him as he sauntered up to her.
“Oh, Race . . . .” Tears streamed down her face. “You came.”
“I couldn’t stay away. I hopped off the wagon before we reached the church. I needed to know how you felt, before I butted in on your wedding day.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard it all. I need to tell you something.”
She threw her arms around him.
He pushed her back. “If we get to kissin’ and all, I’ll forget this speech. I’ve been workin’ on it for a week now. So, just stand there and listen.”
She glanced over at a beaming Rev. Whiteside and Phillip, who looked like a twelve year old that lost his only baseball.
“They can stay. I don’t mind who hears this. I spent a couple days riding the foothills around Stockton lookin’ for a man who isn’t there. While I was doing that, I kept asking the Lord to send someone into my life that I could trust my heart to. I prayed and I prayed, but the Lord refused to answer. Finally, last week, he told me to quit that prayer.”
“He did?”
“Yep. He said He already sent the most perfect woman in the world for me, and I let her walk away. He said he had more important things to do than line up more women for me. From now on, I’d be on my own.” Race looked straight into her eyes. “Catherine, if you’d like to throw away that sweet heart of yours one more time, I’d like the opportunity to catch it.”
“What?”
“Will you marry me?”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Of course I will.”
To call it a kiss would be a misnomer. To Catherine it felt like two strong willed people melting into one person. There was love, excitement, passion and surrender.
You just made my 1 to 5 scale obsolete, Race Hillyard.
When he finally pulled back, Rev. Whiteside spoke. “Could it be that I have a wedding tonight after all?”
“Yes, you do,” Catherine grinned. “It will take place one hour from now. Open the church and get the papers filled out. I need to go home and change into my other dress. Patricia will be the maid-of-honor. Phillip, you can be the best man. We’ll have the reception at the doctor’s office. The cake is already baked. Phillip you go invite Mrs. Chin and any one else left in town.”
Race rubbed the back of his neck. “You figured this all out while we were kissing?”
“Honey, I figured this all out when I was nine. Now you must find a wedding ring. I can’t imagine anyone having one in . . . .”
Race reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold band. “Happen to have one right here. Bought it in Sacramento.”
“You brought a ring with you?”
“Phillip isn’t the only one who believes in miracles. But I don’t have a better suit. You’ll have to take me like I am. What other things will you need me to do?”
“Figure out our honeymoon.”
“Got it planned.”
“You planned our honeymoon during that kiss?”
“Yep.”
She kissed his cheek. “Where are we going?”
The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes melted away. “I hear it’s springtime in Argentina.”
# # # # # #
More about Stephen Bly:
http://blybooks.com/
http://blybooks.blogspot.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlyBooks
Facebook: http://facebook.com/StephenBly
