by Linda Ford
A knock sounded downstairs. He eased away. “I’ll bring the doctor up.”
The doctor examined the injured ankle. “Nothing broken as far as I can tell,” he decided. “Keep it elevated for several days and stay off it.”
Caleb saw him out, then came back to lie beside her, holding her close. Warmth seeped back into her bones. The pain focused in her ankle, throbbing incessantly.
“I didn’t expect you to come,” she murmured, relaxed in his arms.
“Why not?”
“It was raining. You hate rain. Only time you’ve ever faced the rain was to cover Frankie’s grave.”
“Do you think the rain mattered when I knew you needed me?” His voice held a sharp note, but she couldn’t tell if it was surprise or annoyance.
“But I’ve always needed you.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not a comrade at arms. I haven’t fought beside you in the trenches of France. I’m not sick or dying.” She groaned as her ankle reminded her of her injury. “My ankle will mend in a few days. But I love you, Caleb Hughes. I need to know that’s important to you.”
His voice grew very soft. “Have I led you to believe otherwise?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. I feel petty saying this, but sometimes I feel I can’t compete with Frankie.”
When he would have shifted away, she held him close. “I don’t mean to be demanding, but sometimes I long for you to treat our relationship with the same devotion and fervor you apply to improving Frankie’s business.”
He sighed.
“Have I said too much? Am I asking too much?”
“No, you’re not. I honestly didn’t realize how you might look at things. But tonight, when I thought of you hurt and alone out in the dark, I didn’t have to think twice about going to get you.” He turned on his side, holding her tight. “I couldn’t live without you, Lizzie. Don’t ever leave me. Don’t give up on me. I love you so much it hurts.”
She pressed feathery kisses to his arm where it lay across her chest. “You know I will never leave you.” His words of love were all she cared about. “I love you far too much to think of life without you.”
Ensconced on the sofa, Lizzie did not lack for company. Violet had appointed herself personal maid, hovering at Lizzie’s side, wanting to do something, anything, for her.
“You want more water?”
Lizzie looked at the glass at her elbow. She’d barely had a chance to swallow a mouthful. “Not yet, Dear.” Violet’s face fell. “But if you get my flute, I could play awhile.” The child raced to do her bidding.
Lizzie took the instrument. “I’ll be all right for a bit if you want to go outside.”
Violet hung back, and then her face brightened. “I’ll go get you some flowers.”
Lizzie longed to rest; but she knew if the child didn’t hear the flute, she would come back to see what was the matter. So she played for several minutes, then let her head fall back, closing her eyes.
A knock sounded on the front door.
Lizzie sighed. Rest seemed a rare commodity around here. “Come in,” she called, gaping as Mother Hughes hustled in carrying a pot, a basket of eggs, and a loaf of fresh bread. “I brought some soup and bread.”
“Why, thank you. Go ahead and put them in the kitchen. I’m sorry I can’t get up.”
“You stay right there. I’ll look after myself.”
A stove lid banged. The cupboard door squeaked. A few minutes later, Mother Hughes returned, carrying two teacups.
“I know how much you like tea.”
Lizzie graciously accepted the offering, knowing if she drank any more, she would begin to float.
“It’s too bad about your ankle.”
Lizzie nodded. “A bit of foolishness on my part.” She might as well say it before her mother-in-law did.
“It could happen to anyone.”
Lizzie almost choked on her tea. She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. “I’m not used to drinking while lying down.” Never mind that she sat propped against a pile of pillows. “How are things on the farm?”
She hadn’t seen Mother Hughes in days. On Sunday, Caleb had announced that since they were living in town and the church was only a hop, skip, and a jump away, they would go there rather than out to the Sidons’ house to join his parents. He could have knocked her over with a feather. He’d grinned at her and added, “Besides, I like the music. Guess I got spoiled at your home.”
Pleased at his admission, she gladly joined the worshippers at the little church where Frankie’s funeral had been held. Her only regrets were she wouldn’t see Molly so often and Caleb’s parents might be hurt by the move.
“The crops are looking real good,” Mother Hughes said. “That last rain came just in time. And I have a lovely garden. The flowers you planted around the house are bursting into bloom.” Mother Hughes toyed with the handle of her cup. “I was wondering if you wanted me to dig them up and bring them to you.”
“What a lovely thought.” Lizzie considered the idea. “But, you know, I think it would be best to leave them until fall, and then I’ll collect seeds from them and start them here next spring. In the meantime you enjoy them for me.”
Mother Hughes looked shocked at the idea.
Lizzie smiled. “No point in letting God’s gifts go to waste.”
The older woman blinked, then slowly nodded. “I suppose not.” She took the empty cups. “Now I don’t want to tire you. I’ll rinse these and be on my way.”
Lizzie managed to doze a few minutes before a neighbor lady came bearing a freshly baked pie. Two more ladies came with gifts; then Violet burst in, her hands full of wildflowers. She found a vase for them and set it where Lizzie could see them. “To cheer you up,” she said.
“Thank you, Violet. That’s sweet of you.”
By the time Caleb came in for supper, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I never knew people were so kind. I’ve had a steady stream of well wishers all bearing gifts.” She waved Caleb to the kitchen. “Help yourself. We’ll be eating for days on what they brought.”
He fixed her a plate of food and brought it to her, pulling a chair close to her side. “You’ve kept your foot up, haven’t you?”
She laughed. “Violet guarded me all day.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Good. I want you to take it easy until that ankle heals.”
At bedtime, he carried her upstairs to bed. “I can’t imagine life without you even though I know I don’t deserve you.”
She pressed his palm to her lips. “You’re stuck with me whether you deserve it or not.”
Molly came the next day and paced from room to room.
“Please, Molly, sit down and relax.”
“I’m relaxed.” She perched on the edge of a chair. “Your ankle hurt much?”
“Not as bad as it did. I’ll be up in a few days.”
Molly bounced from her chair and stared out the front door. “How do you like living in town?”
“Fine. Why?” She suspected Molly had more than a polite reason for asking.
“Don’t you miss the farm?”
“Not really. But remember I’ve always lived in town. One much larger than this.”
Molly turned slowly. “I’ve always lived in the back of beyond where no one ever comes calling except the wind.”
Lizzie watched her expression change from worry to humor.
“I remember once a preacher man came calling. Pa and Uncle Clem stood staring at him with their mouths hanging open. The poor man stood in the open doorway and visited for about half an hour.” She giggled. “After he left, Pa turned to Uncle Clem. ‘Wasn’t we supposed to ask him in or something?’ Uncle Clem looked like he’d been punched. ‘I plumb forgot my manners.’ They was pretty rough men.” She jammed her hands into the back pockets of her trousers. “That’s the way I was raised. I don’t know no better’n they did.”
“Molly, you underestimat
e yourself. You’re a fine woman. You treat people well. That’s all good manners are, you know, treating others kindly. What are you really worrying about?”
Molly rocked back and forth on her heels. “Carson says he loves me.” Her expression softened. “I took your advice and stopped fighting him. I decided I would just be me—the nicest me possible.” She dropped her gaze. “He seems to like me best that way.”
Lizzie laughed softly. “Of course he does. Congratulations.”
Molly gave her a desperate look. “He hasn’t asked me to marry him yet. Truth is, every time he starts to, I get all jittery inside and change the subject. I’m plumb scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“Fitting in. I ain’t a fine lady. I don’t know nothing about town life except to go to the post office or store, get what I need, and get out as fast as I can.” She took to pacing again.
“Has Carson said he wanted you to live in town? Has he suggested you should change into a fine lady? Not that you aren’t fine just the way you are.”
Molly ground to a halt. “We have to live someplace.”
“Of course.”
“Not town. I couldn’t stand town. I’d wither up and die.”
“I’m sure if you tell him, he’ll understand. He probably already does.” Lizzie grinned. “Men surprise you sometimes with how much they understand.”
Molly shook her head. “I’m afraid of what he’ll want.”
“Molly,” Lizzie scolded softly. “Didn’t we discuss this last time? About love meaning you trust someone? Trust Carson. He isn’t going to try to make you something you’re not.”
Molly nodded again. “I guess I have a lot to learn about love and trust.”
“And a whole life to do it in.”
Suddenly Molly grinned. “Put that way it sounds fun.”
A few minutes later, they heard the sound of a wagon enter the yard. Molly left soon after, whistling as she headed toward the barn.
Several days later, the doctor told Lizzie she could get up. “Be careful for a few days,” he cautioned as he left.
Glad to be free of her confinement, she headed outside. The July sky was clear and bright, the sun warm enough to make her keep to the shade.
Molly strode into the yard and, seeing Lizzie against the house, angled toward her. A wide grin lighted her face.
“You look very happy,” Lizzie said.
“I agreed to marry Carson.”
“Good for you.” She hugged her friend. “When’s the big day?”
“No big day. We’re getting married without all the fuss. I was hoping you and Caleb could stand up with us.” She twirled around. “And Carson suggested we fix up that little house down the road a mile—you know the Rheaume place. It’s been empty since the boys all went to war and the parents went back east. Carson says that way I’ll have room to raise and train my horses and he’ll be close for work.”
“What did I tell you?”
“I prayed real hard before I would let him ask me to marry him. I knew I had to get to the place where I could trust someone. It had to start with me really trusting God. Mostly I’ve just tacked Him on to my life. Kinda stupid, aren’t I?”
Lizzie shook her head. “Just growing up. Like the rest of us.” She’d had to learn her lessons, too—to let God do His work in Caleb’s life. To be true and kind and faithful and leave the rest to God. “God never fails.” He’d brought healing to Caleb’s heart through so many people and events. Her heart swelled with thankfulness.
“I have something I want to show you,” Caleb announced a few evenings later. “Are you up to a short walk?”
“Yes. My ankle is almost as good as new.”
“Bring your flute.”
“What are you up to?”
He grinned. “Come along and see.”
He refused to say anything more as they walked hand in hand down the street. They passed the post office, the hardware store, and the feed store. Caleb pulled her toward the church.
She looked at him curiously. She really had no wish to look at the mound of dirt where Frankie lay buried even though she knew Caleb came here often.
But he drew her after him to the exact spot.
“Look.”
She lowered her eyes and gasped. “You did this?” The mound had been levelled and grass planted on the new soil to form a lush green carpet. A row of bright yellow marigolds bloomed across the head of the grave. Wild rose bushes had been pruned and transplanted to stand on either side of the cross. “It looks real nice.”
“I wanted to finish it up before I left it.”
She grew very still, wondering if he meant this was the end of the war.
“It’s time to go forward.”
She waited for him to continue.
“I wanted you to come with me to say good-bye one last time. Play something for Frankie.”
She took her flute and played a march. Caleb stood with his head bowed. She finished and whispered, “Good-bye, Frankie. We’ll never forget you.”
“Good-bye, Frankie,” Caleb echoed. “You were a good friend and a brave soldier, but you’ve gone to a better place.” After a moment, he took Lizzie’s hand and led her away, stopping under a birch tree where they were almost invisible from the street. “From now on we go forward. Together. With God’s help.” He pulled her into his arms. “We have the rest of our lives to live.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. Now seemed like the right time to share her secret. “And now more reason than ever to go forward.”
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to the doctor, and he agrees with me. We’re going to have a baby.”
He tipped her head back so he could see her eyes. “A baby?”
Her eyes brimming with happiness, she nodded.
“You and me and baby.” He crushed her to his chest. “What a wonderful life we’ll have.” His mouth found hers, saying more than any words invented could ever say.
Sneak peek of Maryelle
“Next stop, Flat Rock,” the conductor announced, pausing at Maryelle’s side. “Your journey is almost over, Ma’am. I wish you all the best.”
Maryelle sat up straighter, her chest impossibly tight as the train slowed and puffed to a halt. She leaned toward the window for a closer look.
“It’s nothing much to look at, I’ll grant you,” offered the woman across the aisle. “But you’ll find it a pleasant enough spot.”
Maryelle peered through the soot-covered glass, hoping for some sign she would like this place. Apart from a huddle of trees to the right, it was the same as the last dozen stops. But it wasn’t buildings or scenery that brought her here; it was Kingston Brown, her husband. Her heart picked up its pace, and she smiled. She would have gone to the heart of darkest Africa if it meant she could be with Kingston. Would the war have changed him? Would he find her unsuitable now that they were in Canada, not London? Would their love be as strong and sure as she remembered it?
Suddenly, as she made her way to the door, she couldn’t breathe. What if Kingston hadn’t come? What if he’d changed his mind about her? About their love?
She’d heard of other Canadian soldiers who had found solace in the arms of English girls during the war, even married them, only to abandon them when they returned to home soil. She and Lizzie, her traveling companion, had been inundated with stories from both sides of the coin. Their trip had seemed interminably long, but Maryelle wished now she’d had more time to prepare herself for this reunion.
“Ma’am?” The conductor reminded her he was still waiting for her to step down.
“Yes, of course,” she murmured.
She glanced up and down the platform and saw Kingston immediately. She would have recognized him anywhere. Tall and slender, straight as a rod, exactly as she remembered him. He hadn’t seen her as he hurried along the platform checking in the car windows. And then his gaze slid to her. Their eyes met. The air sucked from her lungs.
; His blue-green eyes were exactly as she remembered. As mercurial as the Mediterranean Sea.
He took three quick steps. “Maryelle.”
At the sound of his voice, rough with emotion, she dropped her bag and flung herself into his arms. The two-year separation was over. She had come home.
He swept her off her feet.
They clung together in an embrace that threatened to crush her ribs, but she welcomed the assurance he was here and still wanted her. She tipped back her head to drink in the sight of him.
“My brown-eyed English miss. I thought you’d never get here.” She knew he didn’t mean the late arrival of the train; he referred to the endless separation of the past two years since he’d been shipped to France and then home.
“Let me look at you.” His eyes flashed so green she smiled.
“Mr. Canada, your eyes are turning green.”
“It must be the trees.”
Also by Linda Ford
Contemporary Romance
Montana Skies series
Cry of My Heart
Forever in My Heart
Everlasting Love
Inheritance of Love
Historical Romance
War Brides series
Lizzie
Maryelle
Irene
Grace
*
Wild Rose Country
Crane’s Bride
Hannah’s Dream
Chastity’s Angel
Cowboy Bodyguard
Copyright © 2017 by Linda Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
