by Ann Shorey
Aunt Ruby’s eyes slid to Ellie’s waist. “How do you know it’s a girl?”
Ellie darted a glance at Matthew, heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m talking about little Graciana. You met her at our house when you arrived on Thursday.”
“Graciana? Are you saying—”
“Let Ellie talk.” Uncle Arthur’s voice sounded from the rear of the room. His crutches thumped as he made his way toward them.
Ellie felt tension vibrate in the air between her aunt and uncle. She stepped back. “Let’s sit. We’ll explain everything.”
Once the story had been told, a strange expression crossed Aunt Ruby’s face. “With that dark skin and hair, she doesn’t look anything like the rest of us. People will talk. What if the child isn’t accepted here?”
Ellie’s heart stirred at the fear in her aunt’s eyes.
Matthew squeezed Aunt Ruby’s hand. “It doesn’t matter what others think. Graciana will be part of our family. We accept her, and that’s enough.” He stood and walked to the door. “We’ll stop by in the morning and take you to church with us.”
“Are you daft?” Aunt Ruby rapped the tabletop with her fist. “I can’t face those people. Me and Arthur will stay right here.”
Uncle Arthur pushed himself to his feet. “We ain’t going. Save yourself a stop.” The expression on his face left no room for argument.
Ellie reached for him. “But, Uncle . . .”
“Ellie.” Matthew spoke in a gentle voice. “Give them time.” His gaze encompassed both Ruby and Arthur. “When you’re ready, we’ll stand with you. You’re part of our family too.”
He slid a hand around Ellie’s waist. “Now we need to get on home and have a proper welcome for our little gift from heaven.”
Once the excited children were settled for the night, Matthew slid onto a kitchen chair and rested his head on the top rail. “This has been quite a day. First Mrs. Beldon, then the news about Graciana.”
“Mrs. Beldon?” Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. In her exhilaration over Graciana, she’d forgotten about Mr. Beldon. She turned her face away so he couldn’t see the guilt she felt sure was written there.
“She came to the church this afternoon and told me some interesting things about her husband.”
Ellie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The lingering taste of boiled beans from their supper filled her throat. She flinched when she felt Matthew’s hand on her arm.
“According to Mrs. Beldon, coming here was her husband’s last chance to make something of himself. It had nothing to do with his father founding the town. It’s her father who’s been paying their way, and she’s tired of it. Tired of him.” Matthew squeezed her arm. “She urged me to take back my church.”
Ellie lifted her head. “Now you listen? I’ve said that all along. So has Mr. Wolcott.”
He looked embarrassed. “I know, but . . . Beldon makes me feel small—like I’m no match for him.”
“You’re worth a hundred Marcus Beldons.”
Matthew blinked at her, surprise showing in his eyes. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“I forgot it until . . . recently.” She assumed a brisk tone. “So, what are you going to do?”
“We’ll go to services at Ben’s store tomorrow. I’m eager to introduce Graciana to our community.” A smile flitted across his face. “Afterward, I’ll decide.”
32
On Sunday morning, the Craig farmhouse rustled with activity. While Matthew helped Harrison button his jacket under the rounded collar of his shirt, he listened to Ellie fuss over Maria and Graciana across the hallway.
“Graciana, with your pink dress on, you two look alike,” Ellie said.
“We don’t look alike. Maria has blonde hair, and mine is black.”
“Your faces are the same. Your eyes, your noses. Go see in the mirror.”
Matthew leaned against the doorframe of the boys’ room and watched as the two pink-clad girls scampered into his and Ellie’s bedroom and giggled in front of the mirror. They dashed back to Ellie.
“You’re right, Mama. We do look like sisters,” Maria said. “But isn’t Graciana my aunt now?”
Matthew stepped into the hall so he could better follow the exchange.
“I don’t want to be your aunt.” Graciana spoke so softly he had to lean forward to listen. “I want brothers and a sister . . . and a mama and papa.”
Tears formed in Matthew’s eyes. He stepped into the girls’ bedroom. He took Graciana’s hand, then used his free arm to draw Maria and Ellie into his embrace. “You have us all, Gracie. Aunt Ellie and I will be your mama and papa.”
“Then I’m your sister.” Maria kissed Graciana’s cheek. “Now come on. Let’s beat the boys downstairs.”
When everyone had gathered in the kitchen, Ellie and the girls served breakfast, their pink calico dresses covered with full aprons. The aroma of hot apple butter swirled upward from a bowl placed in the center of the table. After asking a blessing on the food and their day, Matthew scooped a generous portion of the warmed sauce over his cornmeal mush.
Ellie’s words last evening, that he was worth a hundred Marcus Beldons, kept repeating in his mind—a song that couldn’t be forgotten. In spite of the uncertainty awaiting him in town, he believed he could do anything, even face down his formidable adversary, if he had Ellie by his side.
Although he was no longer responsible for opening the church building and preparing it for the service, Matthew couldn’t shake his Sunday morning habit of rushing out the door. While Maria dawdled over her breakfast, he slipped his watch out of his pocket and checked to see that they were on schedule.
Ellie’s laughing eyes met his across the table. “We’ll get there. I’m sure Mr. Wolcott’s had everything ready since last night.”
In spite of the uncertainty that awaited him in town, Matthew noted with satisfaction his six-foot-high corn crop as they left the farm. The rain they’d had earlier seemed to have boosted the growth by several inches.
He turned to his sons, who sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the back seat. “We should have a bountiful harvest this year. Good job, boys.”
“What about me and Mama?” Maria asked. “We worked too.”
“So you did.” He reached out and patted her hand, then stretched past her and squeezed Graciana’s also. “Looks like you girls might get some new dress goods when the crops are in.”
Ellie shot him a wry smile. “Right now, I’d settle for a sack of wheat flour.”
Matthew nodded. “Can’t think why Elder Meecham didn’t send any support money. I hoped for at least a few dollars’ credit at the mercantile.” He drew a deep breath, his nose tickling at the dust that rolled up around the horse’s hooves. “We can get by until harvest time, I expect.”
“We’ll have to.”
August sun pressed down around them. Holding the reins with one hand, Matthew slipped out of his black coat and draped it over the seat. The movement of the wagon drew a cooling breeze over his linen-clad shoulders.
He glanced at Ellie. “Too bad the Lord can’t spread this heat out a bit. We could use it in January.”
She grinned. “That’s when he gives us the ice we’d like to have right now.” They chuckled together at their long-standing joke.
Matthew felt a surge of hope. He’d missed the easy companionship of their marriage almost as much as he missed the physical intimacy.
When Matthew walked into the back room of Wolcott’s Mercantile, he saw dozens of familiar faces from his old congregation. People crowded around, welcoming him, patting him on the back, shaking his hand. He glanced at Ellie and motioned her to come forward with Graciana and the other children.
After she reached his side, he put an arm around Graciana’s shoulder. “This is our newest family member, Graciana. The Lord has blessed us by bringing her all the way from Texas to our home.”
A brief hush fell over the gathering. People’s eyes shifted between Ellie, Graciana, and Matthew.
>
Molly moved forward. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around the little girl. “Welcome to our family. I’m Reverend Craig’s sister, your Aunt Molly.”
Before Molly stood, Charity Wolcott joined them. She lifted Graciana’s hand and patted it. “How do you do. I’m Mrs. Wol-cott.”
Another woman came up, smiled at Graciana, and complimented her shiny black hair. Soon she was surrounded by a group of twittering ladies, all trying to outdo one another’s greetings.
Matthew sighed in relief.
Ben stepped beside him. “We were just about to start.” He draped his arm over Matthew’s shoulder and propelled him to the front of the room. He pointed to an empty bench. “Got a spot for your family right here.”
After an opening hymn and prayer, Ben stood and addressed the audience. “I know all of us are tickled to have Reverend Craig back. Since he’s a better preacher than I’ll ever be, I’m thankful to have him here to give us a message from God’s Word.”
“Yes!” someone called.
“We missed you, Reverend,” said another.
Their encouraging voices flowed over Matthew like balm. He stood and faced the room. Familiar faces smiled a welcome—Orville and Penelope Carstairs, Mattie and Hettie Sims, even Jack Bryant from the hotel. Near the front, Molly and Karl beamed in his direction. Their children lined the bench next to them.
Matthew smiled back. In that moment, he felt as planted among these people as an oak tree in a thicket. He imagined roots growing from his feet into the soil of Beldon Grove, and his arms spreading like tree limbs around his congregation. Carrying his Bible, he walked to the makeshift podium.
“Wait!” Ellie stood and dashed to his side.
Mouths opened in shock. Matthew stared at her as though she’d lost her senses. A woman didn’t speak out in church, much less occupy the pulpit.
She tucked her arm through his and faced the crowd. He felt her trembling.
“We all want my husband as our pastor, but not here. This isn’t a house of worship, it’s Mr. Wolcott’s storeroom. I say, let’s take our church back.”
Ben hurried forward. “Beldon will be there.”
“I don’t care. ‘Greater is He that is in us, than he that is in the world,’ and Mr. Beldon is definitely of this world.”
Matthew studied his wife’s flushed face. Where had she gotten such courage?
Nods of agreement spread through the room. “Let’s go!” a voice shouted.
His children were already on their feet. “Come on, Papa,” Johnny said. “We can do it.”
Matthew clapped his hat on and strode for the door, stepping out into the radiant morning. When he started walking, thick dust from the street lapped over his shoes and settled on the hem of his trousers. He shook his head. He never seemed to face Beldon without looking like a hayseed. Why should today be any different? Then his thoughts turned to Ellie, who kept pace with him on his right. Their children flanked his other side, Maria and Graciana hand in hand. For a moment he felt invincible. Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart. A flush prickled his bearded cheeks. Forgive me, Father. I’ve been worried about all the wrong things.
As they moved past the deserted town square, Matthew glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Ben and Charity and maybe a few of the others following. Instead, everyone who’d been in the mercantile had joined him. The procession quickly covered the remaining blocks of Madison Street leading to the church he’d left many weeks earlier.
When he entered the sanctuary, his confidence plummeted. Elder Meecham sat next to the aisle at the rear of the sparsely filled room. Had he come to install Beldon as pastor?
To Matthew’s astonishment, Meecham winked at him. “I reckoned you’d be here today,” he murmured.
He gestured toward the pulpit where Marcus Beldon stood gaping as the crowd of people pushed their way inside. “Go on up. You’re just in time.”
“See here.” Beldon’s voice thundered into the uneasy silence that filled the room. “You can’t interrupt this church service.”
He wore one of his tailored suits, the golden watch chain glinting against his waistcoat. His meaty hands gripped the sides of the pulpit, defying Matthew to take it from him.
Stepping onto the platform, Matthew eyed his rival. Beldon was as well turned out as ever, but now Matthew noticed the desperation behind his threatening expression.
Beldon laughed—a harsh sound that tore through the sanctuary. “You’re nothing but a farmer, Craig. Why don’t you go tend to your crops? Leave the preaching to someone with a proper education.”
Matthew’s response rose from deep inside. “It’s not education that gives a man the right to carry God’s Word. It’s his heart. My heart’s been right with the Lord since I was a boy. I doubt we can say the same of yours.”
Beldon stepped close to him and lifted his hand, palm out, as though he intended to shove him off the platform. He was near enough for Matthew to notice beads of sweat on the big man’s forehead.
“Do your worst. You’ll find us farmers are a tough lot.” He brushed past him as though he were invisible, and slapped his Bible down on the pulpit.
Beldon’s gaze darted over the congregation, then back at Matthew. After a tense heartbeat, his hand fell to his side. “You want this bunch of clodhoppers, you can have them.”
Face the color of an angry sunset, he stalked off the platform and out of the church. The door banged shut behind him, rattling the windowpanes.
In the shocked stillness that followed, Zilphah Beldon stood. Instead of accompanying her husband, she made her way up the aisle and joined Ellie. Together, the two women moved to the front row. Matthew and Ellie’s children followed. Other members of the congregation settled onto the empty benches. Faces upturned, they waited for their pastor to open the service.
Matthew bowed his head. “Let’s pray.”
33
“You have to admit, it is kind of humorous,” Molly said.
The two families sat on the porch of the Craig’s farmhouse later Sunday afternoon, sipping buttermilk and enjoying the warm Scotch bread Molly provided.
Ellie stopped in mid-reach for another slice. “What is?”
“You thought you had grown brothers or sisters, and the Lord sent you a little girl younger than Maria.” She chuckled. “He always surprises us, doesn’t he?”
“Indeed. He’s able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think,” Ellie quoted, sighing with satisfaction as she looked at Graciana. The child sat on the top step between Maria and Lily. Each girl held a doll.
Ellie pointed at Graciana’s. In a low voice she said to Molly, “I stayed up late last night repairing and restuffing Nora. I put the message from our father back inside. That’s where he meant it to be.”
The two women exchanged a look that said more than words.
Molly patted Ellie’s hand, then turned to her older daughter. “Luellen, it’s time.”
Luellen rose and walked to her parents’ buggy. When she returned, she carried a bulky package. Matthew and Karl broke off their conversation to watch as she climbed the steps and laid the bundle at Graciana’s feet.
Molly stood. “Luellen has a special gift to welcome your Gracie into the family.” She dropped to one knee behind the child. “Go ahead, open it.”
Brown paper rustled as Graciana unfolded the corners and lifted out the contents. The honeycomb quilt blossomed in the sunlight, its colors spilling over her legs and down the steps.
“For me?”
Startled, Ellie glanced between Molly and Luellen. “This is supposed to be for your bridal chest. Are you sure?”
Luellen stroked the back of Graciana’s head. “I’m positive. I remember how it felt being in your house after my papa died. You made a home for us. Now I want to help make a home for Gracie.”
Molly hugged her daughter to her. “We’ll start another quilt soon, won’t we?”
That night after supper, Ell
ie and Matthew faced each other across the kitchen table. An Illinois State Bank note for twenty dollars, more than three months’ salary, lay between them. Matthew touched it with his index finger.
“Meecham knew all along I’d be back. He sent me to those towns on purpose.” He shook his head.
Ellie blinked back tears. “With everything else that’s happened, it’s almost too much to take in.” She patted her eyes with a corner of her apron. After glancing up the stairs where the children slept, she pushed her chair back and then flashed him a smile. “Let’s go down by the creek and watch the stars. It’s a beautiful evening.”
Once out in the soft night air, they were enfolded in the sound of crickets and frogs calling from the nearby cornfields. Ellie slid her arm around Matthew’s waist and leaned against him while they walked along the familiar path. Upon reaching the creek bank, they sank down into a cushiony patch of wild mint. Lightning bugs glittered around them.
Ellie caressed Matthew’s face, her fingers tickling in his beard. The fragrance of mint filled his senses.
“I was so proud of you today.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you beside me.”
She leaned back, resting on her elbows. He saw the light of the half moon reflected in her eyes. Ellie reached up and pulled him close. Her lips moved against his ear.
“I’ll always be beside you,” she whispered.
Acknowledgments
A novel doesn’t come to life without many helping hands. I’d like to thank everyone who participated in the creation of The Promise of Morning.
As always, I’m indebted to the sharp eyes and multiple talents of my critique partners: Bonnie Leon, Billy Cook, Diane Gardner, BJ Bassett, Julia Ewert, and Sarah Schartz. Each of you possesses a particular gift, and I’m grateful for your help over the past months.
I can’t say enough good things about my editors, Vicki Crumpton and Barb Barnes, and the entire team at Revell. Every step of the publishing process has been a blessing, thanks to their godly spirits and creative energy.
