by Annie Boone
Delilah and Ethan
Colorado Matchmaker - Book 8
Annie Boone
Contents
Copyright
Annie Boone
Delilah and Ethan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
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Copyright
Copyright 2019, Annie Boone and Sweet River Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, electronic or mechanical, without written approval by the author, except for short excerpts used in a book review.
All characters, places, events, businesses, or references to historical facts are fictitious and products of the author’s imagination. Any references to actual people, places, or events are purely incidental.
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Delilah and Ethan
The Colorado Matchmaker Series - Book 8
Annie Boone
Chapter One
Rocky Ridge, Colorado; 1884
Susannah Jessup had been humming a tune for most of the afternoon before she realized she couldn’t recall what song was on her mind. It sounded so familiar, and yet the words wouldn’t come to her lips. The realization made her pout and she glanced around as if she might find the answer in the garden. But the flowers and the vegetables provided her with little aid. Frowning, she puzzled over this for several minutes before she grew so restless that she couldn’t concentrate on the weeds that needed to be pulled.
With a huff, she pulled herself up to her feet and cleaned up her mess. She stomped around as she determinedly hummed the notes over and over, trying to remember the words. “But what could it be?”
She scowled at her hands as she rubbed them clean in the trough. Digging the dirt out from beneath her nails took time, but even then, she couldn’t think of the song.
She ran through the hymns she could remember from church as she returned inside and tended to supper. There was much to do for the evening and there was no time to be wasted. And yet, the words of that song continued to elude her as she started cutting the potatoes.
“Ouch!” Susannah yelped when she felt a sharp sting.
“And I thought I was the one who got all the injuries,” a voice offered lightly.
Jumping, Susannah turned and gave her husband a look. Holding her bleeding finger in her other hand, she wanted to scold him for sneaking up on her, but determined that keeping the kitchen clean was a higher priority. If the blood splattered, she’d have to start chopping the vegetables all over again. So she shot him another look and hurried to the bowl of water. “When did you get home?” Susannah’s words came out more crossly than she had intended.
Lucas Jessup raised an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his dark hair. As he stepped forward, he pulled out the handkerchief hanging out from his pocket. Gently as ever, the man took her finger and carefully wrapped it. “I’ve been home for a short while now. You were still in the garden when I arrived, but then you disappeared. I tended to the animals, and tossed the weeds away.”
“Nonsense,” she shook her head. “I already did that.”
He shook his head in return. “No, you did not. They were lying on the back porch.”
“They were?”
“Indeed.” He cinched it tight. Now she had a large, lumpy bandage on her hand. Susannah frowned, wondering how she was supposed to cut vegetables like this. Inspecting it carefully, she tried to think of the best strategy.
“But I threw them away,” Susannah murmured more to herself than to her husband. “Didn’t I?”
For a minute she just stared at her hand, trying to recall what she had done with the weeds. But it was only when Lucas bent over and kissed her on the lips that the woman was pulled from her thoughts and looked up. Her mind had been clouded over as she sorted through the words of the song and then sorting out the weeds and vegetables. So this time, she really looked at him.
They had been married for over ten years now, and knew each other as well as they knew themselves. The two of them understood how her mind could wander and fortunately he was more than patient with her. Sighing, Susannah’s shoulders dropped as she offered him a sheepish smile. She hadn’t meant to ignore him like that, nor speak so harshly. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I didn’t mean to be curt. I’m simply distracted, though I know it’s not a good reason.”
“Don’t you worry, darling,” Lucas pulled her towards the center of the kitchen by wrapping a hand loosely around her waist. “One of these days you’ll believe that I love you no matter what. Now, what seems to be the problem?”
Before he looked back at her, Susannah’s cheeks were already flushing. The smile stuck to her lips as she elbowed him and turned to the potatoes. They really did need to be cut for the chicken pie. “A song, if you must know. I’ve had one trapped in my mind all day, but I don’t know which song or hymn it is and I can’t remember all the words. The melody is lovely, though.”
His lips twitched and his eyes sparkled as he attempted not to laugh at her. She elbowed him, seeing it all the same and especially as he cleared his throat loudly. With a shake of her head, she sighed and clumsily chopped the potatoes. “I’m serious. It’s been extremely distracting. Oh, you must know it. Here, it goes like this.” And she hummed as much as she could remember, though it trailed off into uncertainty. Susannah bit her lip and looked at him hopefully. “Well?”
Time passed quietly as his eyes looked past hers into the distance. There was no other sound but that of her cutting potatoes as she watched her hands more carefully. And then, just when she was giving up, her husband’s rich baritone rang out.
“Beulah Land, I'm longing for you. And some day on thee I'll stand. There my home shall be eternal.”
Immediately the words came to her, as if she had never forgotten them. Susannah beamed and joined him for the last line. “Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land.” Dropping the knife, she flung her arms around him. “That’s it! Why, I had completely forgotten. Mary sings that all the time, that’s it.” She kissed his cheek. “I knew I married you for a good reason.”
Promptly nodding, Lucas chuckled as she stepped back to pick up the knife. “Yes, to help solve the mystery of songs you’ve forgotten. I’m glad to be of service, my dear, but I’m afraid you’re just going to cut yourself again. I need to bring in more firewood, but I can wait and chop vegetables for supper first if you’d like.”
Shaking her head, Susannah waved her hand in the air, the handkerchief corner flapping around. “No, dear. I can do it myself. It’s only a nick, really. Thank you all the same.”
“Then at least get some help from somewhere,” he instructed her. Rarely he tried to tell her what to do in the kitchen, but she listened because he usually had a good point. “We’re having folks over for dinner and I’m afraid you’ll still be cutting vegetables by the time they arrive.” Susannah turned to him, confused for a second before he filled her in on what he was talking about. “You have Delilah, dear. Miss Waterford?”
“Oh, right. I knew that,” Susannah smiled again but thi
s time Lucas just laughed. Her face flushed lightly, since her memory about what was going on in their household was usually much better than this. He touched her shoulder kindly, showing he hadn’t meant to make fun of her, and then headed back out the door. She watched him go with a chuckle trailing after him. She gave a quick and silent prayer of thanksgiving that God had brought them together.
With a shake of her head, she considered his point. Delilah was around, somewhere. Susannah tightened her apron and headed out of the kitchen to search for the young woman. The girl had been there for several months and had just recently turned eighteen. Though she had arrived very nervous and insecure, she’d improved dramatically in confidence and ability. Like all the other wonderful women Susannah had brought into her home, Delilah would make a lovely wife as soon as the right man came along.
They had all been a success, Susannah noted, and wondered if her good luck was bound to cease soon or at least trip up. She hoped not. Her matchmaking efforts had taken a lot of work and all had come out so happily—much better than she could have dreamed possible. And better yet, most of the couples were nearby so she had developed strong friendships with everyone she had helped find purpose and love. It brought Susannah such joy in being able to do so much for them.
There she was. After checking two rooms, she had found her. The young beauty was curled up in a large and comfortable seat, reading the Holy Bible. It was her favorite book and she’d worked very hard to be a stronger reader since she’d arrived. Susannah watched her thoughtfully as the girl from Philadelphia carefully turned the page, the soft scratch only a whisper in the air.
Delilah Waterford had made a lot of progress, but there was still something wrong. It left a niggling concern in her mind that the girl hadn’t told her everything about her past. Sometimes she just looked so serious. And she certainly didn’t smile as much as Susannah thought a girl her age should be smiling. In fact, there were times that a deep sadness struck the young woman so hard that she would be nearly impossible to talk with.
“Miss Delilah?” Susannah wrapped her knuckles across the wall lightly to catch the young woman’s attention. With wide eyes, the girl looked up in surprise. But she didn’t jump and that was progress. She’d jumped every time someone made a peep, even if it was just a floorboard. “Would you join me to prepare supper?”
She hardly hesitated before carefully closing the book. “Of course.”
Though Susannah invited conversation, the young woman said very little as they returned to the kitchen and began to work. She hid her face behind her silky white-blonde hair and kept her head down as she was told what to do. The girl worked on the crust carefully and perfectly as Susannah brought out the green beans. Humming the song again- but knowing the words now- the older woman couldn’t help but keep peeking at the girl as they worked.
Miss Waterford would tell her eventually, she decided, whatever it was that she was hiding. That’s how it always went. It had taken her some time yet Susannah had stopped trying to pry for more information in the girls that came to her home. Secrets were often painful, after all, and she knew how that could be.
All she knew of the young woman was that she came from Philadelphia and had left behind her three siblings with an aunt that cared little for them. Their parents, unfortunately, had passed away in a fire. It sounded like a terrible ordeal, a nightmare Susannah wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Such a past must include a lot of pain and she wouldn’t force the girl to repeat a moment of it.
No, she would talk when she was ready. Susannah was certain of that.
And in the meantime, a husband needed to be found for Delilah.
Chapter Two
She knew she should be grateful. There were many things to be thankful for. Like the bed she had all to herself, in a bedroom just for her. No crowding together, no worry she’d wake someone else, no fussing over who was taking up too much space. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to hold back emotions that surfaced far too often.
She was learning many new skills like riding a horse, tending to a garden, and cooking. She’d also learned how to dance. These days she was able to attend church quite often, and always had time to read the Bible. Every night, she went to bed with a full stomach and a roof over her head.
Yes, this was a good life. She had much to be thankful for, but it was a hard adjustment.
For most of her life, Delilah Waterford had begged for her own space where she didn’t have to fight for room to stretch out fully or for blankets to keep her warm at night. But now she had all of that, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. The cost was higher than she thought it would be. Sleep often eluded her without the familiar noise of her little brother snoring.
Jonathon, Beatrice, and Rebecca were still in Philadelphia. Delilah would still be there, too, if she hadn’t decided to take the risk and come to Colorado. After several months, she still hadn’t decided if this was the right place for her.
She glanced at her candle. It was halfway melted and that left her just enough time. She had enjoyed spending time with Mary and Cade, along with Selina and Wyatt. They were all such nice people. But the truth was she’d felt out of place with the couples and she’d been glad when she’d been able to retire for the night. She had heard Susannah and Lucas step out onto the porch to enjoy the starlight. She would have been more than welcome to join them, but she wanted to be alone for a while and leave all the couples to do what couples do.
Slipping off her shoes, she tucked her things away and then pulled out the bottom drawer on the dresser. Tucked into the back corner was a small wooden box, a leftover container that Mary hadn’t needed when she’d gone off and married Cade the month before. Scrambling down on her knees, she pulled out the box with both hands and carefully brought it out to the candlelight. Delilah drew the candle closer and sat on the floor as she pulled off the lid.
There were four letters resting at the bottom of the box. They looked so small inside for they were hardly taking up any space. Her heart ached at the sight of them and seeing her name written in the familiar scrawl made her smile for just a moment. The letters were the closest she could get to hugs from her family now that she was here instead of there with them. Beatrice was twelve years old and had the loveliest handwriting of all of them.
There had only been a few letters, and they weren’t exactly cheerful or hopeful, but she treasured them just the same. Never had she imagined being so far away from her family, but this decision had likely been the right one—as much as it hurt. Having grown up watching and tending to the three younger ones, she had thought she would never escape them. But now, she dreamed of returning to them. But even if she did go back, things wouldn’t be the same since their parents were gone.
Delilah’s hands trembled slightly as she pulled out the last letter. She had received it the last time they went into town and she’d read it every night.
Sister dear,
The clouds are gray again. One day they are gone and the next, they are everywhere. Jonathan liked the way you described the sky, how you said it was like a present you could open every morning. We’re trying to look on the bright side as you told us, but with the gloomy days, sometimes I forget.
Becky is cheerful for all of us, as long as Aunt Phyllis doesn’t bother her. We’re trying to keep the two of them apart, but I’m afraid we’re not as good at that as you are. But she is better at being quiet now, and I am hoping it will get better.
She wants me to be certain to write to tell you that she misses you. I don’t think I sing her lullaby as well as you do, but I keep trying to get better. Jonathon keeps telling her that she’s ten years old and doesn’t need to be sung to sleep anymore, but I think he likes it as well because he always stays awake to listen. We all sleep better for it, so I won’t stop.
You said you wanted me to give you honest reports, so I’ll simply tell you that the state of the house is no better. It’s still drafty and not enough to eat most days. And Aunt Phyllis
is always busy. But we are all attending our classes like you demanded. We stay as long as we can, until the teachers tell us to go home. That was a lovely idea you had, for the windows are always nice and clean over there. I love the world around us and it’s fun to speculate about everyone we see.
Please don’t you worry about us. We’re good at making the best of everything, you know that because Mother and Father taught us well enough. We pray for you every night.
All our love,
Beatrice
Delilah was sure Beatrice had held most of the details back but she could imagine how things were going for her siblings. This letter didn’t make her feel any better than the first one had. Delilah’s eyes wandered over the pages, hoping she could find some shred of hope or a solution to make everything better.
The truth was that very little at home in Philadelphia had changed. Her heart sank as she tried to think harder. Most nights were consumed with worry trying to think of ways to help her sisters and brother. While Aunt Phyllis didn’t beat them or mistreat them, she did neglect them. She probably loved them as much as she could, but she’d had troubles of her own. She had very little money to care for herself and adding children to her household had been difficult for her to be sure.
And Beatrice had said their aunt was busy instead of saying she was drinking. Leave it to her sister to be polite. And it was probably a good idea in case the letter fell into the wrong hands before it had been mailed. Delilah bit her lip and leaned back against the bed with a heavy sigh.
