Alone in the vestibule, Birdy took a steadying breath. She’d always imagined Pa giving her away on her wedding day, smiling his approval. He wasn’t here, but she felt nothing but peace today, as well as an eagerness for further healing in her heart, and for the nation in the future. Choosing forgiveness had helped her choose hope, too.
She moved into position.
Drew waited beside Rev. Smith at the end of the aisle, handsome in a new dark suit, his near-black hair neat and his shoes shiny. But Birdy liked his smile best, and was certain hers was as wide as his.
Her students watched from the pews. So did newlyweds Jeb and Jenny Washburn. Clement, the best man, smiled from his place by Drew’s side.
When she reached the end of the aisle, Drew took her hands and smiled down at her. They promised to love, honor, and keep one another until parted by death, and then Rev. Smith pronounced them man and wife.
Drew leaned down for a kiss that curled her toes. She was so blessed to love and be loved by him.
To think, she’d almost let him slip away.
Even teachers needed to learn a lesson or two, sometimes.
Susanne Dietze began writing love stories in high school, casting her friends in the starring roles. Today, she’s the award-winning author of a dozen new and upcoming historical romances who’s seen her work on the ECPA and Publisher’s Weekly Bestseller Lists for Inspirational Fiction. Married to a pastor and the mom of two, Susanne lives in California and enjoys fancy-schmancy tea parties, the beach, and curling up on the couch with a costume drama and a plate of nachos. You can visit her online at www.susannedietze.com and subscribe to her newsletters at http://eepurl.com/bieza5.
Sunshine of my Heart
By Darlene Franklin
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
ECCLESIASTES 3:4 KJV
Chapter 1
Turtle Springs, Kansas
May 25, 1866
Debbie Barker spotted an empty seat at the long table between Alanna Radle and another lady she didn’t know. She made her way through the throng who had arrived to watch the interviews. Had there ever been a town like Turtle Springs, in such need of marriageable men they’d invited strangers to audition to become mail-order grooms?
And Debbie was one of the women desperate enough to seek her husband using this gambit. She understood the widows, who struggled to keep their businesses or ranches running. There were other homesteader daughters like herself. What kind of wife would these men be looking for?
A few of the potential husbands had entered the restaurant and were munching on the finger sandwiches provided for the event. What kind of man would leave his life behind to gamble on this audition? A man with no strings? No money?
How could a man like Papa gamble on Kansas when he’d left Maine after the war claimed his only son and his two older daughters had married? “We’ve decided to start over,” he’d told his youngest daughter a year ago. “I spoke with your sister, Heather. If you wish, you can stay and have a home with her for as long as you want.”
A spinster aunt spending her day helping raise four children, with another on the way? No thank you.
“Or you can come with us to Kansas.”
Kansas, definitely.
Were all the men from Kansas? How far had Miss Melton, the acting mayor, sent letters?
Could any of them even be from Maine? The thought made Debbie want to giggle. Her hometown would never have held an audition for potential husbands. Something so audacious just wasn’t done.
The minute hand on the clock moved toward four, and the remaining men entered the restaurant and took seats at the back wall. She studied the possibilities. Practically, she needed a strong man who knew something about farming. Hopefully he’d have broad interests, say, in politics, or someone who liked to read. Someone who knew the Lord but not someone who did nothing but preach every time he opened his mouth. The audition ads had specified God-fearing men, so she wouldn’t spend too much time on that issue.
Was it vain to want someone who was good-looking, who tickled her insides just by looking at her? That was the first thing a gal might notice. A quick glance identified a few men good-looking enough to run for office.
She caught Papa’s gaze; he pointed to the sky. She’d done nothing but pray since she signed up. She’d be listening to the man answering her questions with one ear and tuning the other to that still, small voice.
The men studied the women with equal interest. A few looked down on their luck, but by and large, they looked like a decent lot. One young lad caught her eye and tipped his hat to her. She blushed and turned away. What if he was the one? That would make an interesting story to tell their children.
The number of men outnumbered the ladies. A blessing for the women, although the men might disagree.
Miss Melton called the people together and explained the process. Each woman would have fifteen minutes to talk with each man. The men’s reactions were noteworthy. If a man appeared amused by the process, was he serious about seeking a wife? Most of them simply nodded.
Debbie removed a small notebook and pencil from her reticule. Note-taking—how unromantic. Did she want a man who treated the audition as a business transaction or as a social event? Charm or honesty? Mama had known Papa all her life. Debbie wouldn’t have that advantage.
But God knew every man here, Debbie reminded herself for the hundredth time. He would guide each potential couple, as long as they were seeking His will.
The young man who’d caught her attention earlier locked eyes with her again. This time she decided he was too young for her.
Another man’s gaze passed over Debbie. He had the erect bearing of an ex-soldier. He’d probably experienced painful losses, either on the field of battle or at home or maybe both. His expression intrigued her—not one of speculation. Not flirtation. Something—something almost like—hope? Peace? She wanted to hear his story.
At the sound of the bell, the first twenty men took their seats across from the ladies. Debbie felt bad for the men who had to wait until the next round started. Did they think they would have lost their chance before their first interview?
The man with a Union cap had a seat in the second row. He didn’t seem worried.
The interviews flew by. Three of the candidates were named John. Confusing, but she didn’t think any of them were possibilities. One was older than she wished. Another looked too young to marry anyone except his childhood sweetheart. The third John frowned when she mentioned he would help her Papa prove up on their homestead. Even after she added, “Which will belong to me—and my husband—someday.”
The remainder of the first line brought one more John, three Williams, and a pair of Georges. Three had answered all her questions well. Assuming they were Christians, she’d asked, “What did you talk to God about this morning?” She wanted a man who made God a part of his daily life.
John Brooks—John number four—had said, “Do you mean in addition to whether I would meet my helpmeet today?”
His comment brought a smile to her face, and she nodded.
“I prayed I could encourage the women in Turtle Springs. The war hit a lot of communities hard, but not many of them have taken the extreme measure of looking for grooms.” He allowed himself a smile. “Although the strategy will prove to be a blessing to both parties, God willing.”
John Brooks was her favorite so far, even if he was on the far side of thirty. She shouldn’t let unimportant details like a balding head and short stature bother her, but was it wrong to want someone who fit her definition of handsome?
No one had answered her trick question to her satisfaction yet.
The first line of men had finished their interviews. Debbie looked at the woman to her right, Alanna Radle. She wiggled her fingers in a wave.
The second row of men stood and headed in their direction.
This was his last chance to back out.
The thought slipped th
rough Zack Gage’s mind but he ignored it. He hadn’t traveled over fourteen-hundred miles from Connecticut to Kansas to change his mind now. If God didn’t have a bride for Zack in Turtle Springs, he’d find a job. A town looking for husbands could probably use hard-working men in other capacities. God had brought him here for a reason.
Since he’d landed toward the end of the line, he thought it was possible no one would choose him. By now they must be tired and the men would start to blur together. Did any of the woman interest him?
Some of the brides were barely out of the schoolroom. They wouldn’t want a war-weary soldier. Good-bye, Betty and Lizzie. Some of them were widows, a bit older than he was. No thank you, Mary and Martha. He wanted someone closer to his age, someone who might have married in the past five years if the war hadn’t interfered.
Someone like that strawberry blond ahead, whom he had caught looking at him before the auditions started. What would she ask? Her questions. They would reveal more about her than her pretty looks.
He reached the blond’s spot at the table. “Hello, I’m Zack Gage.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Zack—that’s the first Z I’ve encountered today. My name is Debbie Barker.”
The way she pronounced her surname as Bah-keh told him something important. “We have something in common. We hail from the venerable part of the country known as New England. I’m from Connecticut.”
She closed her eyes as she listened to him talk. When she opened them, their deep blue depths startled him.
Zack found his voice and said, “Your voice lands like music on my ears. Folks all across the country are kind and God-fearing, but I expect heaven to sound like New England.”
Debbie laughed. “I have to agree. We came here from a farm in Lincoln County, Maine, last fall.” She spread her hands but didn’t explain. She didn’t want to talk about it yet. That was all right. He’d rather not discuss the home he’d left behind either. The pain of his past mustn’t define these few short minutes.
“So is your father farming out here, or did he take up a different occupation?”
Miss Barker’s eyelids fluttered, as if surprised he was taking over the direction of the questions. “Yes, he’s hoping to prove up a homestead.” She hesitated. “It will belong to me and my husband, one day.”
A farm. He could live with that. “Before the war, my family used to make farm implements. But I’ve never used them myself.”
She tapped the paper in front of her. “So you have a mechanical bent?”
“I suppose.”
She made a note and glanced at the clock. “Tell me, what did you talk with God about this morning?”
No one else had asked a question anything like that. “Mostly I thanked God I got here on time. I know God has a purpose for me here. I want to start over.”
He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. What about this girl made him open up and say something so revealing?
Because she’s the one?
Miss Barker tilted her head, a smile lighting her face. “One last question. What do you consider lovely?”
You. That answer wouldn’t satisfy. “Sunrise, especially over the sea. Birds flying through the air. A moose’s bugle on a spring morning. At least, I used to find those things beautiful, once upon a time.”
Her lips remained slightly parted, and she didn’t respond.
His heart pounded quickly. “Miss Barker, I haven’t said this to anyone else, and I don’t know if it’s appropriate, but I hope you’ll accept my audition.”
The bell rang, and he went to the next spot on the long table. A lot of men were probably interested in Debbie. She had both beauty and brains, with a dowry for any man willing to apply himself. Zack told himself to keep an open mind for the remaining ladies.
Miriam was pretty enough and a good conversationalist. Widowed within a month of her wedding. Which was worse—to have loved and lost your soul mate or to never have found them at all? After Debbie, Miriam was Zack’s next choice.
How strange the next step in the courtship dance lay in the hands of women. At least no immediate marriages were expected. Zack would never have come otherwise.
What if no one chose him? The possibility hurt, since he’d met a fellow New Englander who asked unusual questions.
With the questioning over, the men were invited to enjoy the food tables while the ladies deliberated. Although he wasn’t hungry, he filled his plate. It gave him something to do while he waited. He took a seat by the wall. Debbie was talking with an older couple—her parents? Miriam chatted with a few of the other widows. What if more than one woman was interested in him or one of the other candidates? How would they handle it? He’d trust God to sort that one out.
The mayor gathered papers reflecting the ladies’ choices and tallied them. The men drifted back to their seats.
More people arrived for the announcements than had watched the auditions themselves. He studied the newcomers. One of them might be his employer, if no bride chose him.
The mayor began with the bride at the head of the table—she asked for someone else. No surprise. When it came to Miriam, Zack sucked in his breath.
“Miriam Webb has requested John Brooks.”
Polite applause broke out.
When they reached a young lady who seemed greatly interested in Zack’s war experiences, he tented his hands and held his breath. “Alanna Radle chooses Sidney Anderson.”
Next came Debbie. “Debbie Barker chooses—Zack Gage.”
He jumped to his feet. “Hallelujah!”
Chapter 2
Applause rang out after Zack’s shout. Debbie buried her head in her father’s shoulder, but she kept one eye open, searching the crowd for Zack. They found each other. A grin rippled across her face—she couldn’t help it. He grinned back.
Miss Melton brought the crowd under control. After all, everyone wanted to hear the remaining matches. Even if Debbie wanted to run to Zack’s side right that minute.
Debbie heard the names, saw the disappointment of the men who would leave without a potential bride. But she could only bring herself to care about Zack. Hurry up! She wanted to introduce him to her parents and begin the process.
Miss Melton introduced Mr. J.R. Lockhart, a journalist who wanted to write about today’s audition. He asked the couples to come together for a picture. The men stirred from their chairs. Zack fixed his eyes on Debbie, and she remained in place, waiting for him to claim her—the first official act of their courtship.
As he walked toward her, her heart fluttered. Had she made the right decision? Although he was only of average height, he carried himself with military precision. His legs ate up the ground between them. Confidence marked his every move. “Miss Barker.”
“Such formality.” She giggled. “Debbie, please. You are halfway toward becoming my fiancé.”
“Indeed.” Hope flickered in his eyes. “I am more honored than I can say that you chose me, Miss—Debbie. I look forward to getting to know you better. But now shall we join the others for the portrait?”
He offered his arm, and she slipped her hand around his elbow. They made a good pair physically. She wouldn’t mind looking into that face every morning when she woke up—provided he had a character to match. That was the point of the audition, though, wasn’t it? To give potential couples a head start.
“Did they say which magazine is publishing the article?” Zack asked.
“Lady Godey’s,” Debbie answered. The one magazine every woman in America read or borrowed whenever she had a chance. Her sisters were bound to see it.
The couples stood in two lines, the men behind their ladies. What a pity the illustration wouldn’t be in color, with all the lovely dresses the women had worn. Of course, none of them wore the kind of fashions which normally made their appearance in the pages of the magazine.
As soon as the photograph was finished, Debbie’s parents rushed toward them. Papa extended his hand. “Mr. Gage, I’m Charles Barker, Debbie’
s father. You can call me Charles.”
Zack grabbed the proffered hand in a firm handshake. “Pleased to meet you, Charles.” He turned to Debbie’s mother. “And you must be Mrs. Barker.”
“Kathleen, please.”
After that, conversation stalled. “Zack, we need to head home before it gets dark. Our homestead is at the end of the road, and we have evening chores to do.” Debbie was uncertain how to proceed. “Do you have any objection to returning home with us tonight? Where shall we pick up your belongings?”
“I was hoping to go back with you. The sooner I can get to work, helping out around the place, the better I’ll feel.” He pointed down the street. “I left my horse and my saddle bag at the livery.” He smiled at them, revealing teeth in better shape than most. “Why don’t I meet you back here in fifteen minutes?”
He disappeared so quickly Debbie didn’t have a chance to answer.
“I believe God is at work in bringing the two of you together,” Mama said. “He seems like a fine young man.”
Papa grunted. “We’ll see what he’s made of, come tomorrow.”
Debbie wanted to protest, but they had already argued the point and Papa had won. She’d wanted at least one day to get to know her potential groom better before he started working.
Papa contended there’d be plenty of time for talking at the end of an honest day’s work. If the fellow couldn’t help around the farm, he might not be the right man for her, no matter what other qualities he had.
Remembering that conversation, Debbie’s heart stuttered. “Papa, remember his background is in mechanics and manufacturing before the war. I’m praying he’ll have an aptitude for farming, but don’t expect him to know it like you do.”
Papa grunted. “I know, girl. I just hope he can help us get enough sod broken to get a crop planted for a harvest. Enough to help us survive the winter.”
The ladies of Turtle Springs had decided against discussing finances during the audition. They didn’t want money to be a factor in the decision. If it was God’s will, He would provide. As Miss Melton had pointed out, the men spent money and time just to come to the audition.
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 24
