Finally A Bride

by Renee Ryan

  You won’t be alone. You’ll have the Lord.

  Did she have a strong enough faith to truly believe that?

  Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, she turned her back on Garrett, took a deep breath and forced her mind to think through the situation calmly, logically, without emotion.

  “You’re pulling away from me.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I can feel it. I can see it. You’re distancing yourself from me, from us.”

  “I…no, Garrett.” She spun around to face. “I’m not pulling away. I love you with all my heart. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “I love you,” she repeated.

  “I’ve scheduled a meeting with the law firm in St. Louis to discuss the position in greater detail. After reaching out to me as they have, I owe them the chance to make the offer in person.”

  Molly felt his words like a blow to the heart.

  “You’re going to take the job.” She saw it in his eyes, heard it in the firmness of his voice.

  “I’m going to gather more information.”

  A formality, nothing more.

  “All I ask while I’m gone is that you decide if you love me enough to put your complete trust in me, in us.”

  “I love you,” she insisted.

  He took her hands, his eyes full of pain. “I know what I want, Molly. I want you. But if you can’t give me your whole heart it doesn’t matter if I stay or go. You have to decide if you trust me completely. If you gave me that assurance, I’ll stay in Denver. If you can’t, I’ll take the job in St. Louis.”

  Without her. He was telling her that if he took the job in St. Louis he would do so without her.

  “It’s all or nothing this time around, Molly.”

  Accepting his right to issue the ultimatum, she nodded, even as her heart shattered. “I understand.”

  He kissed her on the temple, the forehead, then lingered over her mouth. “Follow your heart, Molly.”

  If only she knew how.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Garrett made the trip to St. Louis with a heavy heart and a mind full of conflicting thoughts warring inside his head. He hadn’t wanted to leave Molly, even for a day, but emotions had been high between them. They’d both needed to step back, to regroup, to decide what they really wanted.

  Garrett already knew what he wanted.

  Thus, as he sat in Robert Hoyt’s office, listening while the three law partners took turns selling him on the position they’d created specifically for him, he came to two separate and distinct realizations at once.

  He wanted the job.

  He was going to turn down the offer.

  Losing Molly wasn’t worth any opportunity, no matter how tailor-made it was for him. He’d let his pride rule his heart seven years ago. He wouldn’t do so again.

  When Robert Hoyt, a man with a balding pate and a large girth, finally came up for air, Garrett had his response prepared in his mind.

  “Well, Mr. Mitchell?” Hoyt asked, eyebrows lifted, face alight with expectation. “Will we be adding your name to the letterhead?”

  “Gentlemen.” He eyed each of the partners in turn. “While I admit, I want this position—”

  “That’s good news. Good news, indeed.” Hoyt clapped him on the back. “When would you like to start—”

  Garrett held up a hand. “While I want this position,” he said again. “I’m afraid my answer is no at this time.”

  Seemingly stunned by his refusal, the three lawyers looked from one to the other, then back at him.

  Hoyt spoke for the group. “You want the job, but your answer is still no?”

  He nodded. “My home is in Denver.”

  Silence met his words.

  When both Hoyt and Mead continued staring at him, clearly speechless, Richard Tyler, the senior partner, took hold of the reins and plowed through his objections. “Mr. Mitchell, you once indicated a desire to make a name for yourself beyond your family’s influence. Is that no longer true?”

  “I can accomplish that task in Denver.” In truth, he was already on his way now that he was working with Mrs. Singletary. Even his older brothers had turned to him for advice.

  “You will have better success in St. Louis,” Mr. Tyler argued, his kind, agreeable features holding an earnest expression beneath a shock of full white hair. “As a partner, you will have unprecedented autonomy for a young man your age.”

  True. But he wouldn’t have Molly.

  “You are young, unmarried and—”

  “I’m engaged.”

  “Ah.” Understanding dawned in the man’s eyes. “Your fiancee doesn’t want to leave Denver.”

  “It’s her home.”

  Eyes carefully blank, the older man steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You would put her wishes above your own, above your career, above your very future?”

  Garrett answered without hesitation. “Yes.” He sat up straighter, his gaze unwavering. Absolute conviction filled his heart, bringing with it great power, great strength. “Molly is my priority. She always will be. Her happiness and our life together are more important than any job. I would be remiss to allow you to believe otherwise.”

  To Garrett’s surprise, respect filled the other man’s eyes. “I can’t fault your answer, sir. Although we regret losing you, you must follow your conscience.”

  Garrett let out a slow exhale, liking the senior partner more and more. “I believe I would have liked working here.”

  “You would have been a great asset.” Reluctantly, Tyler rose.

  Following the man’s lead, Garrett did the same, then proceeded to make his way through the room as he shook each of the partners’ hands.

  Richard Tyler escorted him to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Out in the hallway, the lawyer fell in step beside Garrett. At the door leading onto the busy St. Louis street, he paused. “I want you to know, Mr. Mitchell, if you change your mind, the offer is always open.”

  He scanned the man’s face, saw only sincerity staring back at him. “But I just turned you down.”

  “For all the right reasons.” He clapped Garrett on the back in a paternal gesture. “Any man who puts his future wife’s interests above his own is the kind of man I want working by my side.”

  “I consider that a great honor, sir.”

  “Go back to Denver, Mr. Mitchell. Marry your girl and live a good life together.” He reached around Garrett and opened the door. “You’re making the right decision.”

  Yes, he was. “Goodbye, Mr. Tyler.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Mitchell. And Godspeed.”

  * * *

  Molly spent the majority of the day crying in her room. She hated giving in to such weakness, but it couldn’t be helped. Her heart was breaking.

  After several attempts to talk to her through the closed door, Mrs. Singletary left Molly to wallow in her misery alone.

  Flat on her back, tears leaking out of the sides of her eyes, Molly stared at the ceiling over her bed. Garrett had left town without her. He’d walked away from her, from them, just as he had seven years ago.

  And you let him.

  They’d learned nothing in their seven years apart. She’d let him leave town without a fight. And he’d gone without a backward glance.

  There was still hope, she reminded herself. Garrett had only traveled to St. Louis for an interview. He hadn’t accepted the position.

  Yet.

  A thick blanket of despair fell over her. She let it come, let it consume her. For five full minutes. Then she scrambled out of bed, lowered to her knees and took her pain to the Lord.

  By the time the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Molly was finished feeling sorry for herself. She would not allow fear to hold her in its sinister grip.

  “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” she whispered in the darkening ro
om.

  She desperately wanted to rely on faith, not fear. She wasn’t sure she knew how. She needed wise counsel. Thus, when Mrs. Singletary knocked on her door and suggested she “come out and eat something,” Molly padded across the floor and let the widow in the room.

  One look at her red, swollen face and Mrs. Singletary pulled Molly into her arms. “My dear, dear girl, you can’t give up hope like this. Mr. Mitchell isn’t gone forever. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Sighing, Molly pushed away from her employer and went to look out the window. The setting sun had strung ribbons of color above the snow-tipped mountains, a remarkable melding of pink, orange, red, purple and blue.

  Unable to stare at God’s beautiful artistry when her heart was breaking, she squeezed her eyes shut, tipped back her head and breathed deeply. “He’ll take the job.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I won’t let him turn it down.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Singletary touched her back, her voice but a whisper and full of sorrow. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  Molly opened her eyes, but didn’t turn around to face her employer. “I’m not going with him.”

  “Of course you’re going with him.” The widow gripped her shoulders and gently turned her around. “Your place is by his side.”

  Molly waited until she was certain she could speak without her voice breaking. “He doesn’t want me to come with him. He says I’ll resent him if I do.”

  “Will you?”

  “Why does he have to go to another city to prove his worth?” The anger in her words surprised her, but now that she’d unleashed the dark emotion she couldn’t pull it back. “Why can’t he be happy here?”

  “The opportunity is in St. Louis, Molly.” The widow spoke calmly. “Besides, if he stays here there’s a very real chance he may spend the rest of his life wondering if he’d really made it on his own. That kind of doubt can destroy a man.”

  “Doesn’t he understand how much his family loves him?”

  “Of course they love him, so much that they helped him acquire a position at one of the best law firms in Denver.”

  All right, yes, perhaps he’d been given his start because of his family name. Why was that so terrible? “Anything they’ve done to help him in his career has been out of love, not to keep him in his place. He’s only ever been ‘that other Mitchell boy’ in his own mind.”

  “Molly.” Mrs. Singletary drew her to a chair. “This isn’t about Mr. Mitchell. It’s about you. Why are you so afraid to leave Denver?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  The widow simply stared at her. Then, in silence, she went to Molly’s dressing table, picked up a hairbrush and returned.

  As the widow brushed her hair, Molly closed her eyes. Perhaps it was time to reveal the source of her fear, a memory that was buried so deep in her heart she’d not shared it with anyone, not even her own family.

  “I don’t want to be left alone again.”

  Mrs. Singletary’s hand paused, then resumed brushing an instant later. “Again?”

  “When I was a five, my father—my real father—took me away with him after my mother died in her brothel.” Cowardice came with the words. Shame. Humiliation. She could stop her story here, leave the rest unsaid. She pressed on. “He wasn’t prepared to care for a child, didn’t know what to do with me. So he left me alone in our tent all day while he went searching for his fortune in the hills.”

  “You must have been so scared.”

  “Petrified.”

  “I’m sorry, dear, so very sorry.” Mrs. Singletary hugged her from behind.

  “Every morning before he left for the day, he would issue strict orders for me not to leave our tent.” She shuddered at the memory, at the fear that still gripped her today. “He left me no toys to play with, no food. But he always, always came home at night.”

  The brush paused, then stroked through her hair again.

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut, hating the tears stinging behind her lids. “He would sing me to sleep every night. He had a deep, rich, lovely voice, and for a few moments, I wasn’t afraid or sad. But then he would get up the next morning and—” she choked on a sob “—leave me again.”

  “How long did this go on?”

  “Weeks, months, I don’t remember.” She shrugged carelessly, refusing to feel anything, anything at all. “Then, one night, he didn’t come back.”

  “Oh, Molly.” The widow set down the brush and came around her chair. Tears of sorrow swam in her eyes. “Listen to me. You’re not that helpless five-year-old anymore. And, God forbid, if something ever happened to Garrett in St. Louis you would only be a train ride away from family and friends.”

  “I know that. In here.” She tapped her head. “But the little girl still trapped in that tent, still trapped deep inside me, is afraid.”

  There. She’d spoken her secret aloud.

  “So you would choose the comfort and safety of home over being with the man you love, the man who would never leave you alone in the way your father did?”

  “I want both Garrett and family.”

  “Of course you do.” Mrs. Singletary knelt in front of Molly, took her hands. “But God may have a different plan for your life, one that will require you to take a bold leap of faith.”

  Knowing the widow was right, Molly drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I have that much courage.”

  “What’s faith, my dear, if it doesn’t endure when we’re most afraid?”

  Closing her eyes, Molly absorbed the question.

  “Are you courageous enough to take a leap, to trust that the Lord will catch you if your man doesn’t?”

  Molly squared her shoulders. She’d spent her entire life holding a portion of her heart back from the rest of the world. Some part of her had stayed hidden inside that tent in an effort to protect the frightened, lonely child she’d once been.

  But somewhere along the way, her safe place had become a prison. She must free that little girl, or risk living enslaved to fear forever.

  Picking up her Bible, she read the verse she’d marked in Ruth the day before. For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God…

  “Mrs. Singletary.” Molly cleared her throat. “I believe it’s time you found yourself another companion.”

  A watery smile spread across the widow’s face. “I already have the young woman picked out.”

  * * *

  Garrett jumped off the train before it came to a complete stop in the Denver station. His feet barely hit the platform before he took off at clipped pace. A movement out of the corner of his eye had him switching directions.

  Set a little apart from the rest of the passengers hurrying to catch their train, Molly stood smiling at him. Sheltered under an awning from the wind, she twirled her parasol.

  The mischievous curve of her lips, the ever-present twinkle in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, drew him a step closer. Stunning from every angle, he’d always thought her beautiful.

  Now, she stole his breath.

  Lost in the moment, lost to the girl from his past that had turned into the woman of his future, he paused and simply stared.

  Big, expressive, clear blue eyes connected with his. With two fast strides he closed the distance.

  For a moment, they said nothing while unspoken promises flowed between them.

  Molly broke the silence first. “Do you remember what I said to you the day you left for school?”

  Needing to do something with his hands, he stuffed them in his pockets. “You said, ‘I will always, always love you.’”

  A laugh tinkled out of her. “Well, yes, I did say that. And, Garrett, I meant it. I will always, always love you.”

  “I will always, always love you, too.” He reached toward her, touched her face.

  She smiled tenderly at him, closed her hand over his wrist. “What else did I tell you that da
y?”

  He dropped his hand to his side, and forced his mind to relive the worst day of his life. He drew a blank.

  Taking mercy on him, she gave him the answer. “I said, you might think we’re through, Garrett Mitchell, but the Lord will bring us together—”

  “Again someday.”

  “And so He has,” she said.

  “And so He has.”

  “Garrett—”

  “Molly—”

  They shared a laugh.

  “I want to go to St. Louis with you.”

  At the same time she made her declaration, he made his. “I’m staying in Denver with you.”

  “I…wait a minute.” He blinked, shook his head, blinked again. “Molly, what did you just say?”

  “You’re taking the job in St. Louis and, Garrett, my love, my heart.” She set down her parasol, grabbed his lapels and tugged him to her. “I’m going with you.”

  * * *

  Holding on to his coat, Molly scanned the face of the man she loved, understanding the mixture of shock and hope in his eyes. The same emotions braided through her heart, healing her past once and for all.

  “I turned down the job.”

  “Tell them you’ve changed your mind.”

  “You’re more important to me than any job.” He smiled down at her, his love shining in his molten amber eyes. “I’m staying in Denver. With you.”

  She dropped her hands from his coat, then reached to him again and shook him slightly. “Garrett Mitchell, you have to take that job.”

  He covered her hands with his, drew his brows together. “Why? What’s different now than when I last saw you?”

  Swallowing back her nerves, banishing any last remnants of fear, she took a giant leap of faith and told him about the months she’d spent in the mining camp with her real father.

  When she finished her tale, his eyes were filled with sorrow, sorrow for her.

  “I never suspected, Molly, never realized you experienced something so unspeakably traumatic. No wonder you don’t want to leave Denver.” He stroked her face tenderly. “That settles it. We’re staying here, where you’ll always have the safety of family.”

  “Garrett, no.” She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “I’m no longer a scared little girl. I’m a grown woman. I want to be your wife, in every sense of the word.” She thought of the Bible verse that had pushed her in the proper direction and recited the verse from memory. “‘For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’”