There was much discussion regarding Mr. Elisha P. Ferry being sworn in as the new and first governor of Washington State. The orchestra played a collection of hymns, one of which was Emma’s favorite. She hummed along with the comforting tune. It was also her mother’s favorite. The melody caused memories of her mother to dance in her mind.
The tall woman had been the very picture of elegance, grace, and devotion to the Lord. Someone Emma had admired. Then came the day her father had died and Mama had clung to God with fiercer determination. Emma, who was angry at God for taking her father, didn’t understand her mother’s commitment to her faith. Things went from bad to worse when her mother hastily married someone she had courted only a short while.
Emma shook the frightening memories from her thoughts. If only she could shake them from her history as easily. Her breath came in gasps, and she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs. The tightly laced corset didn’t help matters. This was her body’s reaction every time she dared to entertain memories of her mother’s final days. Well, she wasn’t making the same mistakes, of that she was certain.
The orchestra finished the song. Emma drew courage and sat straighter in her chair as she spoke. “Frederick, I’d like to speak with you in private if I may.”
The features on his face flickered with emotion before he replied. “Yes, there’s something I need to discuss with you. Allow me.”
Frederick rose and once again offered his arm. They strolled along the grounds of the rolling estate and discussed the stars in the heavens. Frederick pointed out the Big Dipper, holding her hand so she wouldn’t fall along the path. In the cold night air, his touch lent comfort to the ache in her heart. The moon cast a glow about them.
Emma mustered courage to tell him of her plans to leave Tumwater, but he sat her down on a nearby bench before she had the chance. He sat down beside her with his hands clasped in his lap. For a brief moment she thought he might kiss her, but he acted too strangely for that.
Frederick hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. “I need to tell you something.” This time an uncomfortable feeling rolled in Emma’s middle. Something about his tone and tense body wasn’t right.
Oh dear, please don’t say “I love you”!
“Emma,” he began, “I can’t remain in Washington any longer. I am leaving for California day after next. Please don’t be angry.”
Emma’s breath escaped her in one quick whoosh, and for a moment, she was unable to draw another. Frederick was leaving Washington? She had heard rumors of unrest murmured around camp, and of course, he would take them personally. She wanted to be angry with him, but couldn’t, not when she was planning on leaving also.
“So you’re not angry?” Frederick raised his eyebrows as if to question.
“No, I’m not angry. Perhaps disappointed.” Emma blurted the statement without giving much thought as to what she was saying.
“Disappointed?” Frederick leaned back and aimed a puzzled look at her.
“I never would have expected a man of your caliber to run away from the face of difficulty.” Emma bit her lip at the cruelty of her words. The blaze in his eyes told her she had hurt him and she was immediately sorry. Her soul ached with the sting of her actions. This was her last night with dear Frederick. She never expected her own heart to hurt so much.
“I don’t run from anything. But I don’t stand around and let folks get away with calling me a liar either. It’s a matter of pride.”
“Then I guess this is good-bye. I was going to tell you tonight. I’m going to Chicago with Jake.” Emma lifted her chin and gave her words a minute to register.
“So you’re leaving, too. Just when were you planning on sharing this news with me?” He stood, with his hands on his hips.
“I can’t stand living with the camp’s drudgeries another day, Frederick. It’s so rough and dirty, and besides, I need to stick close to my brother. He’s watched out for me for so long, I need to be there for him in return. I owe that to him.” Emma paused. “I need him.” All this was true, but she didn’t have the heart to tell Frederick she was afraid of a man getting too close to her heart.
“Then I guess you’re right, this is good-bye.” Frederick stood in stony silence, and the words sank to the depths of Emma’s heart like a heavy boat anchor.
Without another word, he offered his arm and escorted her back to the carriage. The entire ride back home was made without a word. Like a perfect gentleman, he helped her alight from the carriage and escorted her to her door. He then lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her gloved hand. She had barely enough time to get inside the door and shut it quietly behind her before the painful sobs tore loose from her heart. Outside, she heard his footsteps echo in the night as he walked away … forever.
Two days later, Frederick boarded a train heading south to California. It had been hard saying good-bye to his best friends. Willum had taken the news with understanding, but E.V. had hardly said a word to him since he made the announcement.
Prayer and time with the Lord seemed as dry as a day-old biscuit. Much like it had before he left. This made him question whether or not he was doing the right thing. While studying his devotions at yet another stop along the way, a scripture spearheaded its way into his heart.
“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.”
Frederick slammed his Bible shut. The last thing he needed was to second-guess his well-intentioned plans. The next time they stopped he would send a telegram to his three friends in Tumwater to see how they were doing. He missed them already.
The next afternoon, Frederick arrived at his friend’s house. A telegram was waiting. Frederick noted the return address—the logging camp. He tore open the message.
Mr. Wilkin said another accident had happened, and it couldn’t be blamed on Jake or Frederick this time. Mr. Kenicky and his company were conducting an investigation and getting to the bottom of things. They begged him to come back and testify at the inquiry.
Frederick marched straight to the telegraph office and sent a message that he would be on the next train back to Tumwater. He had lost the woman he loved, so far as he was concerned, but at least he could clear his good name. Frederick wasted no time in heading back to the train station and back to Washington State.
Chapter 10
Emma stepped off the train in Chicago and searched in vain for the slightest sign of a tree, a bush, or anything that resembled nature. The racket of streetcars buzzing past nearly scared her silly. City life was going to take some getting used to. Jake wouldn’t let her bring Bacon along on the train. She had to leave him with the Wilkins, and she feared he would actually become bacon!
Once at her uncle’s house, Emma yearned for God’s peace. The kind she had at the logging camp, in spite of the conditions. She asked her uncle about churches in town and what services he attended. The man brushed off the question like he would a pesky fly.
Her uncle then showed her where she would be living and where she would be working. Emma was highly disappointed in both. The living quarters were dirty and small. And her place of employment was a loud and smelly factory. It looked dangerous, too. She had thought the conditions at the logging camp were horrid. To make matters worse, the pay wasn’t what she thought it would be.
The first night, trying to sleep in the small cot in her tiny room, Emma tossed and turned, thinking of Washington, the towering trees, the cool bubbling stream at the base of camp, of Bacon … and Frederick. Perhaps her heart had grown to love more than she thought it had.
Chicago wasn’t anything like she expected. She wanted to go home to Washington, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Jake. She needed to wash his clothes and make him dinner. She needed to stand by him like he had done with her since their mother died. How could she tell him of her desires after she had begged so hard to come with him?
Working in the factory was nothing like cooking in the wide open
spaces of the logging camp. The machines made a racket that hurt her ears and gave her a headache long before noon. Jake, on the other hand, was doing very well working at the newspaper behind his shiny new desk. And he was going to law school at night. He whistled on his way out the door to work and sang when he came home at night. Emma took great delight in seeing him so content.
One night, about three weeks after their arrival, her brother surprised her. “Sis, I know you’re not happy here. Why don’t you go back to Washington?”
“I can’t leave you, Jake. Don’t send me back to where I’ll be all alone.” Emma’s mouth went dry as kindling and her eyes pooled with unshed tears.
“Emma, you won’t be alone. You’ll have the Wilkins and Bacon and Frederick.”
“Jake, no.” By now, tears streamed down Emma’s cheeks like water over Tumwater Falls. “Jake, I’m afraid. I don’t want to end up like Mama, hurt by a filthy man who guzzles whiskey from dawn till dusk.”
“Mama remarried in haste. She had to do something to put a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. She realized before she passed, she made a mistake in not consulting the Lord. Take a year to stay with the Wilkins and see if you can find Fred, maybe ask his friends if they know where he is. If the Lord leads you to him, take some time to really get to know the man. I’ve prayed about it, Emma, and I believe this is what God wants. Uncle Irving and I’ll come out to visit.”
“Uncle Irving …” Emma hiccupped and dried her tears.
“He’s already agreed to escort you back. You have plenty of time to get there before Christmas and go to Christmas Eve service.” Jake smiled down at her. She was pleased that he saw her as a woman who could care for herself if necessary and not some child.
The next morning, Emma and Uncle Irving were on a train headed for Washington. They arrived in Tumwater a few days later, and her uncle checked them into the hotel in town. The Christmas Eve service was that night. Emma wanted to be with people she had grown to care for, namely the Wilkins. For the first time in weeks, her heart was at peace.
When she and Uncle Irving arrived at the church, she saw the back of a tall blond man standing in front of the building. Upon closer inspection, she noted his hand on the stair railing, a hand that looked so familiar. Could Frederick be back from California? It didn’t seem possible.
Emma lifted her skirts and stepped closer. She looked up just in time to see the tall blond turn.
Frederick!
The breath went out of her in a wheezy gasp as she advanced toward him with more speed than what was ladylike.
She fell against his chest and sobbed.
“I’ll meet you inside.” Uncle Irving planted a kiss on the top of her head then went inside the church.
Frederick held her in his arms and swore to never let her go.
“You, me, and Bacon, we’re going to be a family,” he teased. He leaned down and kissed her, a kiss she returned without fear and with all her heart. This evergreen night was one she would always remember.
Debby Lee was raised in the cozy little town of Toledo, Washington. She has been writing since she was a small child, and has written several novels, but never forgets home. The Northwest Christian Writers Association and Romance Writers of America are two organizations that Debby enjoys being a part of. As a self professed nature lover, and an avid listener of 1960s folk music, Debby can’t help but feel like a hippie child who wasn’t born soon enough to attend Woodstock. She wishes she could run barefoot all year long, but often does anyway in the grass and on the beaches in her hamlet that is the cold and rainy southwest Washington. During football season, Debby cheers on the Seattle Seahawks along with legions of other devoted fans. She’s also filled with wanderlust and dreams of visiting Denmark, Italy, and Morocco someday. Debby loves connecting with her readers through her website at www.booksbydebbylee.com.
All Ye Faithful
by Gina Welborn
Dedication
To my Inky Sisters: “Be light. Be love. Believe.” isn’t merely my calling—it’s what I see lived out in you, and for that I am blessed every day. And to Jeremy for listening patiently each time I explained why the backspace key on my laptop was broken (again) and why MS Word is having “issues” (again) and why we need to order pizza for dinner (again).
Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where there is no talebearer, the strife ceaseth.
PROVERBS 26:20 KJV
Chapter 1
Tumwater, Washington
December, 1890
I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and tell E.V. how I feel,” Larkin Whitworth happily announced before plopping down in the wooden chair despite the fullness of her skirts and petticoats. She handed Anna the punch cup she’d refilled for the fifth time since Emma and Frederick’s wedding celebration began. Considering how quickly her adorably—and abundantly—pregnant friend downed the apricot-flavored beverage, Larkin also offered the second cup she’d brought for herself while Anna’s doting husband, Jeremiah, fetched a second plate of egg salad sandwiches.
“Really?” Anna exchanged the full cup with the empty one. “I can’t figure why I’m so parched all day long.”
“You’re expecting. I think that’s expected.”
“I suppose.” Anna fanned her sweat-glistened forehead. “Are you hot? I’m hot. It’s hot.”
As the fiddling increased in volume, signaling the beginning of another dance, Larkin took the fan from Anna and attended to cooling her tillikum, closest friend. Mama would be proud she was at least thinking Chinook jargon.
“I’m fine, but the Farmer’s Almanac did predict a warm though wet—”
At Anna’s raised hand, Larkin fell silent.
“We are both too young and the wrong gender to be discussing weather.” Instead of drinking her punch, Anna gave Larkin a slant-eyed look. “Are you really going to tell Mr. Heartless Renier that you love him?”
Larkin glanced at E.V. His smooth face and sun-brightened hair made him easy to find among the many bearded and mustached men in the room. “Yes, and he isn’t heartless, and the almanac conveys a wealth of information even women in the bloom of their youth can appreciate.”
“Again, you know my rule against almanac talk. Shh. Now what, pray tell, do you call someone who convinces a girl he loves her”—Anna sipped the punch—“and then allows almost two years to pass without proposing? Or at least asking to court her?”
Larkin smiled. “He’s—he’s—” Her grin faltered somewhat, and she stopped fanning Anna. “Well, he’s judicious.” She hoped her tone conveyed every ounce of confidence she had in E.V. despite the tinge of doubt that seemed to be growing with each passing day.
“Judicious? Someone has been spending too much time reading.” With a disappointed shake of her head that caused her floral-decked straw hat to tilt a fraction, Anna muttered, “I had a different descriptive in mind.”
“Like what?”
Anna shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something that rhymes with trout.” She reclaimed the fan from Larkin and resumed fanning herself.
Larkin looked to the bridal couple doing a Virginia reel in the center of the warm barn with a score of other Tumwater residents, including E.V. and Abigail Leonard. Granted, E.V. didn’t seem to be enjoying the dance as much as the other dancers were. Of course, Emma and Frederick Corrigan were newly married and thereby unable to not enjoy the moment.
Besides, E.V. had never made any overt claims on any woman since arriving in Tumwater two autumns ago, so Larkin had no cause to be jealous or wary or fretful.
Still, this was his third—third!—dance with Abigail.
And he had been spending more time than usual with Abigail’s father, who was also spending more time than usual at E.V.’s sawmill. In fact, every time Larkin had walked by Renier Lumber Company during the last week—which was only because she passed it on her way to take lunch to her father at the brewery—she’d noticed Mr. Leonard’s impressive roan gelding tied to
a hitching post. If he was buying lumber, wouldn’t he have brought a wagon?
Gripping the empty punch glass and resting her hands on her knees, Larkin’s shoulders drooped just a fraction. The corset her mother required her to wear wouldn’t allow an unladylike slump under her new yellow-and-ivory-striped gown. The gown her mother had insisted they go to Olympia to buy specifically for the wedding. After all, they needed to have another fitting on her Christmas gown anyway, or so Mama had justified to Papa. Since they were at the modiste’s shop, being the kill-two-birds-with-one-stone person she was, Mama also bought a new gown for Larkin to wear to Anna’s twentieth birthday party in a month. That brocade dress, unlike this year’s burnished-gold Christmas one, was the exact shade of the limes grown in Mama’s conservatory.
Lime next to Anna’s ivory-with-a-touch-of-coral complexion was beautiful.
Lime next to the copper-toned skin Larkin had inherited from her one-quarter Chinook mother was practically morbid. Not that Larkin would suggest that to Mama, whose 1891 obsession apparently was with the color green. One of these days, though, she would convince her mother that every special event did not require a new gown. Certainly not one in a greenish hue. Or yellow, the color for the year of our Lord 1890. Or purple—Mama’s earlier obsession. Or 1887’s dreadful Year of the Orange.
She cringed in memory.
Why did Mama have to favor vibrant, look-at-me shades? As if the fanciness of Larkin’s gowns weren’t attention-demanding enough, Mama had to add rich, bold color. Larkin loved beige, muted browns, and earthy golds that subtly blended in with the surroundings.
Everyone in Tumwater knew Larkin was an heiress. The white Whitworth mansion ostentatiously located on a prominent corner near the center of town was enough of a daily reminder. She didn’t need to be dressed like an unapproachable china doll for people to treat her differently.
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