John knelt beside his son, but his eyes were on Marjorie. “He has indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Marjorie reached into the back of her wardrobe and lifted the green silk gown off the hook. She pulled it forward and heard a sigh behind her.
“It’s just as beautiful as I remembered,” Lilly said from the edge of Marjorie’s bed.
Charlie had been moved to the guest room after supper the night before, and Miss Ernst had returned and cleaned the governess’s room so Marjorie could sleep there on her final night before becoming Mrs. Orton.
Now it was the morning after Christmas, and Marjorie was getting ready for her wedding.
“Are you happy to marry my papa?” Lilly asked.
Marjorie laid the gown on the chair and then turned to the bureau mirror where she looked at her reflection. She noted her flushed cheeks and her shining eyes. “Yes. I’m very happy.”
“You’re not sad you won’t be in the movies?”
Marjorie lifted the dried rosebud Charlie had given her on the first day she arrived and she tucked it into her blond curls. “I’m not even a little sad. Because I know my life will be even better than the movies. It will be full of love, adventure, comedy and plenty of drama.”
Lilly stood and walked over to Marjorie’s gown. “Do you think I could wear this dress someday?”
Marjorie glanced at her reflection once more and, seeing she could do nothing else with her appearance, turned to Lilly. “I would love for you to wear it someday, but I have a feeling when you’re old enough to wear it, the dress will be out of fashion and you will be ready for something new.”
Lilly blinked up at Marjorie, her blue eyes filled with love. “Will you be there? When I’m all grown up, I mean.”
Marjorie took the little girl in her arms and held her tight. “God willing, yes, I will be there.”
Lilly squeezed her back. “I’m glad.”
“Are you almost ready?” Mrs. Orton asked, knocking at the door.
“Come in,” Marjorie called. “I’m just about to put on my gown and then I’m ready.”
Mrs. Orton stepped into the room, already wearing her best dress. “Shall I help?”
Marjorie nodded and allowed Mrs. Orton to help her slip the gown over her head and then button up the back.
“It’s even prettier on,” Lilly breathed.
“Let’s hurry,” Mrs. Orton said. “Everyone is waiting downstairs. The other bride and groom have already arrived.”
Mrs. Orton walked out of Marjorie’s room, followed close by Lilly and then Marjorie. They crossed the upstairs hall and began their descent down the steps.
Mrs. Orton and Lilly hurried ahead of Marjorie into the parlor, so Marjorie stood alone at the bottom of the stairs.
She took a deep breath. This was it. The moment had come. Once she said I do, she could never walk away again. There would be no quitting this time.
John appeared near the parlor entrance. He wore a black evening coat tailored to fit his body to perfection. His dark brown hair was combed to the side, and his brown eyes sparkled with love. He walked toward her, and her heart quickened in her chest.
“You look stunning, Marjorie.” He offered his hand.
Marjorie didn’t even hesitate. She placed her hand in his. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready?”
She couldn’t help lifting her eyebrows. “Are you ready? You do recall all the trouble I cause?”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “How could I forget? It’s why I fell in love with you.”
“Because I cause trouble?”
He kissed her forehead. “Because there’s no one else like you.”
“Stop that, now!” Mrs. Scott said from the parlor arch. “You haven’t said your vows.”
“Shall we?” John asked Marjorie.
She nodded, unable to contain the shiver of excitement that raced through her body.
They walked into the parlor arm in arm. The room was festive with Christmas decorations. The tree still stood in the corner, decorated by the children just before Charlie had become ill. All the candles had been lit, offering a gentle glow. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling in the center of the bay window where Dora and Jeremiah waited with the preacher.
Charlie had been brought downstairs for the ceremony and was lying on a sofa with a blanket around his legs. His pale cheeks were a reminder of the ordeal he had been through. Though he wanted to be present for the wedding, John insisted that he be brought back to bed the moment the ceremony was over. The grin on his face indicated he was feeling as good as could be expected.
Lilly stood in a beautiful red dress with a matching ribbon in her hair. Petey wore his blue sailor suit, his hair slicked down and his airplane firmly grasped in his hand. When he saw Marjorie enter, he ran to her side and wouldn’t budge. Even Laura had been dressed up in a white gown, a red ribbon encircling her downy head. She sat in Mrs. Orton’s lap, cooing to anyone who would pay attention.
“Are you the other bride?” the preacher asked.
Marjorie nodded at the jolly little man. “I am.”
“Good.” He lifted his hands. “Everyone, please find a seat.”
Paul and Mrs. Scott took a seat near Mrs. Orton and the children—all except Petey, who continued to stand by Marjorie’s side.
Jeremiah’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Watkins, had come on the morning train and they sat on the other sofa. Mrs. Gohl and Miss Ernst had also been invited, and they stood near the door.
Marjorie wished her parents could be in attendance. Hopefully, one day, they would find it in their hearts to forgive Marjorie and embrace her new family.
“I’ll have both couples face me,” the preacher said as he opened his Bible.
Marjorie caught Dora’s eye and they smiled at each other. Dora wore a pretty blue gown, and Marjorie couldn’t help thinking how much she looked like Anna. Was this how Anna had looked eleven years ago when she married John?
It felt good and right to sense Anna’s presence today. Marjorie looked at the four children, all of them smiling at her, and knew that Anna was with them, and would always be with them.
John watched Marjorie. “You look happy.”
“I am happy.”
He squeezed her hand. “So am I.”
“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began, “we are here today in the sight of God and man to join these two couples in holy matrimony. Marriage is an institution ordained of God, and it is not to be entered into lightly or unadvisedly, but reverently, deliberately and only after much consideration, for in coming together in marriage you are committing yourselves exclusively, the one to the other, for as long as you both shall live.”
Marjorie looked at John once again, and he smiled down at her.
“Knowing this,” the preacher continued. “I ask you this question. John, do you take Marjorie to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
John studied Marjorie, his eyes filled with a deep understanding of the vows he was committing to. “I do.”
“And, Marjorie, do you take John to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
Marjorie looked at John, and then at Charlie, Lilly and Laura on the sofa. Her gaze went to Petey, who looked up at her with adoration. She touched his little chin and then turned her full attention to John. “I do.”
John smiled at her and then took her hand as they listened to Dora and Jeremiah speak their vows.
“Then, by the authority granted to me by God and the State of Minnesota, I now pronounce both couples husband and wife.” The prea
cher closed his Bible. “Gentlemen, you may kiss your brides.”
John took Marjorie in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. When he pulled back, his gaze was filled with love and hope.
There were congratulations all around, with many hugs and kisses for the brides and grooms. Only Charlie remained seated, though he watched everything with a smile on his face.
Marjorie leaned down and picked up Petey while John took Laura from Mrs. Orton’s arms. Together, they went to the sofa to join Charlie.
Lilly nestled next to Marjorie. “What will we call you now, Miss Maren?”
“We shall call her Mommy,” Petey said with finality.
Marjorie put her arm around her daughter. “You may call me whatever you’d like, Lilly Belle.”
“But not Miss Maren,” John said with a wink.
“Why not?” Charlie asked.
“Because she’s no longer Miss Maren. Now she’s Mrs. Orton.”
“But we can’t call her Mrs. Orton,” Lilly said.
“Let’s call her Mommy,” Petey said again, this time with a bit more force.
“I like Ma,” Charlie said.
“And I like Mom,” Lilly said with her arms folded.
John sat on Marjorie’s other side, and he took her free hand. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, loud enough for the children to hear, “I shall call you My Love.”
Charlie rolled his eyes and Lilly wrinkled her nose.
Marjorie offered him a kiss and then looked at the children, her heart full. “I don’t care what you call me, as long as you call me yours.”
Lilly leaned her head against Marjorie’s shoulder and played with the new ring on Marjorie’s left hand. Petey placed his cheek over her heart, clutching his airplane close to his chest. Charlie grinned from his place on the sofa, his eyes wandering to the rosebud she had placed in her hair, and Laura reached for Marjorie’s necklace.
But it was the look in John’s eyes that brought her the sweetest joy. He quoted from Proverbs thirty-one. “‘Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.’”
Large snowflakes began to fall just outside the windows as Marjorie snuggled on the sofa with her new family, content to stay forever.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A RANCHER OF CONVENIENCE by Regina Scott.
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Dear Reader,
Thank you for joining me on the banks of the Mississippi, in my hometown, during the year 1918. Little Falls, like many other American communities, experienced the devastating effects of the Spanish flu. It infected nearly five hundred million people worldwide, but little was known about its cause or cure. At the time, our local newspaper mentioned cinnamon oil as a treatment, so it only seemed appropriate for Dr. Orton to advocate this method. I don’t know how well it worked, but many still use it for the same purpose today.
This is my first Love Inspired Historical, and I had so much fun writing this story and creating the cast of characters. I shared a glimpse of my four children in the Orton children, and there was a little of my husband, Dave, in John’s character. That would leave Marjorie to me—but, alas, I’m much more like Anna.
God bless!
Gabrielle Meyer
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A Rancher of Convenience
by Regina Scott
Chapter One
Windy Diamond Ranch,
Little Horn, Texas, July 1895
She was a widow.
Nancy Bennett shook her head as she stood on the wide front porch, looking out at the ranch her husband had built. Across the dusty ground in front of the house, a horse corral clung to a weathered, single-story barn. Beyond them, scrub oak and cottonwood dotted windblown grass where longhorns roamed, content.
She could not find such contentment. One hand clutched the letter that could spell the end of her dream. The other hand rested on her belly where it was just beginning to swell inside her black skirts.
She and Lucas had been married only ten months. She was still learning how to be a wife, hadn’t yet accustomed herself to the idea that she would one day be a mother. Now Lucas was dead, killed because he had rustled from their friends and neighbors. And her whole world had been upended like a tumbleweed turning in the wind.
Sherriff Fuller had tried to be kind when he’d brought her the news two weeks ago. She’d been pressing the pedal of the wrought iron sewing machine Lucas had ordered for her, finishing the seam on a new shirt for him, when she’d heard the sound of a horse coming in fast.
Such antics would have been so like Lucas, particularly since he’d bought that paint from her friend Lula May Barlow. Having been raised on a prosperous horse ranch in Alabama, Lucas liked fast horses, fine clothes. She’d never understood why he’d advertised for a mail-order bride, or why he’d chosen her. Perhaps he hadn’t been satisfied with his options here in Little Horn. Lucas, she’d learned, wasn’t satisfied with much.
Still, she’d risen to go greet him, like the dutiful wife she had tried so hard to be. She’d known everything was exactly the way he liked it—stew simmering on the stove with just the right amount of rosemary to spice it, parlor swept clean of the dust he perpetually brought in on his expensive tooled-leather boots and horsehair-covered chairs at precise angles facing each other in front of the limestone fireplace. She’d taken a peek at herself in the brass-framed mirror near the front door to make sure her long brown hair was carefully bound up at the top of her head with tendrils framing her oval face. She’d even pinched color into her cheeks, which had recently been far too pale, according to him. Surely there was nothing to set him on edge this time.
Smile pasted firmly on her face, she’d opened the door and stepped out on the porch. But instead of her husband, Jeb Fuller was climbing the steps.
The sheriff immediately removed his broad-brimmed hat and ducked his head in respect. The damp dark blond hair across his brow told as much of the warm summer air as his hard ride.
“Mrs. Bennett, ma’am,” he said, voice low. “I’m sorry to bring you bad news. Your husband was shot.”
Nancy felt as if the solid planks of the porch were bucking like one of Lucas’s feisty horses. She must have swayed on her
feet, because the sheriff’s arm reached out to steady her as he drew level with her.
“Where?” she asked, panic and fear tangling inside her. “When? How bad is it? Please would you take me to him?”
“I’m afraid it’s not so simple, ma’am,” he drawled, brown eyes sad. “Your husband was caught with other men’s cattle in his possession, and when he was confronted, he drew down on his neighbors. He was stopped before he could harm anyone.”
Nancy stared at him, mouth drier than the Texas plains. “Stopped? You mean he’s dead?”
The sheriff nodded. “I’m afraid so. I took the liberty of having the body sent to Mr. Agen, the undertaker.”
She choked, the breakfast she’d shared with Lucas threatening to claw its way back up her throat. “It must be some kind of mistake. Lucas would never steal. He already has a ranch full of cattle.”
“And we’ll need to have your hands round them up,” the sheriff said. “Just to make sure there aren’t others that should be sent back to their rightful owners.”
“No,” Nancy said. As his brows jerked up, she took a shuddering step back from him. “No. Lucas can’t be dead. He can’t be a thief. He’s my husband!”
Sheriff Fuller ducked his head again. “Yes, ma’am. And I expect I’ll need to ask you some questions about where he was on certain occasions, so we’ll know if he had any accomplices.”
Accomplices? She’d swallowed hard. Surely none of their hands had helped Lucas steal. Did the sheriff think she’d helped? She hadn’t even known!
But she should have.
The look on Sheriff Fuller’s face and the voice crying in her heart both said the same thing. She was Lucas Bennett’s wife. She woke with him in the morning, fed him, kept his house and garden and went to church services and civic functions on his arm. She’d thought him overly exacting, yes, moody certainly, especially in the last few months. But how could she have missed downright evil? Was she no judge of character? Had she lost the sense God had given her?
A Mother in the Making Page 24
