The Blue Ribbon Brides Collection

by AlLee, Jennifer L. ; Breidenbach, Angela; Franklin, Darlene

  “Sweetheart,” came his gentle voice, “God had already told Gideon what He wanted him to do—to lead His army. Gideon put that fleece out to confirm it was God’s call and not his own selfish ambition.”

  “You think I made a selfish decision?”

  “Would you have given up the idea of moving to Sioux Falls and opening a millinery if I hadn’t been supportive?”

  “Of course not! This was what I wanted—”

  “You wanted.”

  Tears blurred her eyes. “If you believed I was making a selfish decision, why didn’t you stop me? A loving parent would have.”

  Silence lingered.

  Finally he said, “There is nothing wrong with pursuing a dream. What’s wrong is when you use circumstances to determine God’s will. If I constantly stopped you from making a poor decision, you would never learn to take care of yourself and never learn to deal with the frustration of making a mistake. The way I looked at it, the millinery could succeed as easily as it could fail. I wanted you to succeed. I believed you could.” His voice tightened. “Either way, Reba, you would be fine, because you always have a place to come home to.”

  The truth of his words hurt. Deep down in her heart it hurt. It wasn’t just because of the money she had wasted in learning how to fail. For weeks she’d convinced herself she could have a successful business and a life here in Sioux Falls with Levi.

  She drew in a deep breath. “So you want me to come home and marry Levi?”

  “I want—” He released a frustrated sigh. “Reba, you are the type of person who doesn’t stay down when she falls. You’re braver than most people I know. You are smart, too. But being smart and being able to make beautiful hats doesn’t mean you have the skills needed to run a business, and that is all right. You have to give yourself permission to fail.”

  Reba didn’t say anything. She examined the few orders remaining on her board. She’d invested a little over a fourth of her land money in the millinery. If she hired a woman to take care of customers, she could focus on making hats. If she ordered some inexpensive, premade hats, she could appeal to a less affluent clientele. She could also sell flowers for individual purchase so ladies could add them to hats they already owned. Or … she could fail and be all right with it.

  Move him or move me. Change him or change me.

  The prayer echoed in her mind.

  “Reba, are you still there?”

  “Yes. I was thinking.”

  “About?”

  “What to do after I stand up. I may have another option.”

  He cleared his throat. “You should talk to Levi about your plight. He’d give you good advice, maybe help with the accounting.”

  “There’s no point. He’s already informed his manager at John Deere that he is quitting on April 3.” She switched the telephone to her other ear. “I think he’s going to propose tonight.”

  “This is good.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she took another deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I love him, Vati. I do.” She paused. “I feel terrible saying this. I can live with a broken heart. But I can’t live with spending the rest of my life on a farm, even if it’s with Levi.”

  He sighed.

  She sighed, too. “Would you give up indoor plumbing for an outhouse? I can’t. I like electricity and fans that blow cool air. I love riding the trolley and going to the theater, ice-cream parlors, balls, baseball games, and the park. I like attending a church where there are dozens of people my age. I like meeting people who’ve experienced life outside of South Dakota. Hearing that, do you still want me to come home and marry Levi?”

  “No. If you did, you would wither and die inside.”

  Tears brimmed again in her eyes. “How do I know what God wants me to do about the lease?”

  “This may be hard to hear,” he said slowly, “but sometimes God doesn’t care what job we take or which city we live in. Those aren’t moral decisions, and He can bless us no matter what we do. God is more interested in building your character than building your hat shop.”

  Reba closed her eyes. “I’ve been too busy making hats to talk to God.”

  “Take time to talk to Him … and to Levi. That boy loves you.”

  “I know. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Call me after you’ve made a decision about the lease.”

  “I will.” After a quick good-bye, she hung up.

  “You’re right.”

  Reba jumped, her heart nearly stopping in shock upon hearing Levi’s voice.

  He held up the bell. “This wasn’t on the door.”

  “It broke an hour ago. I … uh, how—how much did you hear?” She took a deep breath and stood very still, waiting.

  “I thought—” His voice caught. “If this bell hadn’t been broken, I wouldn’t have been able to walk in without you knowing. Sometimes the doors we step through aren’t ones God opened.” He stepped forward and placed the bell on her desk then looked at her with tear-bright eyes. “I think we can take this as a sign. I appreciate knowing where I stand with you. Good-bye, Reba. I wish you the best with your boutique.”

  He left, slipping through the curtains and out of the millinery as silently as he’d arrived.

  Reba stared blankly ahead.

  Could his hearing what she said be a sign? She didn’t know, not anymore.

  “I can’t go backward,” she whispered. “Oh, God, what am I supposed to do?”

  Chapter 10

  “When it has been satisfactorily fixed, so that it is quite even, and the first row not unduly hidden in any part, the two can be sewn together.”

  —Practical Millinery

  Webber Farm

  Sunday afternoon, April 4

  Levi, would you get that?” Ma yelled from the kitchen.

  “All right,” he yelled back, descending the staircase two steps at a time. Probably some of his parents’ friends out visiting. He opened the door.

  Mr. Diehl pushed his hat back on his head. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

  “Who is it, dear?”

  Levi looked over his shoulder. “It’s Mr. Diehl. We’ll be on the porch.” He stepped outside, taking care to close the door in case Ma decided to eavesdrop.

  Mr. Diehl sat in a rocker.

  Levi leaned back against the porch railing, legs crossed at the ankle, elbows on the railing. “I suppose you heard the news?”

  “That you and Reba aren’t courting anymore?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Seems I did.” His brows rose. “You look to be handling it well.”

  Levi tried to digest this. He’d never had a broken heart before. Considering he hadn’t taken to the bottle, spent the day wailing in grief, or done anything to be regretful of in the morning, he supposed he was handling it well. As best a man could. He supposed in a few days the numbness from the shock would wear off. Ma said it would. But if he saw Reba talking to another man, he doubted his response would be as levelheaded.

  He shrugged. “Not much I can do to change the situation.”

  A glimmer of something flashed in Mr. Diehl’s eyes. “Do you love her?”

  Levi nodded. “I want her to be happy.” He looked to the left—the milking barn. He looked to the right—a cornfield. “I thought it was a matter of her not liking cows and looking out of her bedroom window and seeing corn all the way to the horizon. It’s more than that. She likes culture. There’s no one around here who understands that creative, artistic drive in her. I’m not sure I even understand it.”

  Mr. Diehl nodded. “She likes pretty things. Always has. Her mother—” He slapped his thigh. “Well, that’s that.” He stood and walked to Levi. He clasped Levi’s hand. His other hand settled on Levi’s shoulder. “Let me give you a piece of advice my father gave me, twenty-four years ago. ‘When you are no longer able to change the situation, you are challenged to change yourself.’”

  His parents had said as much last night, afte
r apologizing for causing him to feel like he had no future except for that on the farm. His brothers could manage without him. His parents could manage without him.

  But could he manage without Reba?

  He could. He knew he could. The crux was, he didn’t want to now, any more than he had six months ago. His love for Reba had only grown and deepened, matured.

  That, though, could change.

  Levi swallowed, drowning under the sudden surge of emotions. “I can be—” His throat tightened. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Given time, I can be happy without her.”

  Mr. Diehl patted his shoulder. “Given time can be an awfully long time.”

  “Yes, sir, it can.”

  It didn’t have to be.

  Change her or change me. Move her or move me.

  Levi looked to Reba’s father … and smiled. “There is another possibility.”

  Sioux Falls College

  Tuesday, April 6

  Reba laid the manila envelope on the desk and sat in one of the chairs across from the dean of Home Economics. Her hands didn’t shake, yet she could feel a nervous flutter in her stomach. “I wanted to drop this off,” she said. “The papers are all filled out, except for the one accepting the scholarship. I’d rather you consider giving it to a girl in my church. Her contact information is in the envelope. I’ve already spoken to the bursar about tuition and fees and visited the ladies’ residence hall to make arrangements for this fall.”

  Mrs. Wright’s eyebrows rose in shock, but she recovered quickly with a smile. “Excellent. I’m delighted you decided to enroll.” She shifted through a stack of papers on her desk and pulled out a booklet. “Fall classes begin in August. Here is a schedule of course options.”

  Reba took the proffered booklet. “Thank you.” Standing, she slid it into her tapestry bag. “I would love to stay and visit, but I need to return to the boutique. There’s a little more packing to be done before I hand over the key.”

  “I am sorry about the millinery. You make beautiful hats.”

  Reba chuckled. “If you could see my accounting book, you’d realize that hats are about the only beautiful things I make.”

  “My husband balances our checkbook because he says I can be too creative with math. I take no offense to that.” Smiling, Mrs. Wright walked around the desk to shake Reba’s hand. “May I inquire what prompted your decision to close the millinery?”

  “Something you said planted the seed, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  They started toward the office door.

  “I realize now God has gifted me with certain talents, gifts, and abilities.” Reba released a wry chuckle. “Managing a business isn’t one of them. The only thing I liked about running a millinery was decorating the shop and making hats. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make hats. It means I shouldn’t be making hats as a business. I spoke to my father, and he agreed that college would be a good place for me to figure out what I want in life. Maybe I will become a home economics teacher. Maybe I will learn interior design. Maybe I will decide I want to do nothing more than be a wife and a mother. I don’t know what my future holds, and I am all right with that.”

  “Congratulations, Miss Diehl, on learning what too many of my students have yet to figure out.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That it is all right not to have all the answers.”

  They stopped at the threshold.

  “Until August …”

  Reba smiled. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  Reba climbed off the trolley and enjoyed a leisurely stroll toward the intersection of Ninth and Phillips, the sun bright and cheerful. Gone was the anxiety she’d felt in the last month as she approached the millinery. She had about four hours before the omnibus would arrive to haul her trunks of fabric, millinery tools, and office supplies to the boardinghouse. The inventory worth selling she’d sold. During the last week, she’d finished the last of her orders, including the four Miss Van Dyke had canceled, as well as every other canceled order. While not all received the exact hat she’d ordered, they’d each received a hat. Doing it was the right thing, even though it had been a cost to her. No matter how many times she heard “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she knew she had to. For her own conscience.

  When she wasn’t doing alterations for the Bee Hive Department Store, she’d make hats for the church summer auction.

  As she strolled, automobiles honked. Dust occasionally swirled in the air as buggies, wagons, and automobiles drove past. Busy street. Lots of pedestrian traffic, too. Sioux Falls fairly bustled with life. This weekend she’d buy a ticket to the vaudeville Levi said—

  Reba smiled to cover the ache in her chest each time she thought about Levi. She should call him. Or write a letter.

  She stopped at the corner and inhaled. Manure. Engine oil. Freshly baked bread. Not the best combination, but the sweet smell was familiar. Was home.

  Grip tight on her bag, she hurried across the street. No more time to dawdle. She had to pack. She had to—

  Reba stopped in front of the bakery. Someone was standing in front of her millinery. She took a hesitant step forward. Then another. And another. A man in a black suit leaned against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest, flat tweed cap over his face to shield his eyes from the morning sun.

  Her heart beat frantically.

  She nervously placed her foot on the bottom step. “Levi?”

  He slid his cap off his face and grinned. “Took you long enough. I considered looking for you but had no idea where to start. Mr. Huss didn’t know where you were. He did, however, have a hot-cross bun to sell me, along with a free cup of coffee.”

  “Why—uh, why …” She gripped her bag with both hands. “What brings you to Sioux Falls?”

  “I thought about what you said.”

  “And?” she prodded.

  He tapped his cap against his thigh. “I figured out something after talking to my parents and to your father.” He moved down a step. “I can live anywhere and be happy.” He moved another step. “I can live without you and learn to be happy about it.” He stood on the ground next to her. “But I don’t want to learn that.”

  Reba tried to speak, but her throat was tight, and her eyes were blurry.

  He flipped his cap on his head, his gaze locked on her. “You said you wanted a man who would move a mountain for you. I’m the mountain.”

  “You’re the mountain?” she echoed, trying desperately to catch her mind up with her heart. He’d come back for her—was that what he was saying?

  He nodded. “I’m the mountain you need moved.”

  Not just for her.

  He came back to be with her. To marry her. To create a life with her in Sioux Falls.

  Reba glanced around. They had an audience. Oh, it wasn’t but a dozen or so people, but still …

  “Is this a proposal?” she managed to say.

  “Eventually.” He grinned. “Next week I start working for the SDSU Extension Office here in Sioux Falls. I don’t want to be a farmer, but I do want to help other farmers be better farmers.” He withdrew a red satin-covered jewelry box. “Reba Diehl, I have this ring, and I would like to ask you to marry me, but”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“if you say yes, then I’m going to kiss you. Seeing we’re out here on the street and all—”

  Several people chuckled.

  Feeling her cheeks warm, Reba opened her bag and withdrew the key. She held it up.

  Levi took the key from her. “Race you to the door.”

  ECPA-bestselling author Gina Welborn worked for a news radio station until she fell in love with writing romances. She serves on the American Christian Fiction Writers Foundation Board. Sharing her husband’s love for the premier American sports car, she is a founding member of the Southwest Oklahoma Corvette Club and a lifetime member of the National Corvette Museum. Gina lives with her husband, three of their five Okie-Hokie children, two rabb
its, two guinea pigs, and a dog that doesn’t realize rabbits and pigs are edible. Find her online at www.ginawelborn.com!

  Chapter 1

  Fallon, Nevada

  June 1916

  If she didn’t take a break soon, she was sure her fingers would snap clean off.

  Ella Daniels sighed. Despite the fact that it was a warm summer’s day, she was cold to the bone. Butter was a tricky medium. Not only did she have to work in the icehouse so the sculpture would hold its form, she had to continually dip her hands in ice water to keep her body heat from melting her creation. Her hands had had all the abuse they could take for at least a few hours.

  She covered the half-formed cow with a wooden box and placed a slab of ice on top of that, just to be safe. As soon as she left the icehouse and shut the door behind her, she began to peel off layers: woolen scarf, long coat, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt that had once been her father’s. She hung each piece on hooks so they’d be easily retrieved later, after the feeling came back into her hands.

  If only she worked in a normal medium like clay or marble, she could spend hours sculpting. Not only that, but her creations would last more than the length of a state fair. Still, there was plenty to do. The sculpture she’d just left was a small-scale version of the nearly life-size one she’d be making in a few months. She still needed to make some sketches, decide on the final design, and build the frame to support several hundred pounds of butter. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she set off for the barn. Time to visit her favorite model.

  Geraldine let out a low, soulful moo as soon as Ella entered the barn. The Jersey cow put her pretty head over the half door of her stall and looked at Ella with expressive, doe-like eyes.

  “Hello, my pretty girl.” Ella pulled a stub of carrot from her skirt pocket and held it out on a flat palm. The cow slurped it up, her velvety muzzle skimming Ella’s skin.

  Unlike the other cows at the Daniels Dairy Farm, Geraldine was a pet. Ella had raised her from a calf, bottle-feeding her after she was rejected by her mother. That had been five years ago, about the time Ella decided to try butter sculpting as a way to grab public interest in the dairy. Naturally, Geraldine had been her first model. Over the years, Ella’s sculptures became a record of Geraldine’s life, getting bigger and more impressive.