Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri

by Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

  The first person to arrive was Suzy. She brought a carload of friends from the College of the Ozarks—a shy-looking boy and two girlfriends. They all declared that they didn’t drink wine, so Ellie introduced them to sparkling white muscadine juice. Carrying their elegant glasses, they took a table outside. Ellie brought them a platter of crackers with some Brie with hot pepper jelly.

  Next came George Castleman with his wife. He turned to his wife and crooned, “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.” He presented her to Ellie in the slapstick manner of Ollie Stewart.

  The short and spunky brunette elbowed him in the ribs. Then she stuck out her hand and shook Ellie’s, saying, “I’m Terry. It’s great to finally meet you.”

  Ellie laughed. “I feel the same. How do you put up with him?”

  “It’s a challenge, as I’m sure you’re learning.”

  George huffed at them both. “Yes, you poor ladies have it rough with me.”

  Ellie served them a few different red wines, as they requested, and they sat down inside at a table near the counter, where they could chat with Will.

  Along with passersby who were shopping Branson Landing, a few other people trickled in from the play—Eugene Johnston, Dillon Cody, and the guy who played Buck. They were all still dressed in their work attire and presented a hilarious picture as turn-of-the-century hillbillies against a backdrop of culture and class. Ellie and Will had fun serving them and spending time together in the different setting. They all visited for a couple of hours.

  “This is wonderful,” George’s wife, Terry, commented. “What a great addition to Branson Landing.”

  Just about that time Dot growled and barked, shocking Ellie, who had never heard her sound so fierce. The dog then ran around behind the counter and cowered behind Will’s legs, making a wet spot on the floor. He reached down to clean it and calm her.

  Ellie snapped her head toward the door and saw Seth Young swagger in with Cristal Dunaway on his arm.

  “Was that a dog barking in here?” was Seth’s accusatory greeting.

  “Yes.” Will picked up Dot and held her in his arms. “You must have spooked her.”

  Cristal sneered at Will, but then her heavily made-up eyes got wider than frying pans. She lurched toward Dot. “That’s my dog. I’ve been looking all over for her!”

  Dot’s upper lip curled over her teeth, but Cristal didn’t heed the warning. “I can’t believe you stole my dog. Come to Mama!” She put out her hand in a quick motion to grab Dot out of Will’s hands, and Dot bit her. “Oh! You little jerk!” Cristal slapped the dog across the face.

  Dot cried.

  Ellie, who had been pouring wine at a corner table, strode across the room. “Get out of here!”

  Seth tried to protest.

  Cristal examined the teeth marks on her hand, visibly disappointed that there was no blood.

  “I mean it. Get out.” Ellie was seething.

  Seth held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Chill.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without Princess.” Cristal, who had regained her composure, put a hand on her hip. Her red lips pouted. “She was a gift from my daddy.”

  George and Terry Castleman rose to leave. They looked apologetically at Ellie, leaving a tip on the table, and the rest of the room cleared out behind them. Only Suzy and company were left outside.

  “You just hit my dog in the face.” Ellie enunciated her words as though Cristal were hard of hearing. “I didn’t like you before, but now I’m really done with you. Don’t ever come back here again.”

  “Your dog.” Cristal smirked. “That’s rich. How long have you had your dog, huh?”

  Will stepped forward. “This dog was in very bad condition when it showed up on Ellie’s doorstep. She made every effort to find the owner in the two weeks that followed. If she was yours—which I doubt—why didn’t you check the papers, or the vet’s offices? Ellie even put it on the radio, for crying out loud.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet? And so ethical. I’m glad to know she didn’t just steal her, like she stole my part.”

  Seth sniggered, then coughed into his fist.

  “It’s obvious Dot doesn’t want you. If you think you can prove she’s your dog, bring it on. Take legal action. I’ll fight you for her. But until then, get out.” Ellie motioned toward the door.

  Dot growled again, eyeing Cristal.

  “You’ve not heard the end of this, Miss Heinrichs Haus!” Cristal turned on her heel and pranced out, dragging Seth behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “‘Miss Heinrichs Haus’? Are you kidding me?” Beecher tried to suppress a laugh, but Ellie could hear it coming out in little obnoxious bursts.

  “I hear you, Beecher.”

  More laughter on the other end of the line.

  “I can hear you laughing. Even though you’re in Munich, you sound like you’re next door.”

  “Ellie, you have to admit it’s hilarious.”

  “I have to admit no such thing.”

  “Well, it is funny.”

  “I do not think a blond assassin coming into the tasting room on the arm of Seth Young with the intent to steal my dog is any laughing matter.”

  “But you are the one who stole her dog, remember?”

  Ellie sighed loudly. “If Dot ever were her dog, which I doubt, then I rescued her by taking her in. She obviously fled from Cristal’s abuse.”

  “You sound like a lawyer.”

  “Dot has made her choice, Beecher. And it stands.”

  An explosion of laughter ripped through the phone.

  Ellie remained silent till Beecher contained himself. Then she said, “So you’ll be bringing Opa and Mom?”

  “I will. I’m going to sleep on your couch, if it’s okay, so we can all stay together. Or do you want us to get a hotel?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Mom thinks we need to get there a little early so we can drop off our things at your house, and use the bathroom and stuff.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave your tickets on the counter.”

  “How will we get in? Does Opa have a key?”

  Beecher always thought of everything. “I don’t think so. I’ll leave one under the mat for you.”

  “How original.”

  “Be careful,” Ellie warned. “I have an exceptionally good guard dog.”

  “I cannot wait to meet this champion of canine rights.”

  “I’m going to tell her to bite you.” Ellie yawned.

  “What time is it there?”

  “Eleven-thirty. I was about to go to bed.”

  “Sweet dreams, Miss Heinrichs Haus.”

  “Sweet dreams yourself.”

  * * * * *

  Ellie took Dot out for the last time and then locked her front door and ascended the stairs. Curling up under the covers in her brother’s boxers and a holey T-shirt, she reached for Elise’s diary.

  26 June 1887

  I am simply bursting with the news: William asked me to marry him! We were sitting at Inspiration Point, looking out over all of the beauty God has made—the glorious hills rising up to meet the blue sky and the silvery water meandering down below. I said I had never seen a place so beautiful, and he smoothed the hair back from my face with his hand and whispered, “It’s not half as beautiful as you.”

  Then he got down on one knee. He quoted the entire second chapter of Song of Solomon, beginning and ending with “Arise, my love, and come away with me.” Then he said, “Elise Marie Falkenberg, will you please marry me?” Just like that! He said he wants to ask my father, and to do things “right,” but that he wanted my answer first or there would be no point. He was shining and wonderful. And of course I told him yes. I am the happiest woman on earth.

  I know it will all work out for good. I just have to figure out what step to take next. It is getting harder to keep my relationship with William a secret. And yet it is not something I want to share—yet—with anyone other than Heidi. I fee
l guilty hiding it from Mother, but the situation is complicated.

  Since my father is away, Uncle Robert is our guardian. I believe he would listen to my mother and honor her wishes; however, I cannot be sure that she would allow me to spend time with a stranger. A stranger—who has asked for my hand in marriage! A stranger who is closer to me than my own soul.

  Both my uncle and my mother are kind to me. Perhaps they would allow me to meet with William in public places like church, or have him in Uncle Robert’s home. But I am selfish, I suppose. I don’t want to give up my private times with him. I don’t know that anyone but Heidi can understand my feelings. I cannot take the risk of being forbidden to see him—at least until I figure out what I am going to do.

  28 June 1887

  William and I have it all planned. When my papa returns to fetch us from Branson, I will wait till the moment is right, and then I will tell my parents about William. I know it will be a shock, but Heidi is on my side, and I pray my father, and the rest of the adults, will understand. I believe if I introduce them to William, any reservations will be dispelled. If my father gives his blessing, we will plan a wedding. If he does not, then we may elope. I pray it does not come to that. What a dreadful thing it would be to have to choose between the person you love and your family.

  29 June 1887

  Horror of horrors! My papa has been killed in a railroad accident! We found out by telegram today. The Baldknobbers caused it. Unspeakable sorrow…what will become of us all?

  Here the page was stained with what must have been Elise’s tears. Blotches of ink blurred the letters so they were hard to distinguish in places. Her handwriting, which to this point had been an elegant, flowing script, began to appear more clipped and choppy. Ellie turned each page with heightened caution, reading and translating with a growing sense of doom.

  3 July 1887

  I am back in Hermann now. The services to bury my papa were yesterday, and I feel numb. Words fail me to describe it. Dear, precious Papa. Can it be that I will never see you again this side of heaven?

  My heart longs to hide itself in the haven of William Howitt. We barely got to say good-bye—how wrong I see it is now that I kept our love a secret from my family. He should have been here to share this sorrow, surely one of the deepest I will ever know, but it is my stupidity that made it impossible. And of course I cannot elope with him now—I cannot leave my mother and Heidi.

  When we parted, he gave me an address: 1700 Wabansia, Chicago, Illinois. “Write to me at this address,” he said, pressing it into my hand. “I will come back for you. You let me know when the time is right, and I swear to you, I will be here.” The taste of him is still on my lips. The scent of wood smoke in my nostrils. And most of all, the sound of his voice lingers in my ears.

  7 July 1887

  We received a letter in the mail from Branson. My uncle Robert’s mill burned. All is lost.

  17 July 1887

  Richard Heinrichs came today. He renewed his offer of marriage and plans to support my mother and Heidi as well. When he left, I saw the first glimmer of hope in my mother’s eyes since Papa died.

  26 August 1887

  My heart within me is sick and sad. I fear—no, it’s more than mere fearing—I know I have made the wrong choice. But what else could I do with so many people depending on me? With lives I love hanging in the balance?

  Perhaps one day I will believe what Ms. Barrett-Browning says: it is “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” But today I cannot see it. Today love is a plague, a curse. For love found me in Branson, Missouri, when I was least expecting it. I wasn’t looking. I never dreamed it would come looking for me. Me! A simple hill country girl! And for a brief, shining moment, all the world opened like a rose. Things I’d never imagined possible, heights of joy I’d never known, seemed all within my grasp when I held him in my arms.

  I thought that love could last forever. But now, as suddenly as it bloomed, that rose lies dry and dead on the ground. And what’s worst of all, I cut it down with my own hands. I know it’s a sin, but I wish I could die, too.

  It’s my wedding day.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It was opening night.

  Ellie dried her hair with a large round brush, styling it smooth and straight. She wore a white button-down shirt, which would be easy to take off without messing up her hair, a pair of cutoff jean shorts, and the old-fashioned ankle boots that were part of her costume. The rest, a pink and blue calico dress, she would find waiting for her in the dressing room, along with a pink hair ribbon. Someone would be there to do her makeup.

  Leaving the tickets Will had gotten her for Opa, Katherine, and Beecher on the counter, she bid Dot good-bye, slipped her key under the WILKOMMEN mat by the front door, and slid into the front seat of her BMW. Taking what was now a familiar shortcut, she arrived in plenty of time at The Shepherd of the Hills campus.

  The dressing room, fronted by a faux general store, was bustling with activity. Suzy waved to Ellie, motioning for her to come and take a seat next to her for makeup. Stopping to chat with Cheryl Jech for a moment about her microphone headgear, Ellie made her way across the room to join her friend.

  In Ellie’s opinion Suzy’s wholesome good looks were obscured by the pound of eye shadow and blush the makeup person had used. Ellie watched with dread as Suzy’s lips were painted the color of a cherry bomb. Then the girl started on Ellie. By the time the makeup artist finished with her, Ellie felt like a clown, but she knew the bright colors on her eyes, cheeks, and lips would fade under the bright lights of the set. It was the way of live theater. This brought her some comfort.

  Will had called earlier to talk and personally wish her good luck, which he did by telling her to “break a leg.” It was an unspoken rule among theater types that one never said good luck, lest it cause bad luck. Instead, the appropriate phrase for a well-wisher was “break a leg.” She and Will abided by this protocol even though they knew it was silly. It was a tradition.

  Ellie could tell when they talked that Will was a little nervous, and she understood why. Besides the fact it was opening night for a new company of actors, The Shepherd of the Hills was hosting a conflagration of investors who had apparently come from all over to judge the prospects of investing in Branson property and businesses. Will had been on call with his boss for various public-relations activities, like taking them all to lunch that day. He was also responsible for a party after the play that would include the investors and members of the cast. This was a lot to ask of Will, Ellie thought. Sometimes she wondered if his boss had any idea what a director—and especially one of Will’s caliber—actually did. At any rate, she’d be there serving juice and wine, compliments of Heinrichs Haus Winery. Beecher was going to help her.

  The cast met in a pavilion on the far east end of the set, hidden by trees, as the audience gathered in the stands before the play. Only Chris, the guy who played Buck Thompson, was missing. He was in the pre-show, which as Ellie had seen before, included a humorous speech by Buck—rife with grammatical errors—and a bullfrog race.

  Will’s eyes sparkled as he gave last-minute instructions. The air around him seemed charged with intensity. “You guys will be awesome!” he encouraged. “You’re totally ready for this. I have complete confidence in all of you!” Then he led them in a prayer:

  “Thank You, Father, for the gifts You have given us, and for the opportunity to use those gifts and do something we all love as we minister to others. We believe this story has the power to transform lives, and so that is my prayer. May lives be changed through the telling of this redemption story. May Your blessing fall upon us tonight in order that we could be a blessing to the audience. In Jesus’ name.”

  Ellie beamed. Excitement bubbled up within her. And joy. And a sense of purpose and peace. She winked at Will, and he smiled at her warmly.

  Seth Young rolled his eyes.

  * * * * *

  As the first actors walked out ont
o the outdoor stage, Ellie and Suzy watched from the vantage point of the general store. Men dressed as backwoods hillbillies—as Ellie imagined some of her relatives had been in the time of Elise and William—assembled in front of Old Matt’s mill. They pontificated about this and that, mostly revealing their different characters and setting up the story. Of course, there was a great buildup to the infamous contest of brute strength between Young Matt and Wash Gibbs.

  When it came time for Sammy Lane to enter the scene, Ellie had a new experience that she would only be able to describe later as supernatural. A surge of something—power? animation? creativity?—came over her. There had always been an adrenaline rush as she took a stage, but this was altogether different. This was a gift of grace.

  Ellie became Sammy. In the past, even up to the last few days of practice, there had been a disconnect. A hurdle Ellie could not seem to cross, even using all of the techniques she’d learned in college, and all of her previous acting experience. Try as she might, Sammy’s character had somehow seemed shallow, one-sided, and flat, like a dimestore paper doll. Ellie chalked it up to the writing, what she called the low-brow literary quality of the script. But tonight—on this night—Sammy Lane came alive for her. It was as if, when Ellie walked onto the stage, she was walking into the pages of her grandmother’s diary. The lines of reality blurred and then faded completely. She was living a part of her own history.

  * * * * *

  In the VIP section, a visiting investor named Jackson Jenkins leaned forward in his seat and adjusted his Gucci glasses. He was aware that Will Howard was a world-class director but hadn’t expected even him to be able to draw this kind of performance from the raw material Jackson imagined was afforded in a place like Branson. However, the woman playing Sammy Lane was mesmerizing.