Swallowing a chortle, she gave the mule an approving nod. “I like it. Jehoshaphat had strong determination. That’s a good trait for a mule, I would say.”
“It’s a good trait for anyone, I would say.”
Amos spoke in a serious, subdued tone that dampened every vestige of Dinah’s humor. Turning to face him, she tipped her head and braved a question. “Why did you come to see me today, Amos?”
Instead of answering, he limped toward her. She instinctively tensed at his approach, but she managed to stand still while he pushed his hand into one of the jacket pockets. He withdrew a rock, which he extended on his open palm.
She frowned. “What is it?”
“A rock.”
She bounced her frown from the rock to his face. His answer was far from satisfactory. She’d recognized the object. She wanted to know why he brought it to her. Before she could formulate the question, he began to speak in a thready voice deep with emotion.
“I found it last summer, shortly after I met you right here on the porch of the Clifton.” His gaze dropped to the multicolored stone, and he rotated his hand slightly from side to side, allowing the stone’s imbedded minerals to capture the sunlight and send it back in glistening shards of white. “Its color reminded me of you. Of your brown hair with its threads of gold.”
He raised his head sharply, his eyes seeming to examine the sides of her upswept hair. Dinah tugged his jacket more tightly closed at her throat, recalling how Mr. Sanger had focused on the waves of thick hair falling across her shoulders. But Mr. Sanger was gone, banished from town by the sheriff who warned him to stay away. This was Amos standing before her, a man who’d certainly inflicted pain with his angry words but who had never ogled her or touched her in a disrespectful way. She needn’t worry.
“I kept it in my house. As a reminder of you.”
Warmth spiraled through her. “Y-you did?”
“Yes. Until two Sundays after New Year’s Eve.”
Memories of New Year’s Eve returned in a rush. Dinah hung her head as Amos continued, his fingers closing around the rock and clenching so tightly his knuckles glowed.
“On that day I picked it up, and I stepped out on my porch, and I threw the rock as far as I could.” He drew his arm back as if preparing to throw it again. “I threw it in anger. In bitterness. In condemnation.” He seemed to freeze for a moment, his arm poised, and then he sagged, his arm falling weakly to his side. “And I was wrong.”
Startled, Dinah shifted her attention from his loosely held fist lying limp against his trouser leg to his face. Twin tears glistened in his eyes, brightening the deep-blue irises. She read contrition, sorrow, and—she stifled a gasp, hardly daring to believe it—even love shining from his eyes as he pinned her with his fervent gaze.
“I let my stubborn pride intrude. I acted just like the men who were ready to stone the woman caught in adultery, completely forgetting ‘all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ ” Still holding the rock, he lifted his hand, the movement so slow she didn’t feel the need to flinch away. “We both made mistakes, Dinah, but God is faithful to forgive. He’s forgiven me for my rash response and judgmental reaction.” He offered her the rock, his callused fingertips providing a cradle for the glistening stone. “And now I ask you to forgive me for hurting you.”
Dinah cupped his hand between hers and clung. Such sweet words—a request for forgiveness. Her reply poured out effortlessly. “I forgive you. And I beg the same of you. I intentionally hid pieces of my past from you. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. Will you forgive me?”
Even before he answered, she already knew what he’d say by the tenderness in his expression. Still, she gloried in his softly stated, “Yes.”
For several minutes they stood smiling into each other’s faces, his hand with the rock gripped between her palms. Cold hovered around them, dry snowflakes danced in little swirls on the painted porch boards, and from far in the distance, a train released a shrill whistle that echoed across the prairie. But as far as Dinah was concerned, nothing existed except Amos and her finding their peace again. She memorized the moment so she could thank God for every detail when she knelt for prayer that evening.
Then an odd noise intruded—a swoop of sound starting high and ending with a smack. Dinah gave a start and Amos laughed. One short, humor-filled snort of laughter. He tipped his head toward the hitching post. “That was Gid. He yawned.”
She stared at Amos in amazement. “That was a yawn? It sounded like someone trying to learn to play the violin.”
This time when Amos laughed, he threw back his head and let it roll with abandon. Dinah couldn’t help but laugh, too. She skipped from the porch and crouched next to Gideon, smiling at the dog’s mismatched eyes that blinked up at her with friendliness. “Are you bored, Gid, or merely sleepy?”
The dog responded by snatching the feather duster from her pocket and shaking it. Feathers flew and Dinah laughed again.
Amos hitched over, giving double hops on his good leg as he came. “Gideon, no!”
Gideon settled back on his haunches and looked in innocence at his master, the duster still clamped between his teeth. He made such a ridiculous sight that Dinah laughed even harder. And Amos joined her. She rose as he took a forward step, and when she turned, she found herself nose to chest with him. She lifted her face to look into his eyes, and something glimmering in the blue depths stilled her laughter. His chuckles ended, as well.
The train’s whistle came again, closer this time, raising a whine from each of the dogs and causing Jehoshaphat Isaac to paw the ground in protest. But Dinah and Amos remained as still as a pair of porch posts, their eyes locked and their lips slightly parted, little wisps of their breath mingling between them. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble with the approach of the locomotive. The hotel door flew open and Mr. Irwin’s voice bellowed, “Train’s coming! Dining workers, get ready!” And still Amos and Dinah didn’t move.
Not until the train screeched into the station and passengers began to cross the road to the hotel did Amos finally take one backward step away from Dinah. Although he hadn’t been touching her, although she’d been standing on her own strength, his slight departure seemed to steal her ability to remain upright. Her knees went weak, and she placed her hand on Jehoshaphat’s back to steady herself.
She was glad for the mule’s presence when Amos spoke over the din of the invading crowd. If she hadn’t had something to hold on to, she would have surely collapsed in a puddle on the hard ground in joyous surprise. Because he opened his mouth and said without an ounce of ceremony, “Dinah Hubley, will you wear my ring, and come summer will you be my bride?”
June, 1884
Dinah
Dinah, attired in her Calico Ball dress and clutching a fragrant bouquet of wildflowers, stood in the center of the attached gazebo on the Clifton Hotel’s porch. Beside her, Amos stood tall and dapper in his familiar black suit. Before her, Preacher Mead held his Bible open on his hand and read from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. All across the sunny lawn behind her, townspeople gathered with Amos’s parents, brothers, and their families at the front of the small crowd.
A warm breeze, scented by the profusion of roses already blooming in the gardens, tossed the tendrils of hair escaping from her flower-adorned coronet of braids. A sideways glance confirmed Amos watched the dancing locks, and she was glad her hands were too occupied to tuck the strands behind her ears. Would she ever tire of Amos’s adoring gaze?
In all her childhood imaginings, Dinah had never conjured a wedding day like this one, held on the porch of a Kansas hotel. She never envisioned a groom in a black wool suit, who suffered a fresh haircut that reached too high on the back of his neck and exposed a line of white where the sun hadn’t kissed his skin with bronze. Her fanciful dreams had been filled with castles and gilt carriages, a prince in a snow-white uniform with gold epaulets on his shoulders and she in a billowing gown covered in layer upon layer
of intricate lace. Her wedding day might lack the whimsical elements of a little girl’s hopeful imagination, but it contained the most important feature—love.
The day was infused with love. From Mr. Irwin, who’d insisted on providing a sumptuous wedding feast in the ballroom, free of charge. From Ruthie and her family, who had assisted in planning every facet of the event. From Rueben, who’d traveled all the way from Chicago to stand in as Dinah’s father. And mostly from Amos, whose tender, attentive gaze raised tremors of eagerness to speak the simple words—I do—that would bind her to him for all her living days.
Looking back, Dinah decided everything from Amos’s straightforward proposal to this simple outdoor wedding was perfect. She no longer needed a fairy tale. Real life—God’s amazing gift of this steadfast, honorable, big-hearted man—was so much better than any storybook account.
She forced aside her reflections to focus on Preacher Mead, whose voice, although at full volume, held a tenderness as he completed his reading. “ ‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.’ ” He closed his Bible and unfolded a slip of paper. Looking first at Amos, the minister said, “Amos, repeat after me …”
Dinah listened as Amos promised to love her, provide for her, support her in good times and bad for the rest of his earthly life. She marveled at the intensity in his dark-blue eyes, the sincerity in his tone. Oh yes, no prince could compare to the man God had chosen for her. When it came her time to speak her vows, her voice trembled, but Amos’s tender smile encouraged her, and she finished on a strong note.
Preacher Mead turned to Amos. “Amos, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Not even a second of hesitation followed the question. Amos declared, “I do.”
And then it was Dinah’s turn to respond to Preacher Mead’s query concerning her taking Amos as her husband. She replied through happy tears, “I do.”
“The ring,” Preacher Mead prompted Cale, who stood beside Amos with his skinny shoulders so squared he might have been a soldier on parade. The little boy dug in his pocket and withdrew a slim gold band. The minister took it and gave it to Amos.
Dinah passed her bouquet to Ruthie, who served as her attendant, then held her hand to Amos in readiness of him slipping the ring onto her finger. Although his callus-roughened fingers shook slightly, he managed to slide the band of gold past her knuckle where it nestled against the resized promise ring he’d given her for Christmas. The two were perfect together. Just as she and Amos were perfect together. She raised her beaming smile to him and found his dear face blurred by her veil of happy tears. But even through the watery sheen, she couldn’t miss the happiness glowing in his eyes.
“Amos,” Preacher Mead blared in a joyous tone, “you may kiss your bride!”
Heat flooded Dinah’s cheeks as she tipped her face to her groom. Her eyes slid closed when his lips descended—warm, salty yet sweet, firm yet gentle. The kiss of a true prince. More tears rolled down Dinah’s face as she received Amos’s kiss with complete trust and the absence of any unpleasant recollections. She could have remained there forever, with his lips on hers, but Cale gave a whoop, and the townsfolk burst into laughter followed by thunderous applause, and Amos stepped away. But the promise in his eyes told her she could expect another kiss later. She nodded her approval.
Ruthie swept her into an exuberant hug, whispering in her ear, “Oh, Dinah, aren’t you so glad you aren’t a server? Isn’t marriage to Amos so much better?”
Dinah couldn’t agree more. From Ruthie’s embrace she turned to Rueben. She gasped when he captured her in a hug so tight it stole her breath. He’d never touched her—not in all her growing-up years—yet receiving this hug from him seemed right somehow.
She rested her cheek against his broad chest. “Thank you for coming, Rueben. You’re the only friend I ever had.”
He pulled loose and his solemn gaze roved across the people crowding the lawn and surging onto the porch to offer congratulations. “It seems to me you’ve got lots of friends now.” He cupped her face in his big hands and briefly touched his lips to her forehead. “That’s what matters, Dinah—now. You’ve done good, made something of yourself just like I knew you could. I’m proud of you.”
His words were something a father might say. Dinah’s heart filled, and she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she caught his hands. “I wish you didn’t have to go. Chicago is so far away …”
An odd smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Well, Chicago’s always been my home. But my little Dinah had the courage to start over somewhere new. It just might be you’ve inspired me to strike out for a new start, too. I noticed there’s a little storefront for sale that could make a very nice café. Maybe I’ll stick around and give that highfalutin hotel chef a little competition.”
Dinah stared at him in wonder. But before she could question him, a warm, familiar hand touched the small of her back, and Amos’s tender whisper reached her ear.
“The party is starting. Are you ready?”
She turned to tell him yes, but instead something else left her lips. “Can’t we just go home?”
Amos drew back, surprise evident in his expression. “But the party … the food and music Mr. Irwin arranged. You don’t want to stay and enjoy it?”
Dinah considered his question. All she really wanted was to go home with Amos. Her husband. Her God-chosen love. “I’d really rather just be with you.”
An understanding smile broke across his face. “That’s what I want, too.”
Behind her, Rueben cleared his throat. “Um, Dinah?”
Both Dinah and Amos turned to him.
Rueben scratched his cheek in a sheepish gesture. “If you’ll accept some uninvited advice, go to the party. It’s in your honor. Amos’s folks and other kin are there. The townspeople from where you’re making your home are there. These people are your family and friends. Show ’em you appreciate them coming here today by spending some time with them. You’ll have plenty of you-two time when the day is over.”
Dinah consulted Amos with raised brows. He peered down at her, indecision thinning his lips. Then he nodded. “I think he’s right, Dinah. We should go.”
She sighed. “All right.” She tipped her head and fluttered her lashes at him in a teasing manner. “But only for a little while. Yes?”
Rueben burst out laughing and clapped Amos on the shoulder. “This is what’s known as compromising, boy, and if you learn to do it early, you’ll have a lot fewer disagreements with your wife.”
Amos showed Dinah he didn’t mind compromising by bestowing a quick kiss on her smiling lips. Then the three of them joined the celebration taking place in the hotel’s ballroom. Despite Dinah’s initial desire to sneak out early, she had such fun talking and laughing and getting acquainted with Amos’s mother and sisters-in-law, they stayed until all the townsfolk departed and Amos’s family headed to their rooms. Mr. Irwin invited the two of them to enjoy supper in the dining room before leaving for the farm, but Amos politely declined with the excuse he needed to see to the animals.
So Dinah thanked her former boss for all he’d done to make their day a special one, hiding her smile at the man’s flustered blush. And then she and Amos walked hand in hand to the carriage house where Jehoshaphat Isaac waited within the traces of a boxy delivery wagon—a wedding gift from Amos’s family. Although at least twenty years old, the wagon wore a fresh coat of paint, compliments of the local wainwright. The man had also covered the springed seat with brown leather and inserted isinglass in the window openings, giving the conveyance a sparkling new appearance.
Amos paused beside the wagon, his gaze traveling over every inch of the wooden box painted a cheerful celery green. He touched one finger to the bold yellow letters proclaiming ACKERMAN FARM’S QUALITY EGGS & POULTRY on its side, the gesture almost reverent. “Do you know what this means, Dinah?”
She blew out a dainty breath, considering how much
easier Amos’s deliveries would now be. “It means you don’t have to load your eggs in a child’s wagon anymore.”
“That, and even more.” He faced her, his expression serious. “This tells me my father approves of my choice to raise chickens instead of growing wheat. For generations, first in Germany and then in America, the Ackermans have been wheat farmers. He was so disappointed when I left the family farm. But this …” He touched the wagon again. “This says what his words cannot. He approves.”
Dinah’s heart swelled. She stepped against Amos, wrapping her arms around his torso and clinging, reveling in the freedom to do so whenever she pleased because she was now his wife. “God is good.”
Amos’s arms closed around her. He rested his cheek on her hair for a moment before kissing the crown of her head once and then again. Setting her aside, he smiled into her face. “Mrs. Ackerman, are you ready to go home?”
“Home …” Dinah released the glorious word on a contented sigh. “Oh, yes.”
Amos assisted her onto the high seat, then climbed up and settled himself close beside her. He took up the reins and gave a flick. “Giddyap there, Ike.” The wagon lurched forward, the leather seat squeaking as their weight shifted. Dinah wrapped both arms around Amos’s muscular upper arm and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He tipped his head to press his chin to her temple.
A clear blue sky served as their canopy as they rode through the early evening across the railroad tracks and out of town. Birdsong trilled from the treetops, the Kansas breeze carried the essence of musky soil and burgeoning plant life, and a yellow sun beamed its warmth as it slipped toward the horizon. Ike’s hooves clip-clopped a steady beat, stirring dust that whirled in little wisps into the thick green growth alongside the road.
Dinah drew in a lungful of the unique summer perfume, savoring its essence. She hugged Amos’s arm. “It’s perfect.”
“What is?”
She smiled up at him. “Everything.”
Through the Deep Waters Page 35
