Molly’s New Song
Elaine Manders
Copyright ©2020, Elaine Manders
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, other than known historical figures, is purely coincidental. Situations, places, and dates may have been moved around to fit the story. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
Scripture references are taken from the King James Version (KJV) of the Bible.
Cover Design: Evelyn Labelle, Carpe Librum Book Design
Also special thanks to my fellow authors in the Brides of Pelican Rapids Series for their encouragement and contribution to this series.
May every reader be blessed and the Lord be magnified.
Contents
Molly’s New Song
Message to Readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author’s Note
Excerpt from Lacy’s Legacy
Books by this Author
About the Author
Message to Readers
Dear Reader
Thank you for buying my books, reading them, and supporting Christian fiction—even if you just like a clean romance. Your cards, letters, emails, and reviews lift my spirit and motivate me to write the next book.
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Be sure to check out all of my books.
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Oh, sing to the Lord a new song. Sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, bless His name. Proclaim the good news of His salvation from day to day. Declare His glory among the nations. His wonders among all peoples.
-Psalm 96: 1-3
Chapter 1
Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, that it may be well with you in the land which the Lord your God is giving you. Deuteronomy 5:16
Molly Stewart peered from her bedroom window. Yes, that was Daddy who’d slammed the broken gate. Which meant he was already in a foul mood. She sighed and dropped the blue percale curtains, threadbare from many washings, doing nothing to keep out the oppressive Georgia sun.
He had a good reason to be despondent. Before the War Between the States he’d been one of the most successful planters in the State. But he, like all the other landowners, had lost everything in Sherman’s horrific march to the sea.
Now, eight years later, most of their neighbors had been able to pick up the pieces and fashion a new life out of the fragments left them. But not Daddy. He’d jumped from one scheme to another, believing the cruel scoundrels who promised riches. The Carpetbaggers, those who came from the North to pick over the remains of the ravaged towns and the Scallywags, Southerners who teamed up with them. The riches fell to them, not those they deceived.
She hated to admit Daddy was gullible, but he’d finally hit the bottom, having lost the overseer’s cottage, their home after the plantation house burned, along with the rest of the land.
Oh, how she hated to think of the beautiful place this had once been. Or that Stephen, her older brother, had been killed in his first battle. Or that Mama had died—the greatest loss of all.
The front door closed, not a slam, but a little harder than necessary.
Poor Daddy. Now she had to give him more bad news. She snatched the letter from her bedside table and, hiking her skirts, bounded down the stairs.
Daddy sent no glance her way as she hit the last step. Instead he turned in a wide circle, studying the parlor. “Something is different in here.” He glared at her. “Something is missing.”
“Hello to you, too, Daddy. You’re back from the bank earlier than I’d expected, or I would have gotten supper started.” She just now realized the time. He wasn’t all that early. Thankfully. She strode towards the kitchen. Maybe her news would set better on a full stomach.
“The piano,” he bellowed. The words stopped her. So much for supper. “Your piano is missing.”
She retraced her steps. “Yes, I know.”
“You sold it? I told you we’d take it with us to Sadie’s. She’d pitch a fit. Never liked music, but I gained that one concession when I told her it was your mother’s piano—the only thing of value left from the fire.” He moved in wide strides, closing the distance between them. “And now you’ve sold it?”
“No, Daddy. I didn’t sell it. I could never do that.”
“Then where is it?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “We need to talk.” She ambled to the sofa and waited for him to follow.
This was like she was twelve years old again, and Mama caught her reading a dime novel. Being called on the carpet to be upbraided to confess her sins.
Except Mama wasn’t here now and she was a grown woman, intending to stand up for her decision. “The day after my twenty-fourth birthday, I was sitting in here, playing the piano when I felt the Lord speaking to me. Seemed to me He was telling me I wasn’t given the gift of music to entertain myself. In fact, I wasn’t created to serve one cantankerous old woman. I wasn’t meant to go through life alone.”
“What are you saying?”
“Daddy, I can’t go to Aunt Sadie’s. It isn’t that she’s…difficult. She lives way out in the sticks, and she’ll expect me to be her servant while begrudging you and me every bite we eat. If I go, I’ll be waiting on her until the day she dies—or I do from boredom.” Surely Daddy could understand her reasoning. Aunt Sadie might make allowances for him to indulge in his passion for fishing and hunting. What else did the countryside offer in those isolated woods of south Alabama?
“I may be an old maid, but I want to think I have some future. Something to live for.”
“Old maid?” Daddy laughed. “You’re not an old maid.”
“In four months I’ll be twenty-five years old. That’s an old maid by anyone’s standards. Besides, I have no skills except playing the piano. Who around here can afford to hire me to teach their children to play?”
“Of course not. Hiring yourself out for anything is beneath you.”
But it wasn’t beneath her to eat. To wish for a home of her own. A husband. Children.
Despite selling out and agreeing to move in with Aunt Sadie, Daddy hadn’t accepted their reduced circumstances.
“If you didn’t sell the piano, where is it?”
“It’s on its way to Minnesota.”
Daddy’s eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. “You sold it to Yankees?”
&
nbsp; “I didn’t sell it. I’m going to Minnesota myself. See—”
Daddy got choked. She pounded him on the back and went on before he got his voice back. “I applied to Mrs. Milton’s agency to become a mail-order bride, and she matched me with a wonderful young farmer. His name is Luke Ferrell, and he’s a—”
He snatched the paper out of her hand. “You what? You signed a contract to marry a Yankee?”
“Mrs. Milton is a wonderful woman and takes great care to find her brides suitable Christian mates. See—she has all these recommendations.” She pointed to the glowing reports of Mrs. Milton’s happy brides who’d found the love of their lives.
“I won’t allow it.” Daddy boomed. “I’ve told you I’ll find you a husband. It’s just more difficult since so many young men of suitable age and standing were killed in that cursed war. You just have to be patient.”
“Where will you find a suitable mate for me in the boondocks of southern Alabama?”
“I’m sure Sadie knows someone.”
“Aunt Sadie doesn’t know anyone under the age of sixty, and she wants me to be her maid since she’s run off the last three.”
“We still have a week here. I’ll find someone much more suitable than a Yankee. After all, a Georgia dirt farmer is better than a Yankee dirt farmer. I can’t believe you’d do this after refusing Harlan Hightower.”
“Harlan Hightower is almost as old as you, Daddy.”
“Well, it won’t be hard to find someone else. You’re a beautiful young woman.”
“Daddy, you’re prejudiced and believe me, there’s no one available. I’ve looked. And I’ve corresponded with Mr. Ferrell. He’s a fine Christian man. Would you like to see his picture?”
He held out a hand to block her before she’d even managed to retrieve the picture. “No—and I want you to write this man and tell him you’ll not be coming. That your father needs you. And I do.”
Here it came. The piling on of guilt where he reminded her—
“You’re all I have left, Molly. I lost my son. My Agnes. How can I possibly stand Sadie without you? Haven’t I lost enough? The good Lord wouldn’t let me lose you. And to a Yankee? Have you forgotten how much we lost to them?”
“Daddy, the good Lord would want us to forgive.”
He gave no sign of having heard her.
Chapter 2
He who finds a wife finds a good thing. And obtains favor from the Lord. Proverbs 18:22.
Pelican Rapids was bustling when Luke Farrell drove his buckboard on Main Street. He hadn’t been to town in over a month. Not after he’d received Molly Stewart’s answer to his proposal, and the smile hadn’t left his face since.
He’d check at the post office to make sure Molly had received the tickets and, since he was running low on supplies, he’d have to stop by the mercantile too. For once he wouldn’t have to worry about Mrs. Carter pushing off one of her daughters on him.
Luke found the postmaster, Gus, with his back to the door, sorting mail. Gus lifted a hand asking for silence until he’d finished whatever task he was at. Luke waited patiently, and after a couple of minutes, Gus glanced over his shoulder.
Without even asking, he reached into a box and pulled out an envelope. “This what you looking for?” He peered at Luke from under bushy brows and a grin twitched his equally bushy moustache. Gus rarely ever smiled so it must be from Molly. The postmaster, like everyone in Pelican Rapids, knew Luke was planning to marry a mail-order bride from Georgia.
Luke grabbed the envelope, the rose scent telling him without even looking at the address this came from Molly. His heart raced as he tore it open. There was always the possibility she’d changed her mind. Finding no tickets inside, he released a sigh. Since she hadn’t returned the tickets, she had to be on her way.
Her lovely, feminine handwriting, so familiar to him, swam before his eyes. He forced himself to focus on the short missive. The words seemed rushed, unlike her previous letters, but they conveyed what he wanted to know. She’d be arriving next week.
His pulse kicked up another notch.
She’d added a post script. You wrote in your first letter that you were getting ready to paint your house and asked my opinion. It occurs to me I forgot to answer. I simply love yellow houses with green shutters and trim.
Yellow? Green? Shutters?
“Guess it’s all settled?” Gus broke into his thoughts.
“I haven’t finished the house. She wants it painted.”
“Painted? Most folks just let the house weather. You got all the repairs done?”
“I finished all except for a few repairs.” Not to mention making shutters.
He’d spent the better part of the spring planting season working on the house, barn, and corral. Replacing rotted boards, cleaning out old hay, scrubbing walls and floors.
Molly was raised a well-to-do lady, and though she’d related how hard it was to make do with what little was left of her father’s once great plantation, she’d probably be expecting a lot more than his little place.
Luke had only one regret about his bride-to-be. He didn’t mind she was a Southerner. Several Southern ladies had come as brides to his neighbors. They were all lovely women who’d settled in well with the local population.
He just wished Molly came from any other State than Georgia.
Luke had served in the army, fought against the Confederacy. He’d always thought the cause was noble. Still did. Nothing about war left pleasant memories, but when you faced an enemy, you had to fight.
The regiment he’d served in Georgia was different. Maybe they were war weary, but seemed to him the leaders went crazy. Looting and burning in a way that sickened Luke and left him praying to be reassigned, and he’d finally succeeded. But he didn’t want to think about that.
His orders to leave the army came a few months before the end of the war, and he’d been able to put those memories far behind him. Would Molly be a constant reminder?
Guilt gnawed at him because he’d lied to Molly. He’d written that he’d never been in Georgia.
But he didn’t want to dreg up that dark past, and he’d done his best to forget about the war and only look to the future. And where his wife was born had no bearing on how they’d live, the future they’d forge here in this quiet, peaceful country. The family they’d raise would know nothing of war.
Just the thought of future children brought the blood rushing to his face. Unless Molly took one look at his poor little farm and high-tailed it back south. No, she wouldn’t do that, although he wished he’d explained his circumstances better to her.
“You all right, Luke?” Gus asked, looking concerned. “A man getting married shouldn’t look that flushed.”
“You better believe I’m all right. Nothing but good news.” He waved the letter. “She’ll be arriving next Saturday.”
Gus came from behind the counter, all smiles, and stretched out a hand. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you and her. She’s getting a good man.”
Luke laughed to release some of the joy. He must be acting like a yokel. Well, he was a yokel, but Molly was a lady, and he’d work his fingers to the bone to deserve her. “I don’t know about that, but she’s getting a happy man.”
He didn’t even feel the boardwalk under his boots as he strode to the mercantile. He wanted to holler out at everyone on this side of the street and the other that he was getting married.
Finally, they’d probably think. They all knew how unlucky he’d been in love.
When he’d returned to his parents’ home in Illinois, after the war, the sweetheart who’d been waiting for him—sweet Daisy—was stricken with consumption. She’d refused to marry him, knowing she didn’t have long to live. She’d died before the first frost of sixty-six. Then Barbara had come along and left him for another man. But that was something he couldn’t tell Molly until they were married and had grandchildren. Maybe not then.
He’d worked on his parents’ farm until Grandpa died, leavin
g him his spread outside Pelican Rapids. That was two years ago. He’d found the place in poor condition. After Grandma had passed away, Grandpa had lost all interest in keeping the farm up and eked out only enough to support himself and his few livestock.
The familiar smell of kerosene, leather, tobacco, and fresh bolts of fabric hit him as he entered the empty mercantile. He waited just inside the door to give his eyes a chance to adjust from the bright sunlight to the store’s dim interior. Couldn’t the Carters afford better lighting?
He fished inside his pocket for his list and approached the vacant counter. A slap of the bell brought Mrs. Carter at a trot. “Luke Ferrell. I have wonderful news about Mandy, and I was hoping you’d come in today. Now you don’t go nowhere. I’ll give this list to the mister to fill.” She glanced at the roll of rope on the wall like she wanted to hog tie him to the counter.
Now why would he leave? He already knew the wonderful news about Mandy.
Luke considered Mandy Carter a good friend, and she felt the same way as far as he knew. She’d credited him with giving her the courage to escape her domineering parents by going on an extended visit to her grandparents in New York. Mandy had written him last month to announce that she was getting married to the dentist who’d fixed her teeth. He’d been meaning to write Mandy about his Molly.
Mrs. Carter returned, a big smile on her round face. “Mandy’s coming home next week.”
“That’s nice. It’ll be good to see her again.” He reached into the candy jar on the counter and popped a licorice stick in his mouth.
“I knew you’d feel that way. We mean to have a dinner to welcome her back, and of course, you must come. I feel like Mandy’s ready to settle down now. Mr. Carter and I want you to know you have our blessings to start courting right away.”
He almost choked on the licorice. When he got his breath back, he said, “I thought she was getting married to her dentist in New York.”
Molly's New Song (Brides 0f Pelican Rapids Book 5) Page 1
