Return to Harmony (26 page)
“I’m going to miss you, daughter.”
Moira’s words were almost gruff in her obvious attempt not to be maudlin. With a suddenness that surprised Bethan, she reached out swollen hands and pressed Bethan’s head close to her breast.
“Oh, Momma,” Bethan managed when she could trust her voice. “I feel so… so selfish. Being so happy when—”
Moira pushed her back so she could see her face and shook her shoulders gently. “Now is certainly not the time for nonsense, child. You don’t even know how to be selfish. The good parson needs you just as bad as I do, and well we both know it.”
Bethan nodded, the tears fresh on her cheeks. She did honestly feel that she could be a support for Connor in his work. The thought both pleased and frightened her. There was so much responsibility in being a pastor’s wife. Bethan wiped her nose on her hankie and lifted her eyes to her mother. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Maudie Herman is a fine woman. Fine. And strong as one of her husband’s plowing horses,” she said with an air of finality. “If she can’t help me up and down the stairs and into my chair or bed on the bad days, nobody can, and that’s the plain truth of it.”
Bethan was still reluctant to desert her post and leave her mother in the care of another woman. She sniffed again.
“It won’t be the same as having you here,” Moira allowed. “But you can still stop by now and then, daughter. Pastor’s not going to keep you home with ball and chain.”
Bethan smiled and pushed back a wayward tress. “He says I ought to make a point of dropping in every single day.”
“The man’s generosity is touching,” Moira said. “Tell him I’m grateful for his concern.”
“Oh, Momma,” Bethan said with the happiness shining from her eyes. “I can hardly believe the Lord has brought me such a good man.”
Moira reached out and drew her daughter close once more, cradling the head against her shoulder, the swollen hands gently brushing back the strands of wisping hair. “Not one bit better than you be deserving,” she said with deep feeling. “Not one bit.”
EVERYONE AGREED IT WAS
one of the finest weddings Harmony had ever known.
The bride was truly radiant. Her long dress somehow seemed whiter than white, seen as it was through the long flowing veil. And it was the veil that had everyone talking. Even before the ceremony began, the secret was out. The church was full of talk about how Moira had worked on the veil all summer long. She had apparently realized long before anyone else that this was coming, and she had known she would only be able to work on the veil a little at a time. When the wedding party finally made it up the aisle, Jodie bent over to gather the veil and send it flowing out in every direction, so all could admire Moira’s handiwork. On a piece of almost transparent netting nine feet long, Moira had embroidered several
hundred
tiny pink rosebuds. Throughout the entire service, Jodie forced herself not to look in Moira’s direction a single time. One glance at those swollen fingers knotted in Moira’s lap, and Jodie knew she would not be able to stop herself from weeping.
After the service, the two ladies were driven over to Dylan’s house to change, as Bethan’s house was full of preparations for the coming reception. It was a charming gingerbread house, with a broad roof sweeping down over a wraparound porch, and palest green shutters contrasting with the white wood. After she had helped Bethan out of her dress, Jodie went back downstairs. Kirsten was there to care for the children, and Jodie discovered she had grown into a wholesome, happy young woman, attractive in a fresh, country-girl fashion. There was now an aura of joy and peace along with a capable strength about her, enabling her to somehow be the same Kirsten grown older and someone else entirely, all at the same time.
Jodie asked about Kirsten’s father since her mother’s death, about Kirsten’s work at the dry-goods store, and Jodie briefly mentioned her research work, to polite nods from Kirsten. They agreed that the wedding had been beautiful; Kirsten had stayed toward the back, watching over Dylan’s children while their father stood up as Connor’s best man. They then found themselves with nothing more to say.
After a silence that seemed uncomfortably long, Kirsten asked, “Would you like to see the children?”
“Oh yes.”
Jodie followed Kirsten up the stairs and into the children’s room. She was deeply moved by the sight of the beaming little girl who cooed and reached out both arms at Kirsten’s entry. The crib had an arched canopy in fine ivory embroidery. With the smiling cherub dancing along the railing, the crib appeared to Jodie like a heavenly chariot, barely able to hold its beautiful passenger to the earth.
Kirsten cooed back, echoing the baby’s sound. The child squealed with delight and danced upon chubby little legs, one hand curled around the slender white bannister, the other reaching tiny fingers toward Kirsten. The woman scooped up the child, nuzzled beneath the soft little chin, and the bright blue eyes in the little face almost closed with the happy pleasure. Small fists grabbed hold of Kirsten’s brown curls as the child squealed with happiness.
Kirsten turned back toward Jodie in the doorway and said, both proud and shy, “This is Caroline.”
Jodie smiled as the child turned about so she could watch Jodie from the safety of Kirsten’s embrace. “She is a beautiful little girl,” Jodie said. “How old is she?”
“Seven months,” Kirsten said, nestling into the child’s soft locks. “Her mother had a hard time with the birth. And then she got influenza. She passed on not long after. I suppose you’ve already heard all about that.”
“Mama,” the child announced softly, turning back to examine Kirsten’s face.
Kirsten smiled. “The little one has been colicky and not eating well. But that’s not much of a surprise, seeing how hard her start in this world was. All she needs is an extra helping of love.”
There came a realization to Jodie then. One so filled with understanding that in its moment of arrival, Jodie knew that it was not herself thinking at all. Though such a revelation was illogical in her world, totally removed from her own scientific training, she
knew
this was not just a random thought. It was truly a gift. The thought was,
They belong together—this woman and child. I do not belong here, and this child is not mine to raise
.
With the acceptance of this truth, there came a sense of the entire room being filled with an invisible illumination. It was not a light for her eyes, but rather for her heart. She stood there in the doorway and felt the room become bathed in a light so strong and yet so gentle she could remain quiet and still, and watch as the deepest recesses of her own heart were revealed. It united them all, the child and this young woman and herself, bonded together with a love so pure and so overwhelming that there was suddenly no longer room for doubt or questioning. None at all. She had her answer.
JODIE PAUSED AT THE CORNER
where Bethan’s lovely little cottage came into view and tucked a lace-trimmed hankie back into her pocket. She had cried for quite long enough. There would be no more tears. She was surprised that she had allowed them at all this morning. She had thought that she had done all her weeping the night before.
It had not been an easy evening. The time of letting go had surrounded her with surprising force. She had found herself totally unprepared for all the deep emotions that had filled her, as the pillow had soaked up her tears and God had erased her bitterness. She had been carrying such a load of pain, guilt, and anger. All the burdens had come pouring out—at Bethan for taking Dylan, at God for taking her mother, at her father for locking himself away from her and retreating into his own silent, lonely world.
But as the night had worn on, God had helped her to work through the pain. Now she understood that much of it had been of her own making. She could have reached out for comfort and healing. There were those who would have gladly given it, especially her Lord. She should have realized, should have understood. And the force of what she had caused herself to lose had made the night longest of all.
Toward dawn, when sorrow had finally given way to quiet reflection, she began to realize that though it was not an easy victory she now faced, yet she had gained so very much. She was now free to embrace life in a totally new fashion. Free to forgive and reach out to her father. Free to accept and return Bethan’s friendship in full measure. Even free to wish Dylan and his little family—and Kirsten—God’s full blessing. It was truly a new and beautiful beginning, one full of promise and adventure.
She had been locked in a self-imposed shell, stiff and serious and afraid to feel. But that was in the past now. She was free, in many senses for the very first time, liberated to live and laugh— and love.
Jodie started forward, her sadness over leaving again now behind her. In its place was a smile of new beginnings, and anticipation over what was to come, and what awaited her in Raleigh.
Lowell would be so surprised at the changes in her, she reflected, and the thought brought a new bounce to her stride. She tried to push it away as she approached Bethan’s front porch, but the thought of Lowell was not that easily vanquished. Working together suddenly seemed like a good idea. So good that she felt an eagerness to share her feelings with him and get started. Perhaps she should stop off on the way to the station and send him a wire, she mused, surprising even herself with the unfamiliar thought.
She smiled again as she spotted Bethan sitting comfortably within the porch’s shade. Somewhere deep inside a feeling of warmth spread through her whole being. It was time to leave, yes, but without the sad endings of her earlier departure. This time, she was only making room for new beginnings.
Their honeymoon had been two weeks of bliss down on the Carolina coast. Even so, Bethan had been positively delighted to return. Now that she was settling into her home, Bethan could scarcely imagine life without Connor.
With a gift from her parents and another from the church, they had managed to take up residence in a little cottage just a stone’s throw from where she had been raised. It even had a small front porch and a swing. Which was where she was when Jodie arrived, a half-filled pan of freshly shelled peas in her lap.
Jodie stopped and surveyed the homey scene, then laughed out loud. “If you don’t look like a happily married woman, I don’t know who does.”
“It’s been an easy adjustment—and wonderful,” Bethan agreed merrily, wiping her brow with the edge of her apron. Damp tendrils wisped about her cheeks. “Look at me. Sitting here wiping my brow. Whoever would have thought we’d have such fine weather right on into November.”
Bethan rose to her feet, picked up the pan, and started for the door. “Come on inside. I’ve got a fresh pitcher of lemonade, and there’s bread about ready to come out of the oven. Connor promised to stop by around this time.” She turned and smiled down at where Jodie stood. “If you’ve got time, you could run an errand with me this afternoon. I promised Old Mr. Russel I’d stop by. I’ll bet his dog Sherman still remembers you.”
“I can’t stay,” Jodie said quietly.