MY TOMORROW Chapters 14-16.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

While Elijah carefully examined Lillian, Zimri brought his wagon close. "It looks like a clean break on her ankle, let's get her to the house and make sure she's comfortable so I can further assess the problem." Horace stood beside Elijah as Zimri approached.

"Easy now," Elijah instructed, crouching beside Lillian. Together, the three men settled her onto the bed of the wagon.

"My ribbon!" Lillian cried, trying to raise herself from her position on the wagon.

"I've got it right here, Sister!" Florence placed the shiny blue prized ribbon in Lillian's hands.

Zimri guided the horses toward the house. Lillian stifled a groan, her hand clutching Florence's arm with surprising strength. "You're doing fine, Lil," Florence reassured her, her tone warm and caring like a mother hen.

At the house, Sarah Ann hurried to prepare a makeshift bed on the couch with fresh, clean white sheets gathered from the clothesline the day before. She fluffed pillows for her sister and by the time Lillian came into the house, her resting place was ready.

Sarah Ann and Zimri, Florence, Horace, and Sadie stood around Lillian as Elijah examined her from the fall. Worry pierced the room like a burgeoning balloon about to pop. Florence sniffed into her handkerchief, stifling the sorrow inside. Sarah Ann stood stoically beside Florence with an arm around her sister's middle, praying that her strength infused her worried sister, while Horace assessed his aunt's small body lying on the settee. The sheets smelled like the summer sunshine and pillows cradled Lillian's gray head.

"It's a clean break," Elijah said, wrapping Lillian's right ankle, his voice steady despite the severity of the situation. "And the lump on her head will need to be watched closely. She will likely be sore and bruised by this evening." The lump was more significant than a small egg, turning purple and black.

"Any complaints?" Horace bent to Lillian and asked, his voice calm and low. He gazed lovingly at his aunt, his eyes moist with unshed tears.

Lillian raised a small hand to her forehead and breathed, "Headache."

Elijah nodded to the group and handed Florence a list of instructions. "I've given her aspirin. Keep her leg elevated and apply cool compresses to that lump. If she feels dizzy or confused, send for me immediately."

Lillian opened her eyes and reached out to grasp Elijah's hand. "Thank you, Lige." her voice was weary but grateful.

Elijah offered a faint smile, his fingers briefly squeezing hers. "Rest now, Aunt Lillian. I'll check on you in the morning before I open the office." He looked up at his family gathered around the elderly member. "If you need anything, come get me at once."

Satisfied that she was as comfortable as possible, Elijah excused himself, his bag in hand. He paused at the doorway for one last glance, his eyes meeting his father's. "I'll see you later."

With that, he stepped out into the warm afternoon, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. As he returned to the picnic grounds, the jarring thrum of cicadas in the trees greeted him, his thoughts already turning to the next challenge ahead.

Elijah spotted Andrew folding a quilt while juggling toys and a picnic basket. Determined, he quickened his step. "I hate to interrupt, Andrew," Elijah caught his friend's attention, "but I need your help with something urgent. Can we talk?"

Andrew paused, his arms full but his expression open. "Caroline's not feeling well, so I sent her and Brady home. What's going on?" he pushed his brown cowboy hat off his forehead, exposing a sheen of sweat on his brow.

Elijah glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot, then leaned in slightly. "You know as well as I do those crickets didn't just find their way into Sadie's picnic basket by accident. I haven't said anything until now, but there's more to this. Last week, Sadie got tangled in barbed wire—badly. I found her in time, or it could've been serious. And now her notes about some of the kids are missing from her desk drawer, and the lesson plan book is gone!"

Andrew's brow furrowed, his forehead creasing deeply. "What are you getting at, Lige?"

Elija's voice hardened, frustration evident. "Someone's trying to scare Sadie, maybe even drive her out of town. And I think it's my sister."

Andrew's eyes widened, and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the words settled directly on him. "Caroline? Why on earth would she steal from school? And to do something like the barbed wire? What's her motive?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Elijah felt the tension increase. "You don't know her like I do. Caroline's always been vindictive. After my parents chose Caroline over Sadie and adopted her, she showed her true colors—jealousy, manipulation, and always stirring up trouble. She thrived on pitting me against my father. And Sadie? Caroline hated her at the orphanage in Indiana. She made Sadie's life miserable back then, and now that Sadie's here, I think she's at it again."

Andrew shook his head slowly, disbelief written across his countenance. "But to go this far? Barbed wire? What if one of the kids had gotten tangled in it, and no one found them in time?"

"Exactly," Elijah nodded grimly. "This isn't just a petty grudge. It's dangerous. Someone could've been seriously hurt. I'm worried about what might happen next."

Andrew exhaled sharply, adjusting his hold on the quilt. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I'm going to the house to talk to Mother. I have a feeling she's involved in this, working with Caroline. I need answers, Andrew. Meanwhile, can you keep an eye out for anything unusual? Caroline might be working with someone else."

"You do realize Caroline's about to have that baby any day now? How could she possibly be behind all this in her condition?"

Elijah's lips pressed into a thin line. "I've thought about that. But if she has help, it's possible."

Andrew considered his words, then gave a slow nod. "You're right. I'll start watching and have my eyes and ears peeled around town. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, Andrew," Elijah clapped a hand on Andrew's shoulder. “This means a lot."

As they parted ways, Elijah's thoughts churned, his resolve firm. Whatever the truth, he would uncover it and make sure no one else got hurt.

***

Upon stepping into the house, Elijah immediately noticed the silence. It was an unusual stillness, as if the air was holding its breath. Passing through the parlor, he glanced at the dining room table, where his mother's summer shawl lay draped beside the picnic basket. He frowned, continuing into the kitchen, where faint traces of the morning's cooking lingered. Ah, Mother is home. Probably lying down.

The staircase loomed ahead, curving upward toward the bedrooms. He hesitated only briefly before climbing, his resolve tightening with every step. As much as he hated disturbing her, this conversation could not wait.

At his parents’ bedroom door, he heard his mother speaking softly. Putting an ear to the wood, he listened. Sue Ellen was talking, but there were no other voices. Was she talking to herself? She spoke so low that Elijah couldn't make out her words.

Knocking softly, he called out, "It's Lige."

There was instant silence. Then, with a faint voice tinged with weariness, Sue Ellen said, "Come in…"

When he stepped inside, he found Sue Ellen sprawled on the bed, one shoe off and the other dangling precariously from her foot. Her head rested against two pillows, and she clutched a handkerchief in one hand, dabbing at tear-streaked cheeks. A thin pale-yellow sheet was drawn over her, despite the summer heat.

"Son…" she murmured, her voice hoarse and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here?" She shifted slightly, then sighed. "Forgive me, I'm not feeling well. The heat…it's overwhelmed me again."

Elijah looked around the room. Sue Ellen was alone. She had been talking to herself. His jaw tightened. He had witnessed this performance too many times to count. Though part of him sympathized with his mother's fragility, he knew she wielded her supposed ailments like a shield. Determined not to let her divert him, he pulled a chair to the bedside.

"Mother," he said evenly, "I'm here to talk to you."

Sue Ellen's hand fluttered to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. "Elijah, please. My head is pounding, my eyes are burning, and my heart…" She paused for effect, her voice catching. "My heart is breaking."

"Lay back," Elijah said firmly. You don't need to do anything but listen. This won't take long."

Her red-tinted eyes popped open, her lips thinning into a sharp line. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.

He arched a dark brow. "Proving a point." Leaning forward, he locked his angry gaze on her. I know you and Caroline are working together to drive Sadie out of town."

Sue Ellen froze, and the rise and fall of her ample chest were the only movements. Elijah waited for her to explode with indignation, but she merely stared at him, her expression unreadable.

"I resent it, Mother," he continued, his voice gaining an edge. "And I'm demanding that it stop. Because if it doesn't, I'll take drastic measures."

The door creaked open, and Horace entered, his cane tapping softly against the wood flooring. His dark eyes darted between his wife and son, his shaggy brow furrowing. "What's all this? What do you resent, Elijah, and what's your mother supposed to stop?"

Elijah shot up, straightening to meet his father's long gaze. "I'm glad you're here. Please sit down. This way, Mother won't have the opportunity to twist my words later."

Sue Ellen glared at her son with wild eyes. "How dare you speak to me this way, Elijah John Brownstone! Horace, make him stop this instant!" Her voice rose, frantic, her fists gripping the sheet as if to anchor herself.

"Sue, calm yourself," Horace said with a weary sigh. He limped to the nearest chair and fell into it. "What's going on?"

Elijah saw his father limping and asked, "Father, you're limping…are you in pain?" He trained his eyes on the old man to not miss an indication that he was faking.

Horace waved a hand in the air, "No need to worry, I was standing much more today than usual is all." He cocked his head to one side. "Now, get on with it."

Elijah took a breath. "I know Mother and Caroline are working to drive Sadie out of town," he said flatly.

Sue Ellen cried out, covering her face with a damp cloth.

Horace's brows lifted in surprise, but before he could respond, Elijah went on. "I know about the barbed wire on the playground at school because Sadie got entangled in it. Her notes about the children are missing from her teacher's desk, and the lesson plan book is gone. And now dead crickets are found in her picnic basket!"

"Son, Caroline is getting ready to have a baby," Horace began, but Sue Ellen's comment stopped him.

Sue Ellen's face twisted into a mask of disbelief and fury, and her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "You think I have time to concern myself with that girl?" She spat the words like poison. "I want nothing to do with that orphan!"

Horace sat in stunned silence. He dipped his head, then raised it once more. "Do you have proof of this, son?"

Elijah shook his head. "No proof yet. But I'm working on it." He shot a cold look at his mother. "Why do you hate Sadie so bad? Because she's an orphan? That's no fault of hers, Mother. After all, Caroline was an orphan."

"The truth is I don't want an orphan marrying my son. You're better than that. You will find an educated woman from a fine, upstanding family to settle down with." Sue Ellen huffed the words, then relaxed as the truth emerged.

Elijah's laughter shook the bedroom windows. "I told you I'm sour on marriage because of you, Mother!"

Horace raised a hand and yelled, "Stop this at once!" His eyes blazed like molten lava. Rising to his feet and leaning on his cane, he looked directly at his wife and asked. "Sue, tell the truth. Have you caused such despair and outrageous behavior? Stealing from the schoolhouse? And, indeed, the crickets in Sadie's basket didn't hop inside and die."

She lay back against the embroidered pillowcases, limp as a noodle. "I know nothing about those nasty insects, Horace!"

Frustration sounded around the room as Elijah and Horace drew long breaths and shook their heads. It was no use continuing a shouting match because Sue Ellen insisted she was innocent.

Horace dropped back on the chair once more. "Well, Elijah, I agree with you."

Sue Ellen threw off the cloth covering her face, bolting up in a huff. "What?"

Elijah's face turned from bewilderment to surprise. His fingers gripped the chair's arms in shock. "Father?"

Shaggy brows shot up. "Someone put those crickets in the picnic basket; they stole Sadie's teacher's notes and placed a dangerous wire on the playground. You've just told on yourself, Sue, that you have no use for Sadie Danley. That implicates you to a certain degree."

Sue Ellen began a protest, but he glared at her and raised her hand. "Not another word, woman!" He continued, "And we know how devious Caroline is. She's caused us enough trouble for eternity."

Elijah's mouth was a grim line, and his eyebrows shot into the air.

"Elijah is right; these things must stop. Sadie Danley is here for a purpose and will not be run out of town. We need her here with us."

Muffled cries escaped as Sue Ellen bawled loudly and turned on her side.

Elijah stood and talked over his mother's wailing. "If anything else happens to Sadie, I'll take drastic measures, Mother."

Immediately, Sue Ellen quieted. She turned to look at her son. "She needs to stay away from me."

When he had her attention, he barked a bitter laugh, his voice reverberating. "If that's true, Mother, stay out of her way. But I tell you this—if I find out you're lying, I'll have you committed to the asylum in Nevada."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Horace's eyes widened, his face blanching. "Elijah…" he began, his voice trailing off as he looked at his wife.

Sue Ellen's mouth fell open, her face draining of color. For a long moment, silence dominated the bedroom, the tension crackling like a storm about to break.

"You wouldn't," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Try me," Elijah's voice was strong and serious. You've meddled in enough lives, Mother. It ends now."

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three days later, Rocky Corners settled back into its familiar rhythm. The picnic grounds were cleared of tables and chairs, leaving faint depressions in the grass. The patriotic bunting still adorned the gazebo in honor of the Independence Day celebrations, but the carnival atmosphere had vanished. Farmers guided creaking wagons through the dusty streets, merchants bustled with customers, and townsfolk resumed their daily routines. July's relentless humidity weighed heavy in the Ozarks, making the air sticky and the nights just a few degrees more bearable than the sweltering days.

But Lillian was in trouble. Her fall had fractured her right ankle and left her hip in agonizing pain. Elijah had summoned two other physicians from nearby cities to confirm his suspicions. After thorough examinations, both doctors, renowned for their expertise, agreed; Lillian's hip was broken. At her age, healing could take months, if it ever occurred at all. The diagnosis left her bedridden, her usual vitality replaced with weariness and suffering.

As word of Lillian's accident rippled through Rocky Corners, the community responded with warmth and swiftness born of deep affection for their beloved schoolteacher. The next day, the familiar sound of wagon wheels crunching over the gravel road signaled the arrival of neighbors bearing gifts of sustenance and support. Audrey, Phoebe, and Laura bustled into the kitchen, their arms laden with fragrant pies, golden-crusted loaves of bread, and delicate cakes. The tangy sweetness of blackberry and apple jelly and preserves accompanied the savory richness of casseroles that Liza, Ruth, and Jane delivered. Others brought smoked ham, dressed chickens, and hearty roasts, their offerings a testament to the practical care and shared abundance that defined the little town.

In the makeshift bedroom that Lillian occupied, Preacher Horton's deep, resonant voice wove through the room like a balm. He had made a point of visiting twice daily since the accident, his presence a pillar of faith and hope. Seated beside Lillian, whose pale hands rested on the quilt, he read from the Psalms with an energy that seemed to light the dim corners of the room. His words, vibrant with conviction, wrapped Lillian and everyone around her in the comforting assurance that the Lord's strength was with her, even in this dark hour.

"'He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings, you will find refuge,'" the pastor recited, his hand resting briefly on hers. The weight of his touch conveyed not just his pastoral concern but the faith of a man certain of divine healing.

As Lillian's eyes glistened with unspoken gratitude, Sadie standing quietly in the doorway, clasped her hands in silent prayer. The love and faith of the community surrounded them, a living testament to the bonds that had grown through years of shard joy and sorrows in Rocky Corners.

After the pastor dismissed himself, Sadie sat by Lillian's bed. The retired schoolteacher lay propped against pillows, her face pale and etched with deep lines of discomfort. A patchwork pattern quilt, faded from years of washing, covered her frame. Sadie had helped Florence with Lillian's morning care and Pastor Horton had just left. Now she read aloud from the Book of Esther. A glass of lemonade, its rim glistening with condensation, rested within Lillian's reach on the bedside table.

Florence was outside tending to the laundry, her apron fluttering in the gusty wind. Sarah Ann, usually a steady presence, hadn't come by this morning, leaving a gap in their usual routine. Outside the bay windows, tree canopies swayed and rustled, their leaves shimmering, like silver coins in the bright sunlight. Sadie glanced up as a strong gust bent the flowers in the garden, their petals trembling before springing back upright. "The wind is lively today," she murmured, pausing her reading to gaze at the moving foliage.

Elijah was late. Sadie glanced at the clock, its brass hands ticking steadily. Normally, he arrived punctually, his sturdy boots echoing his arrival on the wooden floorboards as he entered. She debated retreating to another room to avoid him but chastised herself. She couldn't run like a scared deer every time he came near. She would stand her ground and act as if she had it all together, even if the hollow hole of loneliness gnawed at her.

Lillian shifted, her movements slow and deliberate. Despite the pain, her wrinkled face softened as she looked at Sadie. "Hand me that paper and pencil, please. I need to tell you some things," she said, her voice a rasping whisper. "You're like the granddaughter I never had." her tear-brimmed eyes glistened, her frail hand trembling as it rested on the quilt.

Sadie leaned forward, touched by the admission. She closed the Bible softly, the leather cover warm from her touch. She placed the paper and pencil next to Lillian, then took Lillian's wrinkled hand in hers. "Shh, you need to rest," she urged, though the lump in her throat betrayed her.

"No," Lillian insisted, catching Sadie's hand. Her grip was feeble, but her determination was clear. "I want you to know, Sadie. First, the dill pickle recipe…the secret ingredients are a red-hot pepper and a teaspoon of Elijah's whiskey in a quart of brine."

Sadie's eyes widened. "Whiskey? Why, I never would have guessed! And Elijah…why does he have whiskey?"

A faint laugh escaped Lillian, a mere shadow of her usual mirth. "You probably don't know it, but whiskey can be good medicine. There's nothing better for a sore throat than a hot toddy. Elijah keeps it for his rheumatism—its Old Crow, shipped in from Springfield. One day, I decided to experiment with my pickles. Just a tad, mind you, and they tasted unique!" She paused, drawing a shallow breath. "If I die, the recipe is yours."

Sadie managed a small laugh, though her chest tightened at the thought of losing Lillian. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice quivering and her heart warming.

"And," Lillian continued, "I'm leaving this house and the land to Florence. You can live here for however long you need to, darling girl. Your job is to take care of the cemetery. It's my legacy from Bennett, you know. And someone has to keep it up. Will you do it?"

Sadie's heart ached as she nodded, tears threatening to spill. "I promise," she whispered, clutching the Bible as though it could anchor her in the rising tide of her emotions.

Lillian sighed, her eyelids drooping. "I'm going to write about our Bronson family history, too. Mother and Papa's story needs to be told," she murmured, her voice trailing off as sleep claimed her.

The talk of death left swirling emotions inside Sadie's heart. She left Lillian sleeping, and found Florence hanging sheets on the clothesline, their white lengths snapping in the wind like sails. She bent to the wicker basket, reaching for a damp pillowcase.

"This wind is liable to blow in a storm!" Florence cried out, catching the flapping sheet and pinning it securely to the line.

"There you are!" Zimri's voice boomed as he appeared around the corner, his face flushed with excitement. "Caroline had the baby early this morning. Sarah Ann sent me to spread the news. She has a girl."

Florence's smile brightened her face. "Did Sister help Elijah?"

Zimri nodded; his gray hair tousled by the wind. "She got home around two this morning, tired as a workhorse."

Florence beamed. "Good news indeed. I'm glad they're both doing well."

"As far as I know," Zimri said, tipping his hat. "I'd best be on my way."

As he disappeared down the road, Florence turned to Sadie. "So that's why Sarah Ann didn't come, and why Elijah is late. Bet they're both worn out."

Sadie nodded, her mind wandering to Caroline and the new baby. What name would they choose? The thought tugged at her curiosity as the wind lifted the sheets, billowing them like ghosts dancing in the sunlight.

***

Elijah's plan to return on the circuit and forget Sadie were dashed. It was too soon to leave. Given Lillian's age, he wanted to monitor her closely. He couldn't bear to leave her and rely entirely on Sarah Ann and Florence. If she took a turn for the worse, he would just have to turn around and come back anyhow. After much deliberation, Elijah sent word to Pine Hills, letting patients know they had two options: travel to Rocky Corners to see him at the clinic, or seek care from doctors in other towns.

So much for getting away from Sadie, he mused with frustration. Are you running away from Sadie or from the fear of commitment? He didn’t have to think about the answer, he already knew.

He glanced at the clock and splashed cold water on his face from the basin, the shock of it snapping him to alertness. His reflection in the small mirror showed dark circles under his eyes. He ran damp fingers through his thick black hair to smooth it down, pulled on his scuffed boots, and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat. He was running late this morning, thanks to Caroline's labor during the night. Her second child had arrived easier than the first, but there was one hitch—Caroline had complications, keeping him and Sarah Ann at her side longer than expected.

Andrew had pulled Elijah aside before they left, guilt etched into his weary face. "I think I might've caused her labor," he admitted sheepishly. "I grilled her about Sadie and pushed her too hard. She got really upset."

Elijah shook his head, his tone firm but reassuring. "Caroline's been having pains for days. You didn't cause this." Andrew seemed relieved, but the two men agreed to meet in a few days to discuss Caroline's role in harassing Sadie.

Stepping into the bright, hot morning, the wind immediately tried to snatch his hat. He caught it in midair, muttering a curse as he jammed it firmly onto his head. The wind was fierce today, rattling loose shutters and tugging at anything not anchored down. Dust swirled in eddies around his boots as he made his way to Lillian's house, worry carving lines into his forehead.

Broken bones were bad enough, but for someone of Lillian's age, they were a grim prognosis. The thought of her bedridden and in pain, possibly never walking again, sent a shiver through him despite the heat. He forced the grim thought aside as he approached the beautiful Victorian house, its bright paint gleaming in the sunlight.

Inside, he found Lillian still asleep, her pale face slack with exhaustion. Elijah joined Florence and Sadie in the backyard, where long wooden poles propped up sagging clotheslines heavy with wet clothes, the wind snapping and tugging them.

"Ladies," Elijah called, his voice low and calm as he approached. Both women turned, startled. He noted how pretty Sadie looked with the wind tousling her hair as the sunshine danced over her freckled nose. No doubt about it, her presence pulled at his heart strings. It was all he could do to not take her in his arms.

"I hoped I wouldn't scare you!" His hearty laugh carried on the air.

Florence smiled at her great-nephew, her sunny cheeks glowing. "We hear you had a busy night."

Elijah ran a hand over his scruffy face, the stubble rasping under his fingers. "That's putting it lightly. How was Lillian's night?" He turned his gaze back to Sadie, their eyes locking briefly.

"She rested surprisingly well," Florence answered, breaking the moment. "She's been a bit woozy this morning. Sadie read to her after her bath while I came out to finish this."

Elijah nodded, his voice softening. "That's good to hear. I'll check on her at lunch, I don't want to disturb her now." He turned to leave, but Florence's voice stopped him.

"Are you going out on your circuit, Lige?"

He hesitated, the lines on his tanned face deepening as he sighed. "No. Between Aunt Lillian and Caroline, I'm staying put for now. I've told patients to come here or find someone else until further notice." He was quick to catch Sadie drawing a deep breath. Was that a tiny smile he detected on her lips?

Florence nodded approvingly. "Good. Lillian needs you right now. I'm worried about her, Lige."

"I'm praying for her, as I'm sure the entire town is too, as I'm sure the entire town is too," Sadie added, her eyes bright with hope and faith tugging her mouth.

Elijah's jaw tightened. "We won't discuss worry, Aunt Florence. I'm not ready to face what may come. Let's keep a positive outlook and hope for the best." With a curt nod to both women, he turned and strode away.

At the clinic, Elijah was relieved to find no patients waiting. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air as he brewed a fresh pot, the rich aroma mingling with the faint medicinal tang that always lingered in the space. He had just poured a second cup when the door opened and his father stepped inside, his gray suit impeccable but missing its usual tie.

"Morning, son," Horace greeted, removing his hat.

"Morning, Father," Elijah set the second cup on the desk. "Let's talk in the office."

Horace settled across from him, cradling the steaming mug. "I've been thinking about your mother's role in all of this trouble with Sadie."

Elijah blinked; his interest piqued. "What about her?"

"Sue Ellen oversaw the picnic baskets at the picnic," Horace said, his voice heavy with implication. His dark eyes bore into his son.

Realization hit Elijah like a punch in the gut. His stomach churned as he connected the dots. "She had access to everyone's baskets…"

Horace nodded grimly. "She had plenty of time to slip the dead crickets into Sadie's basket."

Elijah exhaled sharply. "I knew she was meddling, but this…" He shook his head; his voice laced with disgust. "It's deplorable."

"Caught red-handed," Horace murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "But she doesn't realize we're onto her. Not yet."

"What do you plan to do?"

"We wait. We need all the facts before we confront her."

Before Elijah could respond, the front door swung open, and boots thudded across the floor.

"Anyone home?" Ross Montgomery's deep voice carried a distinct Ozarks drawl.

Elijah motioned him in, and Ross greeted them with a broad grin, his sun-weathered face crinkling. His plaid shirt stretched across his muscular frame, and his brown vest hung loose, the gleaming gold sheriff's star catching the light.

"Good to see you again, Ross," Horace said warmly.

"Likewise, Horace," Ross replied, his chest puffing slightly.

Elijah handed him a cup of coffee. "What brings you here so early."

Ross sipped the coffee, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression. "I've been thinking about Sadie's trouble. I was going to tell Andrew, but I'll tell you since he's a new papa at home with his wife. I know where the barbed wire came from."

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Elijah leaned forward, planting both elbows on the desk in front of him. The worn wood creaked under the pressure as he met Ross's uneasy gaze.

Ross glanced between the two men, his Adam's apple bopping as he swallowed hard. His brow furrowed deeply, and his weathered face tightened with concern. "The wire came from my ranch," he admitted, his voice gravelly. "It was old wire I'd replaced last year, not good for much. Andrew took it a while back because Caroline wanted him to fence in a small garden plot."

The words hung in the still warm air like smoke from a smoldering fire. Elijah shot up from his chair so fast it scraped against the floorboards, the harsh screech cutting through the quiet. His chest heaved as disbelief and anger flickered in his eyes. "What?"

Horace mirrored his son's reaction, though slower, his movements stiff with age. He sat back in his chair; his face lined with a mixture of worry and weariness. "This is unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. The faint scent of pipe tobacco clung to him, a comfort in contrast to the weight of the moment.

Silence swallowed the room, broken only by the steady tick of the wall clock, its pendulum swinging like a judge's gavel. The three men exchanged glances, their thoughts loud in the quiet. Outside, the faint clatter of wagon wheels and a crow's distant caw barely reached their ears.

Elijah ran a hand through his raven hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "This is just as I thought. If the wire was at Andrew and Caroline's house, someone would've had to take it to the schoolhouse. Caroline just had a baby and there's no way she could've managed that."

Horace nodded, his tone thoughtful but grim. "Sue Ellen wouldn't have the strength to move that kind of load, either. And I'm home for lunch every day. She's always there. She wouldn't have the time to carry out something like this. There has to be a third party involved. But who?"

Ross scratched at his chin, his fingertips rasping against stubble as he narrowed his eyes in thought. "Looks like we've still got work to do. I'll keep an ear out for anything suspicious.”

He stood, his boots scuffing against the plank floor as he adjusted his hat. His shoulders square, his stance betraying the unease he tried to hide. “I'm meeting Abby for lunch today."

Before Elijah could respond the front door creaked open, letting in a blast of heat. A patient stepped inside and stood waiting at the front desk.

"I'll be right there," Elijah called out, pulling himself back into the role of doctor, though the weight of the conversation lingered in his tense jaw. "We've got to figure out who's behind these acts before anything worse happens," he said, his voice resolute. He rose, reaching for his stethoscope.

Ross tipped his hat and offered a quick nod. "We'll get to the bottom of it. You can count on it."

Horace gave a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Keep us informed, Ross. This town has seen enough trouble as it is."

The three men dispersed, the room growing quiet once more save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a reminder that time was slipping away and the urgency to stop whoever was behind the sinister acts.

***

Riley O'Flannery rode into Rocky Corners at high noon on the dusty hack from Wheatland. The wheels rattled and creaked over the uneven road as the July sun blazed overhead, baking the earth and raising waves of heat in the distance. Silas Bridges, perched beside him on the bench, chattered nonstop during the three-mile trip, filling the air with gossip from both towns.

"The big news is Miss Lillian's fall after she won the pickle contest at the picnic Saturday," Silas informed him, leaning in closer with a conspiratorial grin.

Riley was only half-listening, but his ears perked up when Silas mentioned Sadie Danley. The name stirred something deep in his chest, like a bird taking flight.

"There's plenty of help for Lillian, she's got her sister, Florence, and the schoolteacher. Yes, sir, Miss Sadie's already made quite the impression."

Riley pressed for more details, careful to keep his tone casual, but inwardly, his excitement bubbled over. By the time the hack rattled to a stop in front of the boarding house, Silas had left him holding his carpetbag on the steps, squinting against the sun's glare. The hot July sun beat down mercilessly, reddening his ears and the back of his neck. He tugged his collar, suddenly aware of the sweat trickling down his back.

His hat was back on his uncle's farm, battered and beaten, no longer fit for company. Determined to make a good impression, Riley resolved to buy a new Derby before meeting Sadie.

After checking in at the front desk, Riley climbed the narrow staircase to Room Number five. The scent of lemon polish lingered in the hall, mingling with the faint aroma of roasting meat from the cafe below. He splashed his face with water from the basin in his room and changed into a clean shirt, smoothing down the fabric nervously.

Seated in the cafe, Riley ordered a roast beef sandwich and nibbled at it absently, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he rehearsed the words he wanted to say to Sadie. "Sadie, I—I've missed you, you, you somethin' fierce," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how awkward it sounded.

His lips curve into a smile as he thought of her. It had only been a month since they parted, but it felt like years. He imagined her face lighting up when she saw him, her laughter like the sound of Indian creek running over smooth stones. His heart swelled at the thought of asking her to marry him. He could see it all so clearly, taking her to Galena, Kansas and introducing her to Uncle Clem and Aunt Myra, and starting their life together.

A warm flush crept up his cheeks, and he ducked his head, embarrassed by the intensity of his own daydreams. She'd been his best girl since they met at Mrs. Hannigan's orphanage in Indiana all those years ago. Being with Sadie felt like standing in the sunlight streaming over them, or surrounded by a million sparkling diamonds, a rare and precious gift.

"Would you like a piece of pie, sir?" A cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. Riley glanced up to see the waitress, Abby, standing beside his table, a warm smile on her face. "We have apple and fresh blackberry cobbler. The berries were just picked this week."

Jolted from his reverie, Riley's blush deepened. "Uh, yes, ma'am, I'll take the cobbler," he stammered, grateful for the distraction.

Abby returned, setting the dish in front of him. The golden crust was perfectly flaky, with deep purple blackberry juice oozing from the sides. The sweet, tangy scent made his mouth water, and he realized just how hungry he was.

Abby lingered; her curiosity piqued. "You're new in town. Are you here on business or just passing through?" Her blue eyes sparkled, and Riley noticed the way she tilted her blonde head, clearing fishing for information.

"I—I do, do have business, here, here," he replied, his words halting as he stumbled over the sentence. He flushed again but found Abby's expression kind, her curiosity patient rather than judgmental.

"Well, I wish you luck," she said with a knowing smile. "What sort of business if you don't mind me asking?"

Riley hesitated, then straightened in his chair. "Do you, do you, you, know Sadie Danley?" His voice was soft, but earnest.

Abby's face lit up with recognition. "Sadie? Of course! She's a sweetheart. Do you know her?"

Riley offered his hand. "Riley O'Flannery. I've come to, to, see her. We, we were friends back, back in Indiana. I, uh, uh, uh I rode the train with her and Mrs. Hannigan but, but went on to to Kansas."

Abby nodded, filing the information away with obvious interest. "Do you know where she's staying?"

"Yes," Riley said, grateful for the question. "The ha—uh, hack driver told me. I'm headin' to see her, her right after this, this, this pie."

Abby's curiosity was momentarily satisfied as the bell above the cafe door jangled and Ross came inside. She gave him a friendly smile. "Well, good luck, Mr. O'Flannery. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Riley nodded, his determination renewed as he finished the last bite of cobbler. The tangy sweetness lingered on his tongue, but his mind was already elsewhere—on Sadie and the future he dreamed of sharing with her.

***

Sadie walked the familiar rows of headstones, glancing at names and dates, her heart hitching at the ones that marked babies and young children's deaths. Sometimes disease or an outbreak took entire families to the grave. She especially liked discovering the various symbols found on many of the graves or the epitaphs written in verse.

The heat of the day beat down on her and sweat trickled down her back. She hurried to her favorite spot, the bench under the trees near the shed. The oppressive heat clung to her like a damp shroud, even in the shade. Not a single leaf stirred; the wind that had offered brief respite yesterday was utterly still today. Above, the sky stretched endlessly blue, marred only by billowing clouds, their swollen edges gilded by the blazing sun. Yet even these clouds seemed ominous, their fluffy edges creeping together as though conspiring to blot out the light.

The cemetery's peaceful silence usually wrapped her in comfort, but today it felt heavy, like quiet before a storm. She tried to focus on her thoughts though the humid air pressed against her, muddling her concentration.

The missing notes and lesson plan book weighed heavily on her mind. The only explanation she could fathom was unsettling: someone wanted to make her life harder. She immediately thought of Caroline. It had to be Caroline.

Sadie's stomach churned as icy fear coiled around her thoughts. How far would Caroline go to make her feel unwelcome? The notes, written with care and confidentiality, had no use to anyone but Sadie. The act was deliberate, spiteful. And the lesson plan book—losing it meant hours of painstaking work rewriting her plans.

I have to take control. I'm going to confront her! Somehow make her stop this insanity! Sadie shook her head, that would never work. Caroline was a mean bully who treated others like dirt on her shoes. She would try to stand up to Caroline, but in her heart, Sadie didn't feel convinced it would work. No, the only answer was to leave. But that was giving in to Caroline's scheme. What right did she have to run Sadie off? Was there a way for them both to live in the same town and have peace? She had to try to find common ground.

She glanced at the sky, now streaked with gray. The clouds churned and deepened, dark fingers stretching toward the horizon. A sudden gust of wind kicked up, scattering dry leaves across the ground and lifting her skirt. The scent of wildflowers and earth rose, mingling with the metallic tang of approaching rain.

Her pulse quickened as footsteps crunched on the brittle grass behind her. She turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

"Sa, Sadie!"

Riley O'Flannery stepped from behind the trees, his round spectacles glinting in the shifting light. His navy shirt clung to his thin frame, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his dark trousers tucked neatly into scuffed boots. Shadows danced beneath a new Bowler, emphasizing the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Sadie shot to her feet her heart pounding. "Riley? What in the world are you doing here?" Her hand flew to her chest as she steadied herself.

"I found you!" His smile stretched wide as he closed the distance between them grabbing her arms with unexpected urgency. "I, I, I've come to, to, to, to see you!" His voice cracked, his stutter more pronounced than usual.

Sadie blinked in confusion. "I see that," she murmured, trying to manage a smile.

Riley crushed her to him, his thin chest heaving against hers. "I've missed you, you, so, so much!" His hands moved awkwardly across her back, holding her with a desperation that felt overwhelming.

"Riley, please," she gasped, gently pushing against his chest. When he finally loosened his grip, she stepped back, putting space between them.

"I saw Mrs. H," he stammered. "She said you were h,here."

Sadie nodded, still trying to make sense of his behavior. His sudden intensity unsettled her. She gestured to the bench. "Let's sit. We'll talk."

As they sat, Riley leaned forward, his foot bouncing nervously. He launched into his story about Kansas, the lead mines, and his savings. His uncle worked for Mr. Edgar Schermerhorn, a prominent businessman in Galena. Sadie listened, her mind racing like the storm clouds overhead.

When he turned the conversation back to her, his eyes locked on hers with intensity. "Come, come with, with me, me to, to Galena," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "This is, is a sign, don't you, you see, see? We can be together, build a, a, a life together!"

Sadie's throat tightened as the first low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. The air around them seemed charged, heavy with tension and the coming storm. She shook her head. "Riley, we're friends. I have a job here. Responsibilities."

"You know, know, I’ve, I've loved you, you forever. I, I took the, the chance to better my, my life with my, my uncle and aunt so, so I, I, I can offer you marriage, a family, everything you dream of," he insisted, his voice rising. The shadows darkened his features, and the storm seemed to echo his growing frustration.

Surprise erupted inside her and she gently refused. Riley's desperation turned to anger. "No! You're not listening! This is my plan!" He leaped to his feet, his voice sharp and unwavering. "I'm going to, to marry you, you and, and make your dreams come true!"

Before Sadie could respond, another voice rang out, strong and commanding.

"What's going on here?" Elijah appeared, striding toward them with purpose. His white coat flapped in the strengthening wind, making him look larger than life against the brooding sky. Relief flooded Sadie as she stepped into his embrace, the warmth of his presence calming her frayed nerves.

Riley spun to face Elijah, his fists clenching as he squared his shoulders. Lighting flashed in the western sky.

"Riley, stop," Sadie pleaded, her voice trembling.

But Riley didn't move, his dark eyes darting between her and Elijah. The storm was upon them, and it wasn't just the weather.

 

THE PATH TO A PROMISE Chapters 34, 35, 36, & 37 ~ THE END

 

AUTHOR NOTE: Thank you for reading my first fiction book. Every time someone reads my blog, the stats rise.  Authors need feedback, and we love hearing from our readers. Readers are important, so don't be shy - take a moment to comment. I'd love to know your thoughts about The Path To a Promise, which is inspired by the life of my paternal great-grandmother. Happy reading! 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 

Olvie was ready when Will arrived to pick her up. He invited Lydia and Ansel to go on the drive with them, but the couple declined. So, Will and Olive drove around town looking at all the businesses.

Many of the businesses’ glass windows were painted with patriotic, harvest, and seasonal scenes. Businesses and many residences displayed American flags and red, white, and blue bunting. Farmers presented their crops and farm machinery in window displays.

Will explained that many of the businesses held competitions between the farmers. The farmer who designed the best display won farming supplies. It was a popular annual event and usually held around harvest time.

Will parked the Oakland in front of the feed store. Walking down the sidewalks throughout town, they looked at the window displays. Community people called greetings and waved to the sailor.

Olive knew Will was missed in his small hometown. They took in the striking displays one after another. The Exide Battery Service Station showed off the latest automobile batteries and tires. The Morrow Hospital offered a window display with the latest news about influenza. The Lakefield Light, Ice, and Power Company displayed bushel baskets of the Winesap apple harvest. The First National Bank displayed a farmer's hand plow, horse harnesses, and bushels of wheat and corn. When they stepped up to J.D. Mahoney and Sons Mercantile window, Olive’s eyes widened when she saw Will's sunflower display.

"Oh, Will, it's beautiful!" she gasped, eyeing the display of small baskets that held sunflower seeds, while an old, cracked crock displayed stems of beautiful golden sunflowers in the various drying stages. A few photographs showed the sunflower field from the beginning of planting to the harvest at the end. "How did you do this?"

Will's hearty laugh was invigorating. "Ed and Claretta dreamed up the idea. "I didn't have anything to do with it. Ed thought it might help to spread the word about raising crop sunflowers."

"It's gorgeous!" Olive was delighted with the display. A periwinkle blue and buttercup yellow patchwork quilt lay on the floor of the window ledge. The baskets, the old crock, and framed photographs highlighted the display with beautiful color. It was a vision of a warm end-of-summer day on the plains of Kansas.

Will took Olive’s arm, and they went inside Mahoney's Mercantile. Mrs. Mahoney greeted them with a big smile and asked about Will's parents, his brother, and his sister. Will guided Olive to the window display.

Mrs. Mahoney followed. “Your display is getting lots of votes, Will," she told them. "Of course, we don't have many farmers participating because of the war. I imagine you may win the prize this year!"

Will asked what the prize was, and she told them the choices between a set of new tires or a horse harness.

"Tires for my Oakland would be swell!" He reached into the crock of drying sunflowers and drew out an extra-large one. Handing it to Olive, he introduced her to Mrs. Mahoney.

Leaving the store, they made their way to the automobile, and Will drove to the lake south of town. Strolling down a worn path, Will led Olive to the edge of the water. They sat on a giant boulder and watched the sunlight dance on the water’s surface, creating a shimmering effect that reminded Olive of millions of tiny diamonds.

The sun's rays pierced the clear water, illuminating the aquatic world below. Fish and minnows lazily swam in their habitat, unaware of humans. Gentle ripples moved across the lake, reflecting the trees and lush greenery surrounding it.

Will eyed Olive as she silently watched the view before her. The tall and lithe woman beside him caused his heart to flutter, and a smile played about his mouth. "We should have brought a soda with us.”

Olive nodded, then took a breath. She decided the moment had arrived to talk to him. Will, can I be honest and tell you something? I have a secret…"

"A secret?” His brows rose and he smiled, “Yes, of course. I like secrets."

Taking another breath, she fought the urge to cry as she started her story at the beginning when Henry Winters began to court her. At times, tears did fall as she talked about what Henry did to their marriage and how hard it was to go back home to her parents.

"I didn't have a choice, Will. I was going to have a baby, and Henry was gone for weeks at a time. We were getting evicted. I had to make a decision."

Will listened and did not interrupt.

She went on. "Henry wasn't ready to be a father. So, I was stuck with a baby and needed an income, but jobs for women were scarce in the hills and hollows. When Lizzie went to Joplin to marry William Madison—" she paused. "You met Lizzie at Claretta's shop in Eureka Springs. Do you remember?"

Will scrunched his eyes, saying, "A distant memory of her." A grin moved his mouth as he said, "My eyes were on you."

Olive chuckled, rolled her brown eyes, and continued. "So, I followed Lizzie to Joplin. Right away, I got a job working at the Conner Hotel. Seven stories high and filled with marble and crystal. Wow, that place was magnificent! I worked with a girl named Charlotte. Charlotte left the Conner and went to the Golden Maiden. She wanted me to leave the Conner, and I did. That's where I experienced working in the restaurant, and I did very well. I planned to get an apartment and eventually bring Peter to live with me."

Will handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.

She sniffed and continued. "But my hopes were dashed when Pete got sick. Mama tried all of her concoctions, but nothing made him well. She was forced to have the doctor look at him. And the bill the doctor presented to them was outstanding. I couldn't pay for it. Lizzie and William tried to help me get a bank loan, but that fell through. I was desperate."

She stopped to gather her thoughts and choked back the pain and hurt of what came next. She hurried on before she lost her courage. "The Golden Maiden drew in all kinds of customers. As I walked home, I was accosted outside the Maiden one night in the alley. Lloyd saved me."

"Lloyd, the man from the kidnapping?" Will's eyebrows rose, his eyes darkening.

Olive nodded. "Yes. That's why I said what I said to him about saving me again. Anyway, Jimmy Maston came to the Maiden and had supper one evening. He left me a big tip and wanted to see me. I refused him time and again. But Pete's doctor's bill hung over my head. Maston had money, and he flaunted it. Charlotte and Maston are cousins." Then Olive drew the courage she need to admit, "I married him for the money. To me, money meant security and stability. But as the months went by, I discovered his secret."

She placed the handkerchief over her mouth, breathing hard and fast. Her chest feeling like a rock lay on it.

Will took her arm and turned her toward him. "Don't say anymore. It's upsetting you."

She shook her head, "I have to say it. Then you can decide what you want to do."

Will blew out a breath and raised his brows.

"I discovered the Maston family's enterprises." She told him the story of their bootlegging operation. She explained about Tanner being acquitted of killing Dan Winters and that Tanner was involved with the Mastons.

“When I saw Maston's operation in Joplin, I went home to pack my clothes. I planned to leave him, but I walked in while some of Jimmy’s business acquaintances were having a booze party, and Tanner was there in the middle of it and he threatened me. Jimmy begged me to join the family operation, but I said no. He gave me a wad of money and told me to get a divorce."

Will pulled her into him.

"I'm getting your shirt wet," she cried. He said nothing, just held her close, breathing on her hair.

She mopped the tears off her face and pressed into him as they sat on the boulder.

"Is that why you didn't attend Ed and Anna's wedding?" Will's voice was husky, shaky.

"Yes, but also I was working."

Minutes later, Olive pulled away from Will and sat up straight. Blowing her nose, she smiled a little smile. "I know you know Tanner kidnapped me. But thank the good Lord that he's out of my life and my family's. And I want you to know my story because I feel ruined. You don't need a divorced woman with a child in your life. You're such a good, decent, strong man. You deserve better. When I left Joplin, I was determined to never to get married again."

Will's face held a tender look. It was his turn to talk.

"I've never been married, so I don't know what it's like to go through a divorce and the pain that it causes. And I'm not a woman, so I can’t feel what you are feeling right now. But the Lord gave both men and women the same feelings. So, my heart aches to know that you've had these things happen to you. I have a secret, too.”

Olive’s face showed the surprise that inched into her chest.

“My secret is that I've never courted a woman. Oh, sure, I've gone to all kinds of church suppers, school events, and family get-togethers with ladies. But we were not a couple. When I saw you in Mrs. Hammontree's shop that day, it was like heaven opened up, and you were an angel sent just for me."

Will's voice was calm, his gaze steady.

Olive gasped as a warm glow spread through her. Should she let her emotions take over? Will was bearing his soul. She pressed her lips together to keep her feelings in check.

"I wanted to see you again, but when you didn’t show up to the wedding, I waited to hear from you. And when I didn't, I kept checking with Lydia and Ansel. I knew where you were at all times. They told me nothing personal, just let me know you were okay. Olive, when I found out you were coming to Kansas, I was the happiest man in this town! I believe things happen for a reason. And I believe you and I are meant to have a future together and get married. You're too young to live your life without a partner to see you through the good and the bad times in life. When you mentioned buying a house, I said what I said because if it works out, my plan is for us to marry, sell my house, and buy one together."

Will gazed into Olive’s face as if to read her thoughts. "I wasn't trying to interfere and tell you what to do! Please don't feel obligated to answer me right now. But I love you and I hope you'll say those words to me someday."

Silence sat between them as they digested each other's stories.

Suddenly, Will added, "I told you once I don't like taking chances. But this chance of having a future with you… I'm taking it!"

Olive swallowed the nervousness swirling in her belly. "Will, I do care about you…a lot…"

He will let out a whoosh of breath, excitement gathering in his facial expression. "At least you're not telling me to get lost!"

"No, never," she exclaimed, her eyes brightening with acceptance and respect. His words melted over her like sweet honey on a warm, buttered biscuit.

"I have one more thing to say about you marrying again…"

"What's that?"

"Third time's the charm!"

A smile gathered on her lips at his merriment. Will was different than the other men she knew. She liked the positive outlook he displayed. 

Maybe the third time really was the charm. 

                                                                               ***

Olvie and Will spent the following two days together. While she worked at the soda fountain, he spent time with his parents, who recuperated from the influenza. Each afternoon, he waited for Olive to get off work.

Despite the late fall weather, they enjoyed the lake, their favorite place. There, they took long walks and had long talks. Will talked about his love of baseball. He played for the Lakefield town team every year. His passion was to be outdoors with his fellow players, winning and sometimes losing, all in the name of fun and exercise.

The influenza plague became an epidemic. Businesses shut down for fear of spreading the virus. Everyone protected themselves with face masks, and the public water fountains were shut down.

The Adams Hotel stayed open. Edgar took extra precautions to sanitize and clean every hour, which meant doing the laundry every four hours and sanitizing the soda fountain tables, counter, and hotel rooms.

The last evening before Will's return to the naval base in Virginia, he made supper at his house. A beef roast with potatoes and onions simmered in the oven, string beans with butter cooked in a pot on the stove, and Anna made fresh rolls that afternoon.

"My sister made the rolls," Will informed Olive when she placed the golden bread on her plate.

"They're fluffier than a cloud and delicious!" Olive admired good cooking.

"How do you like Kansas so far?"

Olive dipped her head. "The wind blows a lot out here."

"The wind blows in Missouri, too…" Will didn't laugh but kept a straight face as he bit into a roasted potato.

"Yes, and I don't like it one bit, because it messes with my hair. But out here on the plains, it seems to chug through town like a freight train speeding to Colorado." She laughed.   

Sometimes at night, the howling of the gale-force winds rattled the window casings.

"I never knew land could be so flat! The hills and hollows where I'm from are different."

"You do know that we have bad storms here, just like Missouri?" Will looked at her with a serious expression. "Three years ago, a bad one moved through town, blowing down several buildings, and rain came down in buckets and flooded us. If a storm rolls in and you have time, Mother has a storm cave in her backyard. You'll be safe there!"

"I've been through plenty of storms in my life. You'll be happy to know I'm not afraid of them. Just need to keep a level head, watch the sky, and have a plan. The night storms are much scarier."

"That's good to know. See, you're adapting very well here."

Unexpectedly, the peal of church bells clanged in the evening air all over Lakefield. The clatter continued on and on, alarming Olive. Looking at Will, questions were written all over her face.

Will listened to the bells for a moment. "Perhaps the mayor passed away? Usually, the churches ring their bells for important events. On Christmas day they ring loud and clear." He listened a minute more, then continued talking to Olive. "I finalized the plans to buy the chili parlor after the war. I have a proposition for you: come to work for me."

Surprise lit her face. "Oh!" Her smile faded. "I don't know…what about Edgar?"

"I'm sure he doesn't want to lose such a good soda jerk. But, it's something to think about while I'm gone. Christmas is coming. What are you asking Santa Claus for?" Will's blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"There's nothing I need," she said, then breathed. "Actually, there is. I'm going home for a few days to see the folks and Pete. He's excited that I'm going to see him. I bet he's almost as big as me now."

"I wish I were going with you and I wish you a safe trip. and enjoy your family. Family is important. Mom and Charlie are doing well now. As you know, it was touch-and-go with Mom, but she's tough. Now, if everyone else doesn't get the flu, especially the little ones!"

"When will you be home again?"

"I'm not sure. But write to me. I can't promise I'll write much to you, but I will when I can."

Pounding on the door brought Will out of his seat, and he hastened to open it. The bells pealed louder. Ed stood in the cold, a cap on his head and a heavy coat about his shoulders. A grin the size of Kansas covered his mouth, and he bellowed, "Brother! Have you heard the news?"

The stunned expression on Will's face told him that he had not.

"The war's over! They signed a peace treaty!" Ed held the Lakefield newspaper in front of Will's face.

Will's mouth gaped open as his eyes skimmed the news on the front page. Germany signed an armistice with the Allies, signaling the war's end. His eyebrows shot upward, and he grabbed his brother and swung him around the living room. "Glorious day!"

"It's official, and you won't have to go over there!" Ed looked at Olive and shouted, "Isn't this great news?"

He strode to her, whirling her around the room. "There's a street parade planned for tomorrow at noon!"

"I'm leaving tomorrow…" Will's shoulders slumped.

Ed let Olive go, his face changing into a frown. "That's right. But you'll be back home before you know it!" He claimed a big smile again. "I wanted to hurry to tell you, first, now I'm going to get home and tell Claretta the good news!" He clapped Will on the shoulder.

"Godspeed, my dear brother."

Will grabbed Ed's arm, "Ed, do me a big favor?"

"Anything."

"Please watch after Olive." He threw his hands up. "I know she can care of herself; just be there if she needs you."

Will looked from his brother to Olive. "She means the world to me."

Ed's face turned scarlet. "I will. She means a lot to us, too!"

He disappeared through the door.

As Will and Olive sat at the table to finish their food, sadness melted over her. Will was leaving again. She pushed it away and asked, "When will you come home?"

"I'll have to finish my enlistment. Maybe I can be home for Christmas."

His poker face hid the emotions he longed to pour out to her. He had never searched for love. Now, at twenty-seven, he had found it.

In fact, Will was one hundred percent sure Olive Johnson was the love of his life. There would be no other. He wouldn't find love again if he couldn't have her.

To Will, Olive was pure love.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 

Early Tuesday morning, Will caught the train carrying him back to the naval base in Virginia. That night, before Will layed his head on his pillow, he prayed. He prayed and strived to seek God's guidance and wisdom in everything he did.

Tonight, he had a special request to talk to the Lord about. He was ready to settle down, marry, and raise a family. All his friends were married with families of their own. Will was a successful farmer, and he was serving as a sailor in the United States Navy. Now that the war was over, he would eventually return home to Kansas and carry on with his life. His homeland's rolling plains and vast skies called to him like a soothing hymn.

None of the single ladies in Lakefield had ever sparked a fire in his soul, encouraging him to settle down. He was content to work, help family and friends, and enjoy his days as a single man. But Olive, with her deer-brown eyes and molasses-colored hair, changed all of that.

From that first meeting in Arkansas at Claretta's mother's sewing shop, he couldn't get her out of his mind. That had been a couple of years ago, yet he remembered the depth of her eyes and her scent—like spring flowers in a wildflower garden. Olive provoked happiness, contentment, and a deep-abiding love within him.

Will prayed and told God his thoughts. He wanted to know God's feelings about his plans to marry Olive. It didn't bother Will to know that she had been divorced twice and had a son from her first marriage. He liked children and wanted a family. He would instantly have that if they married—and maybe have his own children someday.

When Olive landed in his hometown, Will thought it was indeed the workings of the Lord. God's plans were not always the plans laid by men. But how unusual was it that Olive showed up in Kansas? Sure, Lydia and Ansel lived here. Still, Will couldn't help but think it was a God thing.

Will's thoughts zipped through his head as he lay awake pondering. He had no qualms about Olive. She was a fine woman, hardworking, and shared his interests. He envisioned their future, living life together as husband and wife. That was the happiest thought he had had in a long time.

Waiting a few minutes, Will stilled his mind, listening for any possible answers. When the warm comfort spread over him, like a toasty blanket on a frosty night, he took it as a sign that he was on the right track. With that in mind, Will made his decision. He would purchase a ring, and at the right moment and time, he'd ask his best girl to marry him.

The warm comfort bloomed in his heart until it threatened to burst, then settled in his gut. It was right. It was sacred. It was time.

                                                                      ***

That afternoon, Lakefield held a small parade. The city school was dismissed for the day. Students, their parents, businessmen, and the whole town lined the street to watch the spectacular festivities. Wagons, teams, and drivers were decorated in patriotic colors. The town band played rousing national songs. Men gave speeches at the gazebo on the lawn of the post office.

Alone in her room that night, Olive’s nerves were tangled in knots as she prayed about the situation. Doubt finagled its way into her thoughts. She couldn't trust a man again. Her sigh seemed to shake the ceiling as nausea rose in her belly, twisting and churning like a tempest. The memory of pain from the lies, manipulation, threats, and deception that brought weariness settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She couldn't put herself through that pain again.

Dear God, was Will the one who would show her genuine love and a way of life that included two people working together and carving out a happy, productive marriage? Could that exist? Her hand fluttered to her lips, her fingertips trembling as she thought of true love. She knew that God didn't want her to go through hell again with a man. God's plan included goodness, mercy, light, hope, faith, and love. Her plans to never marry again were dry, dull, and safe from disaster and men's deception. But were those God’s plans, also?

Olive’s lips twitched, and she dared to smile briefly, a fleeting warmth spreading through her chest. Oh, how she wanted to find that true blue, real love. Mama and Pa's love came to mind. They had many hardships, yet they worked them out and carved out many years of marriage together.

She thought of William and Lizzie. For the first time, she understood William's reason for marrying again. Love was stolen from him when Lizzie died, and William was so young. He desired love again, and Olive prayed he found that love in Amy.

Most of Will's friends were married. She knew Will had no lady friends; he was still a bachelor, and at twenty-seven, people watched him with questioning and curious eyes. His family made subtle comments about settling down. Will was taking his time, not jumping into a relationship. But now he was ready to jump into one with her. And to make matters worse, all of his family agreed.

Olive’s belly bunched into a tight spasm, her muscles knotting. Was she ready for a relationship with Will? More than hurting herself, she never wanted to hurt him. That would not do! She didn't want to hurt or lead anyone on with false overtures. She was not the type of woman to use men and abuse them, even though she had been treated that way.

All of a sudden, warmth spread through her. God answered in that still, quiet voice, giving her a realization she couldn't deny. It wasn't her fault her marriages ended. It was Henry and Jimmy's fault. She did nothing wrong but was forced to clean up after them.

The answer filled her heart with faith and hope. Her whispered prayers were answered. Will bore no resemblance to Henry's and Jimmy's shenanigans.

Should she give Will a chance? Should she give herself a chance? Henry deceived her. Jimmy disillusioned her. With Will, what would she be? Loved? Cherished? Partners for life?

The word 'destiny' came to her. Why couldn't they just take time to get to know one another? Live life and enjoy each new day? She believed that God gave her those thoughts.        

She didn't want to rush into the relationship and regret it later. She also had Pete to think about.

Will's words filled her thoughts. "Third time's the charm."

She was unlucky in love, and Will was looking for love.

She once heard someone say that the path to true love bore hardships. Were their paths leading to the promise of true love?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 

Olive went home for Thanksgiving at the end of November, her heart full of gratitude for being with her family. This Thanksgiving was unlike any other, not only for her but for the entire nation. The war had ended, and soldiers would return to their loved ones in the coming months. While she missed the company of her Kansas friends, nothing compared to the warmth of family. The time spent with them was more precious than bars of solid gold.

Pa and Peter greeted her at the small train station in Wheatland. Peter, now eight, dashed toward her with the boundless energy of a young colt, his face aglow with joy. Olive knelt and hugged her son, holding him tightly as if she could protect him from all the world's sorrows. The scent of pine and earth clung to his clothes, and she breathed it in, savoring the simple comfort of home.

Pa smiled from beneath the brim of his worn hat, his eyes crinkling with the unspoken love only a father can convey.

They journeyed back into the hollow by wagon, the wheels creaking over the rough, rocky roads wound through the hills of the Southwest Missouri Ozarks. An automobile would have been no match for these rugged paths.

The chill of late autumn hung in the air, but the landscape was ablaze with the fiery colors of the season. The last of the reds, oranges, and golds painted the hillsides, a final, glorious display before winter's grip took hold.

Olive leaned back and let the crisp air fill her lungs, the scent of damp leaves and wood smoke mingling with the memory of home.

That evening, the family gathered around the supper table in the cozy kitchen-dining room, its walls bearing witness to years of laughter, tears, and prayers. The table hosted a feast of roasted pork shoulder, sauerkraut from summer cabbages, buttery mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and golden corn pudding.

The aroma wrapped around Olive, drawing her back to her childhood days. In the center of the table, a simple vase held a bouquet of dried flowers, faded yet beautiful, a reminder of her mother's love for the garden.

Peter chattered excitedly about school, baseball, and his loyal blue heeler, Rowdy, whose ears perked up at the mention of his name. Tall and lanky, Peter wore a long-sleeved blue shirt under denim overalls, the fabric showing signs of rough-and-tumble play.

His dark hair and bright blue eyes mirrored his father's, though there was a gentleness in his gaze that was all Olive's. As Peter spoke, she noticed the even, straight teeth revealed when he smiled. She marveled at how much he had grown, his once-babyish features now giving way to the sharp lines of boyhood.

"Mama, when can I go with you?" Peter asked, his eyes wide and earnest as he shoveled another spoonful of corn pudding into his mouth.

Olive’s heart skipped a beat. She dreaded this conversation but knew it was time. Would her parents approve? She glanced at them, whose faces tightened in silent concern. She read their thoughts as clearly as if they'd spoken aloud. But she was determined to convince them that her life in Kansas was solid and fulfilling—it wasn't Joplin.

She sent a silent prayer upward, asking for God's guidance.

"Pete…” Olive began, forcing a smile. "Maybe after school is out for the term, or next summer. I've got some good news to share with all of you."

She paused, her hand trembling slightly as she lifted it, hoping to stave off the inevitable objections. "But please, hear me out before you say anything."

"We're listening," Bud said, his voice steady but tinged with apprehension.

Olive launched into the story of her job at the Adams Hotel, how Lydia and Ansel had become her steadfast friends, and how Ansel's work in the oil fields kept him close to home. She recounted the terrifying encounter with Joe Tanner and how Lloyd had come to her aid.

"Tanner had it coming after all he's done," Bud said, his voice gruff. "We were sure scared when he threatened you. His father died with a broken heart, not understanding why his boy turned out the way he did. At least the old man didn't live to see Joe go to prison."

Olive nodded, the weight of those memories pressing on her chest. But she took a deep breath and gathered her strength for what came next.

"There's more," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I've met someone—Will Brier." She hurriedly spoke of the Brier family's farming operations, their roots in Germany, and Will's steadfast character. Her eyes moved from Pete to her mother, then to her father, gauging their reactions. She could see the worry in their eyes, yet a glimmer of hope.

When she finished, she admitted, "I know I don't have the best record with marriages. But I believe Will's a good man. He's respected; someone the community turns to in times of need. Now that the war is over, he'll finish his time in the Navy and return home. I believe God put me in his path for a reason, and I feel that in time, he might prove to be someone to spend the rest of my life with."

Peter scrunched his face, puzzling over her words. "Will he be my dad?" he asked, his voice small and unsure.

Olive’s heart ached as she answered, "Henry is your father, Pete. But Will can be the dad you need. He'll be there for you every day, teaching you things and being someone you can count on."

Bud and Nancy exchanged glances, their faces softening as they nodded in unison.

"I never see Henry!" Peter's voice rose, tinged with frustration. "He doesn't come here, and after Grandpa Winters died, I don't see Grandma Winters either. She lives with her kids now."

Olive felt a pang of guilt as Peter used his father's first name, a sign of the distance that had grown between them.

Nancy quickly explained, "Christina takes turns living with all the kids. They help her. She's at Tom's right now."

Olive’s heart ached for Peter, knowing how deeply Henry's indifference hurt him. "I'm sorry your father isn't around. If I could change that, I would."

Peter looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think he loves me."

Sensing Peter's sadness, Rowdy rested a paw on Peter's leg, offering comfort. Peter stroked the dog's soft fur, his small hand trembling slightly.

"Henry loves you in his own way," Olive said gently, struggling to find the right words. "He just doesn't show it like other people do. But cheer up, Pete. Will can teach you to throw a baseball as fast as the wind! He's great at all the positions, but pitching is his favorite."

Peter's blue eyes lit up; his earlier sadness forgotten. "I'm ready! Batter up!" he exclaimed, his grin wide and bright.

Later that night, after Peter had gone to bed, Olive and her parents discussed Will Brier. They agreed that he sounded like a strong, trustworthy man—a good match for their daughter and a potential father figure for their grandson.

With their blessing, Olive fell asleep with a heart full of gratitude, her prayers that night brimming with thankfulness for all God had provided. This Thanksgiving, she truly gave thanks for where she had been and where she was today.

Olive packed her day bag the day after Thanksgiving, her mind already on the journey back to Kansas. As she waited on the porch for Bud to bring the wagon around, she made plans to return for Christmas, weather permitting. Saying goodbye to her mother was the hardest part. She saw the subtle signs of declining health but knew her mother's deep knowledge of herbs and home remedies would see her through. Pa, too, would be there, his love and care as steadfast as ever.

A lump formed in her throat when she hugged Peter goodbye and kissed his warm, tanned cheek. She turned to her father, pulled the knife from her coat pocket, and handed it to him.

"I don't think I'll need this anymore, Pa. It's come in handy more than once, though."

Bud eyed her, his white-haired chin bobbing as he chewed on his pipe stem. His old hat cast a shadow over his eyes. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

As she crossed the wooden platform toward the train, she looked around at all the trees surrounding the place, a bittersweet reminder of the past she was leaving behind. The depot was nearly deserted; it's quite a stark contrast to the emotions churning within her.

As the train pulled away, she watched Wheatland fade into the distance. The trip had been everything she needed, filled with hope and the certainty that God was guiding her toward a brighter future.

                                                                       ***

With just ten days until Christmas, Lakefield buzzed with the season's excitement. The town was alive with activity as shoppers hurried along the streets. Storefronts were adorned with festive garlands, evergreen wreaths, and bright red bows while American flags fluttered proudly beside them. Colored lights glowed around window frames and Christmas trees.

The winter chill nipped at the air, though the snow had yet to arrive. Instead, a biting wind whipped through the streets, sending shivers through the townsfolk and threatening to undo the delicate decorations that clung to lampposts and windows.

At the intersection of Main Street and Kansas Avenue, the town's community Christmas tree stood tall, the twinkling lights reflecting off ornaments of every hue. The tree would soon serve as the centerpiece for the old-fashioned Christmas program scheduled for Christmas Eve, a tradition eagerly awaited by all.

Nearby, the local newspaper boy, Billy, called out headlines, his breath visible in the frosty air as he promoted the latest sales on everything from farming equipment to the finest seasonal fruit and candy.

Olive and her girlfriends were shopping in the late afternoon. Anna's eyes sparkled as she pointed out a sign in the window:

"Look, girls! Free boxes of candy with every toy purchase! And the boxes come with a ribbon to hang on the Christmas tree. Let's go inside!"

The women followed Anna through the wooden doors of Mahoney's Mercantile, the jingle of the bell announcing their arrival. The warmth of the store was a welcome relief from the biting cold. Scents of cinnamon and pine wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of fresh-baked treats from the bakery aisle.

Olive, bundled tightly in her wool coat and scarf snug around her neck, fought off a nagging cough as they entered the shop. The cold air had done little to improve her condition, but she was determined to find gifts for her loved ones.

A grand evergreen tree adorned with ornaments stood in the center of the room, surrounded by toys of every kind. Rocking horses, doll carriages, wagons, and more were placed just so. The shelves were lined with games, dishes, tool chests, and balls, each toy promoting the joy of Christmas morning.

Anna quickly found a delicate doll and a carriage for Doris and a baseball and kid-sized glove for Herman. "Uncle Will can help him practice pitching this spring," she mused.

Claretta bought the red wagon and the rocking horse for her boys.

With her keen eye for detail, Lydia selected a hammered brass card tray for Ansel, along with other thoughtful gifts for her family and friends. "We plan to make a trip to Joplin to see Mama, William, and Amy sometime soon. You're welcome to go with us, Olive."

Meanwhile, Olive picked up a baseball and a leather glove for Peter. She smiled softly as she chose a Parker Lucky Curve fountain pen for Will, the box adorned with a festive holly design.

"Will always needs a good pen for his farm work," she said, turning to Lydia. “And look at those pearl opera glasses! Aren't they lovely?"

"If we still lived in Joplin, I'd buy us both a pair!" Lydia replied with a wistful smile.

As they made their way to the front of the store, Olive paused to admire the sparkling jewelry displayed in the glass case. Rings, bangle bracelets, watches, and brooches glittered, each piece more alluring than the last. A gold watch chain caught her eye, its intricate design gleaming as if winking at her.

Without hesitation, she asked the clerk to retrieve it.

"Will needs a new chain for his watch." She also found a floral silk umbrella for herself and her mother. For Pa, she saw a silver-trimmed pocket comb. It was time he had something fancy.

With their arms laden with treasures, the women stopped to fill brown paper sacks with a selection of locally grown apples, pecans, and English walnuts. They even claimed the last of the oranges—a rare treat this time of year.

Mrs. Mahoney smiled as she rang up their purchases. "You're lucky to find those oranges. They came in just this morning, and they've been going fast. "

She added the free boxes of candy to their bags.

"They'll make lovely treats in the children's stockings," Claretta replied, her blue eyes gleaming with anticipation.

But as the day wore on, Olive’s strength waned. Her throat ached, and her swallowing became painful.

When they returned home, a red strawberry-colored rash had begun to spread across her neck and arms. Supper was simple, but Olive barely touched the chicken Lydia had prepared.

"I'm not feeling well," she admitted, her voice thick with fatigue. "I'm going to bed early.

Lydia's eyes widened in concern as she noticed the rash. "Olive…your neck is red. Oh, dear, you look feverish. Lie down—I'll call the doctor.”

"No, wait, Lydia," Elanor protested weakly. "Let's see how I feel in the morning."

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 

During the night, Olive’s condition worsened. Sweat soaked her pillow as chills wracked her body, and a relentless headache throbbed at the nape of her neck. By morning, it was clear that she needed medical attention.

Lydia hurried her to the hospital, where Doctor Baker took one look at her symptoms and feared the worst—Spanish Influenza. But the telltale rash and her strawberry-colored tongue pointed to another diagnosis: scarlet fever.

Alcohol, bandages, a water pitcher, and a glass were on a tray beside the bed.

A nurse dressed in white with a white cap upon her curly hair pulled back the white privacy curtain as Doctor Baker appeared. The doctor held a clipboard and pen in his hand, and a stethoscope hung around his neck.

 "We'll need to keep you here until you're no longer contagious," he told Olive. Looking at Lydia, he advised her to leave and tell everyone Olive wasn't allowed visitors for the time being. He also gave Lydia instructions on sanitizing their home and what symptoms to look for in case anyone else in the household became ill.

Tears pooled in Olive’s eyes. "But it's a week until Christmas! And I have to work; Edgar needs me!"

"I'll write a note to Mr. Adams about your diagnosis," the doctor replied. "I'm sorry, Olive."

As the reality of her situation sank in, Olive’s spirits plummeted. Lydia stayed by her side; her voice filled with sympathy. "I'll bring your robe and slippers. Is there anything else you need?"

Olive shook her head, her voice trembling and weak. "Just pray that none of you catch this."

Lydia offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about us. You focus on getting well. I'll take the doctor's note to Edgar. I'll check on you tomorrow. Goodnight, dear."

Olive was taken to a ward where a room with twelve other patients lay ill. White curtains separated their cubicles against pale walls and bright overhead lights. She found it hard to rest as the other patients coughed, threw up, or moaned a great deal.

As Olive lay in her hospital bed that night, a winter storm blew in from the west, burying the town in two feet of snow with high drifts. The icy wind howled through the streets like a highspeed locomotive, rattling the windows and doors.

Inside the hospital, Olive shivered with the sickness and the bitter disappointment that weighed heavily on her heart. Christmas was just seven days away, and Will would arrive in eight. But instead of celebrating with her loved ones, she was trapped in a hospital bed, far from the festive cheer that filled the world outside.

The next few days, she became extremely sick. The doctors had a challenging time getting her high fever under control. She had no appetite, and nausea plagued her. There was finally some relief on Christmas Eve, and Olive drank liquids without hurting her throat. Food was offered, but her appetite was weak, and she ate very little. She couldn't have visitors, but her friends brought flowers and get-well cards, leaving them with the nurses.

Doctor Baker made his rounds and came into her room that afternoon. "It looks like you're almost out of the woods now, Olive. I'm glad to see you are drinking fluids. Tonight, try to eat a little more and keep it down. Will you try?"

He checked her throat and blood pressure and poked around on her neck.

The excellent news soared in her heart, and she asked, "When can I go home?" Tears gathered in her tired eyes, and she didn't care that the doctor saw her relief spill from her. No one liked being sick, but especially at Christmas time, it took away the joy and happiness of the sacred season.

"If you feel like this tomorrow, you may go home in a few days." Doctor Baker eyed her as he wrote on the chart. "That's not a promise! Drink lots of water to hydrate yourself. However, I'm having the nurses move you out of this ward and to another room. You're not contagious, so you may have visitors, and if you feel like it, the nurse can wheel you to the windows to take in the view. All you'll see is snow right now."

He chuckled. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

Olive watched the doctor leave. She had good news and bad news. At least she could have visitors! She poured the tepid water from the pitcher into a paper cup and drank through a straw while she waited for the nurses to enter. Giving thanks for her recovery, she asked God for patience while her strength returned.

Eventually, a nurse arrived with a wheeled chair and transported Olive to the ward with recuperating patients.

The same pale walls and tiled floors met her, but large glass windows afforded a view of the outdoors. There was only one other patient there.

The sun glinted off the piles of snow that clung to the walkways, the trees, and the brick hospital building. The warmth from the sun melted the white stuff, and little rivers of water ran along the streets.

When the nurse made her bed with fresh linens, she took Olive to her room and helped her settle. Olive was cheerfully surprised when the bedside table was filled with flowers and cards from her friends. She read each card, smelled the bouquets, and felt her spirits lift.

Christmas Day arrived and brought warmer weather to the area. Temperatures soared into the upper forties, melting most of the snow left from the storm. At noon, all the church bells tolled throughout town, announcing the merriment of Christmas Day.

Olive drank juice, coffee, milk, and water. She kept the chicken broth down and asked if she could have another bowl. She was determined to leave this place, so she stuffed herself as much as she could.

Doctor Baker happily reported that she would be released the next day. "I'll have Nurse Bixby contact your friends so they can take you home."

After lunch, Nurse Bixby wheeled Olive to the front windows. A little brightly lit Christmas tree stood in one corner of the hallway. She left Olive with an old Cosmopolitan magazine issue and returned to the nurse's desk. White and gray puffy clouds resembling fish scales gathered in the sky. When the clouds moved in, the bright sunshine took a backseat. It looked like there might be more snow on the way.

Olive studied the cover of the February issue of the magazine. A brown-haired soldier dressed in a khaki uniform embraced a woman with dark hair and red lips. The couple's faces were inches apart, their lips almost meeting. His shadowed cheek and her dreamy eyes told the story of their embrace and spoke of their love.

She imagined the magazine couple were Will and herself. She remembered when they sat together upon the boulder at the lake. It was nice to feel the strength of his body next to hers. His warm smile filled her with a resolve that she was making the right decision.

Perhaps the third time was the charm? She closed her eyes, and the cover picture of the lady and her soldier gave her hope about what might come. 

***

A slight tapping on Olive’s shoulder brought her out of her nap. Nurse Bixby smiled. "Let's get you back to bed, young lady. Are you ready?"

Olive opened her eyes and nodded at the nurse. The Cosmopolitan was clutched to her chest as if she would never let it out of her sight.

"Yes. I need to freshen up."

The nurse told her that her roommate had left the hospital that morning. She helped Olive shower and dress in a fresh gown and robe. Brushing through her dark, long hair, she braided it and wrapped it in a bun, securing it with a red and green jeweled hair clasp.

"This barrette was my sister's. She died in the spring from Spanish Influenza. I'd like you to have it. You remind me of her,” Nurse Bixby said.

Olive choked back her reply for a moment. Then she told the nurse about losing Lizzie. As they talked, Nurse Bixby looked toward the door and grinned. She laid her hand on Olive’s shoulder and said, "You have visitors, dear. I'll let you enjoy your friends."

She quietly left the room as Will, Anna, Lydia, Ansel, Ed, and Claretta came in.

"Surprise!" The girls cried out.

"Merry Christmas!" The guys shouted.

Will stood still, staring at his best girl, a wrapped gift in his hands.

Olive’s face lit up like the Christmas tree in the hallway. Covering her mouth with her long fingers, delight filled her senses. Her friends came to see her! Best of all, Will was there, dressed in his navy uniform with the buttoned collar and flowing neckerchief—but no hat.

The magazine cover flashed through her mind, and her cheeks grew warm.

"I'm home a day early," Will explained.

Ed and Claretta quickly told her about their plans for the next day. All were invited to their house to celebrate Christmas, the best time of the year. They wanted to wait to open gifts and celebrate until Will and Olive could join them.

After chatting for a few minutes, they left Will alone with Olive, promising to see them tomorrow after she was released from the hospital.

Will's smile was brighter than the snow outside.

"You look beautiful, and I like your hair. When the folks told me you were in the hospital, I prayed you'd recover fast. My prayers were answered. God is good."

Olive basked in his compliments. He was handsome. Her heart skipped a beat as this Christmas surprise seemed magical. She silently thanked God for good friends and His guidance.

"Thank you, Will. I'm happy to see you home safe and sound."

"I'll be here tomorrow to take you home. It seems the kids have a big day planned."

"They're so sweet," she said, laughing at his use of the word ‘kids’ for his brother and sister.

Remembering the gift, Will handed it to her. "I thought you might like this…"

She tore the poinsettia paper away to reveal a box of Hershey's fine assorted chocolates. Her eyes beamed, and her brow raised. "You know what I like!"

Removing the lid, she chose a chocolate-covered vanilla mound and nibbled. Rolling her eyes, she savored the taste of the candy.

Holding the box out to him, she said, "I'll share."

"You're something, kid!" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box.

Staring at the box, Olive’s heart pumped over time. "That's not a box of chocolates…"

Will shook his head. "No. You can't eat what's inside."

She drew a breath, blew it out. "Oh?" Jitters skittered up her spine. "Will, I want to tell you something I've decided to do."

"Okay. Tell me."

"I've thought long and hard about this. Everyone seems to have their opinion, and they let me know how they felt. I weighed my pros and cons, thinking and rethinking on the subject."

She watched his face as she took a deep breath and let her words spill from her heart.

"I've decided that the Lord did put us together and brought me here for a purpose. I've weighed everyone's thoughts and carefully considered the consequences. I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. But I also hope to not make another mistake about a man again. I'd like to have a chance to get to know one another. Have fun, laugh, run around, travel, enjoy life. When the right time comes, if it comes…" She swallowed and smiled.

"Go on…" his voice was smooth and low.

"Let's take our time before we make commitments to each other."

Will was silent as he let her words fill the air between them. Then, with a smile, he said, "It just so happens that I agree with you, dearest. Let's take the time we need and when the Lord says it's time, we'll know."

Will stood from the chair, went down on one knee, took her left hand, and said, "I want to give you something I've never given anyone else…my heart. Olive Johnson, will you marry me?"

The diamond ring glittered in the gold round setting, catching the fire from the overhead lights. She swore the diamond winked at her.

"I'm not good at picking husbands, you know…"

Will stood, grinning at her. "Then let me pick for you. Marry me."

She nodded as the feeling of forever formed in her throat.

"Yes!" She nodded.

This time, she knew it was right. This man was right. He would fulfill his promise to her. They had years stretching before them. 

With the hope of tomorrow, she watched him slide the ring on her left finger and seal their pledge with a warm kiss.

 

 THE END