A Time to Love (23 page)

Adrienne valiantly tried to keep her sorrow from showing. She was going to miss this precious daughter very much. In the evenings—in the privacy of their bedroom—Adrienne wept in Nolan’s arms. They spent much time in prayer, entrusting Linda into God’s loving care.

It was a cold, sunny day in Boston—exactly a week from the day the telegram from Stockton had come—when Blake’s final wire arrived, telling her to come to Cheyenne City as soon as possible.

That evening when Nolan came home, Linda and Adrienne informed him that the telegram had come. Nolan immediately headed for the railroad station to make reservations for Linda’s trip west. Having received a refund for the previously unused tickets, he used the money to purchase new tickets. She would leave in two days and arrive in Cheyenne City two days after that.

The next day, Nolan went to the Western Union office in Boston and sent a wire to Blake Barrett, informing him of the day and time of Linda’s arrival.

On that same day, Adrienne and Linda spent a lot of time talking, then right after lunch, Linda went to her room with a melancholy look on her face. She opened the trunk that held her wedding gown and the articles that made up her hope chest when she had planned to marry Lewis Carter. Once again she emptied the trunk, looking at each piece and reliving each memory. Somehow, with Blake now in her life, the hurt was dulled. Still, tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she remembered happy times with Lewis.

While she slowly placed the items back in the trunk, laying the wedding dress on top, she felt a presence behind her and turned to see her mother standing at the open door.

“I just had to look at them once more, Mom,” Linda said, then turned back and firmly closed the lid on her past.

Adrienne gathered her daughter in her arms, and they wept together for a few moments.

“Mom, if you can find some girl in the church who could use these things—even the dress—give them to her. It would be a shame for them to go to waste. You understand why I don’t want to take any of them with me.”

“Of course. I’ll do as you wish, honey. Now, it’s time for me to start
dinner. And I want to do it alone. This is your special farewell dinner.”

“All right, Mom. I’ll finish packing.”

Adrienne had invited Pastor and Mrs. Stanford to dinner, and each person around the table did their best to make it a joyous occasion. After a tearful good-bye to the Stanfords, Linda helped her parents do the dishes and clean up the dining room and kitchen. As they worked together, they reminisced about Linda’s childhood and growing up in this house.

Soon it was bedtime. Linda hugged and kissed both her parents, reminding them that it was only two days on the train to Cheyenne City, and she and Blake would undoubtedly come back to visit them, too.

When she walked into her room with the realization that this would be her last night to sleep in it, at least until she and Blake came back for a visit, she let her gaze roam lovingly over every corner and piece of furniture. She had spent many happy hours in this room. It held many girlhood memories and little secrets.

She forced herself to shake off the melancholia and prepare for bed. Everything was ready for her trip tomorrow. As she slid between the sheets, she told herself she must forget the past and look to the future.

Linda expected to lie awake all night but surprised herself when she awakened from a deep sleep as the morning sun came through the window and kissed her face.

She lay there for a few minutes, talking to the Lord and placing herself on this day of departure into His capable hands.

T
HE CONDUCTOR’S VOICE CARRIED THROUGH
the Boston depot, calling, “All abo-o-oard! All abo-o-oard!” as Linda Forrest embraced and kissed her parents.

“I’ll write as soon as I get there and give you the address of the apartment or boardinghouse where Blake puts me. I love you both with all my heart.”

Nolan and Adrienne clung to each other as they watched their daughter board the train and sit down next to a window. Still wiping tears, she gave them a forced smile.

The big engine hissed, the whistle blew, and the giant steel wheels began to turn.

As the train rolled out of the station, Linda watched her parents longingly as they stood among the crowd on the platform. Then she squared her shoulders and began drying her tears.

An elderly woman across the aisle leaned her way and said, “Anything I can do for you, honey?”

“No, ma’am. Thank you. I’m going west to get married. I just told my parents good-bye.”

“I see,” said the lady. “Well, I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Linda dabbed at her eyes and smiled at the woman.

The train was now rolling full speed down the tracks. While sitting quietly and listening to the steady rhythmic click of the wheels, Linda breathed a prayer for guidance as she took this big step in her life.

Soon a sweet peace flowed over her and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. A feeling of anticipation replaced the fear in her heart. It was all going to work out, and she would find true happiness
far removed from the devastating tragedy and embarrassing situation in Boston.

She put her mind on Blake and thought about her new life in Cheyenne City. He hadn’t said anything in his telegrams about finding a good Bible-believing church, but by the way he had written in his letters about his church in Sacramento, she knew he must have found something similar by now.

Linda changed trains in Chicago and continued on across Iowa and the plains of Nebraska. Late in the afternoon on the second day of her journey, she heard a passenger behind her say it was only an hour until they arrived in Cheyenne City.

She wondered if she looked presentable. It had been a long and tiring trip, sitting up in the hard coach seats, and she had gotten very little sleep.

Linda left her seat and walked through the swaying coach to the washroom. As she stood at the washbasin and looked in the mirror, she mumbled to her reflection, “What I wouldn’t give for a nice hot bath and a change of clothes.”

She gave her face a quick splash of cold water and combed her shiny auburn hair, securing it rather severely at the nape of her neck, then replaced her small-brimmed hat at a becoming angle on her head. With one final look in the wavy mirror, she straightened her shoulders and mentally prepared herself to meet Blake Barrett.

When she returned to her seat, Linda let her eyes roam over the great rolling plains, which were patched with snow. She could tell the wind was blowing stiffly as it plucked at the barren limbs of the few trees. So this was where she was going to live if everything worked out well with Blake. It was nothing like Massachusetts. The vast open spaces enthralled her. The whole world seemed bigger. Her eyes sparkled with excitement at such a great adventure.

Suddenly, doubts assaulted her mind. She was no longer under her parents’ roof, nor within the safety and security of those walls. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She barely moved her lips as she said to herself, “I could just stay on the train. Not get off in Cheyenne City. Just go on to the next stop and catch a train back home.”

She took a deep breath. “No,” she whispered. “I would just be going back to all the old heartache and embarrassment. I certainly don’t want that. I … I’m sorry, Lord. Please forgive my lack of faith. You’ve made it clear that I should come west to Blake and a new life. I’ll go on to Cheyenne City and let You take care of me.”

Linda thought of Psalm 138:8: “The L
ORD
will perfect that which concerneth me.”

Yes,
she thought, I
must trust His leading.

She whispered a prayer for God’s guidance, and almost instantly a peace stole over her. She looked down at her hands, which were clinched tight, and relaxed them in her lap. She smiled to herself and looked out the window at the vast, windswept prairie.

Moments later the conductor came through the car, saying, “Cheyenne City, ten minutes! Ten minutes to Cheyenne City!”

Linda’s heart thudded against her rib cage and her mouth went dry. The big moment was almost upon her.

Blake’s letters had revealed his heart to her, and she felt she knew it well. His letters had also caused her to form a physical picture of him in her mind. But would she really know him on sight?

The train chugged into the Cheyenne City railroad station to a waiting crowd. When the train ground to a halt, excited passengers grabbed their hand luggage and headed for the nearest door. Linda rose from her seat, took her overnight bag from the rack, and slowly followed.

Her heart was still pounding. When she reached the door and started down the steps, she whispered, “Please help me, Lord.”

As she stepped onto the platform, her eyes roamed the crowd.

There was no tall, blond, blue-eyed man of twenty-seven in sight.

Haman Warner was tingling with excitement and a bit of nervousness as he watched the train roll to a halt.

Soon the passengers were alighting from the coaches. His eyes searched the doors of each coach, eager to catch sight of the young woman in the photograph he had memorized.

Suddenly there she was, standing on the platform, overnight bag in her hand, eyes scanning the crowd.

Haman couldn’t believe his eyes. Linda Forrest was even more beautiful than her picture. His nerves tensed as he watched her look around, trying to find Blake Barrett. He adjusted his hat, steeled his nerves, and threaded his way through the crowd toward her.

When Linda had taken a few steps from the coach, she stopped, letting her eyes sweep the crowd.

Abruptly, she saw a man who appeared to be about six feet in height moving toward her, smiling. He had coal black hair and steel gray eyes. He could be twenty-seven years of age, but his features were less handsome than she had pictured in her mind. Her heart thundered in her breast as she waited for him to speak.

He drew up, the smile still on his lips, and said, “Hello, Linda. I must say, your beauty is greater than the camera could capture.”

“B-Blake?”

“Yes. I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to cover her surprise. Other than his height, he was nothing like she had pictured him.

“You have luggage on the train, I presume,” he said.

“Ah … yes. There are three trunks in the baggage coach. They have name tags on them.”

Haman looked toward the baggage coach and said, “I’ll have them loaded in my carriage.” He pointed toward the parking lot. “See that black one at the second hitching post? Gray gelding in the harness?”

Her eyes followed his pointing finger.

“Go on over there and climb in. I’ll get a porter and have your trunks there in a few minutes.”

Linda studied his back as he hurried away, then took a few steps. She paused and looked back to where she had last seen Blake a few seconds before. Something didn’t click. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she immediately felt her guard go up.

She walked toward the carriage he had pointed out and thought about his letters. He had seemed to be such a gentleman, yet a real gentleman would not have pointed to the carriage and told her to go get in it, He would have walked her to it and helped her climb in.

When she reached the carriage, she laid her overnight bag on the backseat and struggled a bit with her long dress before settling on the front seat. She pondered her meeting with Blake and struggled with the inner feelings disturbing her.

“Linda,” she said to herself in a low whisper, “you formed your own preconceived idea of what he would look like and how he would act toward you. You were wrong, that’s all.” She swallowed hard and told herself to give it time and to dwell on the positive.

The man posing as Blake Barrett arrived shortly, leading a porter who pushed a luggage cart. While the porter struggled to load the trunks in the rear of the carriage by himself, Haman stepped up to the side where Linda sat and said, “We’ll be on our way in a couple of minutes.”

“Fine,” she said, attempting to seem relaxed.

Haman could tell that something was wrong. He feared that Blake may have given her a description of himself in one of his letters.

“Linda,” he said, fixing her with a concerned look, “is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” His question threw her off balance.

“You seem a bit upset. Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Oh, no. Of course not.”

His gray eyes continued to question her.

She cleared her throat. “Blake, there is nothing wrong. I’m just a bit surprised.”

“About what?”

“Well … you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. It’s strange how I had you pictured differently, that’s all.”

“In what way?”

The porter stepped up and said, “The trunks are loaded in the carriage, Mr. Barrett.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

The man’s face showed disappointment.

“Oh! Excuse me,” said Haman, reaching in his pocket for a coin. He laid it in the porter’s hand. “Thank you.”

The porter nodded, then stared at the insignificant tip in his hand and pushed the cart away.