And Then Came Spring (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

For the longest moment he stared at her. “Is it something I did?” he asked at last.

“No.”

He glanced at Eddie's bedroom door. “I know he can be a handful but—”

She shook her head and moved away from him. It was the only way she could keep her wits about her. “My decision has nothing to do with Eddie.” Actually, she had grown quite fond of the boy and would miss him terribly.

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Then why? I thought . . . we'd made headway.”

She swallowed hard. No doubt he was referring to the kiss in the barn. Her cheeks burned with the memory. “I can't be a sheriff's wife. I'm sorry. I just can't.”

“Because of Dan and your other fiancé?” He didn't wait for an answer. “And you're afraid something will happen to me.”

“Something
did
happen to you.” Tears burned her eyes and she blinked to hold them back. “You were nearly killed.”

“But I wasn't.”

She hugged herself to ward off a sudden chill. “I'm just not lucky where men are concerned.” She wasn't lucky at all.

Anger flashed in his eyes and his face grew dark. “I don't believe in luck. I only believe in God.”

“I believe in God too.”

“But you don't trust Him,” he said.

“Do you blame me?” she lashed out. This time there was no holding back the tears. “If He's so trustworthy, why does He let bad things happen? Answer me that!”

“I can't,” he said quietly. “I don't think anyone can. Dan's death is about as bad as it gets, but God can take something like that and turn it into something good. That's what I believe He's trying to do here.”

“I—I wish I could believe that.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But I can't.”

He beckoned her with his one good arm. “Mary-Jo, please, we'll work this out. We'll find a way.”

She shook her head and her heart squeezed in anguish. Why was this so hard? It wasn't as if she loved him. She'd only known him for a short time. What she felt wasn't love, couldn't be love. And yet, in some ways it felt as if she'd known him all her life.

“Nothing you say can make me change my mind. I'm leaving on the morning train.” He started to say something, but she cut him off. “Don't try to stop me.”

A look of despair spread over his face. “At least let me drive you to the station.”

“It's better if you don't.” The harsh reality of a future without him hit her full force and she fled the room in tears.

•••

It was a good mile-and-a-half hike to the train station and Mary-Jo had to keep stopping to rest her arm. It was hard to know what was heavier: her sewing machine or her heart. Still, she arrived nearly an hour early. She cried most of the way. Whenever she was tempted to turn back, she deliberately stepped on a crack. While passing through town she walked under a ladder and then she chased a black cat until at last it crossed her path.

She did everything possible that morning to tempt fate so as not to turn back; it was only a matter of time before something awful happened. To go back now would only subject Tom and Eddie to the bad luck that was surely heading her way, and that she would never do.

Tom
. Just thinking his name nearly shattered what little control she had left. If only she could have his faith. She wanted to put her trust in God but she didn't know how.

For as far back as she could remember, everything, from the roof over her head to the food on the table, was the result of her father's luck at the gambling tables. He even blamed her mother's death on an unlucky roll of dice.

How much easier life would be if she could leave everything to God and not have to worry about every little wayward grain of salt. If only . . .

Ticket in hand, she lowered her sewing machine next to the wooden bench and sat.

She tried not to think of Tom. Better to concentrate on the people around her. A woman walked by holding two small boys by the hand. A man with a walrus mustache and a cane sat on the other end of the bench.

A boy around Eddie's age ran past her and she closed her eyes to block him from view, but that only brought back memories of Tom and how much she had hurt him.

She shook her thoughts away and chewed a fingernail. Tom's voice came back to haunt her.
“God
can
take
something
bad
and
turn
it
into
something
good . . .”

What if Tom was right? She wanted so much to believe that was true, but it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. It was only a matter of time before her reckless stepping on cracks and walking under ladders that morning caused something awful to happen
. Let's see what God will do then!

And so she waited.

Nothing fell from the sky.

The station didn't collapse.

The world didn't end.

She opened her reticule and pulled out her father's lucky playing cards. Holding them in her hand, she hesitated. Finally she flung the pack into the trash receptacle behind the bench.

She waited some more. Still nothing bad happened.

The train pulled into the station in a cloud of hissing steam and came to a screeching stop. Passengers filed off in orderly fashion. People called to each other and hugged. Minutes passed and no one fell or suffered a mishap. She turned to retrieve the playing cards, but something stopped her.

The deck of cards was the only gift her father ever gave her. That was why she'd held on to them all these years. Now they only reminded her that gambling had ruined his life and pretty near ruined hers too. It might not be possible to throw away unhappy memories, but leaving the cards in the trash might well be a start.

“All aboard,” shouted the dark-skinned conductor hanging from a handrail.

She reached for her sewing machine, but all that greeted her grasping hand was empty space. She looked down. Oh no! Her Singer was gone!

Jumping to her feet, she quickly glanced around. No, no, no! Don't let this be happening!

She stopped a woman cradling an infant in her arms. “Excuse me, ma'am. Did you see anyone carrying a wooden case this size?” She indicated the length with her hands. “It was a sewing—”

The woman shook her head and kept going.

At her wit's end, Mary-Jo ran toward the train, her sweeping gaze checking each passenger's baggage.

“Sir!” she called to the conductor. “Someone stole my sewing machine.”

“Report it to the stationmaster.” He tossed a nod to the ticket booth and vanished inside the passenger car.

The train whistle sounded and the train began to move. It was taking off without her, but she couldn't leave without her precious sewing machine. She knew it! She knew something awful would happen.

She should never have stepped on all those cracks or thrown away her father's lucky playing cards. Or chased the cat or . . .

Let's see you make something good out of this, God!

Wiping tears away with a gloved hand, she rushed toward the ticket booth. A large crowd stood waving good-bye as the train pulled out of the station and she elbowed her way through. “Excuse me, excuse me . . .”

Was that her sewing machine in the distance? On the platform? Heart pounding, she bobbed up and down trying to see over the mass of hat-covered heads.

The crowd finally thinned and she worked herself free. In an instant she forgot about luck, good or bad. She forgot about everything but the two people standing on either side of her Singer.

“What . . . what are you doing here?” Her temper flared. “I told you not to come!”

Tom's gaze pierced the distance between them. His arm was still in a sling, but he looked no less strong and vibrant. “I know what you said.” His eyes darkened with emotion. “But I suddenly realized I couldn't let you go without a fight.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “You said it yourself—I'm a warrior.”

Her heart had been broken many times, but this was the first time she felt it melt. No one had ever cared enough to fight for her, and she didn't know what to say.

Tom continued, “Actually, you can blame Eddie. He said you wouldn't get on the train without your sewing machine.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Eddie stepped forward, an eager look on his face. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

He nodded and placed a rabbit's foot in her palm. “It's supposed to bring good luck. Uncle Tom said it would make you feel better and maybe even convince you to stay.”

Fighting back tears, she gazed at the lump of fur in her hand. Making such a concession couldn't have come easy.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She was touched, but more than that, she saw the rabbit foot for what it was—a sham. She now realized how foolish it was to put one's trust in something as random as luck. She'd done everything possible that morning to tempt fate, but nothing awful had happened.

Tom said God could take something bad and turn it into something good, and she wanted to believe it was true. Gazing into his loving eyes, she
did
believe it. She believed it with all her heart. For once in her life her anxiety about the future was gone, melted away like a winter thaw followed by the warmth and promise of spring.

“I don't think I'll be needing this rabbit's foot.” She pressed the furry paw into Eddie's palm. “I'd rather put my trust in God.”

Tom's eyes softened with gentle understanding. “Does that mean I can resume a proper courtship?”

She smiled. Not only was he the most handsome man she ever set eyes on, but he wore his new family status so well. “Not
too
proper, I hope.”

With a happy whoop, Tom wrapped his one good arm around her waist and pulled her so close their hearts beat as one. He then gave her one very improper kiss.

“Does that mean you're going to be Uncle Tom's cantaloupe bride?” Eddie asked.

Mary-Jo laughed and ruffled Eddie's hair. “Only if you let me be your cantaloupe ma.”

Eddie flung his arms around her waist.

Blinking back tears of joy, she was just about to say that she was the luckiest girl alive, but stopped herself just in time. This wasn't luck; this was a blessing from God and for that she gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

As if to read her mind, Tom lifted his gaze to heaven as if he too said a silent prayer. He then smiled at his new family. “Come on, you two. All this talk about cantaloupes is making me hungry.”

Reading Group Guide

1. Mary-Jo's most prized possessions were a deck of cards and her Singer sewing machine. One represented the past; the other her hopes for the future. How did those playing cards keep her from embracing God's plan and giving her heart fully to Tom?

2. Mary-Jo blamed luck for everything good and bad that happened. What do you think was the biggest influence in helping her learn to put her faith in God and His wondrous grace?

3. Tom had some preconceived ideas about mail-order brides in general and Mary-Jo in particular. He was soon to learn the error of his ways. Have you ever judged someone negatively in advance, only to change your mind in a positive way later?

An Excerpt from
An Ever After Summer

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11
niv

Prologue

Widowed
rancher
looking
for
practical
woman
to
keep
house
and
be
a
mother
to
his
two-year-old baby girl. Bible believers need not apply. Mathew McConnell, Honey Springs, Texas
.

Sitting at his desk in the office of the
Hitching
Post
Mail-Order Bride Catalogue
, Melvin Hitchcock scowled at the letter.

“The man is wasting his time.
And
his money,” Melvin grumbled, shaking his head. The ad had been in the catalogue for weeks with no response—other than a few letters from candidates of ill repute whom Melvin quickly disqualified, after all, there was a child's welfare at stake!

Melvin knew something had to be done or the widower would lose patience and blame the lack of response on the catalogue.

It was time for action.

Melvin picked up his pen. Tapping it on his chin, he thoughtfully studied the letter . . . a widower. Mathew McConnell was obviously still grieving the loss of his wife these two years and not in his right mind. Why else would he forgo the qualification that any loving father would want for his children? No, this lonely, grieving widower needed love as much as his baby needed it . . . and from a woman with God on her side if she was to be of any help at all.

Intent on his task, Melvin tweaked a sentence, removed a few words—only a slight change but enough. Pushing his spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose, he read the new ad. “Yes, yes, this will do nicely.” It had a certain ring to it. A certain romance that would speak softly to a woman of a tender heart and a godly belief . . .

There would be responses now. And Melvin trusted that the good Lord would show him exactly the right young woman whose letter he should forward on to Mathew McConnell—that baby needed a mother. She'd already been waiting far, far too long.

Anticipation filled Melvin, helping lonely couples was a calling. He had a way with words, and an inexplicable ability to read a letter and know what someone really needed.

Oh yes, he did indeed. It was a God-given ability, and Melvin Hitchcock had no qualms admitting as much or plans to let such a gift go to waste . . .

“Bible
believers
need
not
apply”—ha!
Indeed they should and they would or his name wasn't Melvin Hitchcock of the very well-received
Hitching
Post
Mail-Order Bride Catalogue
!