Bittersweet (24 page)

Galen slid across the pew and draped his arm along the back of it. As he crooked his arm to encircle Ma, he felt the elbow of his shirt give way. His best shirt had grown threadbare, but he didn’t want Ma to have to sew him a new one. She already worked too hard.

After a pause, Laney and Ruth opened the doors again.

“Awww,” the ladies of the congregation all breathed softly.

Galen tore his gaze off of Laney and grinned at the sight of Mary and Joseph. One of Josh’s striped shirts hung from Dale’s shoulders. Even though it was belted at the waist with a length of rope, the garment brushed the floor. A towel covered Dale’s head, and he gripped a staff in one hand.

Pretty little Greta Newman wore a pale blue shift, and a length of white cloth draped over her dark hair. She gently cradled a blanket-wrapped doll in her arms, and her sweet smile revealed a missing tooth.

Dale’s left arm shot up in the air, and he wiggled his hand until the rolled-up cuff fell back to his wrist. Then he cupped Greta’s elbow and led her down to the front of the church.

All of the other small children trooped in, each of them wearing white paper wings. Bumping and whispering, they arranged themselves all around Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. Laney stood off to the side and directed them as they sang “There Came a Little Child to Earth.”

Burlap sack-clad shepherds arrived next. Then Sean, Colin, and a third boy entered wearing fancy velvet robes and crowns. Instead of going down the center aisle, they formed a procession around the side of the church and sang a song about three kings of the Orient Galen hadn’t heard before.

After the congregation sang “Silent Night” with the children, the little ones all rejoined their parents. Galen watched as Laney slipped back into the pew across the aisle.
Next Christmas, she’ll be
sitting here beside me
.

When Galen focused on the front of the church, he wondered why his brothers and Brett had left the wise men’s gifts on the altar.

Pastor Dawes gestured toward them. “Wise men and women still bring gifts to the Lord. It’s not just something the Magi did on that day when Christ came to earth; it’s symbolic of what we still set at His feet.”

First he lifted the purple velvet box that was heavily trimmed in golden braid. “Gold. It represents how we honor our heavenly King. It’s not just what we give of our finances; it’s what we give of our hearts. By yielding to the process of the fiery trials, we allow God to purify and mold us… .”

Next, the pastor held up a camphor glass box. Intricate silver scrollwork embellished the cloudy white glass. “Frankincense.” He nodded approvingly. “It’s appropriate that we’ve used a white box to represent that gift, because the word
frankincense
actually means ‘whiteness.’ The bark on certain trees in Persia is slit, and a white juice seeps from the wound in tears that must harden for three months before they’re harvested.

“Extremely expensive, frankincense is used as medicine or perfume, but the Israelites also burned it in the temple during worship for its sweet fragrance. Remember, though, that the frankincense comes directly from that tree’s wounds and pain. The lesson we learn from this gift is when we worship the Lord in the midst of our greatest sorrows, it is especially sweet to Him. He knows the tears that trickle from our broken hearts, our hurts, and our repentant spirits are our private frankincense, burned on the altar of our lives.”

Ma huddled closer. She’d been dabbing at her eyes, but she finally turned her face against Galen’s chest and wept in huge, nearly silent sobs. He held her tight and bowed his head.

The pastor went on. “Myrrh is a resin that is obtained the same way frankincense is. Though it’s fragrant, the name means ‘bitter,’ because myrrh tastes acrid. Kept in alabaster, like this urn, myrrh will stay fragrant for more than a century. The bodies of very wealthy people were treated with myrrh before burial. It was also ground up and used in wine to treat pain.

“The wise men took myrrh to Jesus, a fragrant and costly offering; but we see myrrh once again when Christ Jesus refused to accept it as He hung on the cross. Through myrrh, we acknowledge that Christ experienced what it was to be human, to endure the most bitter pain and sorrow.”

Galen pulled his handkerchief from his pocket.
This wasn’t the
sermon I expected, but it’s the one I needed
.

Pastor Dawes spoke just a little longer. After a few other insights, he said, “God’s greatest gift to us came wrapped in swaddling clothes. Wise men knelt before Him. Angels sang. As for us—we worship and praise Him, too.”

The preacher said a fine prayer, and a mere breath after he said amen, the sanctuary door burst open. Ishmael stood in the open-ing, one hand wrapped around Ivy’s arm and the other curled around Galen’s rifle.

“Galen O’Sullivan, you low-down, filthy polecat. You done spoilt my sis.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

G
alen stood and stared at Ishmael in disbelief. “You’re mistaken. I’ve never—” “

Onliest mistake was you thankin’ you wouldn’t get caught.”

Galen shook his head. As he did, he saw Ma’s fright and Ethel’s scowl, but most of all, Laney’s sudden pallor. Anger surged through him. He boomed, “If your sister is in trouble, it’s not my fault. I’ve done nothing. Nothing at all.”

Ishmael flung Ivy forward and cocked the rifle. “Ivy ain’t no flannel-mouthed liar. She named you as her baby’s pa.”

Galen glowered at her. She’d lost her balance when Ishmael flung her forward, and she now sat in a rumpled heap on the floor. Rivulets on her less-than-clean cheeks made it clear she’d been crying. She might well be a woman in trouble, but it wasn’t his doing. “Tell him. Tell him the truth. You know I’m not—” “You ain’t a-gonna bully my sis.” Ishmael raised the rifle. “I’m a-givin’ you a choice: either you marry up with her right now or that parson’s a-gonna be prayin’ over yore sorry dead carcass.”

“I have no reason to marry her. None whatsoever.”

Ishmael aimed the rifle at him. “Shore you do. ’Tis the onliest way yore a-gonna stay alive and breathin’. Y’all sit yoreselves back down. Thar’s either gonna be a weddin’ or a funeral here in jist a minute.”

My rifle. Ishmael went into my house and got my rifle
. The implications behind that were worthy of thought—later. Right now he had to protect his family. Galen edged past Ma and motioned to Colin to scoot them far away as he stepped out into the aisle.

Finally he cast another look at Ivy. He rasped, “We both know—”

“We both know,” Ishmael cut in, his voice shaking with fury, “that whilst I worked yore land, you’ve been visiting my sister.”

“I have not.” Galen stared back at him.

“I got proof. ’Least five times now you done gone and took a poke full of food to her.”

Members of the congregation gasped. Lester’s brows formed a foreboding
V
. Eddie Lufe’s chin hiked upward and his jaw jutted forward. Brothers and sisters in Christ suddenly stared at Galen with undeserved condemnation.

Disbelief speared through Galen. “I left food for you out of Christian charity—nothing more.”

“The part you ain’t sayin’ is you took somethin’ in return.”

“I did not.” Galen glared at Ishmael.

“First time you e’er saw us, you gave Sis a purdy sack she turned into a bodice. I still got three of t’other sacks you put food in.”

Whispers buzzed through the church.

“Them blankets—” Ishmael growled.

“You ruined your blanket fighting the fire. You’d have frozen without the ones Ma sent over.”

“I was a fool, a-thankin’ you brung ’em to be kind. You was makin’ yore bed with my sister. Now yore a-gonna lie in it.”

Galen felt Pastor Dawes step up beside him as Josh flanked him on the other side. Only a few moments had passed since Ishmael burst into the church, but it felt like years. Galen dared to look past Josh to Laney.

Her beautiful brown eyes glowed with … hurt? With fright? Not a speck of color remained in her cheeks.

Josh growled under his breath, “Don’t.” He moved to block Galen’s view of her.

Don’t? Don’t look at Laney? Don’t marry Ivy? Lord in heaven, what
am I to do?

“Yore the parson.” Ishmael lowered the rifle as he spoke to the minister. “Start hitchin’ ’em.”

“Marriage is a sacrament. It isn’t to be entered into lightly.”

“I ain’t gonna stand by and let no man take my sister lightly, neither. Get on with it.”

Galen barked, “I won’t abide raw talk—especially in the house of God or in the presence of ladies.”

Ishmael’s chin rose. “Didn’t mean no disrespect, but I aim to take care of my own. Cain’t keep a secret what you done. They’d all know soon ’nuff.”

“I’ve not …
dallied
with Ivy. I’d never yoke myself—heart, soul, or body—with a woman who wasn’t a believer.”

“You ruint my sis. No other man’s ever gonna want her now, and ’tis yore babe in her belly.”

“Ivy can’t have a baby.” Confusion and fear mingled in Dale’s shaky comment. “A lady has to be married to have a baby.”

“I’m seein’ to it she’s married.”

“Let’s settle this matter in private,” Josh said.

Ishmael raised the rifle. “Time’s far past talkin’. Make thangs right by her, or else.”

Ivy wrapped her arms around Galen’s legs and wailed, “Don’t hurt him, Ishy!”

Ethel huffed, “You compromised the girl. Marrying her is the least you can do.” Several men and women suddenly refused to look Galen in the eyes.

“On the fearsome day of judgment, God will call us all to account for our conduct.” The minister looked from Galen to Ivy and back. “Only you know who is telling the truth here.”

“I refuse to lie. I won’t love and cherish this woman till death parts us.”

“Shoulda thunk ’bout that afore now.” Ishmael closed one eye and stared down the barrel. “Yore honor bound to provide for my sis and the babe. If ’n you don’t wanna say a lotta fanciful words, it don’t make no nivermind. Long as she’s yore wedded wife.”

The anger in Ishmael’s eyes and set of his jaw made it clear he meant business.
Any chance I had to be happy with Laney is ruined. I
can’t ever tell her I’d fallen in love with her
.

“I did take food, but that was all.” Galen watched as Ishmael’s finger curled around the trigger.
I have no choice
. “I promised Da I’d take care of Ma and the boys. I can’t do that if you shoot me. Pastor Dawes, I won’t defile the solemn marriage vows by speaking them at the altar. Let this serve as my pledge. I, Galen O’Sullivan, am hereby bound by no reason other than my word of honor that I will provide for Ivy Grubb and the child she carries.”

His stark words hung in the air.

Pastor Dawes cleared his throat. “Ivy, please stand.”

Ivy rose. She teetered for a second, but Galen refused to reach out and steady her. Bracing her hand against the back of a pew, she stared at Galen’s chest. “I reckon ’tis my turn. I’m Ivy Grubb, and from now on, I’ll be your awful wedded wife. I’ll do my best for you and yore kin.” Her gaze skidded toward the minister. “Guess that does it.”

The pastor heaved a gusty sigh. “May God bless this union. Amen.”

Galen stared past Ivy and watched as Ishmael lowered the rifle. “God had nothing to do with it. This was the devil’s doing.”

Ivy’s nails dug into the fancy wooden church bench. All around her she sensed folks whispering to one another as they scooted away and left the Sunday meetin’ house. Waves of anger rolled off of Galen O’Sullivan. Ivy couldn’t really fault him. But he’d come around in time. That scary-sounding day of judgment the parson talked about … well, if it happened, then she’d face it. It couldn’t be any worse than what she had to deal with now.

Josh McCain said something in a low voice, and Ivy couldn’t understand it—not over the loud thumping of her own heart.

Ain’t nobody gonna be happy with me, but I cain’t let that matter. I done
what I had to
.

Finally, she looked up. Galen’s brothers were all gone. Of his kin, just his ma remained—she was leaning against the parson.

Galen stomped right past Ivy. Ishmael had lowered the rifle, and Galen yanked it from his hands. “You’ve got one hour to gather your things and get off my land.”

“No!” The word tore from her throat.

“My sis—” Ishmael started.

“Is no longer your concern.”

Her legs shook so badly, they barely held her up. Ivy staggered toward Galen. “Please …” Only the word didn’t come out right. She reached out her hand, but everything tilted and went black.

“She’s rousing.”

“I couldn’t care less. Ma, don’t let your tender heart get in the way of good sense. Rattlers aren’t half as deadly.” The wagon jounced over a rut, then he half growled, “I’ll drop you off at the Broken P.”

“Nay, son. I’ll be goin’ home with you and Ivy. Can’t say for sure and certain who’s going to be needin’ me more—you or her. But be there, I will.”

“I don’t want you there.”

“I’ll not interfere. On that, you can depend. And I’ll give you privacy to say what needs saying. But her brother, Galen-mine—”

The way his mama’s voice quavered and died out tore at him. “Don’t you be worryin’, Ma. Ishmael got what he wanted. He’s not about to kill me now.”