The Promise of Morning (41 page)
“You’re worth a hundred Marcus Beldons.”
Matthew blinked at her, surprise showing in his eyes. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“I forgot it until . . . recently.” She assumed a brisk tone. “So, what are you going to do?”
“We’ll go to services at Ben’s store tomorrow. I’m eager to introduce Graciana to our community.” A smile flitted across his face. “Afterward, I’ll decide.”
On Sunday morning, the Craig farmhouse rustled with activity. While Matthew helped Harrison button his jacket under the rounded collar of his shirt, he listened to Ellie fuss over Maria and Graciana across the hallway.
“Graciana, with your pink dress on, you two look alike,” Ellie said.
“We don’t look alike. Maria has blonde hair, and mine is black.”
“Your faces are the same. Your eyes, your noses. Go see in the mirror.”
Matthew leaned against the doorframe of the boys’ room and watched as the two pink-clad girls scampered into his and Ellie’s bedroom and giggled in front of the mirror. They dashed back to Ellie.
“You’re right, Mama. We do look like sisters,” Maria said. “But isn’t Graciana my aunt now?”
Matthew stepped into the hall so he could better follow the exchange.
“I don’t want to be your aunt.” Graciana spoke so softly he had to lean forward to listen. “I want brothers and a sister . . . and a mama and papa.”
Tears formed in Matthew’s eyes. He stepped into the girls’ bedroom. He took Graciana’s hand, then used his free arm to draw Maria and Ellie into his embrace. “You have us all, Gracie. Aunt Ellie and I will be your mama and papa.”
“Then I’m your sister.” Maria kissed Graciana’s cheek. “Now come on. Let’s beat the boys downstairs.”
When everyone had gathered in the kitchen, Ellie and the girls served breakfast, their pink calico dresses covered with full aprons. The aroma of hot apple butter swirled upward from a bowl placed in the center of the table. After asking a blessing on the food and their day, Matthew scooped a generous portion of the warmed sauce over his cornmeal mush.
Ellie’s words last evening, that he was worth a hundred Marcus Beldons, kept repeating in his mind—a song that couldn’t be forgotten. In spite of the uncertainty awaiting him in town, he believed he could do anything, even face down his formidable adversary, if he had Ellie by his side
.
Although he was no longer responsible for opening the church building and preparing it for the service, Matthew couldn’t shake his Sunday morning habit of rushing out the door. While Maria dawdled over her breakfast, he slipped his watch out of his pocket and checked to see that they were on schedule.
Ellie’s laughing eyes met his across the table. “We’ll get there. I’m sure Mr. Wolcott’s had everything ready since last night.”
In spite of the uncertainty that awaited him in town, Matthew noted with satisfaction his six-foot-high corn crop as they left the farm. The rain they’d had earlier seemed to have boosted the growth by several inches
.
He turned to his sons, who sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the back seat. “We should have a bountiful harvest this year. Good job, boys.”
“What about me and Mama?” Maria asked. “We worked too.”
“So you did.” He reached out and patted her hand, then stretched past her and squeezed Graciana’s also. “Looks like you girls might get some new dress goods when the crops are in.”
Ellie shot him a wry smile. “Right now, I’d settle for a sack of wheat flour.”
Matthew nodded. “Can’t think why Elder Meecham didn’t send any support money. I hoped for at least a few dollars’ credit at the mercantile.” He drew a deep breath, his nose tickling at the dust that rolled up around the horse’s hooves. “We can get by until harvest time, I expect.”
“We’ll have to.”
August sun pressed down around them. Holding the reins with one hand, Matthew slipped out of his black coat and draped it over the seat. The movement of the wagon drew a cooling breeze over his linen-clad shoulders.
He glanced at Ellie. “Too bad the Lord can’t spread this heat out a bit. We could use it in January.”
She grinned. “That’s when he gives us the ice we’d like to have right now.” They chuckled together at their long-standing joke.
Matthew felt a surge of hope. He’d missed the easy companionship of their marriage almost as much as he missed the physical intimacy.
When Matthew walked into the back room of Wolcott’s Mercantile, he saw dozens of familiar faces from his old congregation. People crowded around, welcoming him, patting him on the back, shaking his hand. He glanced at Ellie and motioned her to come forward with Graciana and the other children.
After she reached his side, he put an arm around Graciana’s shoulder. “This is our newest family member, Graciana. The Lord has blessed us by bringing her all the way from Texas to our home.”
A brief hush fell over the gathering. People’s eyes shifted between Ellie, Graciana, and Matthew.
Molly moved forward. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around the little girl. “Welcome to our family. I’m Reverend Craig’s sister, your Aunt Molly.”
Before Molly stood, Charity Wolcott joined them. She lifted Graciana’s hand and patted it. “How do you do. I’m Mrs. Wol-cott.”
Another woman came up, smiled at Graciana, and complimented her shiny black hair. Soon she was surrounded by a group of twittering ladies, all trying to outdo one another’s greetings.
Matthew sighed in relief.
Ben stepped beside him. “We were just about to start.” He draped his arm over Matthew’s shoulder and propelled him to the front of the room. He pointed to an empty bench. “Got a spot for your family right here.”
After an opening hymn and prayer, Ben stood and addressed the audience. “I know all of us are tickled to have Reverend Craig back. Since he’s a better preacher than I’ll ever be, I’m thankful to have him here to give us a message from God’s Word.”
“Yes!” someone called.
“We missed you, Reverend,” said another.
Their encouraging voices flowed over Matthew like balm. He stood and faced the room. Familiar faces smiled a welcome—Orville and Penelope Carstairs, Mattie and Hettie Sims, even Jack Bryant from the hotel. Near the front, Molly and Karl beamed in his direction. Their children lined the bench next to them.
Matthew smiled back. In that moment, he felt as planted among these people as an oak tree in a thicket. He imagined roots growing from his feet into the soil of Beldon Grove, and his arms spreading like tree limbs around his congregation. Carrying his Bible, he walked to the makeshift podium.
“Wait!” Ellie stood and dashed to his side.
Mouths opened in shock. Matthew stared at her as though she’d lost her senses. A woman didn’t speak out in church, much less occupy the pulpit.
She tucked her arm through his and faced the crowd. He felt her trembling.
“We all want my husband as our pastor, but not here. This isn’t a house of worship, it’s Mr. Wolcott’s storeroom. I say, let’s take our church back.”
Ben hurried forward. “Beldon will be there.”
“I don’t care. ‘Greater is He that is in us, than he that is in the world,’ and Mr. Beldon is definitely of this world.”
Matthew studied his wife’s flushed face. Where had she gotten such courage?
Nods of agreement spread through the room. “Let’s go!” a voice shouted.
His children were already on their feet. “Come on, Papa,” Johnny said. “We can do it.”
Matthew clapped his hat on and strode for the door, stepping out into the radiant morning. When he started walking, thick dust from the street lapped over his shoes and settled on the hem of his trousers. He shook his head. He never seemed to face Beldon without looking like a hayseed. Why should today be any different? Then his thoughts turned to Ellie, who kept pace with him on his right. Their children flanked his other side, Maria and Graciana hand in hand. For a moment he felt invincible.
Man looketh on
the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart
. A flush prickled his bearded cheeks.
Forgive me, Father. I’ve been worried
about all the wrong things.
As they moved past the deserted town square, Matthew glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Ben and Charity and maybe a few of the others following. Instead, everyone who’d been in the mercantile had joined him. The procession quickly covered the remaining blocks of Madison Street leading to the church he’d left many weeks earlier.
When he entered the sanctuary, his confidence plummeted. Elder Meecham sat next to the aisle at the rear of the sparsely filled room. Had he come to install Beldon as pastor?
To Matthew’s astonishment, Meecham winked at him. “I reckoned you’d be here today,” he murmured.
He gestured toward the pulpit where Marcus Beldon stood gaping as the crowd of people pushed their way inside. “Go on up. You’re just in time.”
“See here.” Beldon’s voice thundered into the uneasy silence that filled the room. “You can’t interrupt this church service.”
He wore one of his tailored suits, the golden watch chain glinting against his waistcoat. His meaty hands gripped the sides of the pulpit, defying Matthew to take it from him.
Stepping onto the platform, Matthew eyed his rival. Beldon was as well turned out as ever, but now Matthew noticed the desperation behind his threatening expression.
Beldon laughed—a harsh sound that tore through the sanctuary. “You’re nothing but a farmer, Craig. Why don’t you go tend to your crops? Leave the preaching to someone with a proper education.”
Matthew’s response rose from deep inside. “It’s not education that gives a man the right to carry God’s Word. It’s his heart. My heart’s been right with the Lord since I was a boy. I doubt we can say the same of yours.”
Beldon stepped close to him and lifted his hand, palm out, as though he intended to shove him off the platform. He was near enough for Matthew to notice beads of sweat on the big man’s forehead.
“Do your worst. You’ll find us farmers are a tough lot.” He brushed past him as though he were invisible, and slapped his Bible down on the pulpit.
Beldon’s gaze darted over the congregation, then back at Matthew. After a tense heartbeat, his hand fell to his side. “You want this bunch of clodhoppers, you can have them.”
Face the color of an angry sunset, he stalked off the platform and out of the church. The door banged shut behind him, rattling the windowpanes.
In the shocked stillness that followed, Zilphah Beldon stood. Instead of accompanying her husband, she made her way up the aisle and joined Ellie. Together, the two women moved to the front row. Matthew and Ellie’s children followed. Other members of the congregation settled onto the empty benches. Faces upturned, they waited for their pastor to open the service.
Matthew bowed his head. “Let’s pray.”
“You have to admit, it
is
kind of humorous,” Molly said.
The two families sat on the porch of the Craig’s farmhouse later Sunday afternoon, sipping buttermilk and enjoying the warm Scotch bread Molly provided.
Ellie stopped in mid-reach for another slice. “What is?”
“You thought you had grown brothers or sisters, and the Lord sent you a little girl younger than Maria.” She chuckled. “He always surprises us, doesn’t he?”
