At the Scent of Water (38 page)
Read At the Scent of Water Online
Authors: Linda Nichols
Epilogue
T
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EXT
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Ginny’s heart sagged with disappointment, for, if truth be told, the only reason she had made the journey for the birthday celebration this year was because of the man at the corner table. She had known, somehow, that this would be the end of the story. One way or the other. Which was why she had pestered her daughter until she relented, loaded her into the minivan, and drove her clear up to North Carolina to The Inn at Smoky Hollow, complaining all that way that it was an awful lot of fuss to make for a few old ladies to celebrate their birthdays. Imagene had helped her out of the car, but Ginny had walked into the restaurant on her own steam, using her walker. She had a little weakness on her left side, but she could still speak and think. No matter what Imagene thought.
She had had high hopes for this night, for she had prayed every day the whole year long for the dark-haired man, and she’d felt that settled, joyful feeling that her prayers had been heard and answered. It was clear from the moment she arrived here tonight, though, that she would be disappointed, for as soon as she’d walked in, she’d seen that not only was he not here, but his table was occupied by someone else. She felt a sharp sadness, but she tried to set it aside and enjoy this time with her old friends. They were finished with their suppers now, and she supposed the time had come to perform the familiar birthday rituals.
She sat quietly as they talked around her. Somehow the absence of the dark-haired man made her feel sad and dispirited. They were all failing, she realized. Cora’s health was poor. She had been in and out of the hospital all year. Marie was not here this year because of illness. Susan and Laura both looked feeble and frail. She supposed the same was true of her, and for a moment, before faith rescued her, she felt sad and defeated. She shook her head, though, and resisted those thoughts. She told herself the truth. He was her God when she was young and strong, and He would be faithful to her now that she was old and gray. He would keep her and give her joy, even to the end. No matter where she lived. Whether or not she saw the answer to her prayers. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned. The waiter was at her elbow, holding out something in his hand.
“Ma’am? This came for you by messenger.”
She took it from him. It was a note. On heavy cream stationery, the envelope was addressed with one simple phrase that made her face break into a joyful smile.
To the Lady Who Prayed
. She fumbled with the seal, picked up her knife, and slit it open. Cora clicked her tongue. Ginny ignored her.
Dearest Sister,
As you’ve noticed by now, I won’t be at The Inn this year. My wife and I are celebrating the birth of our daughter. Sarah Eloise weighed eight pounds, seven ounces, and has red hair like her mother. Mother and daughter are fine. I, however, am a little worse for wear. She made her appearance this morning, so from now on I will think of you whenever we celebrate her birth.
I will never forget what you have done for me. God raised you up to hold out hope when I had no hope left, to pray when I had no faith left. And oh, how He has answered! How like the Lord to give more than we asked—blessings poured out, pressed down, shaken together.
How can I thank you? But then, it’s Him I should thank. We serve an awesome God, don’t we?
Until we meet again you remain in my heart and prayers,
The man at the corner table.
PS: Dinner’s on me. Have a happy birthday, and this year wear the red hat with the black feathers. It suits you better than the other one.
“What is it? For goodness’ sake, who’s sending you messages here?” Laura demanded.
“Has Ginny got a beau?” That was Cora, of course. Ever the romantic. Ginny lifted her chin and didn’t answer a thing. She slipped the note into her purse and smiled as the waiters wheeled in a cake—a real cake as big as a hubcap and not that silly little saucer-sized thing they usually brought. This one was pretty—three layers tall and covered with candles, all burning brightly. A waiter slipped from behind the throng. He set a dozen roses on the table—soft creamy white against a royal blue tissue.
“Oh, my word!” Cora looked as if she would faint. The waiter signaled the young server. She came forward and lifted a chic red hat from a box bearing the name of one of Asheville’s exclusive shops. Ginny set it on her head, not even caring how silly she might look. In fact, from their faces, she didn’t think she looked silly at all. She felt a warm fire light her heart and tears well in her eyes. She felt young and strong and beautiful as they began to sing.
About the Author
LINDA NICHOLS, a graduate of the University of Washington, is a novelist with a unique gift for touching readers’ hearts with her stories.
At the Scent of Water
was selected as a Book of the Year finalist by
ForeWord Magazine
. Linda and her family make their home in Tacoma, Washington.
www.lindanichols.org
Books by Linda Nichols
At the Scent of Water
In Search of Eden
Not a Sparrow Falls
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
