Butterfly Palace (39 page)
Drew took a step toward the men. “How did you know to come here?”
Ian approached them. “I followed Mrs. Marshall, of course.”
Drew struggled to understand the past four years. “I have one question. What about the fire?”
Ian glanced at Ballard. “I was never really sure about that. I didn’t want to believe he was guilty, but I had a few doubts. I wanted to allow you enough rein to find out if he played any role in that. Did you start that fire, Ballard?”
The man shrugged. “I believed my cover was about to be blown. I did what had to be done.”
Drew launched himself at Ballard. Squeezing the life from the man would give him the greatest pleasure.
Ian dragged Drew off him. “Let the law handle this.”
Drew stared at Ballard on the ground, who seemed to have no remorse for what he’d done. Lily stepped to his side and took his hand. He curled his fingers around her comforting warmth.
Ian frowned. “I’m sorry, Drew. I was wrong about a lot of things.” The siren wail grew louder, then stopped out by the front of the house. “I believe your ride is here, Ballard. Move.”
Drew pulled Lily tight as the men moved toward the officers running around the side of the house. Justice wasn’t as gratifying as he’d hoped.
The police had just finished putting Ballard in the back of the wagon. Lily sat on the steps to the front of the house with a wool blanket around her shoulders.
Drew approached with Officer Pickle, who seemed to be regarding her with more respect. Drew helped her to her feet, then slipped his arm around her. She relaxed against his warm strength. They’d nearly lost everything tonight. It was a miracle from God they hadn’t died.
“We have everyone in custody now,” Officer Pickle said.
She glanced at Pickle. “Vesters has been picked up too?”
He nodded.
It was over. She sagged against Drew. “What about Jane’s reputation? Lambreth killed Mrs. Karr. He told me so. He was taking the butterfly when she came to the basement.”
Pickle lifted a brow. “If you’ll both give a sworn testimony, we’ll issue a statement about it. I suspect we’ll find the evidence in Lambreth’s lair.” He nodded at them. “Thanks for your help.”
She burrowed against Drew as the officer went to the police wagon. “Now what happens?” she muttered against his shirt.
He pulled her away so he could look into her face. “The first thing you should do is take a bath. You have mud all over your face.”
She laughed and rubbed at her cheeks. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You should look in a mirror.”
“We made it through though, Lily. I’ve never seen anything like the way you leaped at Lambreth with that knife. You’re a strong woman.”
A warm sensation lodged under her ribs. “We make a pretty good team.”
“I’d like to make sure we never break up that team.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and grinned. “I’m beginning to see you under that mask of dirt.”
When she smiled, more mud fell off. “If you make me laugh enough, I might not need a bath.”
His eyes were warm staring down into her face. “I love you, Lily Donaldson. You’re the most beautiful butterfly I’ve ever seen, and I want you to marry me.”
She smiled as his words sank in. “You think our adversity is over?” The thought of finally being able to relax was enticing.
He shook his head. “As long as we’re living, we’ll face adversity.
God is never finished refining us. But at least we can face what comes together. Our wings may get a little tattered, but I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me.”
She hugged him, smelly shirt and all. “You’ll find it impossible to get rid of me.” She lifted her head again. “When I thought he was going to kill you, I realized I can’t manage to keep you safe, Drew. It’s not my job. I could have died first in that horrible place. I’ve been trying so hard to make sure nothing bad happens, but it’s out of my hands. I don’t care what you do. If law enforcement is where your heart is, I have to trust that God is going to take care of us no matter what happens.”
A smile curved his lips. “I’m glad to hear it, honey. Didn’t it feel good today to see justice prevail? To see the good guys win and the bad guys end up behind bars?”
She nodded. “And it’s something you can be proud of, Drew. And I can be proud of you doing such a good work. I’ll go wherever you want.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “How about Africa?”
She punched him in the stomach. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
He hugged her, then turned her toward the automobile. Hand in hand they walked away from the place that had nearly cost them everything.
He lifted her up into the vehicle, then sprang onto the seat beside her. “Where to, future Mrs. Hawkins?”
“Wherever you decide, sir. But kiss me first. I need strength for the journey.”
He let go of the steering wheel and pulled her onto his lap. “I think I need some strength too.”
His lips found hers, and she sank into the promises he made her.
Life wasn’t meant to be safe, but it was meant to be shared. And that was enough for her.
Dear Reader,
Butterfly Palace
is a very special book to me. The past few years I’ve watched my sister-of-the-heart Diann Hunt fight ovarian cancer. In spite of the pain and struggle, Di has held on to a spirit of joy. She’s worked hard to make each day count for Jesus. She’s such an encourager as she has clung to God’s hand while she’s walked this path. Her faith is such an inspiration to me.
Struggle and pain aren’t something to fear. We will all face trials while here on earth. What matters is how we’re dealing with the challenges that come our way. Do we let them mold us into stronger, better people, or do we grouse and complain about our lot in life?
I hope you will take encouragement from Lily’s struggle to embrace the unknown with joy. Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you.
Love,
Colleen Coble
[email protected]
colleencoble.com
1. We all have trials that come our way. What struggle in your life has helped define who you are?
2. Lily and Drew were ashamed of their sexual behavior when they were engaged. How do we let shame change us for the better?
3. I’m a crusader for justice just like Drew. It’s why I write romantic suspense. Is justice important to you? Why or why not?
4. Belle was used to going after what she wanted, no matter what. Have you ever been determined to have something, but you later found out God knew better?
5. Mr. Marshall was obsessed with his butterflies. What can fuel obsession, and how do we bring balance to our lives?
6. I was sad when Jane died, but I had to put it in because evil sometimes wins. The good thing is, we know justice will prevail in eternity. Has there been a time when evil won in your life and you’ve had to turn justice over to God?
7. The more I’ve lived, the more I realize many people wear a mask and it’s hard to see the person inside. Is there some part of your personality you find hard to share with others? Explain.
8. Lily resolved to accept trials in the future and to try to grow through them. Are you going through a trial right now for which you need to be thankful?
I
’m so blessed to be a part of the terrific Thomas Nelson dream team! I can’t imagine writing without my editor, Ami McConnell. I crave her analytical eye and love her heart. Ames, you are truly like a daughter to me. Our fiction publisher, Daisy Hutton, is a gale-force wind of fresh air. Love her dearly! Marketing director Katie Bond is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas and has been completely supportive for years. I wouldn’t get far without you, friends! Fabulous cover guru Kristen Vasgaard works hard to create the perfect cover—and succeeds. You rock, Kristen! And, of course, I can’t forget my other friends who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Jodi Hughes, Kerri Potts, Ruthie Dean, Heather McCulloch, and Laura Dickerson. I wish I could name all the great folks at Thomas Nelson who work on selling my books through different venues. I’m truly blessed!
Julee Schwarzburg is a dream editor to work with. She totally gets romantic suspense, and our partnership is a joy. Thanks for all your hard work to make this book so much better!
My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best!
Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with
great writing friends and critique partners. Hannah Alexander (Cheryl Hodde), Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf and for your friendship. Thank you, friends!
I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. As I type this, he has been free of prostate cancer for two years, and we’re so thankful! My kids—Dave, Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little granddaughter, Alexa! She’s talking like a grown-up now, and having her spend the night is more fun than I can tell you.
Most important, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.
AN EXCERPT FROM
SAFE IN HIS ARMS
T
he town of Larson, Texas, was busy on this warm February day. Cowboys in their dusty boots eyed the women attired in their best dresses strolling the boardwalks. Margaret O’Brien strode down the boardwalk in front of the feed store toward the mercantile. Things seemed to change daily with new stores sprouting like winter wheat. Every day more cowmen arrived in Larson, drawn by the lush grazing land and the water of the Red River.
Pa should be around here somewhere. She nodded to the ladies clustered in front of the general store, the familiar discomfort washing over her. Why couldn’t she look like them? No matter how hard Margaret tried, she remained what she was: too tall and more at home with her hands gripping horse reins than a teacup. She ducked into the store and inhaled the aroma of cinnamon, bootstrap, sweat, and pickles. She busied herself with collecting material for their housekeeper, who had a bee in her bonnet about making curtains.
A cluster of women were talking in hushed whispers about the latest Zulu atrocity in Africa. These early months of 1879 had been full of bloody battles. Hearing such things always made Margaret wince, remembering her brother’s death at the hands of the Sioux.
At least a national monument had been established earlier this year in memory of those who fell during the Battle of the Little Bighorn.
The women fell silent when Margaret paused. “Good morning,” she said in as confident a voice as she could muster. “Anyone know what kind of material to buy for curtains? I thought this was pretty.”
When she held up a lilac-flowered fabric, one of the women tittered, a tiny blonde Margaret had never seen before. Her face burned, and she put the bolt of fabric back.
“How about this one?” a woman said behind her.
Margaret’s heart leaped at the sound of her friend’s voice, and she whirled with a smile. “Lucy, I didn’t know you were in town today. Should you be riding in a wagon in your condition?”
The blond woman laughed again at Margaret’s indelicate mention of Lucy’s pregnancy. Lucy linked arms with Margaret. “I feel fine. You like this pattern? I think Inez will love it.”
Margaret eyed the red-and-white plaid. “It’s a little . . . loud.”
“Cheerful,” Lucy corrected, smiling. Her head high, she led Margaret out of the group. “Silly twits. Now, don’t start moaning about how they don’t like you. They don’t know you.” Lucy shook her head. “And they won’t bother to get to know you if you don’t take a little more care when you come to town.”
Margaret smoothed her hands on her rough skirt. They had come after cattle feed, and she had work to do in the barn when she got home, so she hadn’t bothered to change. She should have put on a nicer dress. “It was too much bother since I had to help load feed.”
“It’s worth it, Margaret.” Lucy glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. “Nate is going to be looking for me.” She hugged Margaret. “I’m so glad I saw you. You’re coming to the party, aren’t you?”
“Sure. I’m not going to dance, but I’ll come keep you company.” Smiling, Margaret watched her friend waddle away. Dear Lucy. She
had barreled past Margaret’s prickly exterior, and they’d become fast friends. Lucy was easy to trust. She was all heart.
Margaret had her purchases put on account, then stepped out into the sunshine.
Cattlemen had driven herds of cattle through here more than an hour ago, but the dust and odor still lingered in the air. Her father motioned to her from in front of the stagecoach station. Calvin stood close behind him.
