Hope Rekindled (2 page)

But it had never been about embarrassing Stuart. It wasn’t even about denying him the inheritance that they later learned he would have received upon wedding Lizzie. Deborah had never wished Stuart harm; she had only wanted to see her dear friend happy.

And Lizzie could never have been happy married to Stuart—of this Deborah was certain. But now the price being imposed was not only intended for the Vandermarks, but for all of Perkinsville. Stuart was hurting them all because his pride was wounded.

“He didn’t even love her,” Deborah muttered.

“What was that, my dear?” Mrs. Perkins asked.

Deborah realized she’d spoken aloud and shook her head. “It was nothing. I’m sorry. I’m just pondering the past again.” She gave a smile. “I hope very much to forget that which is behind me.”

Mara Shattuck nodded. “There is great wisdom in that Bible encouragement.” The pastor’s daughter was often compared in looks to Deborah, but tonight they were nothing alike. Mara had pulled her hair into a tightly coiled knot at the nape of her neck and had dressed in quite a sedate fashion. It was a concession that she’d even come to the party. Deborah understood that when Mara had lived with her grandmother in New Orleans, they had observed the Lenten period with reverence and piety. They weren’t of the Catholic faith, but even so, they took the opportunity of those weeks preceding Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter to remember the poor and needy and reflect on God’s ministry. Mara had come to the party only after spending the day helping the people of color who remained in Perkinsville.

Deborah admired the young woman who she was quite sure would one day marry into the family. Rob Vandermark, Deborah’s other sibling, had set his sights on Miss Mara Shattuck, and once he concluded his studies at the seminary in Houston, she felt certain they would wed.

The musicians began to return to their instruments. “It looks like we’ll soon be dancing again,” she said with a smile. “My feet already ache, but I have to say, you’ve all made this one of the happiest nights of my life.”

Mother gave her a hug. “I’m sure it’s just the first of many.”

Christopher made his way to Deborah as she bid the last of the guests good-bye. It was getting quite late, and he would have to leave, as well. He leaned against the wall and watched his fiancée, amazed at her ease. She was so accomplished, and not only in this. He’d seen her stitch up a wound or help set a bone without a moment’s hesitation. He’d always hoped to marry a woman who was as capable as his mother. Deborah Vandermark was certainly that and more.

Her grace and calm soothed him in ways he didn’t fully understand. And tonight, she was radiant in her joy. He couldn’t help but admire her fine figure and stylish attire. Just seeing her stirred his blood. He longed to pull her into his arms and spend the rest of his life in her presence.

“You look spent,” Euphanel Vandermark told him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just as soon spend the night here? You are welcome to sleep in Arjan’s old cabin.”

Christopher was more than a little tempted. He suppressed a yawn. “No. I need to head back to town. I’m trying to inventory everything for Stuart Albright. He wants a complete list by Monday, and I figured all week to devote Saturday to it. If I stay here tonight, I won’t want to leave in the morning.”

Euphanel smiled. “Just another week—and then you two will have the rest of your lives together.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t known a week could last so long.”

Arjan moved to Euphanel’s side and put his arm around her shoulder. “We’d best let these two say their good-nights, Wife.”

She smiled up at him and nodded. “I suppose so. Be careful on your ride home, Christopher. I wouldn’t want anything happening to you.”

He chuckled. “If I get hurt, I understand there is a fine woman doctor in these parts. Well, I suppose she’s not a full-fledged doctor . . . yet,” he said loud enough to catch Deborah’s attention, “but I understand she’s quite capable.”

“That she is,” Euphanel said with a quick glance over her shoulder. “That she is.”

Christopher waited until Euphanel and Arjan had gone before approaching Deborah. He pulled her into his arms without warning and captured her lips in a lingering kiss. Deborah melted against him and sighed. Just another week and she’d be his. A few more days. Part of him longed to change his mind and stay the night—if only to be that much closer to her.

He felt Deborah’s fingers on the nape of his neck toying with his hair. He would have to get a trim before the wedding, he thought. He touched the soft skin just under her ear and thought of what it would be like to place kisses there.

Pulling away, he grinned like a mischievous child. Deborah arched a brow in question, but he only laughed and dropped his hold. “One week, Miss Vandermark. A week from tomorrow—you will be mine.”

“Why did we decide to wait so long?” she asked with a pout.

He roared with laughter. “The date was your idea. As I recall you wanted spring flowers and warmer weather.” He walked to the door and lifted his hat from a nearby peg. “I would have married you last fall without flowers or warm weather. I would have married you during the awful cold months of the winter when all of the plains states were buried in snows and hideous cold. I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d just say the word.”

For just a moment, he thought she looked tempted. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “Good evening to you, Dr. Kelleher. I will see you in one week, at which time I will say the only words necessary to seal our arrangement. Until then, enjoy your inventory.”

He shook his head. “You’re a cruel woman.”

She gave him a wink. “I promise to make it up to you.”

D
eborah stood on a dining room chair while her mother and Sissy pinned a hem in the white silk of her wedding gown.

“I can hardly believe it’s the same dress,” Mother declared. “I remember when the huge hooped skirts were all the fashion, and now this.” She motioned to the straighter sleek lines of the gown.

“It was made good,” Sissy commented. “Easy ’nuf to work with quality.”

“I’m still amazed. It looks so much like the one in the magazine,” Deborah commented, gazing down at the delicate silk.

The original gown had been skirted with three tiers of lace flouncing over white China silk. Mother and Sissy had crafted those flounces into a waterfall draping the bustled back. They modified the belled skirt to fit with the fashion of the day, which gave women a sleeker, more slender appearance—at least in the front. The back was another story. Voluminous amounts of material were fashioned over what seemed to be larger and larger bustles. Deborah was glad they’d chosen only a modest bustle. Anything bigger would have made her feel even more self-conscious. Still, she would have worn a bustle three times larger if required. She was marrying Christopher, and the gown was perfect. She felt like royalty—at least what she imagined royalty would feel like.

Deborah had always planned to wear her mother’s wedding gown, and with the need to conserve money these days, it fit their plans all the better. Thanks to her mother’s and Sissy’s skill and the latest copy of
Godey’s
, the masterpiece looked as if it had come from an expensive shop in Paris.

“Now turn and let’s see if we have the hem pinned straight,” Mother commanded.

Deborah took hold of her mother’s hand and carefully turned on the chair. She let go and gripped the back of the chair as she made a full circle.

“It looks perfect.” Mother sounded quite satisfied. “The train is so lovely.”

“Won’t be no problem to finish it up in time,” Sissy said.

Deborah allowed them to help her from the chair. She ran her hands down over the overlaid bodice and basque waist. “I feel like a queen.” She went to the cheval mirror they’d brought into the dining room.

Gently plucking a piece of lace that had twisted on the sleeve, she set it right and smiled. “I have never seen anything more beautiful, and just knowing that you wore this gown first . . .” Tears came to her eyes as she turned to face her mother. “I’m so very blessed.”

Mother embraced her gently. “As am I. I can hardly believe this day has come.”

Deborah pulled away and gave a light-hearted laugh. “Neither can I. It seemed forever in arriving.” She gently touched the modest sweep of the scooped neckline. In just a couple of days, she would be Mrs. Christopher Kelleher. Dr. and Mrs. Kelleher. She giggled. One day it would be Dr. and Dr. Kelleher. Or maybe just “the doctors Kelleher.” She giggled.

“You are getting giddy,” her mother teased. “Let’s get you out of the gown before you do something foolish.”

“I wouldn’t be so silly.”

“Oh, look at you!” Lizzie and Jael declared as they entered the room, each carrying one of Lizzie and G.W.’s twins. Rutger wanted out of his mother’s arms the moment they stepped into sight of his grandmother, however. At nine months of age, Rutger and Emily Ann, or “Annie” as she had quickly been dubbed, were getting into everything and charming everyone.

“I swear, they grow by inches each and every day.”

“I agree with that,” Lizzie said, wrestling her son. “Especially now that they eat from the table, as well as nurse. I can hardly believe they’ll soon have their first birthday. Here it is the end of March; June isn’t that far off.”

Jael cuddled the calmer Annie. “I certainly wish I had a baby so sweet.” Annie laughed and reached up to take hold of Jael’s chin.

“Maybe you and Deborah both will have a baby this time next year,” Lizzie said, her face revealing her delight at such a thought. “Then all of our children could be close in age and play together.”

“I doubt we’ll even be in the area,” Jael said sadly. “Stuart doesn’t like the influence you have over me. He’s jealous of how close we are.” She sighed. “He wouldn’t be if it weren’t for all his revenge nonsense.” She shook her head and shifted Annie in her arms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But it’s the truth,” Lizzie said. “I’m afraid our lives will never be the same because of my bad decision to leave him.”

“Leaving Stuart at the altar wasn’t a bad decision,” Deborah countered. “You should never marry someone you don’t love, and I know you don’t regret doing otherwise.” That comment brought to mind the fact that Jael had married Stuart for less than love. She hurried to redirect the conversation. “Are you both as impressed as I am at what Mother and Sissy have done with this gown?”

“It’s remarkable,” Lizzie said, walking a few steps to see the back. “I can scarcely believe it’s the same piece.”

“We have the hem and waxed orange blossoms yet to sew,” Mother said, “but I’m quite pleased with how it’s turned out.”

“Did the waxed blossoms survive the train trip?” Jael asked.

“They looked perfect,” Mother replied. “The florist in Houston packed them quite carefully. They will make a grand finish to the dress.”

A loud knock on the front door caught everyone’s attention. Rutger immediately wanted to investigate and Lizzie battled to keep him in her arms.

“I’ll get it, since Rutger seems to insist,” she told them.

“Come, let’s get you out of this gown,” Mother said to Deborah.

Deborah nodded and followed her mother from the dining room. They were in the hall near the front foyer when she recognized the sound of Christopher’s voice. Sissy turned, eyes wide.

“Groom ain’t supposed to see you in your weddin’ dress afore the ceremony.”

Deborah froze in place, uncertain what to do as Christopher came into the room. Sissy tried to shield Deborah from sight. “Bad luck for you to be here, suh,” she told Christopher.

“I’m afraid bad luck has preceded me.”

Deborah moved from behind the older woman. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He noticed her gown and his frown deepened. “I’m so sorry.”

She touched his arm. “What is it, Christopher? What has happened?”

Holding out a telegram, Christopher’s gaze never left her face. “I’ve had bad news. Apparently something has happened to my family.”

Deborah took the telegram and read it. The message was short and yet sent a wave of icy cold through her body. “ ‘Family tragedy.’ ” She looked up. “What kind of tragedy? It says nothing about the cause—about what’s happened.”

“I don’t know. It was sent by the neighbor who lives across the street from my family. She and my mother are good friends.”

Glancing again at the telegram, Deborah suddenly grew fearful. The second part of the message was simple.

Come quick.

Mother came to her side. “Do you have any way of contacting the woman to learn what has happened?”

“No. Not really. I could send her a reply, but I’m certain this must have cost money she didn’t have. Even if she got the money from my folks, telegrams aren’t cheap. They could never afford to send a lengthy explanation.”

Something in his expression caused her to tremble. He was going to postpone the wedding. He was going to leave her and go to his family. She braced herself and waited.

“I . . . I have little choice . . . but to go.” The look on his face seemed to plead with her to understand. “I . . . I’m so sorry.”

Light-headedness washed over her. She wondered if Christopher would change his mind if she fainted dead away.

The twins began to fuss, and Deborah heard Lizzie suggest that she and Jael take them to the kitchen. Mother and Sissy offered to help, and before she knew it, Deborah was alone in the foyer with Christopher. A part of her wanted to break into tears and cry aloud at the unfairness of it all. Here she was, just days away from her wedding, and the groom was leaving her at the altar. Well, not exactly.

She thought of Stuart Albright and how he would most likely find this news quite satisfying since she’d played such a big role in ruining his wedding. Perhaps it was justice. Perhaps God was getting her attention—reminding her of the pain she’d caused when she encouraged Lizzie to leave Stuart.

That’s not how God works
, she told herself, trying to gather her wits.
God is just and righteous, and even now, I must see that He is in control of the situation.

“Deborah?”

She lifted her chin ever so slightly. “When will you leave?”

Christopher reached out and cupped her quivering jaw. “I’m hoping to catch the train tomorrow. If not, I’ll take my horse to Lufkin and catch another there.”

Deborah nodded. “I understand.”

He studied her intently. “Do you?”

She blinked several times, hoping to keep her tears at bay. “Your family relies upon you. What choice is there?”

“You could come with me to town. We could have Brother Shattuck marry us now,” he said. “I’m not running out on you. I will return as soon as humanly possible.”

His words offered little comfort; dread gripped her like talons. She wanted to believe that everything would be all right, but nothing seemed further from the truth.

She toyed with the idea of a rushed ceremony, then dismissed it. Mother and Sissy had worked so hard on the dress and other preparations. Surely the wedding would only be delayed a short time—a week, maybe two. It would be pure selfishness to demand Christopher marry her in a rush.

“You won’t be gone for long,” she said, trying to convince herself more than him. “I can wait.”

He shook his head. “But you shouldn’t have to, Deborah. I feel that I’ve put my family before you, and that’s not at all what I want to convey. If I thought I could easily exchange telegrams with Mrs. Maynard, I would. It’s just that I know the financial situation—my mother barely runs the household on what she gets. There’s no money for such things.”

“I understand.”

“And I don’t know anyone else who could afford to act as messenger and shoulder the cost until I could reimburse them.”

“I understand,” she repeated softly.

“I’ve thought about this all the way out here, and I don’t know what else to do but go and see for myself. Perhaps my father has died—or maybe one of the children. If that’s the case, then I’ll have to help with the funeral expenses, and that will take the money I’ve put aside for our trip to Galveston.”

Deborah lifted her finger to his lips. “Christopher. You must go. It’s all right.”

He pulled her into his arms. “But I don’t want to. I’ve looked forward to our wedding day, just as you have. I’ve longed to make you my wife, to share my life with you.”

“And you will . . . we will,” she murmured. Deborah held back her tears. She had to show Christopher that she could be the strong woman he needed.

She let him hold her for a few moments, then pulled away. Stepping back, she held up her hands, as if to ward him off. “You’d better go.”

Christopher looked at her for a moment. “You look beautiful. I can hardly wait to see you in that gown again.”

She smiled, but felt no joy. “That day will come before you know it. Just hurry back to me.”

He nodded. “May I kiss you good-bye?”

She winced, but ducked her head quickly so he wouldn’t see. “I think it might be better if you just went. I have no desire to ever bid you good-bye.”

“Deborah . . .” He let her name fade without saying anything else.

She looked up and could see the battle raging inside him. “I’ll tell everyone that you had to go to Kansas City. Please let us know as soon as you can what has happened. And be confident that we will be praying for you and for your family.”

“They are soon to be your family, too,” he said.

“Yes. In many ways, they already are. I know that if the situation were reversed, you would understand. Family has always been important to us—and always will be. That’s one of the things I love about you, Christopher.”

He stepped forward and pulled her back into his arms. He gave her a brief but sound kiss. “That wasn’t good-bye,” he said, turning to go. “That was a promise of my return.”