Everyone sat down to eat at the tables
that had been set up, much like the ones that had been used at the
church social.
It was a wonderful day, full of toasts
and good wishes and more happiness than Emily had ever known in her
whole life. She had a husband who loved her, a fine daughter, and
good friends. If she had asked them which fork went with a seafood
cocktail, she doubted any of them could have told her.
And what a relief that was.
~~*~*~*~~
That evening after everyone had
finally gone home, Luke and Emily settled on the front porch to
watch the sunset and gaze upon their new henhouse. She had a cup of
tea and he had a glass of whiskey. They were tired and happy,
mindful of the past and excited about their future.
“
Wasn’t that nice of Fran
Eakins to give us the paint
and
the chickens for the new henhouse?” Emily
asked.
“
Considering what a miserly,
sour pickle that woman is, I’m surprised she did it.” He took a sip
of the whiskey.
“
Luke!”
“
Well? Weren’t you
surprised?”
“
Well . . . yes,” Emily admitted, grinning.
“She was sweet on you, you know. She wanted to marry you. So did
Clara.”
“
God, what a thought, to be
sitting here with either of them now instead of you. One of them
staring at me from under those beetle brows, and the other
congratulating herself and fishing for compliments.” He
shuddered.
“
No, I wouldn’t have liked
that either.”
“
So do you like your wedding
present?” he asked. He’d given her two matching rocking chairs for
the front porch. “You don’t think they make us seem like old
people, do you?”
“
Of course not.” She pushed
hers into motion. “Besides, I plan to be here when I’m old, too.
I’ll still need a place to sit on the porch.”
He leaned over and gave her a
whiskey-flavored kiss that reminded her of the first night they
made love. She inhaled the fumes and deepened the kiss, which he
responded to in kind.
“
Hmmmm, Mrs. Becker, I
believe you’re trying to seduce me.”
She giggled. “What, me? The innocent
old-maid etiquette teacher from Chicago?”
He dropped another soft kiss on her
mouth. “Not an old maid anymore. Oh, before I forget—” He leaned
over and picked up a roll of paper next to his chair. It was tied
with a pretty blue ribbon. “This is Rose’s wedding gift to us. She
gave it to me just before the Mannings took her home to their place
for the night.” He handed the roll to Emily and she took it with
the same reverence as she would a valuable museum piece. She knew
what it was.
“
I’ve seen this paper
before. This is what my dress material came wrapped in. Rose asked
me for it because she thought it would be good for drawing.” Emily
slipped the ribbon off the tube and unrolled the paper.
“Oh . . . ” Her eyes filled with
tears.
“
Well, would you look at
that—”
The scroll, which was about seven feet
long, was a history of the Becker family, beautifully drawn by
Rose. Emily remembered how angry Cora had gotten when she found
this. It began with Luke and Belinda holding hands in front of the
house, and then Rose joined the picture. It progressed depict to
Belinda’s grave in the hillside cemetery, and Cora joined the
picture. Then Emily came along. It ended with Emily, Luke, and Rose
standing in front of the house, the oak tree gone, and Cotton’s
grave in the background. Lucy scampered in a nearby meadow and a
fat sun seemed to shine down on everything
“
I didn’t know she could
draw this well,” Luke marveled.
“
I did. I saw her work when
I first got here.” She told him about the Bayeux Tapestry and how
it had inspired Rose to create this scroll. “If she wants to pursue
art, I think we should encourage her, Luke.”
“
You’re the teacher, Em, and
an amazing woman besides.” He kissed her again. “But you were wrong
about one thing.”
She chuckled. “What, just
one?”
“
Yeah, so far.”
She poked him with her
elbow. “And what was I wrong about,
so
far
?”
He gave her a tender smile. “You
didn’t need that bridal veil to make you beautiful, honey. You just
needed love.”
Emily’s throat closed, and she knew he
was right. She had the love of a grand man and a wonderful
daughter. If she had beauty now, they had given it to
her.
And it was the best gift she’d ever
received.
XXX
About The Author
Alexis Harrington has been
writing and publishing fiction since this book,
Homeward Hearts
, first appeared in
print in 1994. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, on the green
side of the Cascade Range.
Contact Alexis:
http://twitter.com/AlexisHarringtn
Other titles available by Alexis
Harrington on Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/alexisharrington