Lady of Light (19 page)

Never in her wildest dreams of coming to America had she envisioned a big, brand-new home of her own. Time and again, Claire had to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming as she visited the construction site several times each day. She only wished there was more she could personally do to help with the house.

“Oh, your work will come soon enough,” Abby laughingly commiserated with her as they drove to Grand View that first Sunday after Claire and Evan’s arrival. “Just wait until you move into your new home. The men most conveniently disappear whenever you need help moving a piece of furniture or hanging curtains. Luckily, you’ve got Hannah and me to help you.”

“I can’t wait.” Claire glanced over her shoulder at the small caravan trailing behind them. Besides her and Abby in the carriage, there was Beth with Sean in her arms. Alongside her sat Ian. Devlin, Hannah at his side and Bonnie and Jackson between them, followed in the buckboard, with Devlin Jr. and Mary sitting in the back. Evan and Conor brought up the rear on horseback.

Luckily, it had rained last night and the roads were still damp. After the dusty trip from Grand View that day they had arrived on the train, Claire was grateful for small favors. She imagined, though, that she’d sooner or later be eating her share of dirt out here on these dry plains.

As they topped the last hill separating them from the sight of Grand View, the bell of the Episcopal church began to ring. The sound filled her with anticipation. It would surely seem more like home, once she had again worshiped in the Lord’s house.

Not that the plain wooden structure with the gabled, clear glass windows and tall steeple looked at all similar to the old, mossand ivy-covered stone church of St. Columba. But then, not much out here in this windswept grasslands looked like home. Still, the people seemed kind and generous, and they did speak essentially the same language.

Eight buggies and four buckboards were already stationed around the church. Abby halted the horses, set the brake, and climbed down. Claire soon followed her, taking Sean from Beth. As they waited for the rest of the Culdee Creek clan to join them, Claire looked around her in fascination.

Women dressed in their Sunday best, feathered, flowered, and beribboned hats on their heads, strolled up to the house of worship on the arms of black- or brown-suited men, calling out to one another in greeting as they went. Children scampered around them with frenzied glee, seemingly in pursuit of their last opportunity for freedom before settling down into their church manners. To Claire, the happy, chaotic scene was heartening. The pastor, whoever he was, was evidently a wise, tolerant, paternal man.

Just then, a dark blond-haired man who looked to be in his mid-twenties and an older woman stepped out onto the landing before the church’s front door. Attired in long robes, he began to greet each person by name as they paused briefly before entering the church. Realizing that this must be the wise, tolerant, paternal pastor—who she had assumed would be markedly older—Claire could only gape in astonishment.

“That’s Noah Starr, our pastor, and his aunt, Mildred Starr,” Abby offered, noting Claire’s look of surprise. “Noah’s only been pastor a little less than two years, since his uncle died unexpectedly of a heart seizure. He’s done a wonderful job, though. Everyone loves him.”

She could well imagine all the young women of Grand View loved him, Claire thought, if for less than properly reverent reasons. The Reverend Noah Starr was quite attractive, with his wavy hair, well-molded mouth, and finely hewn features. Though only of moderate height, even the voluminous robes failed to hide his powerful body and aura of physical strength.

Claire could only hope the Reverend Starr might someday fill even a portion of the role Father MacLaren had so skillfully and lovingly occupied as spiritual advisor. She prayed that it would be so, for her journey back to the arms of a loving God had only recently commenced. Not until the day she had told the old priest about that awful night, had Claire finally caught a glimpse of the miracle of God’s mercy and forgiveness. Not until that day had the terrible wounds even begun to heal. And now, though she admittedly fell by the wayside from time to time in her weakness, she tried so much harder to follow the Lord.

Evan, Conor, Devlin, Hannah, and their children soon joined them. As Culdee Creek’s owner stepped up to take his wife by the arm, Evan moved to Claire’s side. “Are you ready for church, Mrs. MacKay?” he asked, smiling down at her with husbandly pride and possession.

She smiled. “Aye. It will be the first time, though, that I’ve set foot in a church other than Catholic, so you’ll have to help me with the prayers, and all the proper times to sit and stand.”

As they headed up the church steps behind the rest of the congregation, Conor glanced over his shoulder at her. “Once you get used to it, I think you’ll find more similarities than differences. After all, we all serve the same God.”

“Aye, that we do,” Claire murmured in fervent agreement. “That we do.”

11

Acquaint now thyself with Him, and be at peace: thereby good shall come unto thee.

Job 22:21

The Reverend Noah Starr was a surprisingly good preacher. Despite the occasional whispers and curious stares slanted in her direction by some of the congregation’s female persuasion, Claire soon found herself both transfixed and inspired by his words. Words full of God’s love that inflamed her heart, just as had those of Father MacLaren’s.

By the time the organ’s final bass notes faded and everyone began putting away their hymnals, Claire’s joy was complete. She was in a foreign land, but already she felt welcome. She had found a new church, a church where truly the spirit of God dwelt.

The Reverend Starr and his aunt awaited them outside. Sparing no time on social niceties, Mildred Starr immediately walked up and took Claire’s hand. A matronly older woman, her heavily silvered brown hair plaited into a single braid and twisted at the top of her head to form a neat, tight bun. Her eyes were a bright blue, her cheeks plump and rosy, and what seemed an almost perpetual smile was on her lips. She reminded Claire so strongly of her and Ian’s beloved old English nanny, Janie Hampton, that Claire couldn’t help but feel an instant bonding with her.

“Welcome, welcome,” the woman said, patting her hand. “I’ve been so eager to meet you ever since Conor told us you were coming, that I near to forgot myself and rode out to the ranch several times in the past few days. But my nephew here,” she added with a wry glance in the priest’s direction, “insisted I give you some breathing room.”

“Not that the breathing room lasted very long,” Noah Starr good-naturedly observed from behind her. “I’m surprised you didn’t come equipped today with a cake in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.”

Mildred laughed. “Oh, that’ll commence soon enough.” She turned back to Claire. “In fact, if everyone has time, I’d like to invite you all over for some coffee and cake right now. So as how I—and Noah, too, of course—can get to know Claire and her brother a little better and catch up with all that’s happened with Evan, too.”

Claire cast her husband a hesitant look. “Well, it would be most hospitable of you, Mrs. Starr, but I don’t know if—”

“Millie,” the woman was quick to correct her. “Call me Millie. Most folk do.”

“Well, Millie,” Claire tried again, “I don’t know what plans all the MacKays have for today. Mayhap it would be best—”

“Oh, pshaw,” Millie again cut her off, this time with a laugh. “The MacKays always have time for a visit and some sweets. Don’t they, children?” As she spoke, she glanced for confirmation from Devlin Jr. to Mary and then to Beth.

An eager expression on his freckled face, Devlin Jr. nodded so hard a lock of carrot red hair fell onto his forehead. “Sure do, ma’am,” he replied. Then, as if remembering himself, he glanced up at his father. “If it’s all right with you and Hannah, Pa.”

Devlin studied his son for a moment, tugged at his long, dark mustache, then turned to Hannah, who nodded her permission. “It’s fine with me if we stay on a bit and visit with Millie and Noah. That is,” he quickly amended, “if it’s all right with Conor and Abby.”

Abby laughed. “Oh, we can stay for an hour or so, I’d imagine.”

“Then it’s settled.” Millie took Claire by the arm and began to escort her down the church steps. “Noah can catch up with us just as soon as he puts away his ceremonial frocks. And, in the meanwhile,” she continued, glancing at Claire, “tell me all about your trip to Colorado, and about how you met Evan, and your home in Scotland.”

For an instant, all Claire could do was gape at her. She had never known anyone quite like the gregarious, take-charge Millie Starr. Gazing down in the older woman’s bright blue eyes, however, she could see the true friendliness and caring compassion that already seemed such an integral part of Millie’s character. Claire sensed that Millie’s only intention was to ease her way, and make her feel at home here as soon as humanly possible.

“Well,” Claire began as they walked along, “the journey here was quite an experience. New York harbor was a sight to behold and—”

“Oh, I just thought of something!” As if in amusement at her own forgetfulness, Millie laughed. “Do you sew?”

“Aye,” Claire cautiously replied. “I can sew, though I haven’t had much time of late to do so.”

“Next Wednesday.” She nodded firmly. “The Grand View Ladies Quilting Society meets in the town hall. We always work on someone’s quilt and visit and, of course, have refreshments. Can you come? It’d be a perfect way to meet most of Grand View’s ladies and make some new friends.”

Misgiving, mixed with a sudden attack of shyness, filled Claire. “But I don’t know aught about quilting. Mayhap another time …”

“Oh, pshaw!” Her companion gave a disbelieving snort. “There’s not much more to it than the fine stitchery that goes into most things. And we’ll teach you what else you need to know. Besides, you’ll soon find a need for some warm quilts. Colorado winters can be brutally harsh.”

Somehow, Claire knew it was next to pointless to argue with Millie when she had her mind already made. “Well, if you don’t think I’ll be in the way….”

“In the way!” The older woman gave her hand a squeeze. “Why, missy, you’ll be a breath of fresh air, that’s what you’ll be. And, to welcome you to the quilting society, I know just what I’ll make to celebrate the occasion.”

The children scampered before them, as the adults followed behind. They walked through the open gate of a white-picket-fenced front yard, past flower beds brimming with hollyhocks, delphiniums, daisies, and rose bushes, and up to a single-story wooden house. In the corner of the yard a huge, gnarled tree towered like some gentle despot. Such a pretty place, Claire thought. Welcoming, cheery, and overflowing with bounty. Just like Millie, she realized, the consideration heartening her.

“Yes, a nice apple spice cake and a sour cherry pie will do for starters,” Millie murmured half to herself. “And I’ll get Sarah Dalton to cook up some of her delicious peanut brittle. And Maisie Wilkins makes a delicious fruit punch ….”

As she followed her hostess up to the front door and walked inside, Claire couldn’t help but smile to herself. Aye, Millie was indeed a lot like Janie Hampton. And Janie had been more a mother to her and Ian than their own had ever been.

“I might as well warn you right now about Old Bess,” Abby informed Claire two hours later, after returning to the ranch. “She’s a good cookstove, but she has a mind of her own. Get too flippant or in a hurry with her, and she’s sure to teach you a lesson.”

A bemused smile on her face, Claire squatted beside Abby in the kitchen before the big, cast-iron cookstove. She had to admit she had never heard of a stove being addressed as if it had a personality, much less a temperamental one. But then, she had never cooked on such a magnificent, if monstrous, piece of black iron before either. A simple hearth fire and an iron kettle or girdle had been the extent of her cooking aids.