Small-Town Dreams (37 page)

“And I love you,” she said simply. Finally.

A smile brightened Jeff’s eyes, though his mouth remained solemn. “Will you marry me, Hope? Will you make me the happiest, luckiest guy in the world?” He pulled a pretty, old-fashioned diamond solitaire off his finger and held it out for her to accept.

Funny, she thought, looking down on his golden head as he slid the ring on her finger. He’d been the one seeking the gold and she’d been the one to win it in the end.

R
oss jumped from the family’s carefully preserved antique open carriage. Thanks to a cool sunny day he’d been able to bring Hope to the church the way every Taggert bride had arrived at her wedding for the last hundred and fifty years. Hope had insisted on it.

She’d always been a funny kid, clinging to some traditions while busting others wide open. So today his horse-training daughter planned to marry the boy next door in a church that used to be a barn while wearing her grandmother’s veil and the latest in wedding dresses.

And she was a vision in the simple sleeveless dress his sister had said was made of something called tissue taffeta. The yards of material were gathered at her waist to form a full skirt, and made her look like the princess he’d always considered her.

Ross tied the horses to an ornamental piece of split rail fence, then went to escort his princess to meet her prince. He squinted as he looked up. The midsummer sun and the bright white dress combined to temporarily blind him. “You’re beautiful, princess,” he said and lifted her to the ground. She weighed less than a feather, but mistaking her delicate stature for fragility was a mistake he didn’t make anymore. That error had gotten him in more hot water over the years than he cared to think about on such a happy day.

“You haven’t called me that in years,” she said, looking at him with her deep blue eyes shining with happiness.

Ross chuckled. “I was afraid of having my head handed to me.”

“Was I that bad?”

“No worse than I was,” he admitted. “It’s hard for a father to let go and stop trying to protect his little girl.” He hesitated. “Hope, if you ever need anything, remember I’m here.”

Hope reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be just fine. I know you worry because he’s still in a chair—”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just that it seems like yesterday that your mother and I brought a fragile little bundle of nothing home and called her Hope Taggert. Now it feels like I blinked my eyes and she’s about to change her name. It’s a lot for a father to take in. But if you have to take another name, I’m glad it’s Jeff’s. He’s a good man. I just wish I hadn’t been so stubborn about him all these years. I let Addison’s lies cheat us out of a lot of good years.”

“Well, we have lots of years ahead to make up lost time.”

“Time!” he all but yelped, checking his watch. “We’d better stop yammering and get you in there before your groom paces all the rubber off his wheels.”

Jim Dillon greeted them at the door. Ross’s problems with God always made him a little uncomfortable with the easygoing preacher, but today it was tough to resist the younger man’s congenial smile.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Dillon said, offering Ross his hand. “Give me a minute to get down front. I’ll signal Holly to start playing the wedding march, then you two come on ahead. Meg and Cole are down there already, the way we decided last night.”

“Okay. Good to go,” Ross said then turned to Hope. “Ready to become a Carrington?”

Her happy smile lit his heart. “More than ready.”

The first strains of the wedding march floated to the back of the sanctuary. “Good thing, ‘cause we’re on.”

Jeff’s two ushers, Curt Madden—tall, muscular and blond—and Manny Hernandez—short, slight and dark—opened the doors. With his eyes, Ross traced the white runner down the length of the aisle to the raised platform. On it sat a flower-bedecked replica of the Laurel Glen entrance archway. Jeff had commissioned it for the wedding as a symbol that Hope might be taking
his
name but he was joining
her
family.

Ross looked to the right and saw something he knew Hope from her lower vantage point could not. Jeff wasn’t sitting in his wheelchair. Ross could see the top of his blond head peeking over the crowd. He couldn’t imagine how desperately Jeff must have wanted to greet Hope at the altar standing on his own two feet if he was willing to risk this. The braces that allowed him to stand were heavy and uncomfortable, and there was always the risk of falling.

Ross started them walking toward the man who was his only daughter’s future, then he squeezed Hope’s hand and leaned sideways a bit to whisper, “Jeff’s standing, princess.”

“I thought he might try something like this,” she whispered back. “He’s been working almost nonstop at his therapy.”

When they got about three-quarters of the way down the aisle the congregation suddenly sat, giving them a complete view of Jeff.

And a wonderful gift.

He stood straight and tall, no wheelchair, braces or walker in sight. Hope gasped then let out a little squeak of a sob. Jeff held out his hand and walked forward a few steps as if he’d been born on those two feet and sturdy legs.

Ross let go of Hope when she strained forward. “Go ahead, princess,” he whispered, “there’s your future standing there on his own two feet.”

Hope looked at him, tears making her sapphire eyes glitter. Then she turned and walked forward toward a golden future….

Dear Reader,

I hope you’ve enjoyed the first book of my new LAUREL GLEN series and the updates on the congregation at the Tabernacle.

Hope and Jeff’s story came to me as I watched a film of a three-day event on television. Due to an injury in my twenties that prevented me from riding, I could relate to never again flying over trails with the wind in my hair. But it was only recreation for me. I could only imagine what it would be like to be at the top of the sport and lose the complete use of my legs.

And so Jeff, the golden boy of the equestrian world, was born—fully grown. What would he do without God to give him strength? He’d need someone who loved him already, since he would, no doubt, be angry and not very lovable. She’d need to be caring but strong. And she’d need to be well centered in the Lord so she could show him what he really needed in his life. And so Hope, voice of Jeff’s conscience, came to be.

Sometimes the Lord just has to knock out all the props to get us to listen to Him and His plan for our lives. Jeff finally listened and found in that golden moment that he didn’t have to be alone ever again because he had a Father watching over him. In books two and three of LAUREL GLEN, Hope’s father and brother will both learn the same lesson and then some.

I love hearing from my readers and can be reached at c/o VFRW, P.O. Box 350, Wayne, PA 19087-0350.

Sincerely,