Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (34 page)

“Are you sure you want me for a wife, after the way I stubbornly pushed my grandfather toward something so wrong for him? I almost ruined both of our lives.”

He gathered her in his arms, as he’d done when she injured her ankle. “I’m absolutely certain.”

“Then you don’t need to wait. The answer’s yes.” She tipped her face up. “I love you too, Curt.”

He bent his head and she tasted his lips for the first time. And the second. And the third.

Faith clung to him when he returned her to the ground. She lifted one hand and pressed it against his cheek. “I can’t wait to tell Grandpa—and Rosemary.”

“Let’s tell them together this evening. Rosemary and I will pay a call on you after supper.”

She smiled all the way to town.

R
osemary arrived at the mercantile soon after Faith unlocked the doors. “My goodness, you’re blooming this morning. Knowing those men are behind bars must be a great relief.”

“The first of many. They were Royal’s friends.”

Rosemary’s mouth dropped open.

“I didn’t tell you yesterday,” Faith continued. “I wanted to talk to him first.”

“What did he say?”

Faith’s cheeks heated, remembering his hurtful words. “It’s what I said that matters. I sent him packing, for good.”

“My prayers have been answered.” Rosemary grabbed her hands. “Curt told me you’re staying in Noble Springs, but he didn’t explain why.” Her gaze probed Faith’s. “You’d never have been happy, even if you did get to Oregon.”

“Did he—?” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from blurting the rest of her news.

“Did he what?”

Faith swallowed. “Nothing.” She took a deep breath. “Everyone I love is here in Noble Springs. Why should I leave?” She grinned to herself, thinking of Curt. “The first thing I’m going to do this morning is call on Mr. Paulson at the bank and tell him we’re not selling Lindberg’s Mercantile.”

Rosemary released her and stepped behind a counter. “I’ll take care of customers.” She flapped a hand toward the door. “You go on.”

Faith strode into the bank’s cool lobby with light steps. When Mr. Paulson saw her approach, he rose from behind his desk.

“Miss Lindberg. Please, have a chair.” His face wore a worried expression. “I was planning to stop by the mercantile today. Mr. Allen was here on Monday. He’s found another property he’s interested in. If Judge Lindberg doesn’t sign those papers soon, I’m afraid you’ll lose the sale.”

She passed the cancelled papers across his desk. “There will be no sale. Please let Mr. Allen know he’s free to purchase the other property.”

The banker rocked back in his chair. “Are you sure? This isn’t the first time you’ve told me the mercantile isn’t for sale. If you recall, you changed your mind shortly thereafter. Your indecision puts me in a bad light with Mr. Allen.”

“I’m quite sure. My grandfather and I are staying right here in Noble Springs.”

He raised an eyebrow. “May I ask how your fiancé feels about this?”

“I assume you’re referring to Mr. Baxter. We are no longer engaged.”

“A wise decision, if you’ll pardon my familiarity.” He stood. “I wish you all the best with the business. I’ve seen much improvement in your accounts over the past couple of months.”

“Thank you. I’ve had excellent help.”

Faith ducked inside the doors of the livery on her way home that evening. Curt looked up at her approach and strode to meet her, arms wide.

She hesitated, glancing around the interior of the building. “Where’s Mr. Ripley?”

“He left early. I’ve been waiting for you. Thought the day would never end.”

“I felt the same way.” She nestled close and raised her face for his kiss. Her heart raced when his lips met hers.

“I waited for
this
all day too,” Curt murmured in her ear when their embrace ended.

She twined her fingers through his. “I asked Rosemary if she’d come by this evening and bring some of the special tea she brews for Grandpa. You’ll escort her, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned his beautiful grin. “Can you keep our secret that much longer?”

“It’ll be a struggle. I almost blurted it out more than once today.”

“We’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He put his hands on her waist and lifted her off her feet before planting a kiss on her nose. “Then the whole world can know.”

If happiness were wings, I could fly home
, Faith thought as she skimmed up the porch steps and entered her house. Grandpa smiled at her from his chair in the parlor. “You must have had a good day. Did your talk with Mr. Paulson go well?”

She planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Yes. He knows we aren’t selling the mercantile. In fact, he said our account is looking better and better.”

“Amy made a Dolly Varden cake this afternoon to celebrate the fact that we’re not leaving.” The aroma of cinnamon and cloves drifted from the kitchen, confirming Grandpa’s words.

“Now we can be thankful for the mercantile’s recovery too.” She tamped down the desire to burst out with her news. “Rosemary and Curt will be here later. They can share our joy—and our cake.”

Curt caught Faith’s eye across the table. “Now?” He mouthed the question.

She nodded and stood, her pulse drumming in her throat. “Curt and I have something to tell you.”

She gazed around the room. Grandpa rested his fork on his empty plate, a questioning expression on his face. Next to him, Amy bounced Sophia on her knee. She put a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile, as she glanced from Faith to Curt.

Rosemary’s eyebrows shot up. “You and Curt? What is it?”

Faith walked to his chair and rested her hands on his shoulders. “We plan to be married. He asked me this morning, and I said most definitely yes!”

Grandpa slapped the table, making the plates rattle. “That’s the best possible news. You’ve made me a happy man—two nights in a row.” He beamed at her.

“I should have asked your permission first,” Curt said to him. “I apologize.”

“This has been my hope for months. No apology necessary. Unless you want to apologize for being so slow about it.” He chuckled.

Curt rose and held Faith’s hand as Rosemary ran toward them, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I’ve prayed for this moment.” She clasped Faith in a tight embrace. “I’ve never had a friend like you, and now you’ll be a permanent part of my life. I’m overwhelmed.”

Faith’s tears mingled with Rosemary’s. “I’m overwhelmed too. When I think of how close I came . . .”

Rosemary took a step away. “Instead of looking at what’s past, let’s get busy planning a wedding. Have you decided on a date?”

“Soon.” Curt pulled Faith close to his side.

“Very soon,” she said. “But first Amy and I need to sew a certain ruffled dress.”

W
riting a novel may be a solitary pursuit, but mine would never see the light of day without assistance from many people.

Thanks to Scott and Kristen Melby, and to Leilani Weatherington for providing the local Ozark information that decorated the pages of this book.

Nancy Shaner contributed more than she realized when she suggested I research the steamboat
Arabia
story. Much of the stock on the shelves of Lindberg’s Mercantile was inspired by the contents of the Arabia museum.

Diane Morton was the winner of the “Name That Doggie” contest on my Facebook page. Her entry of “Bodie” as the name for Rosemary’s dog was a perfect fit. Thank you, Diane.

Thanks to my wonderful agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, for being my champion and for providing prayers and unfailing guidance.

Special gratitude to my editors at Revell—Vicki Crumpton and Barb Barnes, who made this novel shine; to Michele Misiak, Cheryl Van Andel, and all the members of the Revell team. Your godly attitudes make the process a joy.

I appreciate the insightful comments provided by my critique partners Bonnie Leon, Sarah Sundin, and Sarah Schartz. Extra appreciation goes to Judy Gann, who interrupted her busy schedule to advise me all the way through the end of the story.

My husband, Richard, contributed two weeks of his time to chauffeur me around Missouri while I researched the location of this series. Thank you for your patience, my love, and for putting up with a wife who spends most of her time glued to a computer.

My highest thanks goes to my Savior, Jesus Christ, who guided the words as they went onto the page. He holds me by my right hand.

Ann Shorey has been a full-time writer for over twenty years. She made her fiction debut with the At Home in Beldon Grove series in January 2009.

When she’s not writing, she teaches classes on historical research, story arc, and other fiction fundamentals at regional conferences. Ann and her husband live in southern Oregon.

Ann loves to hear from her readers, and may be contacted through her website,
www.annshorey.com
, or find her on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/AnnShorey
.

At Home in Beldon Grove

The Edge of Light

The Promise of Morning

The Dawn of a Dream

Sisters at Heart

Where Wildflowers Bloom

Website:
www.revellbooks.com/signup

Twitter:
RevellBooks

Facebook:
Revell