The Healer's Touch Page 21

  Returning his grin, she softened her features.

  He winked, flirting with her.

  Turning back to the casket, she prayed for time to fly. Slowly, the minutes turned into hours. Lyric’s back ached from sitting upright. There was no rule that one couldn’t speak during a wake, but everything that could be said about Edwina had been voiced earlier and in a matter of minutes.

  Lyric’s head bobbed when she threatened to drift off. Jerking upright, she froze when she saw a prominent member of Bolton Holler had shown up. A gray—then green—light sat atop Edwina’s casket, dimly blinking. The light—that silly, irrepressible light—had come to pay its respect to the Holler’s most feared resident.

  Lyric glanced around the room to see if others had spotted the nuisance. Ian’s head lolled back and a half-snore escaped.

  Boots buried her head in a blanket on the floor.

  Lyric jabbed her sister. Lark stirred, murmuring something, and drifted off again.

  The light moved slowly, creeping along. Glowing brighter, it skipped to the top of the casket and appeared to sniff the fresh violets, then inched along the top of the roughly hewn box—momentarily disappearing inside. Eyes focused on the spectacle, Lyric watched in spellbound fascination.

  When the brilliance emerged seconds later, it bounced up and down, up and down—higher and higher with each joyful bounce.

  Then slowly it shifted in her direction. Pressing back in her seat, Lyric tried to avoid the encroaching radiance, for the first time in her life frightened by the object.

  The dazzling ray adjusted speed and moved her way. In seconds she realized it was perched on her head. Not daring to move, she sat transfixed as it bounced, very softly, as though patting her head, offering tender sympathy.

  This was completely insane. A light did not offer sympathy.

  The light was some crazy phenomenon that had grown to inhuman proportion in people’s minds. Yet she couldn’t deny that a vivid object now lit the room, as though restoring happiness and life in this old house.

  Then it was off, disappearing like a vapor behind a black-draped window.

  Dry mouthed, Lyric tuned to see if Ian had witnessed the spectacle. His resonant snores filled the hushed room.

  The light could be an angel. After all, God sometimes used strange means to send comfort to His children. Like the ravens who brought food to Elijah or the shining light at the Mount of Transfiguration. Lyric sat back and smiled.

  21

  Daylight spilled through the clouds and rays of warmth covered the earth. Lyric, Ian, Lark, and Boots carried the wooden casket to the waiting travois and then followed as Ian led Norman down past the barn a couple of hundred feet to a freshly dug grave.

  As sunlight spread over the fresh green earth, Edwina Bolton’s remains were lowered into the ground. Lyric had picked a few early blooming flowers on the way to the gravesite and now tossed them lightly into the yawning hole.

  “You girls go back to the house while I cover the grave.” Ian straightened, meeting Lyric’s gaze.

  “You need help.”

  “I’ve done this many a time. Go back to the house, Lyric.”

  Nodding, she turned hesitantly.

  “It will take a while to complete the job,” he said.

  She left, realizing that she was dry-eyed and had remained so during the whole tragic ordeal.

  That simple fact didn’t seem respectful.

  “Shouldn’t we say one final word?”

  Ramming a shovel in the mound of fresh dirt, Ian paused for a while and then recited the words he had once spoken to Edwina. “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

  They were both quiet for a long moment. Then Lyric nodded slowly. “Thank you, Ian. That’s just right.”

  Joy bubbled in Lyric’s throat and for the first time she felt almost hopeful as she removed the heavy drapes from the windows and black crepe from the front door. The clocks were set into motion, mirrors and picture frames uncovered.

  It was finally over. Edwina was gone. And Lyric was free to pursue love, true abiding love.

  Lark came into the room and started folding the mourning items. “We’re free to go now, aren’t we?”

  Lyric nodded, almost bursting with happiness. “We’re finally free to leave.”

  Lark’s gaze roamed the cracked ceilings and warped walls. “We’re going to just close the house and never come back?”

  They could leave. The heady feeling swallowed her—and yet she couldn’t leave without Ian.

  Lark ripped a piece of crepe and flung it to the floor. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Lyric paused, turning to face her sister. “Lark, please. Don’t spoil this joyful occasion. We’re free—after years and years of misery—to leave this holler. I know that you love Boots like a sister, but you can write, and one day when you’re old enough I’ll let you come back for a long visit.”

  “I don’t want to leave, Lyric.” The young girl’s eyes filled with raw emotion. “Don’t you understand that I love it here? This is my home. I know you don’t feel that way, but is it fair to make me live the life you want?”

  “Don’t be silly—are you suggesting that you stay here, alone? You can’t do that.”

  “I could stay with Boots and her grandpa.”

  Lyric shook her head. “Unthinkable. I couldn’t do without you.”

  “But you could. You’ll have Ian.”

  “I don’t know that for certain.” She wished it with all of her heart, but Ian hadn’t spoken a single word on the matter since she’d returned to find Edwina dead.

  “You do know it. You know he’s in love with you and he won’t leave unless you go with him.”

  Stepping off a stool, Lyric paused. “Lark…”

  “Please.” Lark crossed the room. “Please. Boots has already asked her grandpa and he said I’d be welcome to stay with them as long as I like. Just let me stay until you and Ian settle somewhere.”

  “I don’t know that Ian—”

  “He loves you, Lyric, and you two deserve time alone. I would only be underfoot and nagging you to move back here. You don’t want that. I can’t leave Boots and I can’t leave Murphy. If you make me go I’ll only run away and come back here.”

  For a long moment Lyric studied her. Her little sister was so much like her—determined, headstrong, and independent as an old billy goat. “I love you, Lark and I want the best for you, but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You won’t be without me that long. I think someday you’ll come back to Bolton Holler.”

  “Never.”

  “You can’t ever say never. And in the meantime, I’ll live with Boots and help her take care of her grandpa.”

  “And annoy Murphy until he puts a warrant out for your arrest.”

  “I’ll keep my distance.”

  “Lark—this is insane. For years we’ve planned this day—”

  “You’ve planned it. I haven’t.”

  Lyric shook her head, her argument fading. Lark spoke the truth. Lyric looked forward to her new life, but she really had no cause to plan her sister’s. In another three years Lark would have the right to do what she wanted regardless.

  “If Ian asks me to go with him I’ll be both happy and sad. I don’t want to leave you behind.”

  “I’ll write every day, I promise.” Lark stepped to take Lyric into her arms. “And three years is nothing. Time will fly past like—whiff.”

  “Lark, I won’t come back. I want to close the house and never think about it again. Nobody in their right mind would buy it, not with its legacy and the condition it’s in.”

  “When I marry Murphy we’ll live here together.” She turned to fling open her arms to the bare walls and patched ceilings. “Some sweet
day this old house will be filled with love and laughter and babies—lots and lots of babies.”

  “Oh, sweet Lark. You are such a dreamer.”

  Whirling, Lark grinned. “I can stay?”

  Nodding, Lyric forced the dreaded words out. “You may stay—but you have to write often and—”

  Squealing with joy, Lark flung her arms around Lyric’s neck. “Thank you! I love you, I love you, I adore you!”

  “Let’s hope you can claim the same thing in three years.”

  And God have mercy on Murphy.

  “I’ll write twice a day!” She whirled and raced toward the door. “Wait until I tell Boots. She is gonna have a calf!”

  Leaving the house, Lyric set off in a hurried run toward the gravesite, feeling as though everything had fallen into place. Now an invisible thread drew her to the man she loved. Over two hours had passed; the grave would be properly covered by now.

  When she arrived at the fresh mound of dirt, Ian was nowhere to be found. The shovel lay at the foot of the grave. Her heart tripped. Had he ridden off? No, he wouldn’t. She had seen the look in his eyes, experienced the way he’d comforted and held her earlier.

  He was in love with her as madly as she was in love with him. Somewhere he waited for her to come to him. She considered the places they’d spent their best hours. And then, as though a voice beckoned her, she knew. Knew exactly where he waited for her.

  She veered to a road that was overgrown, rocky, and hard to maneuver. At the end of her climb he would be waiting for her.

  He’d want to pick a place free from reminders of tragedy in which to declare his love. Life offered more than misery and hurt. Their newfound relationship—if there was one—would be built on trust and faith in the future. She doubted that the marshal wanted any part of Bolton Holler and she didn’t blame him. Wherever Ian wanted to go she would follow. If only he would ask.

  He will, her heart sang. For the first time in her life she was willing to take a risk and find love. For too long she had steered clear of giving her heart to anyone, steeling her emotions to taunts and ridicule, but when this man forcefully rode into her life he had conquered her unwilling heart without lifting a hand.

  The Spooklight had driven folks from their homes, and hardworking families like the Jennings abandoned their homesteads in terror of the mysterious ball of light that bounced over hills and fields, but in a strange way the light had brought them together. Had it not tormented him the night he’d ridden through the barn door, she would have never met him, never found love.

  She was almost there. She picked up her skirts and raced to the glade, the beautiful glade they’d visited one day where they’d dreamed of a brighter tomorrow.

  When she burst into the clearing she saw Norman munching on a patch of grass, reins dangling. The shady clearing beckoned invitingly. Her gaze searched the lush hills and she spotted him kneeling by the shallow stream.

  As she approached he said softly without turning, “What took you so long?”

  “I wasn’t sure where to find you.”

  “But you knew I would be waiting for you.”

  Her breath caught. “Yes, I knew.” She had awaited him forever.

  Lowering herself to the ground beside him she reached over and traced the firm line of his jaw. She bent and they shared a long, unhurried kiss filled with hope and promise. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she whispered against his lips when the embrace ended. “What if I hadn’t remembered the glade?”

  “Then I would have come for you.” He grinned, pulling her down beside him and tucking her in his arms. The fit was perfect. Lying back, they studied the sky—a tiny piece of vivid blue showing through the canopy of oaks and towering walnut trees. Squirrels chattered. Thrushes darted in and out of branches dressed in their spring finery.

  “There are a few things we need to clarify,” she said.

  “I can answer any question you ask me. What’s bothering you?”

  “Your saddle, for one. It has the initials JJ engraved on the leather. Your initials are IC.”

  “John Jarrette. Met the outlaw on the road here a while back, drawing his last breaths. He’d been shot trying to rob a feed store. He said if I’d bury him I could have the saddle for payment. I didn’t need compensation, but it didn’t make sense to leave a good saddle by the roadside. Norman seemed to like the fit so I kept it.”

  “That sounds reasonable. Next, why would you lie to Lark and Boots about those bats? Even I believed you, and it’s raised doubts in my mind if you might do the same to me. Try to mislead me about something.”

  “I don’t think I said bats were there, did I?”

  “Maybe not, but you led those young girls to believe they were.”

  “The mind can play strange tricks on a person. I’d rather your sister and Boots fear a cave full of bats than the imminent dangers they would have faced if their plan had succeeded.”

  He made perfect sense, and she’d told her fair share of half-truths during this whole escapade.

  “Any more questions?”

  “No, but I might think of others later.” She snuggled closer. “I imagine you caught your man?” In all the commotion they hadn’t spoken about the Younger capture. “That was really quite a plan on your part.”

  “The Lord looked after me that morning. The idea didn’t backfire on me—but I was awfully grateful for your help, and for all those guinea fowl.” He rolled slightly to gaze into her eyes. “Speaking of men, I heard you’d caught yours.”

  “Well, not yet, but I’m awfully close.”

  “What would it take to close the deal?” Tracing a finger along the ridge of her nose he said, “I’ll pay any price you ask.”

  “Norman. I want Norman.”

  “Anything but my horse.”

  Grinning, she teased. “If I recall correctly, you don’t like the animal.”

  “Who said I don’t like Norman? I love that stubborn, ornery, oat-sucking fleabag.”

  Eventually, she sobered. “You know who you’re getting?”

  His eyes fixed on her. “A woman so beautiful, so good-hearted it takes my breath away. Someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “The daughter of nobody from nowhere. A woman who didn’t want me or Lark.”

  “Your real mother is beside the point, Lyric. She gave up her daughters, but what about you? You want your freedom. Are you willing to give up your dreams for a broken-down old marshal who wants to go home and make furniture with his grandpa?”

  Her hold on him tightened. “I can’t think of a better new life than the one you just described.”

  “You don’t fear being tied down with a family? Grandpa and Grandma are getting old, and there’ll be some care involved.”

  “I would be honored to care for them, Ian. Your family is my new life.” Her fingertips lightly threaded the thick mass of dark auburn hair. The depths of his love showed through the eyes that openly pledged his forever love. “I want to be all those things to you. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  “That would be Kansas City, to my grandparents’ place. They’ve got a small spread outside of town. Grandpa is a fine woodsmith; I’d like to learn the craft. It’s a good place, Lyric. A fine place to raise children, to make a home.”

  “I will love it—and your grandparents.”

  “And they’ll love you. What about Lark? I know she doesn’t want to leave the holler.”

  She shook her head. “She won’t be coming with us. She asked permission to stay with Boots and her grandfather…and I said yes.” Her gaze lovingly traced his features. “It’s only a matter of time before she’s old enough to make her decisions, and Boots’s grandpa will provide a good home for her. The two girls—well, they’re closer than sisters.”

  Smiling, he gently kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re a wise woman and it won’t be long before you’ll be taking care of our babies. And the house?”

  “For now I’ll close
it. Perhaps in time Lark will marry and reopen it, but I want to be free of all memories of the holler.”

  “She fully believes Murphy is her man, doesn’t she?”

  “I’m going to pray night and day that soon she’ll outgrow her childish reasoning and come join us.”

  “Grandpa and Grandma would welcome her with open arms. They love kids.”

  She gently kissed him. “I want a new life—with you, Ian. If we stayed in the holler you would be subject to the same prejudices and superstitions that make my life so miserable.”

  “This part of your life is over; we’ll be in Kansas City and you know Lark’s going to hang around here and drive that young man out of his mind no matter what you say.”

  “I figure that’s Murphy’s problem.”

  “I’d say he’s got a big headache.”

  “By the time Lark’s old enough to marry that poor boy will have long ago found a mate.” She paused. “Ian, can we stop in Joplin on the way to Kansas City and see Katherine?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s such a shame that Katherine allowed the light to run them off their land. They built such a lovely home.”

  They lay there for a moment, staring up at the faultless sky. A light breeze ruffled Lyric’s hair and the scent of hay tickled her nose. Her life had experienced little serenity or such perfect peace, and she never wanted the moment to end. This would surely be the closest thing to heaven until she reached there.

  “Honey?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you really think that light is?”

  “Well—I can’t say what it is, but a very long time ago I decided there are just some things in life that aren’t explainable. That doesn’t make them bad or necessarily threatening—merely unaccountable. And look how God used that light to bring us together. What if you had ridden past here that night—never found me?”

  He hugged her tightly to him. “Suppose God knows His business?”