SATURDAY AFTERNOON,
JANUARY 6, 1872
- Solid Gold -
Three months later, Poppy stood in the vestibule of the Methodist church waiting for the organ to begin the wedding march. Two large bouquets of flowers rested on a table. Sunbeams danced in rays that poured through the windows, making patterns on the hardwood floor.
Claire looked like a princess in a white satin dress, her blond hair piled high and braided with pearls, a sparkling sapphire brooch—designed by her father—at her neckline. Poppy caught sight of her own reflection in the glass door to the sanctuary. Her bridesmaid gown was dark red velvet and trimmed with ivory lace. A crown of pearls and red roses adorned her chestnut hair that curled almost to her waist.
I feel as if I came out of the fire brand-new!
The fire had burned itself out that Tuesday morning in the park, thanks to a cold, cleansing October rain that had fallen gently on Poppy’s face. The Butterworths had all been there, watching over her and caring for her and loving her.
After the fire, Poppy stayed with the Butterworths at the farm on the prairie, which had been spared. The big white house in the city along with the sweet little goat barn were gone.
The family was already constructing another home where there would be a new shed for Ticktock and a barn for Ginger. The people of Chicago were quickly rebuilding their city—and Butterworth’s Jewels and Timepieces on State Street would soon be even larger and more impressive.
Poppy never knew what became of Sheila or Noreen, but she heard that Ma Brennan had been thrown in jail for twenty-five years for looting. She’d never trouble Poppy—or Ticktock—again!
Mr. Haskell was able to save Forrest’s church by keeping the roof wet and pouring water down the steeple. The parishioners had already rebuilt the parish house. Claire was excited about moving into her new home, and since Claire and Forrest planned to adopt her, Poppy—and Mew—would live with them.
“Imagine, we’ll have our first child—and she’s twelve years old!” Forrest had said, laughing.
“Will Poppy be my sister or my aunt or my cousin?” Justin asked when he heard the news.
“She’ll be your niece. You’ll be her uncle,” Father explained. He gave Poppy a hug. “But she’ll be my granddaughter!”
“And mine, too,” Mrs. Butterworth reminded him.
Now at the church, Justin, Charlie, and Mr. Butterworth tiptoed into the vestibule.
Justin held a white package tied with a gold ribbon. He handed it to Poppy. “This is for you.”
Poppy untied the ribbon and opened the cover. Inside, a golden flower with a bright ruby in the center hung from a gold necklace. She removed the necklace and held it in her palm, where it shimmered in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. “I ain’t never seen anything as pretty in all my borned days.”
“It’s a poppy. Charlie and I designed it together,” Justin said. “I’m glad the wedding was postponed a month so we could finish it.”
Claire put her arm around Poppy’s shoulder. “It’s solid gold—just like you!”
“The gold flower shows it was your strength and courage that got you through the fire,” Mr. Butterworth explained.
“The ruby in the center was my idea,” Justin said proudly. “It represents the flames from the fire. The ruby is one of the gems you saved, so it really did come through the fire, and it’s only right that you should have it.”
“Did this ruby come from way down under the earth?” Poppy asked.
“Yes,” Claire told her. “Yet, see how brightly it shines.”
“Poppy,” Mrs. Butterworth said, “let me fasten your necklace.” Poppy lifted her curls as Mrs. Butterworth secured the chain.
Mrs. Butterworth took her sons’ arms and smiled up at them. “Are my two boys ready to usher me down the aisle?”
The young men escorted their mother to the front row of the sanctuary, where she and Justin took their seats. Then Charlie, as best man, joined Forrest at the front of the church.
The organ music burst into the wedding march. Claire picked up her bouquet of white lilies and took her father’s arm. They’d walk together, but Poppy would go first.
All the guests stood and looked to the back of the church where Poppy waited with her own bouquet of red and white roses.
Whatever happened to Poppy the pickpocket? Justin wondered as Poppy smiled from the vestibule doorway. Everyone and everything has changed for the better since the fire, he realized. Or really, since the day Poppy crashed into me as I swept the sidewalk.
Poppy fingered the solid-gold flower that hung from her neck.
“Go on, Poppy, you’re next,” Claire whispered.
The music swelled. Poppy took a deep breath, and the brand-new solid-gold Poppy started down the aisle.