Back home in Virginia, Shannon had known all of the fine families who were members of her father’s congregation. She had gone to school with many of the daughters. She had been courted by some of the sons. And of course she had become engaged to Benjamin Bluecher Hood, the handsomest young man in the county. But here in Grand Coeur, she knew no one, save for the Wells, Fargo stagecoach driver and the gentleman who’d met them upon their arrival.
As she sat in the chair near the small pump organ, she watched people coming into the sanctuary, wondering who they were and what had brought them to this town. The vast majority were men—and not the sort one would deem gentlemen. They were a rough-hewn lot, many with scraggly beards that begged for a trim. The few women who passed through the church doors wore plain, everyday dresses.
But who was she to judge? Her own dress could hardly pass for the latest fashion. Not after three years of war and the blockades that had closed the Southern harbors.
Shannon closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, a wave of homesickness washing over her. She hadn’t known it would be this hard to be away from Virginia, that it would hurt this much, that she would feel so alone.
“Shannon,” her father said softly.
She opened her eyes and saw him tip his head toward the organ.
She quickly moved to the bench and waited for his signal, as she’d done hundreds of times before.
“Welcome.” Her father spread his arms wide, as if to embrace every member of his new congregation. “Please stand with me and sing ‘Rock of Ages.’”
At her father’s slight nod, Shannon began to play. The organ was new, just as everything else in the church was, and it played beautifully.
She was thankful for that, for it drowned out the off-key voices that peppered the sanctuary. Father liked to remind her that the Lord loved a joyful noise raised in praise equally as much as He loved a song that was pitch-perfect.
At the close of the hymn, she returned to the nearby chair, took up her Bible, and placed it on her lap.
Her father’s sermon that morning was on the importance of trusting in the Lord no matter the storms that buffeted His children. Shannon tried to listen, tried to take his teaching to heart, but her thoughts insisted upon wandering as her gaze scanned the motley congregation before her.
She stopped when she recognized Matthew Dubois in the last pew. It surprised her, seeing him there, a woman and boy by his side. Then she remembered his sister and her son had been expected. That must be them. Yes, there was some resemblance between Matthew and the younger woman, although the sister exhibited none of Matthew’s robust health. Even from where she sat Shannon could see that. What was wrong with her? What treatments had the doctors prescribed? Perhaps if she consulted one of her books on nursing—
Her father’s voice raised to emphasize a point, and it pulled Shannon’s attention back where it belonged. Thank goodness she hadn’t missed his cue for the closing hymn.
Matthew hadn’t been keen on coming to church that morning. Not because he didn’t want to be there, but because he’d thought Alice should stay in bed and recover from her journey. But his sister had been adamant. She’d wanted the family to attend service together, the three of them.
Family. It was almost a foreign term to him. Had been since his parents died the year he was twenty-one and Alice fifteen. That was the same year he’d started working for the express company in San Francisco. His sister had been in the care of neighbors in Oregon, so he hadn’t worried about her. He’d sent money to see that she had what she needed. And he’d meant to go back to see her. Soon. Someday. But someday had never come. Just over a year later, sixteen-year-old Alice had married Edward Jackson and moved with her new husband to Wisconsin. After that, there’d been no point in Matthew going back to Oregon, no point in settling down in any one place. That’s how he’d lived for more than a decade.
But his first week in Grand Coeur hadn’t been all that bad. He’d kept busy, learning again the duties of an express agent from William Washburn. In the evenings, he’d readied the house for his sister and nephew’s arrival. He’d even convinced himself that he might not mind staying in one place as much as he’d thought. Not for a couple of months. Surely that was all it would take to restore Alice to good health.
The congregation rose to sing a final hymn, Shannon Adair once more playing the organ.
A smile crept onto his lips. Miss Adair was an accomplished young woman and very easy on the eyes. No argument there. But if her nose was stuck any higher in the air when she looked at him and others, she’d be in danger of tipping over backward.
With the closing prayer said, Reverend Adair walked down the center aisle of the church and waited by the exit to shake hands. His daughter remained at the organ, playing some familiar hymns.
Matthew stepped into the aisle and offered his arm to Alice. She slipped her hand into the crook and allowed him to guide her toward the door, Todd on her other side.
“Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Dubois,” the reverend said, shaking his free right hand. “And this must be your sister.”
“Yes. Reverend, may I introduce Alice Jackson and her son, Todd.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Jackson?”
“Good day, Reverend. I enjoyed your sermon a great deal. I shall endeavor to put it into practice.”
“God bless you. Would that many in the congregation do so.”
“Was that your daughter playing the organ?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“I hope to get to meet her and tell her how well she plays. I’ve always envied those with musical abilities.”
“I’ll make certain the two of you are introduced soon. Like you, she is new to Grand Coeur. I know she will welcome the opportunity to make a friend close to her own age.”
“Then I shall look forward to it.”
Matthew felt Alice’s grip tightening on his arm and sensed she was tiring even as they stood there. He bid the reverend a pleasant afternoon and escorted her down the steps. As he’d done the day before, he allowed her to set the pace as they walked toward home, and once again he was reminded that he hadn’t yet asked her for more details about her ailment. He needed to change that and would do so as soon as she was rested.
After a Sunday dinner of chicken potpie, Delaney Adair lay down to rest and was soon asleep. Not wishing to wake him, Shannon went outside onto the small porch and sat on one of two chairs placed there.
The day was pleasant, warm but not hot, and without the humidity that made one’s clothing stick to the skin. Shannon could appreciate that. And she supposed the surrounding hillsides would be pretty if they were still covered in trees. At least the tall pine growing by the corner of the house had been spared.
The church and parsonage were built on a hillside, giving Shannon a view of Grand Coeur. Not that it was a pleasant view. But the early morning haze of wood smoke had drifted away on a gentle breeze, and that was a blessing.
We aren’t leaving.
The thought caused her chest to tighten. Ever since their arrival the previous Monday, Shannon had clung to a fragile hope that her father would come to his senses and choose to return to Virginia. But it was futile to go on thinking that way. Father wouldn’t change his mind unless God changed it for him.
I could have stayed behind.
Yes, she was a grown woman. If she’d insisted on remaining in
Virginia, Father would have allowed it. He could have left her in the care of close, trusted friends. But to be separated from him by so great a distance? Especially in wartime? No, she had to be with him. He needed her.
It’s time I accept it. We’re here to stay. But perhaps when the war is over he’ll change his mind.
A movement out of the corner of her eye drew her gaze. About halfway between Shannon and the church she saw a boy on his hands and knees, looking underneath an uneven stack of lumber.
“Come here,” he said. “Come on.”
What on earth? She rose from the chair and moved to the corner of the porch.
“Come on.” He reached with one hand into an open space in the lumber. “I won’t hurt you. Come here.”
“Boy, what are you doing?”
He sat back on his heels and looked around. When he saw her, he got to his feet. “There’s a puppy under there.”
“A puppy? Are you sure?” She thought it far more likely it was a skunk or some other wild animal.
“I’m sure. I followed him here.”
She remembered where she’d seen the boy before. In church. He was Matthew Dubois’s nephew. “You had best go on home and leave it alone.”
The boy didn’t answer—nor did he move away from the lumber.
Shannon went down the three steps and walked toward him.
“What’s your name?”
“Todd. Todd Jackson.”
“Does your mother know you’re wandering about?”
His eyes narrowed as he shook his head, and Shannon saw a mixture of stubbornness and uncertainty in his gaze.
“If it’s a skunk, we will regret being this close,” she said. Merciful heavens! How she hoped it wasn’t a skunk.
“It ain’t a skunk.” He knelt on the ground again, sticking his rump into the air as he peered beneath the wood. “If my arm was longer, I could get him.”
It was against her better judgment, but she decided to join him on the ground. “Where is it?”
“See there. You can see his yellow coat.”
She lowered her cheek until it almost touched the ground. Yes. There it was. And there was just enough light for her to see the baby animal couldn’t be a skunk. It appeared to be yellow or maybe cream colored. Definitely not black-and-white. What else could it be besides a puppy? What sort of wild animals did they have in Idaho?
“Can you reach him?” Todd asked.
Stick her hand into that shadowy space? There could be spiders or a snake or— The sound of a throat clearing broke into her thoughts. “Maybe I should do that for you.”
She straightened at once.
Matthew stood off to the side of the lumber, wearing a crooked grin. He was laughing at her. And no wonder. Her rump had been stuck up in the air just as the boy’s had been. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Allow me,” he said, offering his hand.
She didn’t want to take it, but she did.
With a gentle pull, he lifted her to her feet. A moment later, he’d taken her place on his hands and knees. “What’re we looking for, Todd?”
“A puppy. See him? Right there.”
“Yes. I see him. Move over a bit.” He stuck his arm under the lumber, and a few moments later he withdrew it, a golden ball of fluff in hand. He gave it to the boy.
Todd’s face lit up. “Thanks, Uncle Matt.”
“You’re welcome, kid.” Matthew ruffled the boy’s hair, then stood, brushing off his trousers before straightening. “Thanks for helping him, Miss Adair.”
The warmth in her cheeks grew hotter still. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You tried. I appreciate that.” He glanced at the puppy, clutched close to Todd’s chest. “Do you know who it belongs to?”
“No. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Seems young to be running around by itself.” He looked up the hillside. “Its mother must be somewhere nearby. Todd, where’d you first see it?”
“By the house.”
“Our house?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, come on. We’d best see if we can find its owner. Must belong to one of our neighbors.”
That stubborn look returned to the boy’s face. “I wanna keep it.”
Shannon didn’t have a great deal of experience with children, but she was quite sure she had more experience than Matthew Dubois. She wondered how he would handle the matter, hoping—in that small, dark, rebellious, sinful corner of her heart—that he would fail miserably, if only because he’d laughed at her.
He dropped to one knee and looked the boy in the eyes. “What if this was your puppy and you’d lost it? Would you want someone else to keep it rather than try to find its rightful owner?”
Todd’s mouth pursed. That he wanted to say anything that would allow him to keep the puppy was crystal clear. But honesty won out. He shook his head.
Matthew stood. “Then let’s go find who lost him.” He looked at Shannon again, that crooked smile slipping back into place. “Thanks again for helping the boy.”
Odd. This time his silly grin didn’t make her angry . . . and she was almost sorry to watch him walk away.