Joy was so nervous about meeting up with Walker and his daughter on Sunday that she slept fitfully all week. On Sunday, she woke before dawn and grabbed her brushes to paint by the light of an oil lamp. Painting always had the effect of easing her mind and taking her to a place where worries were forgotten.
As dawn birthed the new day, she set her oils aside so she could dress. The Jeromes had a comfortable home with the convenience of an indoor bathroom; however, there was no electricity. Because they did not have that luxury, the home retained the charm of earlier years when lit by oil lamps. The glow from the lamps was so inviting that Joy often tried to mix colors that would evoke feelings from yesteryear. She'd sampled several earth tones in an attempt to create a shade she'd call "home," but so far, that color had eluded her.
She was dressed and preparing coffee when Pauline stepped into the kitchen. Pauline said cheerfully, "I hope heaven smells this good."
Joy grinned. "Now that's another color I need to mix."
Pauline lifted an eyebrow waiting for an explanation.
"I've been experimenting with colors trying to create something appropriately named 'home.' Now I need to ascertain the color of 'heaven'."
Pauline laughed. "My dear, you are an artist down to the marrow of your bones. Only an artist would attempt to discover the colors of 'home' and 'heaven' and when you do, you must share them with me."
Jake entered the room. "My goodness, this kitchen smells heavenly. Do you think we can bottle that smell and sell it?"
Both women laughed heartily and he questioned, "Was it something I said?"
The ride to church in the Jeromes' Model T was pleasant and full of cheerful conversation. Although Joy tried to concentrate on everything being said, the butterflies in her stomach kept distracting her. She had already informed Jake and Pauline about the art lessons she would be giving Misty, and they had been delighted.
Pauline, who was sitting in the back seat beside Joy, reached to pat the younger woman's hand. "You'll be wonderful for the child. And since she spoke to you once, I have faith that she'll do so yet again. It's as if fate brought you here for her..." she hesitated, and finished softly, "and her father."
Joy was saved from having to reply when Jake said, "Ladies, we're here." Joy adjusted her brown bowler hat and white gloves, and then smoothed a hand down her simple cotton, purple-and-white checked, A-line dress with a wide matching collar.
The church was similar in style to the one in Joy's hometown of Two Rivers with its wide double-doors and tall steeple. As she entered, she was aware of the heads of parishioners turning in her direction. A short, thin man approached and said with a booming voice while pumping Jake's hand. "Welcome Jake!" He turned to Pauline. "And welcome to you, too, Miz Pauline. My wife is in the back getting the nursery helpers lined out, but I know she'll beeline it in your direction as soon as she returns."
Jake said, "Pastor Pearly, I'd like you to meet Joy Ryder, the niece of one of our closest friends. You remember him—Luke Samson—the writer who goes by the pen name of Dawson Jeffries and has written numerous adventure tales."
Pastor Pearly grinned. "I do remember Mr. Samson. He visited our town a few years back interviewing old-timers and families whose ancestors had traveled here along the Oregon Trail." He clasped Joy's hand and she smiled down at him. Joy wasn't a tall woman, but the pastor was even shorter.
He said in that resonate voice, "Welcome, Miz Ryder." His eyes twinkled. "You have a very intriguing name. Do you, by chance, enjoy riding in automobiles?"
Joy's own eyes twinkled. "I do. However, I don't think my mother realized the significance of naming me Joy. I'm often teased about it."
A large-boned woman, perhaps six inches taller than Joy, rushed toward them. She halted beside the pastor and gushed, "It's so nice to see you here Mr. and Mrs. Jerome!" She glanced down at Joy and stuck out her hand. "I'm Mrs. Pearly, the preacher's wife, and you must be the Jeromes' guest from Texas. Welcome to our community." The woman's friendly, middle-aged face was etched with fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, no doubt from smiling so much.
Joy grasped the woman's hand and told her how happy she was to be in Oregon. Suddenly, a baby's wail was heard through the door leading beyond the sanctuary and Mrs. Pearly said, "Oh, goodness, excuse me, that sounds like the Michelson baby. I better check on him." As quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared in order to carry out her duties as the pastor's wife.
A voice behind Joy started her heart thrumming. She heard Walker say, "Good morning, Pastor, Jake, Pauline, Joy."
The pastor said in his loud voice, "Well, well, it's a good day indeed when parishioners I haven't seen for some time return to the flock. The Lord is mighty pleased! Mighty pleased, indeed!"
Joy suppressed a smile at Pastor Pearly's mini-sermon. She turned around and her breath caught. Walker, his blond hair shining and his eyes more gray than blue today, was beyond a doubt the handsomest man she'd ever laid eyes on. And holding his hand was his daughter, Misty. The girl whose eyes and hair were almost identical to her father's stared at Joy unwaveringly.
Joy said, "Good morning, Dr. Flemming." She bent down beside Misty. "And good morning to you, too. I love your dress, especially this color here." She pointed to a lavender flower, and although the child didn't say anything, her sad eyes seemed to light up for an instant.
Joy stood up again and listened to the conversation between the pastor, the Jeromes, and Walker, but her eyes kept straying back to Misty. And it seemed Misty's eyes kept straying back to Joy. Joy winked at the girl and Misty looked down at the plank flooring, but not before Joy saw another flash in her eyes.
The approach of an elderly woman distracted Joy and she inwardly groaned. It was Walker's aunt by marriage.
Pastor Pearly also saw her. "Welcome, Miz Stephens. I can't tell you how happy we are to see Walker and Misty here today. Perhaps you had something to do with that?" He grinned.
The cantankerous old lady replied, "Actually, I did not." She glanced toward Joy and frowned. "It was Walker's decision to return to church. Apparently, however, someone influenced him." She nodded a greeting toward Jake and Pauline, patted Misty's head, and motioned across the room. "Please, excuse me, Pastor Pearly. Mrs. Brookstone and I need to discuss the upcoming bake sale."
Joy watched the older woman with the posture of a soldier walk away. No one said anything for a moment, and then someone called out to Pastor Pearly from the entrance. His jovial manner returned and he excused himself.
Jake said to Joy, "Pauline and I are going to find our seats; we'll save a place for you. Walker, would you and Misty like to join us?"
"Thank you for asking, but we'll be sitting with my sister and aunt. Octavia and Solomon should be arriving any time."
Jake said, "You and Joy just go ahead and talk." To Joy he said, "You can join us whenever you're ready." He touched Misty's shoulder. "And we'll see you later, young lady."
Pauline smiled warmly at the child and then followed her husband across the room.
Walker said softly, "I thought we were on a first name basis. Earlier you called me Dr. Flemming. Please call me Walker."
Joy blushed and nodded.
He moved his gaze across the room and back to Joy. "Once again I apologize for my aunt. I'll speak with her about her curtness."
Joy blurted, "No! Please don't do that. She's just being protective of you." She felt her face flame when Walker stared curiously at her.
A boy's voice called, "Hello, Uncle Walker!"
Walker turned and grinned at his approaching nephew and sister.
Joy smiled warmly at them.
Octavia said, "Hello, Miss Ryder. It's a small world, isn't it? I had no idea we would meet again after our train excursion. Imagine my delight when Walker said he'd made your acquaintance and asked you to give my beautiful niece art lessons." She patted Misty's head and then glanced at her son. "Solomon, say hello to Miss Ryder."
Solomon bashfully kicked his toe against the plank flooring. "Howdy, Miz Ryder."
Joy said, "And howdy to you, too. I'm so happy to see you and your mother again." She glanced across the room to see Aunt Zena scowling at her.
Walker said, "Perhaps we should take our seats. It looks like the service is about to begin." He touched Joy's arm. "I'll meet up with you after church and drive you to my home. Later this afternoon, I'll drive you back to the Jeromes."
Joy excused herself and took her place beside her hosts. She only half listened to the booming voice of the short preacher. His wife sat in the front pew and said amen to almost every word out of his mouth. Joy covered her grin with her gloved hand. This church wasn't sedate in any sense of the word. The parishioners, following the lead of Mrs. Pearly, vocalized their own amens. She glanced at Pauline to see that she, too, was suppressing a smile.
Pastor Pearly practically shouted, "Someday we'll all stand before St. Peter and hope he opens the gates. Of course, there is one way to know for sure…"
He continued his sermon and Joy almost giggled aloud.