Just after dawn, Joy sat on the side of her bed contemplating the watercolor she had created in the meadow below Thunderbird Mountain. For the hundredth time she studied the figures near the tree line. Had she been in a trance when she painted them? She moved her gaze over the hazy shapes—an Indian woman with a toddler beside her and a baby cradled in her arms, a tall man also holding a toddler and flanked by two women, a dog beside one of the women, and a host of others, some Indian, some not. Her family had been speechless when she told of her experience and then gasped when they saw the painting and the feather. Everyone had shed tears. Losing their beloved Abby had been heartrending, but seeing the watercolor had mingled laughter with their tears.
For Joy, her sense of completion had soon been replaced by anticipation—anticipation for her future. She had followed the deep urgings in her heart and painted what fate dictated, but now fate was moving her in another direction.
She lovingly smoothed her hand over the figures in her landscape, and then walked to the window to breathe in the new dawn. In the month since her return to Oregon City, so much had happened.
After a few days recovery at a hotel in West Glacier, she had returned by rail to Oregon City with Walker, her father, and Cookie. Crusty had remained in Whitefish with Aliza. The way he'd explained his decision put a smile on Joy's face. He'd said, "My dearest Joy, as much as I adore your company and the company of Cookie, I find myself, as they say, head-over-heels in love with Aliza. We have known each other for over thirty years, and although we started out as lovers, our relationship soon progressed to one of friendship. And so, with that in mind, I would be dim-witted to again leave my friend, who is also my lover."
Joy had blushed at his words and Cookie had shaken her head, saying, "Crusty, I got a feelin' you ain't tellin' us everything 'bout yerself. Are you ever gonna spill the beans?"
Crusty had laughed heartily. "Perchance one day; but not today."
Joy inhaled the fresh morning air and shifted her thoughts to Aunt Zena. Their fateful meeting a week after she'd returned to Oregon City to stay with Jake and Pauline until her wedding, still amazed her.
Walker had said that his aunt was staying with his sister and preparing for her return to Portland. At his news, Joy had been both relieved and saddened by Aunt Zena's soon departure, but also plagued by a conviction that she should at least talk with her one last time.
That conversation had come about in a most unusual way. Joy had been in the car with Walker when he drove past the church. In the graveyard behind the sanctuary, she had seen a lone figure that looked like Zena. Immediately, she'd asked, "Walker, is that Aunt Zena in the graveyard?"
He'd slowed the car and craned his head to see. "Yes."
Joy had nervously chewed her lip, but asked, "Is she standing beside Emily's grave?"
He'd nodded and said softly, "Yes, she is."
"Walker, please park in front of the church. I must do something."
"Joy, you're not going to talk to her, are you?"
"I can't explain why, but I just have to."
Although Walker frowned, he'd parked the car. When he opened his door, Joy said, "I want to talk to her alone."
He'd studied her eyes, seen her resolve, and acquiesced.
Joy's heart had pounded unmercifully as she approached the hateful woman, but she'd forged onward. When her foot crunched a stick, Aunt Zena had glanced up and Joy had been startled by her tear-drenched face. The woman quickly turned away, but Joy remained firm in her resolve. "Zena, I was wondering if we could talk?"
The old lady lifted a tissue to her eyes and sobbed quite pitifully. Joy rushed to her. "Can I help you?"
Zena had shaken her head, covered her face with her hands, and cried, "I'm so sorry, Joy. It's…it's just that no one understands."
Softly, Joy asked, "What don't we understand?"
Zena removed her hands from her face, met Joy's gaze, and said through tears, "Emily was my daughter, not my niece. I was unwed when I became pregnant. Her father didn't love me and he left, never to return. My sister and her husband were childless, so we conceived a plan to travel abroad for a year until I had the baby and they could claim Emily as their own. The plan worked beautifully. My sister had the child she'd always wanted and I was part of my daughter's life. When she married Walker, I was so pleased. He's a good man. And when Misty was born and they allowed me to visit, it was wonderful. My sister died shortly after Emily's marriage, but Emily didn't forget her Auntie Zena." The sad woman covered her face with her hands again. "And then my daughter died!"
Joy could no longer watch Zena's pain without doing something, so she enfolded her in her arms. With tears streaming down her own cheeks, she said, "Please don't leave. Your granddaughter needs you. Walker needs you. I need you. No one has to know anything about this unless you want to reveal it. Your secret is safe with me."
Against Joy's shoulder, Zena sobbed, "Thank you, my dear girl."
After their crying had quieted, Zena stepped back and said, "I see Walker waiting by his car. Will you send him over? I'm ready to confide in him. I think it's something he needs to know."
The warmth of the sun shifted Joy's thoughts and she smiled. It was time to turn her attention to this special day—her wedding day!