Authors: Grace Warren
Olivia and Galen
lay in Olivia’s bed dressed in their pajamas. Lucy closed the cover of “Green
Eggs and Ham” and placed the book on the shelf alongside a dozen other
children’s books.
“Lucy,” said
Olivia “will you sing us a song before we go to bed?”
She sat down and
pulled Galen on to her lap. “Do you want to sing Come Follow Me?”
Olivia shook her
head. “Can we learn a new one?”
Lucy sat for a
minute and thought of some lyrics. She started off with a soft hum trying to remember
the tune correctly. “Once there was a way to get back homeward, once there was
a way to get back home, sleep pretty darling do not cry and I will sing a
lullaby.”
Lucy continued
the classic Beatles song and tucked in Olivia, kissing her sweet forehead. She
hummed and carried Galen off to his own room, repeating the lyrics once more
before tucking him in beneath his blankets and kissing his cheek. “Sleep tight,
love.” She said and walked out the door. As she turned to head to her own room
she saw Nash’s door click shut.
Her bed felt warm
and welcoming. Her body was weary but it was a good feeling. She reached for
the bedside lamp and switched it off moments after there was a soft knock on
her door. One of the children must still be awake. Without thinking she called
for them to come in. Nash opened her door.
“Are you awake?”
Lucy sat up in
bed. “Nash, is everything okay?”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” She
reached for the light.
“No, don’t turn
it on.” he said. Her fingers dropped back to her side. Nash sat on the edge of
the bed beside her. “I came in to apologize and to thank you.”
“I don’t
understand, Nash.” Lucy tried to see his eyes in the darkness of the room.
“I was wrong to
treat you the way I have. I invited you to be a part of this family and I
haven’t treated you like you are. I know you’re not…” his words cut off with a
quick intake of breath. “You are Lucy and I don’t want you to be anyone else.”
She opened her
mouth to tell him this wasn’t necessary, but he stopped her.
“Please let me
finish.”
Lucy closed her
mouth and listened, laying her hand on his instead.
“You have been
wonderful. Olivia and Galen adore you and you are so good with them. I didn’t
think I’d see that again.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Van is great, but
she has her own family and friends. People she has set aside for three years
now to take care of us.” He paused again. “Lilly would not have wanted that.”
Lucy pulled her
hand away. Nash entangled his fingers in hers drawing her back. “She’d want us
all happy.” There was silence in the darkness and when Nash brought her hand to
his cheek and kissed her palm she felt the tears that had been shed.
“Nash?”
He kissed her
palm again. “I want you to stay.”
Nash and Lucy
were married on the front porch. Olivia sang and Galen stood proud holding the
rings. Vanessa made a lovely meal and they all celebrated with family and
friends. Lucy had never felt so sure about any decision in her lifetime more
than she did when she uttered those two words “I do.” When the minister
pronounced them man and wife and gave them permission to kiss, Nash took her in
his arms and kissed her soft and full on the mouth. She was breathless.
A year later Nash
stood in the bedroom at the end of the hallway, a picture frame in his hand,
“Lilly, I’d like you to meet someone.” He placed the new photograph by the
silver frame. A picture of him standing in front of the house, Olivia and Galen
at his left and Lucy at his right, a pink bundle in his arms, was added to the
shelf. “This is Lacey Lillian McCain.”
Lucy joined her
husband, a smile on her face. “Lunch is ready.”
“Are you coming?”
he asked as she lingered.
Lucy nodded and
kissed his cheek as he left the room. She looked at the two pictures, her heart
full. “Thank you, Lilly”
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The Gambler’s True Heart
Grace Warren
Synopsis:
It is the late nineteenth century in the United States, and Alton
and his family are forced to leave their small town of Texas after Alton gets
in trouble with the local gang there. Not knowing where else to go, they head
north in hopes of a better, safer life. But it isn’t long before Alton’s mother
gets sick and his siblings get hungry. Desperate, Alton is willing to do
anything to survive.
Mary Anne has to get married in order to rid herself of her
spinster status in Kansas City, Kansas. While she is perfectly fine with living
in her father’s mansion as an unmarried woman, her father is embarrassed by her
poor reputation in their hometown, and demands that she hires someone to marry
her. Reluctantly, she travels throughout Kansas in search of the ideal man. And
then she comes across Alton.
Could this meeting be the answer to both their prayers?
Alton, 1885
Texas
It was dark by the time Alton managed to reach home, a humble little house
outside of town. The white fence that surrounded the house was chipped and
slanted, as was the house’s window frames. It didn’t matter though, for Alton
and his family didn’t have any neighbors to judge them. There was nothing but
dirt and a scarce amount of brush in the area.
Alton burst through his front door and ran into his ma’s bedroom. However, once
he was in there, he awkwardly hovered by the doorframe. He never went into his
mother’s bedroom, and a slight embarrassment warmed his cheeks. “Ma? Ma, wake
up. Wake up, we’ve got to go. Ma!”
His mother jolted in her bed. Sitting up and holding the blankets up to her
chest, she swore at Alton like a pissed off drunkard.
“We have to leave,” Alton said, trembling a little from his adrenaline rush.
“Now.”
“What happened?” his mother asked. She sounded serious now—more aware.
Alton licked his lips and cringed. “I got into some trouble with the Delvito
gang. I owe them a lot of money I don’t have. We have to leave town or…” The
possible consequences of remaining in a small town of Texas while a gang was
after you chilled Alton.
His mother was silent for several seconds. She had repeatedly told him that
something like this would happen if he kept up his gambling. Alton was actually
relieved when, instead of lecturing him again, she just stood up and pointed at
something in the hallway.
“Get your brother and sisters,” she said.
Alton immediately did as he was told.
Mary Anne, 1885
Kansas City,
Kansas
It was a warm, sunny
day, but Mary Anne had the curtains drawn in her study as she painted an
abstract image on her canvas. Sunlight tended to distract her when she was in
the midst of creating something. Plus, there were people outside in the town,
and the thought of them seeing her through the window made Mary Anne’s skin
tingle with apprehension. It didn’t matter that she was on the second story of
her father’s luxurious home—people still could have possibly seen her through
the window if she hadn’t had the curtains drawn.
Mary Anne,
deciding not to think about other people anymore, stepped back and smiled at
her painting. It was a nonsensical image, made up of blues and oranges and
roundish shape. Staring at it made pride swell in her chest. She tightened her
grip on her paint brush and her paint palette, a small squeal bursting through
her throat.
She loved her
creations. It didn’t matter if anyone else saw them—if anyone else even liked
them. What she created was hers, all hers.
There was a light
knock on the door before it was opened. “Mary Anne?”
“Dad,” Mary Anne
greeted, spinning toward him. A bit of paint flew from her brush and splattered
on the carpet. Mary Anne snorted at it with a light kind of bitterness.
Her father
scowled, but he said nothing as he entered the study. He was an elderly man
with a sagging face and a thin mouth. He hunched forward whenever he stood or
walked, and based on the way he would heave out his breathes, any amount of
movement he did exhausted him easily.
Mary Anne
patiently waited for him to approach her.
“We need to talk,” he huffed, standing next to her. Even while he was hunched
forward, he was still a couple inches taller than she was.
“What about?”
“People have been speaking about you.”
Mary Anne frowned, discomfort swirling in her torso. She set her paint supplies
on a stained rag, which had been placed on the cedar desk near her.
Her father glared at her while she did this. He never liked her painting in the
study—creating a mess in such a formal place. He never stopped her though, so
she continued to do it.
“And this bothers you?” she asked him with a challenging—albeit wobbly—tone.
She faced him and tried to make herself appear strong, indifferent. Inside though,
her heart was shattering.
“Of course it does,” he said. He sucked in a bunch of breath and swallowed a
big gulp of saliva. Then he shook his head, his eyes full of disappointment.
“You are 30, unmarried, childless, and living with your widower father. It is
an embarrassment. Some have said…well, I won’t tell you some of the crueler
things that were said.”
Mary Anne blinked back the tears. “I’m sorry to hear that. But people sh—”
“No, no, no,” he said, wagging his wrinkled finger at her. “No more excuses.
You have shamed our name long enough. You must find a husband—start a family—be
a good, Christian woman.”
Mary Anne got a sour taste in her mouth. She wanted to argue—wanted to defend
herself—but she knew from experience that her words wouldn’t make a difference.
Her father had worked hard to provide the life they now had, and the truth of
the matter was Mary Anne didn’t deserve the luxury and the freedom she had; she
hadn’t earned any of it.
She sighed and gave her father a small smile. “Alright, dad. I will try
harder.”
He narrowed his eyes, doubt gleaming in those faded orbs. After a few seconds
of analyzing her face, he nodded and turned to leave. “See that you do.”
She smiled at his retreated form. When he exited the study, she finally allowed
a few tears to crawl down her cheeks.
Mary Anne was horrified when several months passed and she still had no suitor.
She paced in her room and tugged at her hair, which had been in a bun before
she entangled her fingers in it and pulled. Fear made her heart beat rapidly,
yet her limbs felt cold and her stomach felt jittery.
Perhaps she was unlovable. She didn’t consider herself to be masculine, yet she
clearly wasn’t feminine enough for a man to want her. She couldn’t even flirt.
“Floozies flirt!” she declared to the empty room. “And I’m respectable! So of
course I…” She giggled. “Oh hell, I think I’ve gone crazy.” She walked up to
her bedroom mirror, which was as tall and thin as her. She stared at herself;
her reddish blonde hair was frizzy and falling out of its bun, her eyes were
pinkish from lack of sleep, and her smile kind of looked funny to her. “Yes.
Crazy.”
Talking to her father was pointless. He had refused to hear her out each time
she explained why a man had rejected her or why she had chosen to stay home for
a few days that one week…well, that happened multiple weeks, actually.
She bellowed out a sigh. “Stubborn ass. Can’t leave well enough alone. Won’t
talk to me, so I have to talk to myself? That’s plain rude, that’s what that
is.” She nodded at her reflection, who whole-heartedly agreed with her.
She yelped when someone knocked on her door, then opened it.
“Mary Anne,” her father said, sounding exhausted and hateful. “What are you
doing?”
She smoothed the front of her dress with clammy palms. “I’m just planning out
how to woo the next potential suitor. I’m…I’m not good at it.”
He grunted. He looked like he was going to say something in regards to that,
but instead he grunted again and eyed the ground. “You are…who you are. And, if
need be, I am willing to contribute what I can to help you find a husband.”
“Oh,” Mary Anne said. She didn’t know what else to say, so she grinned.
Her father furrowed his brow at her. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re going to help me find a husband.”
“…You were always a dense child,” he said. He straightened as best as he could,
wincing a little in the process. “If I must be direct, I will be direct,
however distasteful. I am telling you that I will hire someone to marry you.”
Mary Anne’s expression morphed into one of baffled denial. “What?
That’s…but…that sounds like you are selling me.”
“No, I am buying you a human being. That is something much worse—something I
have helped fight against for decades—but what choice have you given me?”
Mary Anne opened and closed her mouth. She had never been so astonished and
insulted in all of her life. Try as she might to think of the best way to
respond to her father’s asinine proposal, her mind refused to work properly.
Her shock made her thoughts garbled and incomprehensive. She tried to get
herself angry enough to defend herself, but she couldn’t get that to happen
either.
“I never asked much of you,” her father continued. “I have given you a
wonderful life. I do not deserve to be in this position, but here we are. What
must be done, must be done.”
Coughing, he slowly exited her room. Mary Anne watched him as he did so. She
still had no idea what to say to any of this, but guilt and self-loathing had
entered her psyche, and she soon realized it was a hopeless battle.
She had to go buy a human being. Lovely.