Claire clapped.

  Jane’s gaze flitted from one face to the next, giving each person present a shy smile.

  “Mama and Grandma Laura would be happy to see our family now,” Claire said, in her sweet and guileless manner. “Do you think they can see us from heaven?”

  Ruby believed Pearl would approve of her marrying Nash. Possibly her mother, too, since she thought so much of him. They might simply be thankful the children were being well cared for.

  “If they can see us, they are certainly smiling,” Georgia assured her granddaughter. “I’m sure of it.”

  Ruby met Georgia’s gaze.

  “Can I see the papers when you get them?” Jane asked, surprising all of them by speaking in front of the gathering.

  “Yes, of course,” Nash told her.

  “I want to read my name,” she explained. “I can read some words now, so I want to read my name on the papers.”

  Ruby gave her a warm smile. “Jane has worked hard to learn her letters and numbers. She’s a bright girl. She’ll be ready for school when the session begins.”

  “I can read some of the words in the Hans Brinker book,” Jane boasted. “And in Robin Hood’s adventure book.”

  “I can, too!” Claire piped in.

  “You’re both clever girls,” Ruby assured them.

  While they cleaned up after the meal, Ruby said to Georgia, “I have been thinking about the quilt we’ve almost finished.”

  “What about it? It’s going to be lovely.”

  “I’d like to give the first one to Jane on the day we sign the papers. It has scraps of everyone’s clothing in it, and we can tell her about the pieces we remember so she understands she’s a real member of the family.”

  “That’s thoughtful, Ruby. She will treasure it, I’m sure. But we’d better work fast to finish it, because there are a lot of preparations to be done.”

  “Let’s make a list.” Excitement laced Vivian’s voice. “I have a new brother, and now Claire and I are both getting new sisters.”

  Ruby hugged her, overflowing with plans and optimism.

  But during the week that followed, a few nagging doubts plagued her as she did her daily chores, cared for the children and thought about the upcoming celebrations. She and Nash were getting married and adopting Jane for good reasons. But was doing the right thing enough to ensure their happiness? She couldn’t forget he had loved and married Pearl first.

  There were some concerns she simply had to put behind her. Nash’s love for Pearl was one of them. Her own past was another. She’d put that behind her and proven she could fit in here. She could raise these children and make a home for this family. Nash was attracted to her. He wanted her in his life. She was worthy of his love. She was willing to fight for a place in his heart.

  * * *

  Georgia and Vivian would be coming to help finish Jane’s quilt the following day, so Ruby cleaned house and put Joel down for his nap. While he rested, the girls played in Claire’s room so Ruby could sort the last of the fabric. She and Georgia had cut and sewn what must have been hundreds of pieces, but she’d remembered some she’d run across that her mother had finished, and she wanted to use those as a border.

  Ruby dug to the bottom of the basket of fabric squares, dividing them into piles of similar colors and setting aside several that were too faded. None of these fabrics were familiar to her, and possibilities swam in her head. Could they have been bits of her and Pearl’s childhood dresses? Perhaps some of the scraps had come from clothing that had belonged to Laura’s mother. Ruby would never know for certain, but she was confident they’d been important to her mother, because she’d saved them for so long, and so carefully cut and hemmed each piece.

  Between two blue-and-green squares, something wrapped in a piece of paper touched her fingers. Ruby slid out the folded paper and turned it to see the writing. In her mother’s handwriting, she read her own name: Ruby Gail.

  It was obvious the packet held a small object. Though she was curious, her heart skittered with unease. Had her mother actually meant to leave something for her?

  Ruby clasped the paper with both hands, closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Concern flitted through her, but she set the fear aside. Whatever she found was best dealt with now. Laying the packet on the nearest stack of quilt squares, she turned it over and unfolded it.

  There, nestled in the letter, lay a gold locket on a chain. The same one she’d looked at in Laura’s wedding portrait and in the photograph of Pearl on Nash’s bureau. The same one Ruby remembered her mother wearing always. The necklace she’d wondered about.

  Perhaps Mama had merely loaned it to Pearl for the portrait. Mama hadn’t left the precious piece of jewelry lying in a drawer to be casually discovered. She’d wrapped it in this letter and deliberately written Ruby’s name on the outside in hopes she’d find it.

  The letters on the page were too blurred by her tears to read for several minutes. Ruby wiped her eyes on the hem of her skirt.

  My Dearest Ruby,

  Whenever I sit in my rocking chair, I remember holding you close and singing to you. I am not a particularly good singer, but you loved the songs, anyway. Before you could even talk, you sang along in your own precious baby language.

  Ruby glanced at the rocking chair before continuing to read.

  I understand it broke your heart when your father left. He loved you, don’t ever doubt that. He loved us all, but the wandering spirit that drew him away was powerful. I pray he found what he wanted. I pray you do, too.

  I also pray this letter finds you one day, so you will understand how dearly I love you, and so these words can give you peace. I don’t hold it against either one of you for leaving. You are young and there is much to be discovered about people, about love. I do hope you found love, Ruby Gail, because it’s the only thing that truly matters—that carries us forward. It’s the only real thing in this world.

  If you never look back, I know your tomorrows will be blessed. If you do look back, don’t live with regrets. You have so many good qualities I admire. One of them is your courage.

  You have my heart and my love always,

  Mama

  Her mother had mentioned nothing of the necklace in this note, though she had worn it always. Ruby clenched it and allowed her tears to flow freely. Mama had wanted her to have it, along with this letter. “So you will understand how dearly I love you, and so these words can give you peace.”

  How typically unselfish of her.

  Ruby allowed the implication of her mother’s words to sink in. It came as no surprise that Mama hadn’t blamed Ruby’s father for leaving them—and that she’d wished him only well. Laura Dearing hadn’t wasted time on regrets or anger or blame—even though she must have suffered, and his leaving made her life more difficult.

  She’d hoped Ruby had found love.

  How ironic that Ruby had traveled the eastern states and had only a misguided interpretation of love, finding no one equal in character to those she’d left behind. She had carried her love of home and family within, well-hidden. And eventually it had brought her back to this place.

  Ruby had agonized over her inability to apologize to her mother. She’d scolded herself again and again. Regret had eaten at her.

  Mama didn’t want an apology. Didn’t expect one. Didn’t need one. Mama hadn’t blamed Ruby for leaving. She’d missed her, of course. But she’d wished her well. She’d considered Ruby courageous.

  She’d wanted her daughter to find love.

  Ruby had been so bent on leaving Dearing farm behind, on seeing places, meeting people, on living life without boundaries, that she’d run out on everyone who’d ever mattered.

  The only person who needed to forgive Ruby was herself.

  She walked to the mirror over the bureau and fastened the gold chain around her neck. The locket shone brightly in the stream of sunlight shining through the windowpane. How ironic that she’d worn one of her mother’s shirtwaists today. Even so, she looked nothing like Laura Dearing. Mama’s hair had been a lustrous shade of rich honey, and she’d always worn it in a smooth, neat knot on the back of her head.

  Ruby had always felt so different from her gentle mother and her fair, sweet sister. She’d identified with her father, and when he’d left without speaking a word to her, the world had dropped out from under her. She’d been angry at him and she’d taken out the hurt on her mother.

  Mama had understood. She’d been heartbroken, as well.

  Ruby had been a child. A rebellious child, but a child nonetheless. Because she’d grown up so quickly after leaving the farm, she’d somehow forgotten that.

  “I forgive you, Ruby,” she said to her image in the mirror, and laid her fingers against the gold locket.

  Maybe Mama had been right and God had been watching over them, taking care of them, but Ruby had been as belligerent toward any heavenly direction and protection as she had about her mother’s.

  “Thank you for the letter, Mama.”

  Her image in the mirror grew dark, and a gust of wind blew the curtains inward. Flecks of rain dotted the wood floor.

  Ruby hurried to lower the window. Ominous dark clouds rolled across the sky, which to the north was completely black. A heavy wind had come out of nowhere and the tall trees along the windbreak bent under the force of the gale. This was no simple thundershower.

  Ruby’s heart chugged in panic, but her thoughts zeroed in on what she must do. She’d seen enough tornados to know she couldn’t waste a second. She ran toward Joel’s room, where he was sleeping. “Claire! Jane! Come into the hall immediately!”

  Wide-eyed, the girls met her as she ran back with a startled Joel in her arms. Claire’s face was white. “What’s wrong, Aunt Ruby?”

  “Down the stairs now. There’s a storm, and we have to get to shelter.”

  “A tornado?” Claire screeched. She grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her forward. They hurried down the stairs as fast as was safely possible and darted through the house to the back door. As soon as they descended the stairs, cold raindrops stung their skin and the wind plastered their clothes against their bodies. The temperature had instantly dropped.

  Dust mixed with dry grass blew in swirling eddies before skidding along the earth and disappearing into the murky gray air. A dented pail rolled past.

  The mares entered Ruby’s thoughts, but the image fled as quickly as it had come. No time for that.

  Jane burst into tears.

  “Follow me!” Ruby shouted. Still carrying Joel, she ran across the dooryard.

  Tugging a hysterical Jane behind her, Claire obeyed.

  * * *

  The wind sucked Nash’s hat from his head, and he quickly finished loading his tools in the back of the wagon. There hadn’t been a sign of a storm all morning while he’d been mending fences. He attempted to cover the tools with the tarp, but the wind tore it from his grasp. Cold pellets dotted his head and shirt, and he squinted at the darkening sky. Menacing black clouds skittered in his direction. This didn’t look like a passing thunderstorm. His men were scattered across the land today. Ruby and the children were at the house alone.

  After unharnessing Boone from the cumbersome wagon, Nash jumped on the horse’s back without a saddle and lit out across the pasture, praying the horse’s footing was sure and they came across no rabbit or snake holes. His heart pounded erratically.

  They’d never talked about what to do if a tornado struck. Claire hadn’t seen one since she was a baby, but he had showed her the storm cellar. How long ago had that been? Would she remember? He’d never told Jane about it. Or Ruby.

  Of course Ruby would know. She had grown up here. She knew the dangers, and her father had dug that storm cellar.

  Ruby knew what to do.

  As long as she made it in time. Tornados were unpredictable and deadly.

  He scanned the sky for dark clouds, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. If a funnel cloud hit the house it could be reduced to a pile of splinters within seconds. He prayed for his family’s safety, prayed Ruby had had enough warning.

  Nash rode as hard and as fast as Boone could carry him, fighting the wind. A tree branch blew across their path, and the horse spooked, rearing up and neighing. Nash held on to the reins, but gravity hauled him off to the side, where he found his footing in the wet grass and held on. Boone danced in a half circle. “Whoa, boy, whoa. There, boy. Whoa. Good boy, Boone.”

  Both of them were soaked from the biting rain, and Nash fought to get the horse under control and hoist himself back on top. When he managed it, Boone took a few steps to the side, but then lunged forward. The animal had enough sense to recognize they were heading toward the barn.

  A few of the horses in the nearest pastures galloped about, while others stood along the fence line. They were safest out here, where they could run. It was the few mares still waiting to foal that Nash was most concerned about, because they were penned up in stalls in the barn.

  When the house came into sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. He rode across the dooryard, slid from Boone’s back and released him. The horse ran to the corner of the barn and stood, nostrils flaring, ears flattened back.

  Nash bolted toward the sturdy wood door of the underground shelter. It was unbolted from the outside, which meant it had been bolted within. Thank God. He banged on the wood. “Ruby!”

  A metal sound grated, and he raised the door, struggling to keep hold of it in the wind.

  “Nash!” Ruby’s voice. The most beautiful voice he’d ever heard.

  He lowered himself down the wooden stairs and fastened the door securely above. A lantern glowed in the dim safety of the underground shelter, and his children sat on the benches, blankets around their shoulders. Until that moment he hadn’t realized he was trembling.

  Ruby stood facing him. “You’re soaked.”

  She reached for a thin blanket and raised it to his hair. He used it brusquely and hung the fabric around his shoulders. “I knew you’d keep them safe.”

  He learned forward and kissed her, not caring that he dripped water on her face. She met his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, with the bulk of the blanket between them. She smelled so good. She was warm. She was his home.

  Acknowledging the insistent tugs on his legs, he finally released her and knelt to embrace Joel and Claire.

  “There’s a big wind!” Joel exclaimed with a serious expression. “We run-ded so fast. Jane cried.”

  Jane remained on the bench, her eyes huge and fearful. Nash sat beside her. “You’re safe in here. Ruby won’t let anything happen to you. To any of you.”

  “But you weren’t here.” Jane’s voice shook.

  “I can’t always be here,” he answered. “But you’re safe with Ruby. She won’t leave you. And I’ll always come home as quickly as I can. Always.”

  He looked up to read warm appreciation in Ruby’s blue eyes.

  “Aunt Ruby sang to us,” Claire said.

  “I’m sorry I missed that. Real sorry.”

  “She’ll sing for you, too, Papa, and you won’t have to be scared or sad anymore. Won’t you, Aunt Ruby?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Above their heads the wood door shuddered under the threatening force of the wind, but the sturdy latch held it firmly in place. His men were smart enough to take shelter. The horses might run off, but he’d find them. His parents and sister knew how to survive a tornado, too.

  Those who meant the most to him were right here. “Sing for me, Ruby.”

  She sat beside Claire, enfolded her and rubbed her back. “Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you, away you rolling river. Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you, away, I’m bound away, ’cross the wide Missouri...”

  * * *

  Less than an hour had passed when Nash pushed back the heavy bolt, raised the door and looked out at the clear sky. The clouds had all blown southward, where the distant sky was still dark, but the wind had disappeared. The ground was wet, and straw along with leaves and small branches littered the dooryard.

  He propped the door open and led his family out. “Looks like we have chores to do.”

  Ruby studied their surroundings. The barn and stables stood firm. The house looked fine, though one side was plastered with wet leaves and the chairs had all slid to one end of the porch. A tattered basket was stuck in the blooming lilac bush beside the porch.

  The children headed for the house, but Nash caught her wrist before she could follow them. “Ruby. There’s something I need to say to you.”

  She looked up. His ebony hair had dried in unruly spikes, and his dark eyes were serious.

  “I love you.”

  A tingle passed through her chest. Joy rose inside her, but she was hesitant to accept the emotion.

  “When you showed up, I was afraid of how you made me feel. I didn’t want to, but I liked everything about you. I wanted to be mad at you and stay mad. I didn’t want to admit any failures on my part.”

  “Nash, you’re not a failure. You’ve made a success of the ranch. You may have struggled with the kids, but you handled losing Pearl the best you could. You’ve done a good job. No one could have done better.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  She faced him squarely. “What then?”

  “I mean Pearl.”

  “But you loved Pearl.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I loved her. She was sweet and considerate, hardworking—all the things you already know about her. She was all those things.” He swallowed and took his time preparing his next words. “But she wasn’t passionate, Ruby. I loved her, but I didn’t feel passionately about her. She didn’t make my heart feel ready to explode when I looked at her. I didn’t see her hair and want to hold her next to me and feel her body and the beat of her heart. I didn’t look at her with the children and think my life was complete. I was not whole. We were not whole.”

  The ache of being less valuable, of being unimportant, lifted from Ruby’s chest as she listened. She hadn’t been prepared for this. Hadn’t expected it. But she’d wanted it. Without admitting it to herself, she’d yearned for him to want and need her.

 

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