Lori Copeland - Yellow Rose Bride

“I’ll help you get dressed. What about the blue? Daddy loved the blue dress on you.”

Vonnie began to search through the armoire for the new dress she’d made her mother in the spring. “I sewed it special for Easter, remember? And Daddy commented on how nice you looked in it.”

“Vonnie—”

“Try, Momma. The burial is in thirty minutes. You’ve got to be there.” She took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “For me.”

Resigned, Cammy got up, visibly weak from not eating.

She managed to get dressed and brush her hair into a semblance of order. She leaned heavily on Vonnie’s arm as they descended the stairs. Mrs. Lincoln was in the foyer and saw them first.

“Cammy,” she murmured, stepping forward to meet them. “Teague would say you look like a bluebonnet in the summer.”

“Oh, Eugenia.” Cammy broke down, walking into her friend’s arms.

Vonnie let Mrs. Lincoln take charge of her mother, watching them go into the large parlor together. Murmurs of condolences floated out to her as Vonnie retreated outside.

The sun was shining, a light breeze. She lifted her eyes to the heavens and whispered, “You’re going to have to help us get through this. I know Daddy’s there with You, but this is so hard for us.” A peace filled her and for a moment she imagined that she felt Teague’s firm hand on her shoulder, urging her on.

Moving toward the family cemetery, which Teague had prepared in a grove of birch trees about a hundred yards from the house, she gathered her fortitude around her like a shroud. Teague’s parents were buried here. They’d lived with Cammy and Teague until their deaths, when Vonnie was three. And Great-Aunt Alice and Uncle Sill were here. Vonnie pushed open the gate, pausing momentarily as the gaping hole in the ground where her father would be laid to rest jarred her senses. The ranch hands had been busy this morning.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She sagged against the gate as the enormity of the past twenty-four hours hit her.

She clung to the weathered boards, her lips moving in silent prayer. Now, as never before, she realized the comfort of being a child of God. How could anyone go through life without the love and strength that only He could give?

She remained at the grave site, grieving alone. When she started back to the house, the funeral party was already spilling out onto the lawn, parting to stand aside as six pallbearers carried the freshly planed pine casket toward the cemetery. Cammy, still firmly in Mrs. Lincoln’s control, followed her husband’s body, a linen handkerchief to her eyes. Vonnie watched the strangely quiet procession make its way across the wide lawn.

Ed Hogan had come. Teague had bought feed from him for years. The Newton sisters were there because they were simply good neighbors. Cammy had taken a kettle of chicken soup to the sisters when one had come down with pneumonia last year. Teague had gone with her and cut a cord of firewood when he noticed their supply was running low.

There was Pastor Higgins, and his wife Pearl, and Franz and frail Audrey. Hildy Addison, Mora and Carolyn were there having arrived last night to be with her.

And then there were the Baldwins. They’d come as a matter of courtesy rather than friendship. It would have looked impolite if they’d been missing, since most of the town had seen fit to pay their condolences.

The five men stood well back from the group now circling the casket. Andrew, two years younger than Adam, had disliked Teague intensely. Vonnie knew he’d had a crush on her since school, but he’d detested her father. They’d been in the same class throughout their childhood. He and Adam had even fought over her once when they thought P.K. wasn’t looking.

Her eyes slipped to the woman who was standing beside Adam. She should be standing by him, not Beth. He should be by her side, to console her, to hold her, to love her…. Her thoughts stopped short. Beth was one of the nicest women around—kind, even tempered. Vonnie couldn’t find it in her heart to resent Beth’s place beside Adam.

“Dear friends,” Pastor Higgins began as the assemblage gathered closer to the open grave.

Vonnie moved to one side of Cammy as Mrs. Lincoln closed in on the other. Cammy clung to Vonnie’s arm like a lost child.

“We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a loyal friend, a loving husband and father, a good neighbor—”

Andrew Baldwin held his hat in both hands, his eyes lowered. He studied his feet and the casket, but Vonnie could feel his frequent glances.

“—and we know that one day we will see our friend again and we will then rejoice together. Let us pray. Our Father…”

Bowing her head, Vonnie watched Adam standing beside Beth through brimming eyes. P.K., Andrew, Pat and Joey stood nearby. P.K., like her father, was a pillar of the community. The men had more in common than just being neighbors. They were two of a kind, the breed of man who had carved a place for families in this vast land, who proved that perseverance and providence, yoked by sweat and ingenuity, could build a good life.

Alike in spirit, they were alike in appearance as well—tall, rangy, broad shouldered, faces weathered, near the same age.

She studied Adam, her eyes blurred with pain and tears, praying to block out the sight of the man she loved. The warm sun brought out the blond highlights in his brown hair. If she had been taking inventory, she could have noted that he’d not bothered to get a haircut in several weeks. His hair had a tendency to curl when he let it grow, and now it was waving against the collar of a blue shirt that matched his eyes.

Suddenly the memory of the boy she’d loved sprang up. At seventeen, Adam had been larger than most of the boys his age. He’d done the work of a grown man since he had been thirteen. Everyone knew that he and his brothers would one day inherit Cabeza Del Lobo.

The other boys accepted that. Each had his own duties. Andrew was in charge of the hired hands, while the others worked the horses and cattle. Vonnie had heard her father comment to Cammy that P.K. was staying closer to the house more and more these days. Stiffening of the joints, he’d said, made the days long for P.K. Whatever the differences between the two men, her father’s notice of Adam’s father had been genuine.

It would be natural, she’d thought, for the two men who were responsible for Amarillo turning into a thriving community to be friends, or at least business partners. But such was not the case. P.K. and Teague rarely looked in the same direction when forced to be in the same place at the same time, much less socialized.

Yet, she’d found no real reason for such hatred. Differences maybe, but Teague had tolerated differences with everyone but P.K.

“Amen.”

Pastor Higgins motioned Vonnie forward, and she carefully took a handful of dirt and sprinkled it on her father’s coffin.

Oh, Daddy. What are we going to do without you?

The moment was so emotional she felt her defenses crumbling. Holding on to her mother’s arm, she helped Cammy sprinkle dirt on the casket.

“I’ll be stopping by in a day or two,” Pastor Higgins murmured as he grasped their hands a moment later. “My prayers are with you. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

Vonnie blinked back tears. “Thank you, Pastor. It was a lovely service.”

Suddenly she wished everyone was gone. She wanted to be alone, to cry and grieve with her mother.

One by one the mourners passed by, the women hugging first her mother then her, the men shuffling by uttering a few barely audible words.

Everyone had expressed their remorse when P.K. approached. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just looked down at the ground. Eventually, he cleared his throat and met Vonnie’s eyes.