Winnie Griggs - A Tailor-Made Husband

As he pulled on his freshly shined boots, he glanced toward his bed. It would be so good to lie down for just a few minutes but he resisted the temptation. If he lay down now, he might not get back up until tomorrow morning.

Besides, Hazel and Meg would be waiting for him.

When he reached the dress shop he was surprised to see Hazel had the Closed sign in the front window. His conscience niggled at him. Was it in honor of Bethany’s funeral? Or because he’d taken advantage of her generosity and left Meg in her care?

He’d just raised his hand to knock when the shop door opened and Hazel and Meg stepped out.

The dark blue—nearly black—dress Hazel wore should have looked severe on her. But somehow it didn’t. Instead it highlighted the coppery gold of her hair and set off her green eyes to perfection. And her smile, as always, softened her sharp features. It was a mystery to him why some other bachelor hadn’t claimed her hand by now. Seeing her with Meg drove home just how suited she was to be a wife and mother. If only he was the settling-down sort—

Better he not let his thoughts go there.

Before he could greet them, Meg rushed over and hugged his leg. “Sheriff Gleason! You came back!”

The strength of relief and delight in the little girl’s voice caught him off guard. His anger toward her brother resurfaced. It was wrong that such a young child should be made to worry about being abandoned.

“Of course I came back, Half-pint. I told you I was going to look out for you.”

“Miss Hazel and I got this for you,” she said, holding out a small parchment-wrapped parcel. “It’s a piece of brittle. I had one, too, and it’s very good.”

“Why, thank you.” He turned to Hazel. “Both of you.”

Hazel nodded. “You’re welcome. But it was all Meg’s idea.”

Meg cast a worried look at the closed door. “Do you think Pugs and Buttons will be okay while we’re gone?”

“Absolutely.” Hazel slid the key in her pocket. “Buttons will simply find a shelf or tabletop to settle on if Pugs gets too rambunctious.”

Meg turned back to him. “Buttons didn’t seem to like Pugs very much. But Miss Hazel says that they’re gonna learn to be friends.”

He took her hand. “Well let’s hope Miss Hazel is right, shall we?”

As they walked down the sidewalk with a happily chattering Meg between them, Ward found his thoughts turning to the funeral service that lay ahead. Thoughts and emotions he’d been able to hold at bay while dealing with Meg’s tumble into his life were trying to break free. His sister’s life, such as it had been, was over and she was at peace now.

He mourned her passing and he mourned that he’d never been able to make things up to her. His guilt was still there, coloring all those other feelings, and it was only made worse by the faint but real undercurrent of relief he felt at her passing.

Ward cleared his throat, trying to refocus his thoughts. “I want to thank you again for taking care of all the funeral arrangements. I know that was a lot of work to drop in your lap.”

Hazel’s expression softened. “You’re more than welcome. I was honored to be able to do this for Bethany.”

Would she be up to doing him one more very large favor? Having her take Meg in until he could come up with a more permanent solution for the little girl seemed an ideal solution, at least from his perspective. There was no one he’d trust with Half-pint more. And she, of all people, would likely agree that he wasn’t the best caretaker for a child. After all, she’d been there when Bethany had had her accident, the day everything changed.

When they reached the churchyard Ward could see the small crowd gathered for the funeral. He was surprised by how many were there—he hadn’t realized so many people remembered his sister.

As they reached the graveside, he steeled himself once more against the flood of emotions threatening to break free. He knew his sister was in a better place now, but the guilt he felt for having made her last twelve years in this world so troubled was something he’d never be able to forgive himself for.

He tried to focus on something other than the yawning hole in the ground. Jacob White stood to one side, softly playing his fiddle—a hymn that Ward couldn’t quite place. There were flowers on the closed casket—mostly irises, which had been Bethany’s favorite. He had no doubt Hazel was responsible for those little personal touches. He would have to remember to thank her again later.

Hazel stayed at his side during the service, which seemed fitting. She was almost as much family to his sister as he had been. And there was no one in his life he felt closer to.

Throughout it all, he maintained a rigid control over his own expression, not daring to look anywhere but at the casket and that yawning hole in the ground that lay waiting to swallow up what was left of his little sister’s earthly remains.

Reverend Harper, who had known Bethany before her accident, gave a touchingly personal eulogy. The words of God’s love and promise of everlasting life were a balm to his own troubled spirit.

Once the service ended, Hazel touched his arm for a moment, the gesture oddly consoling. Then she withdrew with a restless Meg to one of the benches that were tucked under an ancient oak near the edge of the cemetery.

Strange how he missed the comfort of her presence.

As the mourners disbanded, many of them paused to offer condolences. Among them were Enoch Lawrence and his daughter, Hortense. Enoch’s voice was overly loud and gruff as he assured Ward he would hold him in his prayers. The man’s hearing loss seemed to be getting worse by the day and he compensated by raising the volume of his own voice.

Then Hortense, or Tensy as she preferred to be called, spoke up, her eyes moist with emotion. “It was a lovely service,” she said. “Just the sort your sister would have wanted.”

Tensy was closer in age to him than his sister, so the words were probably mere platitudes, but he appreciated the thought. “Thank you, I believe she would have as well.”

“Please, if there is anything at all I can do for you over the coming weeks, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you.” He’d received many such offers today. While he was certain they were all sincerely meant, he didn’t intend to take anyone up on them.

After all, what could anyone do to ease his guilt?

Chapter Three

Hazel helped Meg hop up on the sturdy but worn bench. Meg had been remarkably well behaved during the service, fidgeting much less than Hazel had anticipated, but by the end it had been clear she needed something to distract her.

It warmed Hazel’s heart to see so many folks gathered for the service. Did Ward realize they were all there to support him?

The soft strains of “What a Friend We Have In Jesus,” Bethany’s favorite hymn, had added an air of reverent sweetness to the gathering. Had Ward felt it too?

But she could tell that he’d withdrawn into himself. There was an air of rigid control about him, as if he were trying to hold back some unwanted emotion. It was his way, of course. But she couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have done some good for him to mourn outwardly as well.

What was he feeling? Grief, of course—but there was more to it than that. Guilt? Sorrow for what could have been? A touch of relief that his sister was at peace now? Probably a combination of all of them. She knew because she felt some of that as well.

Meg swung her legs and chattered away to her doll, pointing out a squirrel scampering up a tree, a butterfly flittering around and any number of other things that caught her eye.

Earlier, when the three of them had walked through town, Hazel had imagined that they must look the very picture of a happy family. Oh, how she wished that were true.