Cathy Marie Hake - Forevermore

Books by
Cathy Marie Hake

F ROM B ETHANY H OUSE P UBLISHERS
Letter Perfect Bittersweet Fancy Pants Forevermore Whirlwind

Forevermore

C ATHY M ARIE H AKE

Forevermore
Copyright 2008
Cathy Marie Hake

Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography: Lindas Photography, Linda Motzko

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Pubishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hake, Cathy Marie.

Forevermore / Cathy Marie Hake.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7642-0318-3 (pbk.)

1. Women cooksFiction. 2. TexasFiction. I. Title.

PS3608.A5454F67 2008
813.6dc22

2007034141

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To Cianna, Audrey, and Fiona
three bright girls who see lifes promises and
possibilities and embrace them with courage and joy.
CATHY MARIE HAKE is a nurse who specializes in teaching Lamaze, breastfeeding, and baby care. She loves reading, scrapbooking, and writing, and is the author or coauthor of more than twenty books. Cathy makes her home in Anaheim, California, with her husband, daughter, and son.

Forevermore

Contents

1891 Texas

T he fields lay ripe for harvest; the house looked ready to collapse. A bounty of weeds fought vegetables in the garden for space, and a scraggly rosebush by the porch wouldnt last another week if someone didnt water it. Hope Ladley reckoned this was the right place to stop. God had a habit of sending her where folks needed a helping hand, and this farm practically shouted her name.

Whoa. She didnt bother to pull back on the reins, for her mule never stepped lively enough to require more than a simple command. Hope jumped down from her two-wheel cart, gave Hattie an appreciative pat, and called out, Anybody home? She grabbed a sizable stack of envelopes and headed toward the house.

An obviously pregnant woman stepped out onto the front porch and shut the screen door with one hand while rubbing her lower back with the other. You be a good girl, she said to a child on the other side. Im going to talk to someone for a minute.

Hope tucked the envelopes into the pocket of her apron and murmured, Lord, I do my best to serve you, but you gotta remember the onliest things I ever helped with a birthing had four legs.

The woman shuffled out from under the porch awning and lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the blazing sun. Hello.

Hello, yourself. Im Hope Ladley. Hope headed toward her and belatedly remembered shed shucked her shoes a few hours back. Oh well. No fixing that oversight now. Maam, Ill come to you. Best you stay in the shade up there. Hotter than the hinges of Hades out here.

It is terribly warm. The woman still wrapped her arms about herself as if shed felt a chill. She looked past Hope. Are you all by yourself?

I reckon you could say that, but GodHes always with me. And Hattie thereshes my mulewell, might hurt her feelins ifn I didnt say she made for a fine travelin companion.

Slowly, the woman nodded. She hadnt given her name and inched back up each of the four steps. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips; then she cast a look at the tall, black yard pump. Did you stop to get some water?

Hattie and mewell, we both had a long, cool drink a mile or so ago. Nice of you to offer, though.

Annie? A tall, broad-shouldered man in blue jeans came around the corner. He yanked off his straw work hat and cast a questioning look at his wife. Deep grooves bracketing his unsmiling mouth and scrunched brows bore testament to a man whose mind dwelled on more than his fair share of worries.

The lady on the top porch step said, We have a visitor. Her name is

Hope Ladley, Hope declared as she stepped up and shook the farmers hand. It was big, sunburned, and callusedthe kind of hand that bespoke someone who worked long and hard for everything he owned. Hed sweated and toiled to own this farm. Good, honest dirt under his nailsone of the best ways a woman could tell a man was a hard worker.

Jakob Stauffer. His voice sounded as icy as his eyes looked.

Lord, Im steppin out in faith here. If this aint where youre wantin me to be, I reckon youll send me away . Since the farmer didnt introduce his missus, Hope bridged the awkward silence. Im a plainspoken woman, Mr. Stauffer, so Im gonna be up-front. Your oxs wallowin beneath all that straw.

Theres nothing wrong with my team. The farmer scowled and dragged his hand from her grip. Not a soul could say my livestock

Now, hold it there for a minute. Im just usin a Bible sayin. She leaned toward him a little and half whispered, Arent you God-fearin folk?

Jakob, I think she meant the ox is in the ditch.

Hope perked up. Thats it! Then what critter gets all the straw?

A camel. The woman waddled down the stairs and stood real close to her man. Im Annie Erickson.

Shes not his wife . Hope felt more than a bit confused. Lord, Im confounded. I mustve been wrong about this bein where you wanted me. So you already got yourself a housekeeper.

The woman twitched a pitiful excuse for a smile. Jakob is my brother.

You were talking to at least one youngun inside. Got a passel of em betwixt the both of you?

This Mrs. Ericksons voice caught. This is my first.

Well be praying for you to have an easy time of it and for the babe to be healthy. Hope nodded and turned back to the farmer. Its his turn to crow about his family .

Sleet would look warm compared to his icy glare. What do you want, Mrs. Ladley?

Its Miss. Im free to follow wherever God takes me. She swept an arm toward his fields. Harvest is nigh upon you. I dont mean to boast, but I can cook real fine. What, with all the men youll have round to labor on your land, seems you could stand to keep me here to feed em.

We were just talking about hiring two of the Richardson girls. Mrs. Erickson didnt sound very sure of herself.

Mr. Stauffer muttered something about the lesser of two evils.

Tell you folks what. You dont know me from Eve.

Its supposed to be Adam, Mr. Stauffer growled.

Hope shook her head. Cant be. Course, youd know me from him. Eve was the gal. Anyway, I reckon you oughtnt hire me right off without having some proof that I can turn out a decent meal. So tell me how many Im to feed supper, what you have a notion to eat, and what time its to be ready.

The farmer ran his hand through mud brown hair, but that didnt begin to remove the imprint from his hat. His grim expression didnt change one iota as he raised his chin toward his sister.

If hes leaving the decision to her, hes got to be a widower. Hope pulled the packet of letters from her apron and handed them to Mrs. Erickson. Recommendations from other farmers. Some folks like that kind of stuff afore they make up their mind whether to keep me on.

Looking down at the thick stack in her hand, Mrs. Erickson sounded uncertain. I suppose we could give her a try, Jakob.

Dandy. Ill move my mule and cart outta the way. Mr. Stauffer, are you hankering after anything special to eat or is there any particular chore that needs doin?

He shook his head and took the porch steps two at a time. He paused at the doorstep and looked down at his dirty boots. Emmy-Lou, he called before opening the door and hunkering down.