Yellow Rose Bride. Lori Copeland

      “Nevertheless, you’re not to go around him. Besides, he’s about to be married.”

      Vonnie busied herself with cups and saucers. No use trying to convince him that Adam was a Christian. Teague Taylor held to strict beliefs. He wasn’t a man who took his faith lightly. “You don’t have to remind me that he’s marrying Beth,” she couldn’t help adding.

      “That’s Leighton Baylor’s problem, not mine.” He glanced at his wife. “What smells so good?”

      “Ham…rhubarb pie,” Cammy announced.

      “Rhubarb? You little sweetheart!” He pecked her on the cheek as he walked by. “If we weren’t already married, I’d marry you again.” He eyed the heaping plate of meat. “I could eat a horse.”

      “Sit down, I’m taking up the gravy right now. Vonnie, honey, hand me a—” Cammy suddenly paused, frowning. “Teague? What’s wrong?”

      Teague’s face had suddenly turned white as a sheet, his mouth tight with pain.

      “Daddy?” Vonnie looked up as she was about to place a fork on the table.

      Shaking his head as if he didn’t understand himself, his left hand drifted to his chest, his fingers curling into his shirt. A puzzled look came into his eyes, then surprise.

      “Teague?”

      “Daddy?” Vonnie reached out to steady him as anguish marked her father’s face. His gaze met hers, his eyes suddenly full of love. A cold wave of panic swept her.

      His mouth opened, but no words came out. Then his legs buckled, and he slumped to the floor, both hands against his chest.

      Screaming, Cammy dropped the platter of meat. Ham scattered across the floor, mingling with the shattered china.

      “God help us! Teague!” Sinking to her knees, Cammy cradled her husband’s lifeless form in her arms. “No, no, no,” she whispered over and over. “You can’t do this—you can’t do this—you can’t leave me—don’t leave me, Teague—”

      Kneeling beside her father, Vonnie reached for his hand, hoping to find a pulse. There was none.

      In the blink of an eye, Teague Taylor had left this earth.

      Chapter Five

      Mourners began arriving for the funeral mid-morning. Buggies filled the yard of the Flying Feather Ranch; the kitchen table groaned beneath the weight of food brought by thoughtful friends and concerned neighbors. Cammy had withdrawn into herself. Vonnie was concerned about her mother.

      Drying her eyes, she watched the guests’ arrival from the parlor front window. She’d retreated here to escape the soft words of sympathy that were beginning to grate on her nerves. Everyone was well-meaning, but nothing could soften the pain of the loss that cut so deeply through her. Cammy hadn’t come out of her room yet today. Vonnie was even more worried about how she was going to get her through the funeral. Her mother and father had been so close.

      “Vonnie?”

      She turned from the window. “Yes, Mrs. Lincoln.”

      “The preacher’s here. Dear, Cammy hasn’t come down yet. Should someone go see about her?”

      Moving from the window, Vonnie dabbed at her moist eyes with a handkerchief. “I’ll go. Tell Pastor Higgins I’ll be with him in a few minutes. Has everyone had coffee?”

      “Everyone’s fine. You see to your mother. Is she doing all right?”

      “Not so well, Mrs. Lincoln. She and Daddy were—”

      “I know, dear.” Eugenia Lincoln and Cammy had been neighbors for years. Mrs. Lincoln had lost her own husband five years earlier. “It will take time, but one day she’ll begin to take up her life again. Oh, the pain will still be there, but it will lessen. One day she’ll begin to remember the good things about her life with Teague.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln.” Vonnie smiled, dabbing at her eyes. “She’ll need your friendship.”

      “She’ll have it.” Eugenia said, patting Vonnie’s arm.

      A moment later, Vonnie knocked lightly on her mother’s door. When there was no response, she opened the door gently.

      “Mother?”

      The shades were drawn down tight. It took a moment for Vonnie’s eyes to adjust, then she saw her mother half-reclining on a fainting couch in the corner.

      “Mother, the service will begin in half an hour.”

      Cammy hadn’t dressed yet. Her hair hung in a tangled mat over her shoulders. She looked as if she had aged twenty years in the past twenty-four hours.

      “Pastor Higgins is here, and all our neighbors and friends. You should come downstairs.”

      “I can’t…I can’t go through this.”

      Vonnie knelt beside the couch, her fingers gently reaching to stroke her mother’s trembling hand.

      “You must, Momma. They’ve been so good to come, to offer their help and sympathy.”

      Cammy turned lifeless eyes on her. “What good will words do? Teague is gone. Nothing will ever be the same again.”

      “I know you feel that way now, Momma, but you can’t hide up here for the rest of your life. As painful as this is, we have to face it, together.”

      “I can’t be with those people. Not now—please, leave me be.” Vonnie’s patience was stretched to the breaking point.

      “Momma, Daddy wouldn’t want you to behave like this. He’d want you to be strong, to trust God. You know Daddy trusted without question. He’d expect us to do the same.”

      Cammy covered her eyes with her hand and held a sodden handkerchief to her trembling lips. “He shouldn’t have left me.”

      “He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to die, Momma!” She took Cammy’s hand, holding tightly. “God will give us the strength needed.”

      Cammy began to sob, and Vonnie was sorry she’d been sharp with her. She had spent most of her life with Teague Taylor, and part of her was gone. She had every right to grieve. Vonnie had been a gift from God. Cammy believed she would never have a child. Then one afternoon she had stumbled across a dying woman. A dying woman who had given her a child. Her parents had doted on her. The three had become nearly inseparable. Vonnie understood that her mother would grieve deeply, but this retreating to her room, to inside herself, distressed her.

      “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.