They all laughed merrily at Bud, and it helped to drive back the sudden smarting tears and the choking sob that threatened Marjorie as she gave one last wistful glance back and realized that the old life was done with forever. Yet she was not sad, for Brentwood was ahead, and Brentwood represented a new life of love and service, companionship with God, and with dear people who loved her. She was glad as they drove away into the new life that she had chosen Brentwood instead of Chicago.
Then they wound down along the lake shore, into the city, and out on the highway for home.
And such a drive as they had!
They had arranged that the trucks should not get to Brentwood ahead of them, for Marjorie wanted to be there to give directions. But they did not have to hurry. The day was bright and clear, and the four were happy and together. It seemed like a great picnic, and every moment was a treasure to be remembered always.
Especially was it a happy time for Gideon and Marjorie, for during that two days of drive they bridged the years that had gone before and got really acquainted with one another, so that by the time they reached their destination they were like old friends.
Evan Brower had not been present to see Marjorie off. When he had stopped in the night before for a moment, hoping even yet to persuade her of her folly and turn her from her purpose, Gideon had opened the door for him and told him that Marjorie had gone with Ted to take some jellies and fruit to an old washwoman who lived a mile away. Though Gideon had cordially invited Evan to wait in the almost empty house until they returned, Evan had declined and gone away in a huff, leaving only his card behind him for farewell. Marjorie would have to learn her mistake by sad experience, he decided. But when she discovered it, it would probably be too late.
So the four journeyed back to the east over a hard white road under a blazing sun and had a happy time, and never once thought of Evan Brower all day long.
But oh, that homecoming. How precious it was! To be folded in her mother’s arms and to know that she was at home! To watch the lovelight on her father’s face as he said, “Welcome home, my daughter!” To feel the children’s eager, sticky kisses and hear their screams of welcome. To see real joy in Betty’s face, real welcome! Ah! That was better than all the other world had to offer her.
And then to drive hastily over to Brentwood and meet the trucks, which had just arrived, and with Betty direct where things should go. It was great!
They had reached home early in the afternoon, and by evening all the trucks were empty and the house in fair order.
Ted had had the floors refinished, and they laid the rugs down first, so that everything could be set in place at once.
There were many hands to work. There was Betty in the parlor with Keith Sheridan to help, taking off the covers from the upholstered furniture. There was Bud, bringing endless armfuls of wood to the woodbox, and under Ted’s strict directions carefully laying a fire in the fireplace for later in the evening. And there was Gideon, going quietly about doing things without having to ask what to do next, just as if he were a son of the house and had always lived with this furniture and these rooms.
“You want this here, don’t you, Marjorie?” he would say, and proceed to put it there.
And once in the back hall, toward dusk, those two came hastily upon each other, Marjorie from the way of the kitchen and Gideon from the big pleasant library where he had just deposited an armload of books that had been misplaced by the movers, and they ran right into each other. Gideon put out his arms and enfolded her, perhaps to save her from falling, but it became more than that of itself as suddenly they were close to one another, and Gideon stooped and placed a tender kiss on her lips.
Then, just as suddenly, while they were still under the spell of the wonder of each other’s lips, and did not know anyone else in the world for a moment, there stood Betty and Keith hand in hand.
“Might a mere brother-in-law offer congratulations?” saluted Keith joyously. “Because we’re in a position ourselves to understand.”
He grinned and bowed low with his hand upon his heart. That is, one hand. The other Betty had.
Then he looked up at the embarrassed two who had been taken unawares and grinned.
“It’s a little soon, I suppose, to spring all this on the assembling multitudes,” he offered. “Wouldn’t it be as well if we were to unpack the supper that I understand is awaiting us in baskets in the dining room? I thought I’d just let you know that Ted is at the door with the rest of the family, in case you didn’t want them all to become aware yet of what has happened. I humbly ask your pardon if I have intruded.”
Marjorie, with glowing cheeks and dancing eyes, was laughing now.
“We didn’t know anything about this ourselves till a minute ago!” she announced shyly.
“I believe you!” said Betty solemnly. “That’s the way it came to me, all suddenly.”
“Well, I’m not ashamed of it, though I didn’t think I dared announce my intentions so soon. But I’m glad!” said Gideon solemnly.
“Yes!” said Marjorie. “Aren’t we?”
“Where are you all?” rang out Bud’s clarion voice. “The whole family’s here! Where’s everybody? Say, I’m hungry! When do we eat? Say, whyn’t ya start the fire?”
But the rest were scurrying to the front door to welcome the family.
The mother walked into her house and stood and looked around with eyes full of wonder. There was Marjorie’s piano open, just as if she were going to play; there were the beautiful couches and chairs and tables just as she had dreamed she would like them, and beautiful paintings on the wall. Ted had scratched a match and sent the flames licking up in the fireplace. It was like having a dream come true.
“Oh, it’s too good to have all these things at once!” she said. “My girl come home to Brentwood and all my children here!”
“Yes, Mother dear,” chirped Betty from the doorway, her hand again in Keith’s, who winked across at Marjorie and Gideon, “even more children than you had bargained for!”
GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL (1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote over one hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.
Grace Livingston Hill, Brentwood
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