Five Years Later

“Ezekiel and Beauregard,” Clara said, in a firm but kind voice. “It is time for church. Now. Not in five minutes.” 

It still absolutely astounded and baffled her that she could call out into the living room, and two carbon copies of Elias would run over to her. She had thought that publishing her first book would be the greatest joy of her life. It turned out her greatest joy existed in her children. 

The two boys ran over to her, giving her a hug around the legs. 

“Ready, Mama,” Ezekiel, four years old and already tall and strong, said. “Beauregard is ready too. I can’t wait for Sunday school.” 

“Yes, I know you both like Sunday school,” she said. “Papa is out by the wagon, let’s go and meet him.” 

It was still warm, although the leaves were starting to change their colors. Clara didn’t think that the boys needed coats quite yet, although she was sure that day was coming soon.

Elias was already ready and he swooped down to pick up Ezekiel first and then Beauregard, making sure they were firmly on the wagon seat before reaching his hand out to Clara. The boys were just small enough to sit at the front, although Clara knew that it wouldn’t be long before they would need to sit in the back. They were growing so fast. She couldn’t believe Beauregard was already three. She missed having a baby around, although she knew that if she was meant to have one, she would… on God’s time. She had become a lot better at accepting God’s will since she moved to Willow Creek. She knew, when she had wavered before, that God was watching out for her and everything would be alright in the end, no matter what path they had to walk first. 

“I got a letter yesterday,” Elias said, as he pulled the reins and they began to rattle along. “From the publishing house.” 

“Oh?” she asked. “Well, what did they say?” 

“They said that they wanted to move the release date up,” he said. “That they liked it so much, they thought that it could come out at Christmas rather than wait for spring.” 

“What?” Clara said, in disbelief. “Elias, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” 

“I still can’t believe that the world would want to read my poetry,” he said. “But it has been quite… inspiring to go through this process.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be on the best seller list before you know it,” she said, and he smiled. 

“I don’t think I’ll take down A Carpenter’s Heart, by the famous Clara Whitaker-Whitmore,” he said. 

“Imagine that,” she said, as they rolled along the road to Main Street. “The two of us on the best seller lists. Oh, it would be a dream come true.” 

“The question is, which one of us will be number one and which one of us number two?” he teased her. 

“We can take turns,” she assured him with a laugh.

“Well, I do like the idea of that,” he said. 

They soon switched to other topics and before she knew it, they were in town. The ride went quickly when they alternated between managing the children and talking to each other. Now that they both had books out, or another to come out, it felt like they connected on a different level. Clara was delighted to share the woes and joys of working with a publishing house with Elias. She could not wait until she saw his book on the shelf. 

A Carpenter’s Heart, her newest book, was doing so well that her publisher was already asking her to write a sequel. She imagined them side by side on the walls of bookshops, just like her two children were sitting side by side now. It was probably the most realistic book she had written, barely disguising that it was her and Elias’s love story. She had let him read the draft before she sent it in, just so he was aware of the things that she said. She was worried that he would say that he didn’t want their story published or that she had changed too much, but all he did was return the manuscript to her after a few nights and kiss her on top of the head. 

“It’s lovely, dear,” he said. “And I’m sure people would be happy to read your writing. So long as we don’t have any well-wishers or autograph seekers showing up at the door, I’m happy with it.” 

She remembered those words as they headed into the church. She had joked with him that the only people who might show up at the door specifically looking for them were Shadow Riders and now those were just a distant memory. Willow Creek was truly the answer to her prayers and her dreams. It was the beautiful rural town that she had been writing about all along without reading it. 

When they arrived at church, they found themselves in the middle of the congregation heading in. Despite the crowd, Clara was able to spot Louisa and Deputy Mercer, each holding the hand of their now three-year-old daughter, Hazel. 

“Louisa,” Clara told her. “Good morning! You look well.” 

“We all got up before the sun,” Louisa said. “And picked some wildflowers for the table tonight before getting ready for church. It was the perfect morning. 

“That does sound perfect,” Clara said. “Perhaps we should arrange a wildflower picking playdate for the children sometime?” 

“That would be lovely,“ Louisa replied. “And then you and I could catch up as well. I feel like it’s been ages.” 

“It has been ages. “Clara said. “It’s just the children…” 

“Don’t I understand?” Louisa said. “You have two children and I only have one, but I feel like I have fifty.” 

Clara laughed at that as they took their seats. The Sunday school teachers would be by shortly to collect all the children, and she cherished just sitting beside them on the church pew. She had been positively delighted when Louisa had announced that she was with child a few days after Clara had announced she was carrying her second child. They had viewed their children growing up as cousins. 

“Do you know what the sermon is today?” Louisa asked, as everyone settled down. 

“I don’t,’” Clara said. “But I’m sure that it will be good and relevant. Reverend Hartwell always has a good sermon. They are much better than Boston.” 

“Speaking of Boston, have you thought about visiting?” Louisa asked her. “Even just to see Amelia and Theo’s bookstore?” They wrote to me about it and I thought it sounded amazing.” 

“I’ve thought about going,” she said. “And now that the children are a little bit older, maybe now is a good time, before Ezekiel starts school. I would like them to see the bookshop where Amelia and I met, and where we became friends. It is extra special of course, now that she and Theo own it.” 

“Maybe we’ll join you,” Louisa said. “In the summer, I am usually free and I have always wanted to see Boston.” 

“That would be lovely,” Clara said. “I’ll contact you as soon as I figure out some dates. Now that the book is out, it is much easier to manage my schedule. I think it would be quite an adventure for the children, and it would be an extra adventure if they could all travel together.” 

“Indeed,” Louisa agreed. “Perhaps the reverend’s sermon will be on the benefits of travel.” 

Clara laughed at that as the Sunday school teachers came by then, collecting each child by holding out their hand. The children always ran to the teachers like they were a piper and Clara thought it was adorable. She always wondered if Sunday school at Willow Creek was particularly enchanting or whether the children just liked being together. 

Once the children were gone, the reverend took to the pulpit. His voice booked through the church as he opened the service. 

“Beloved congregation,” Reverend Hartwell began, his voice resonant and steady, echoing against the hand-hewn wooden beams of the chapel. “As we gather here today and look through these windows, we see the handiwork of the Almighty in the changing of the seasons. The leaves turn from vibrant green to gold and crimson, telling us that one time is drawing to a close and another is upon us. For as the Scripture reminds us in Ecclesiastes, ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.’”

In the pew beside her, Elias reached over and gently took Clara’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. Clara looked at him, feeling the warmth of his hand, and remembered the seasons of hardship they had endured, the shadows that had once darkened Willow Creek, the fearful secrets, and the long road of healing that followed.

“Many of us in this sanctuary have walked through long wildernesses,” the reverend continued, raising his hands in a gentle benediction over the congregation. “Some of you traveled hundreds of miles across dust and wilderness to reach this valley, leaving behind everything you once knew. Others among us have traversed spiritual wildernesses, burdened by sorrow, grief, or uncertainty. But hear the word of the Lord from Psalm 107: ‘They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, their souls fainted. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distresses. And He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.’”

Clara felt a lump form in her throat as the words washed over her. She recalled her departure from Boston five years ago, carrying only a single trunk and a heart full of fear. She had felt so utterly lost, unaware that the Lord was guiding her steps toward this quiet sanctuary, toward Elias, and toward a home she could never have imagined.

“And as we prepare for new journeys, whether across the country or in the quiet work of our daily lives, we must place our faith in His protection,” Reverend Hartwell preached, his gaze sweeping over the rows of families. “The Psalmist writes, ‘The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.’ When the Patriarch Abraham was called in Genesis to leave his country and his kindred, the Lord promised, ‘I will make thee a great nation, and I will bless thee… and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.’ He does not send us into the unknown without His divine light to guide the way.”

Louisa turned slightly from the pew ahead, exchanging a soft, understanding smile with Clara as the sermon touched upon their planned journey to Boston. Clara smiled back, resting her head against Elias’s arm.

“So let us not grow weary in doing good, my brothers and sisters,” the reverend concluded, his tone brimming with hope and conviction. “For in Galatians we are promised, ‘And let us not be weary in doing well: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.’ Whatever season you find yourself in today, whether planting seeds of faith in tears, or reaping the joyous harvest of peace, know that the Lord is faithful to complete the work He has begun in you. Amen.”

“Amen,” Elias whispered softly beside her. Clara squeezed his hand tightly, her heart overflowing with gratitude for the journey that had brought them here and the quiet, blessed life they shared.

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