Page 13 of Cloaked in Beauty

The furrows that had formed across the minister’s brow cleared the moment Philip said the name.

“Mrs. Hood. Of course! I didn’t recognize her at first. She’s changed a good deal since this photograph was taken.”

“You know her?” Philip’s pulse kicked into a gallop.

The man nodded. “Indeed. I saw her every third week when I traveled to Queen City.” His brow scrunched. “She was a rather unusual woman. Met me every Lord’s Day at the steps of the church, a good hour before services began. Gave me her tithe and asked me to pray for the protection of her and her kin. Then she’d leave. I got the impression that she hungered for worship and community with God’s people, but no matter how many times I invited her to stay for services, she always refused. Said she was needed elsewhere.” He shrugged. “I thought she might be tending to an invalid relative who couldn’t be left alone for any significant length of time. I honored her wishes and prayed for her and her kin regularly. I still do on occasion, whenever the Lord lays her on my heart.”

“Did you ever visit her at her home?” Please, Lord.

The parson shook his head. “No. I did ask for her direction, offering to pay a call on her after services, but she just smiled and told me the Lord knew where she was and that was enough.” He shook his head, a slightly bemused gleam in his eye. “Her faith was certainly unconventional, but I could tell it was real.”

Philip glanced back to where he left his horse, suddenly eager to be on his way. “Queen City?”

“Yes. Take the north road out of Atlanta and follow the rail lines. It’s only about three miles.”

Philip pumped the man’s hand. “You might have just saved a life today, Parson. Thank you!”

The man chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But I do think it would be good for Mrs. Hood to reunite with her daughter.” He drew himself into a more pious pose. “As Paul taught in his second letter to the Corinthians, we’ve all been given the ministry of reconciliation. May the Lord bless your efforts in that regard.”

“Doors are startin’ to open, Parson. I can only trust that he will continue leading me in the way that I should go.”

“I pray he will, son.”

“Thank you. With the road I have ahead of me, I’m gonna need all the prayer I can get.”

5

CASS COUNTY, TEXAS, WEST OF QUEEN CITY

Letty leaned over her horse’s neck and urged her to greater speed. “Come on, Shadow. Fly!”

The black mare needed little encouragement. She enjoyed racing through the forest as much as Letty did. Rusty bounded through the trees on a parallel path, his reddish-brown fur blending with the tree trunks and making him hard to spot. A fact she appreciated after last week’s scare.

She’d avoided the ridge all week and did her best to discourage Rusty from roaming in that direction, though controlling a wolf’s movements was about as easy as controlling where rain would fall. He howled incessantly if she tied him up in the yard and paced with clicking nails all night when she brought him inside. Grandmother had insisted she quit trying to stifle the animal and just let him roam where he willed. Rather ironic since Grandmother had been stifling Letty’s movements for the majority of her life. Although, to be fair, those boundaries only walled her off from people. Grandmother gave her free rein to explore the miles of woods surrounding their home. She hadn’t even suggested that Letty forgo her morning rides after her encounter with the loggers.

Shadow knew the trail well and galloped through the trees until she reached the small stream that served as their finish line. With a graceful leap, the mare soared over the shallow ravine. For a single heartbeat, all of Letty’s troubles suspended as she floated in midair, the sweet taste of liberty dancing through her blood. Then hooves met earth, rear met saddle, and the burdens of reality fell back upon her shoulders.

“Good girl, Shadow.” Letty leaned forward and patted her mare’s neck, trying to hold on to that feeling of flying for just a moment longer. But as the horse slowed, and the wind against her face weakened, the worries she’d been outrunning caught up to her.

Every moment of the last fifteen years had been leading up to the day she turned twenty-one. The day they returned to Houston and a life she barely remembered. A life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. Cloudy memories of a big house, servants, and rooms filled with shiny things offered little enticement. She much preferred a cozy cottage surrounded by God’s creation over a society that judged women by their beauty, connections, and ability to converse about the weather.

Grandmother had been trying to prepare her to reenter the world she’d left behind. Educating her in the classics, bringing home newspapers so they could discuss current events, thumbing through fashion magazines. Letty enjoyed their spirited debates, especially on the topics of women’s suffrage and child-labor reform, but the more she learned about the outside world, the less attractive it became.

When cornered, Letty would admit that there were a few aspects of society she’d likely enjoy. Large bathtubs filled with water hot from built-in pipes. Ice cream parlors. Donning a pretty dress and dancing with a handsome gentleman. Dancing with Grandmother outside their cabin while Rusty howled along to whatever tune Grandmother hummed usually ended with both women hunkered in laughter. What would it be like to hear the strains of a real orchestra while gliding around an elegant ballroom? Although, she imagined she would enjoy square dancing in a barn with a kindhearted cowboy just as much. Maybe more.

In truth, the only thing that truly drew her to Houston was the thought of seeing her mother again. But even that was fraught with uncertainty. Fifteen years with no communication. No affection. No comforting touch or shared smiles. Grandmother did her best to keep Mama’s memory alive in Letty’s mind, talking about her often, sharing opinions she thought her mother would hold on the food they were eating or the articles they read. They mentioned Mama in their prayers, and Letty wished her goodnight by blowing a kiss to the photograph on the mantel every night before going to bed, a habit Grandmother had encouraged from the time she’d been small.

Letty did her best to hold on to the fuzzy memories, but when she’d left after the fire, it felt like Mama had died, just like Daddy before her. Did Mama feel the same about her? Had they grown so far apart that no amount of time would restore the closeness they’d once shared? What if Letty proved to be a disappointment? Unfit for society. An embarrassment.

What if . . . Letty swallowed, the gentle swaying of her horse unable to soothe the sharp jabs of the dark thoughts she’d battled for years. What if Mama had married someone else, started a new family, and no longer had any need for a discarded daughter? She rubbed the aching spot on her chest that took to throbbing whenever those old insecurities found a crack in her defenses.

Rusty suddenly appeared on their path, tongue lolling, eyes dancing as if sunshine and a good run were all he needed to make him happy. The ache in her chest lessened just a bit as the corner of her mouth edged upward.

Thanks for the reminder, Lord.

Worrying about tomorrow only served to steal the joy from today. And this day was far too fine to squander. Letty turned Shadow toward home and let her eyes drift closed as an autumn breeze rustled through the pines.

I feel like Abram, embarking on a journey into the unknown. I freely admit that I have no idea what’s best for me, for my family, for the businesses Daddy built and all the people those companies employ. Grandmother’s done her best to prepare me, but I know I’m not ready. I’m too young, too inexperienced, too . . . afraid of disappointing the people who depend on me. I need you, Lord. More than I’ve ever—