Authors: Rose Ross Zediker
Dakota Love
Lily of the Field
© 2010 by Rose Ross Zediker
Job’s Tears
© 2012 by Rose Ross Zediker
Rose of Sharon
© 2012 by Rose Ross Zediker
Print ISBN 978-1-63058-453-5
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-134-3
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-135-0
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Scripture taken from the H
OLY
B
IBLE
, N
EW
I
NTERNATIONAL
V
ERSION
®
.
NIV
®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Dear Readers,
Welcome to the area I call home, eastern South Dakota. Although its true western South Dakota is a tourist destination, eastern South Dakota boasts the Sioux Falls, pristine farmlands, and charming small towns, all of which you’ll find covered in the setting of this series of three contemporary novels. I wanted to share with my readers the distinct change of seasons in South Dakota and how the weather affects daily living. Each book takes place in a different season with a theme based on the Bible verse that corresponds with the biblical quilt block each heroine patterns in their story to show how their reliance on God brings them through a dark season in their life, strengthens their faith, and opens their hearts to love in a later stage of their lives.
I hope you enjoy visiting eastern South Dakota within the pages of this book and journeying with the characters as they discover true love isn’t just for younger couples. I love connecting with my readers and look forward to hearing from you.
May God be with you always,
Rose Ross Zediker
www.roserosszediker.blogspot
www.inkspirationalmessages.com
ILY OF THE
F
IELD
To my favorite quilter, Marion Hummel Ross.
Mom, I love you and I miss you
.
C
aroline slipped into the pew just as the first chords of the processional rumbled from the organ pipes. The spirited notes hushed the congregation’s murmured conversation.
With a halfhearted smile, she nodded her greeting to the family sharing the pew before she feigned interest in the worship bulletin. She used to enjoy arriving early to converse with fellow congregants, but since Ted’s death, she’d grown tired of answering the question, “How are you doing?” She knew they didn’t want to hear about her struggle with finances. They expected a positive answer, and quite frankly, after fourteen months, she still couldn’t provide one.
A tap to her knee drew Caroline’s focus back to the service. The congregation was standing. The young boy in her pew offered her a hymnal. Caroline mouthed,
thank you
, as she took the book. The child responded with a toothless grin and inched back to his mother’s side. A happy young family. She remembered those times.
Caroline fumbled through the pages as she rose from the pew, the hymn and worship response a distraction from her troublesome thoughts. Once she was again seated, her mind reverted back to her worries. Hanging clothes on a line to dry in the summer would save her money. But what did a retractable clothesline cost? Could she install it herself? If not, what was the cost of that? The lectionary’s words turned into a drone. Since Ted’s death, her savings dwindled with each passing month. Caroline mentally rearranged her monthly budget for the hundredth time. The answer always came out the same. She was short on funds.
“Caroline Baker.”
My name
. Caroline’s heart thumped in her chest. Panicked questions replaced her mental laundry list of her financial miseries. She hadn’t been a lector since Ted’s death. Why was her name being called during the church service? Had she been caught not paying attention like a grade school child daydreaming in class? Did it require her to answer? Was everyone looking at her, waiting for her response?
Moisture beaded her upper lip as she scanned the service bulletin in an attempt to figure out where they were in the church service.
“She is my joy,” said a familiar voice somewhere behind Caroline. A sniffle followed the statement.
Caroline’s eyes fixed on the words
Joys and Concerns
in her bulletin. They were
that
far into the service. Didn’t they just sing the opening hymn?
She recognized the voice and knew all eyes would be on the speaker, Mildred Welch, yet Caroline’s pulse built speed, beating a drum solo in her ears. She peeked over her shoulder. Mildred stood in a center row, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Caroline turned sideways in the pew. Mildred’s face beamed with joy when their eyes met.
“She restored and finished a quilt my late daughter-in-law started. Now it’s a beautiful heirloom for my grandson.”
Delight bubbled inside Caroline and urged a smile to her lips. A genuine smile, not a forced one like she’d pasted on for some time now. Caroline turned back to face the front of the sanctuary. Mildred’s praise reminded her of the one positive thing in her life—her newfound occupation.
That Jason doesn’t approve of
. Her smile drooped. She pursed her lips into a grim line. Her usually supportive son thought her purchase of a long arm quilting machine was a huge mistake that she’d come to regret. He felt she’d never recoup the investment, let alone turn a profit or provide a steady income from this business venture. She’d reasoned that although she’d given up her teaching certificate in home economics, she could still use her sewing skills to earn a living. As a last resort she explained to Jason that the life insurance money had paid the funeral expenses and the mortgage but didn’t leave enough to cover monthly living expenses for an extended period of time. Still he refused to budge on his opinion.
The rustle of people standing indicated to Caroline that once again, she’d lost track of the service. Why did she even bother coming every Sunday? Hadn’t God forsaken her when He called Ted home at such a young age, leaving her in this predicament? She stood as she scanned the bulletin for a page number, then opened her hymnal and joined the congregation on the second verse of the praise song.
Caroline fidgeted during the benediction. She’d forgotten to scope out her escape route. Since Ted’s death she tried to avoid congregants. She’d grown tired of turning down “enough time has passed” invitations and listening to “fifty is the new thirty—you can still find love” lectures. Although her church family was well meaning, socializing and finding love were the least of her worries.
As soon as the organist hit the first notes of the recessional, Caroline scanned the sanctuary for the fastest exit route. She slipped her coat over her sweater and jeans. Uncrowded, the side door seemed her best choice. She could zigzag through the empty pews to make her escape. Focused on buttoning her coat, she maneuvered to exit the pew and almost mowed down Mildred.
Mildred reached for her hand. “My grandson was so pleased. He remembered his mother working on those quilt blocks. She used pieces of his shirts and blue jeans that he outgrew as the Fisher Boys’ shirts and overalls.”
“I’m so glad he liked it. A quilt is a special gift, in my opinion anyway.” Caroline squeezed Mildred’s hand, happy to know her hard work hadn’t been in vain. All the Fisher Boy pattern pieces had been basted on the blocks but not appliquéd. By the time she’d finished the quilt top, she’d mastered the appliqué stitch.
“I hope you don’t mind, but in my excitement I showed everyone the quilt, even my yardman, Rodney Harris.”
“Is he related to Clara Harris?” Caroline asked. Clara’s pies sold first at any bazaar the church sponsored. Sadly, she had passed away a few months after Ted.
“Yes, Rodney’s her son. He has a quilt he’d like you to look at and see if you can repair. I told him you’d be happy to. I hope that was okay.”
“No, that’s quite all right and the best kind of advertising. Go ahead and give him my name and number. Better yet, I’ll give you a business card to pass on.” Caroline released her grasp and tried to pull her hand free of Mildred’s.
Mildred’s grip tightened. “I’m glad you feel that way. I’ll introduce you.” She started toward the main door, pulling Caroline behind her. For a woman pushing eighty, Mildred’s strength surprised Caroline. Mildred paused long enough for them to murmur acknowledgments to their pastor but not shake hands.