She turned the wagon around and headed to Kahlerville with a sense of urgency that chilled her to the bone. Once in town, the proprietor of the boardinghouse checked for Morgan, but he’d left earlier.
“Miss Flanagan, I believe I heard him say he was heading over to talk to Reverend Rainer.”
Should she visit the parsonage and interrupt them? Casey fought the urge to race down the street to the whitewashed parsonage beside the church. What if the two men had business matters to discuss? One more time, she’d look selfish.
“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
“Most of the afternoon, I think. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you.” Perhaps she’d wait until he returned. Still, she had the Andrewses’ wagon, and they’d need it to return to church tonight. “May I write him a note?”
The man pulled a pad of paper from under the counter and pointed toward the pen and ink beside the register. “You go right ahead, and I’ll shove it under his door.”
She smiled and hoped she disguised her disappointment. The proprietor walked away, giving her much appreciated privacy. She composed her thoughts and wrote:
Dear Morgan,
Today God spoke to me about my terrible actions toward you. I’m so sorry for the way I have treated you. I do love you, and I will marry you tonight if that is what you want. I know the future is uncertain, but I can’t imagine one more day without you.
She blinked back a tear and regained her self-control.
I hope to see you at church tonight. Morgan, you’ve done so much for me, and I do feel badly about the heartache I’ve caused. I love you.
Casey
Saddened by Morgan’s absence yet filled with the joy of her new understanding, Casey realized she must get back to the ranch and apologize to Jocelyn and Bonnie. They had put up with her brooding long enough. She’d confess her self-centered heart to everyone and ask them to forgive her.
She climbed back into the wagon and for the first time did not feel the immense burden that had been a part of her for weeks. The ride back to the ranch sped by quickly. She remembered all the precious times with Morgan—the many times he’d proven his love. How she longed to make up these weeks to him.
“I love you, Morgan Andrews,” she said, and the horse picked up its pace. Casey laughed. Nothing could dampen her spirits.
Jocelyn and Bonnie were seated on the front porch, reading, when she returned. Grant had seen her coming and stepped down from the step to take the horse and wagon from her.
“You were gone such a long time. I worry about you, dear. So many bad things can happen.” Jocelyn took a breath. “Bonnie and I were just talking about spending tomorrow planning our garden. We’d love for you to help us.”
“That sounds like fun. We can start tonight after church if you’d like. We can even bake bread while we’re talking about the spring planting.” She laughed at their questioning stares and proceeded to tell them about the early afternoon.
“So Morgan still doesn’t know?” Bonnie pressed her palms together as though she planned a prayer—which wasn’t a bad idea.
Casey shook her head. “I didn’t want to bother him at the parsonage, and I’ve been so self-centered. I’ve hurt him, and I want to make up for it all.”
“He will be so happy.” Jocelyn brushed back a strand of her amber colored hair. “We’ve been praying for you.”
“Do you think I’m too late? Maybe he has grown tired of waiting for me. Not that I blame him.”
“No, my dear. I know my Morgan, and he loves you. He would have waited for as long as it took,” Jocelyn said.
Casey climbed the steps and embraced the older woman. “I never intended to cause this much trouble.”
“When it comes to the heart, decisions are always difficult,” Jocelyn said. “The thought of sharing a lifetime with someone shouldn’t be taken lightly, and both of you have been through so much.”
“I realized a lot of things today. We’ve had some hard times, but together we can build a future.”
“Now isn’t this a bit of luck,” uttered a man from behind the left side of the porch.
Casey swung her attention in the direction of the voice. Terror swept over her, reminiscent of the cruelest of nightmares. “Jenkins,” she whispered.
“That’s right, Casey girl.” He pulled a revolver from his hip, and she heard