Dakota Love Read online

  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 HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. 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.

  Contents

  Dear Readers

  Lily of the Field

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Job’s Tears

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Rose of Sharon

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  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

  LILY OF THE FIELD

  To my favorite quilter, Marion Hummel Ross.

  Mom, I love you and I miss you.

  Chapter 1

  Caroline 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.

  “Yoo-hoo, Rodney,” Mildred called.

  A tall, slender gentleman, head shaved clean, turned from the group of people he’d been chatting with and waved. Caroline didn’t recognize this man. How long had he attended their church?

  As Mildred pulled her down the cement stairs, Caroline said a silent prayer of thanks for the January thaw that blessed this South Dakota winter. The balmy forty-degree weather was a respite from the below-zero temperatures in December. The church stairs were free of snow and ice, so it was easy for Caroline to descend two steps at a time and keep up with Mildred to prevent her arm from being dislocated. Actually, Caroline didn’t remember the sidewalks, stairs, or parking lot of the church ever being this clear of any residue the South Dakota winters dealt them. She wondered who the church custodian was now that Mr. Carter had passed away.

  Mildred stopped beside the man and released Caroline’s hand. “I’m so glad we caught you.” Mildred, puffing from her exertion, patted Rodney’s arm.

  Caught him? Caroline frowned. It hadn’t looked to her like he was going anyplace.

  “Rodney, this is Caroline Baker, the woman who repaired and completed the quilt I showed you.”

  Caroline started to replace her frown of confusion with a practiced smile, but when she looked at Rodney, she just naturally smiled.

  “I’m Rodney Harris. I’ve seen you many times in church. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Rodney held out his hand to Caroline.

  She grasped his hand. “Finally meet me?”

  His fingers tightened around hers. His warm touch and welcoming smile made her wish she’d taken care with her appearance today. How long had it been since she’d worried about being attractive? Oh, she’d combed and ponytailed her strawberry blond hair. She’d brushed powder on her face to eliminate shine. However, her height matched his, and they stood almost face-to-face. With her minimal makeup and the direct sunlight, he was sure to see the effects of her age.

  “Yes, I’ve been attending church here for the last nine months, and I think you are the only congregant I haven’t met.”

  Nine months and she’d never noticed him. Really, that didn’t surprise her; she’d only been going through the motions since Ted’s death. She arrived at church with minutes to spare and snuck out the side door whenever possible.

  “Well…” Caroline began to stammer an excuse, then stopped. She owed no explanation, even if his caramel-colored eyes sent a warm shiver through her. She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card holder.

  “Mildred says you have a quilt in need of repair.” She slid out a powder blue card and handed it to Rodney. “You can reach me at that number or stop by the shop during the listed hours.”

  Rodney read the card before unzipping his coat halfway and tucking it in the pocket of his gray-and-white-striped polo shirt. “That’s a residential address. Do you work from your home?”

  A slight wind chilled Caroline’s hands. She pulled her gloves from her coat pocket and put them on. They were her insurance against chapped hands that might crack and snag delicate fabric or leave soil on a quilt.

  “Yes, I live in a split-level with a side entry that makes easy access to my basement workshop. Although my business is new, I learned early on that I had to set regular hours or people would expect me to be open at their beck and call.”

  Why had she rambled? A simple yes would have sufficed.

  Laugh lines crinkled the olive-toned skin of Rodney’s face as he chuckled at her remark. “I can relate. My house, well, garage actually, is my main business base. I get calls at all hours. Thank goodness for answering machines.”

  Caroline grinned and nodded her head knowingly. Normally during a break in conversation, she’d focus on something else, but Rodney’s face captivated her. Blond eyebrows accented his brown eyes. Full lips revealed straight teeth. Deep parentheses semi-circled his mouth when he smiled. A firm jawline not yet affected by age met at the cleft in his chin.

  “We just firmed up breakfast plans. Would you care to join us?” Rodney motioned toward the group of people he’d been visiting with when Mildred interrupted.

  For the first time in months, she wanted to accept this invitation, yet she hesitated. She’d stopped socializing when Ted died, uncomfortable being a third or fifth wheel. She glanced toward the group. She knew all of them, and most were single or widowed. Dining with a non-couples group might feel different. Maybe she could try it just this one time.

  “I guess it’d be all right.”

  “Great!” Mildred said. “I’ll ride with you, dear. We don’t want you to change your mind.”

  At the restaurant, the hostess seated the large group. Caroline planned to sit by Rodney to discuss his quilt. Her business had slowed about a week before Christmas. She needed to fill her time and bank account. Good health insurance came with a hefty premium.

  Thanks to Mildred’s interference, her plan came together. Rodney sat in clear view across the table from her. She guessed his age close to hers from the telltale lines that settled in to stay on a person’s face, a fact she knew from the mirror’s reflection of her own etchings.

  As he discussed the breakfast choices with the gentleman who sat to his left, Caroline studied Rodney. He wore no wedding band. Hard to imagine he wasn’t taken, because he was cute. Mature men probably appreciated being called handsome or dashing or good-looking. Rodney was all of those and cute, too.

  Mildred lightly touched Caroline’s arm. “See anything you like, dear?”

  Caroline turned her head to respond to Mildred’s question concerning her breakfast choice. Mildred’s raised brows and grin clarified the double entendre. A flush, which had nothing to do with menopause, warmed Caroline’s face. She’d been staring at Rodney. Thankfully, their waitress began to take orders, giving Caroline the divers
ion she needed to recover her composure.

  Orders taken and drinks served, Caroline lifted her mug. “So, Rodney, you said you have a quilt in need of repair?” She blew across the top of the cup, then sipped the rich brew.

  “Yes.” Rodney dipped his herbal tea bag into his cup. “I have to be honest. It’s in bad shape. Although Mildred assures me that you are a magician in this area, I just don’t know.” He shook his head.

  Caroline laughed. “I wish I could wave a magic wand to restore a quilt. Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy, and sometimes only portions can be salvaged. Tell me a little bit about it.”

  Rodney shrugged. “It’s yellow with white flowers on the back. Some of that material is used in the design on front, but there’s also white and yellow in the front.”

  The waitress cut short their conversation with the delivery of their breakfast. Caroline noted Rodney had ordered oatmeal with whole wheat toast versus the large egg, meat, and potato platters Ted always used to order. Had Ted been more health conscious, he’d be alive today. Rodney’s mindfulness of his health was obvious, not just because of his food choice but also in the visible fitness of his body.

  After Mildred said grace, the table quieted as everyone began to enjoy their breakfast. Caroline had eaten at home, so she’d ordered light. She halved her banana nut muffin and buttered the top.

  “I found the quilt in a trunk in the basement, wrapped in tissue paper, so it must have meant something to my mom. I’m certain the damage was done prior to that storage. Nothing else in the trunk showed signs of spoil.” Rodney took a bite of dry toast.

  Since dry toast was usually only eaten to calm an upset stomach, this seemed to push fitness a little too far. Caroline swallowed a bite of muffin and washed it down with her coffee. “Is the quilt soiled or has the fabric rotted?”

  “Not stained. Some of the seams are coming apart, one area is ripped, and the fabric looks like something chewed on it.”

  “You don’t remember seeing it or using it as a child?”