Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,3

the shade tree offered more help with the heat. She searched her purse for her fan and rejoiced when she found it. “Oh, I’m so glad for this.”

“A hot breeze is better than no breeze, I suppose.” Tom pointed to the west. “Once those rain clouds finish building into a thunderstorm, we should have a little relief in the temperature.”

“It’s never like this in Oregon. Oh, we get thunderstorms now and then and plenty of rain, but we don’t have to worry about this much heat. At least not usually. I do remember a summer when it was dreadfully hot. Rosy told me that one of the women in the tribe said she’d used her spirit powers to cause the heat wave in order to punish someone else. I asked Rosy why she would do that when she had to suffer the heat as well. If she was going to punish someone, shouldn’t she do something that would hurt that person alone? Rosy said the woman was well known for cutting off her nose to spite her face.”

Tom chuckled. “I like your stories about Rosy. Is she still there?”

“She is. Mama wrote recently to say Rosy just celebrated her sixty-sixth birthday in May. She said Rosy has the strength and endurance of a much younger woman and the spirit of a saint. She’s always doing things for others and constantly works to keep peace among the women. I can hardly wait to see her again.”

“You’ve missed life there, I know.”

“I have.” Connie had no reason to be less than completely honest. Especially with Tom. “When I came here, I thought it would be a great adventure. And it was, but I’m tired of adventures. I want to go home.” She smiled. “I think you’ll love it there, Tom. I’m so excited to show you everything and everyone. There’s just so much to do before we leave.”

Tom nodded. “You can say that again.”

Chapter 2

Aunt Phinny, have you ever been ashamed of being Cherokee?” Connie asked as she finished dressing for the fund-raiser ball she would attend that evening. She had battled with that question on many occasions, but she knew she’d had it much easier than her father and his family.

Her aunt looked thoughtful. “I suppose some would say I should be, but that truly isn’t why I remain silent about it. There was a time when everyone around me knew that I was a quarter Cherokee, and they did their best to make me miserable. Your father and our other siblings and I were made fun of and challenged at every turn. When I found a man who didn’t mind my heritage, I was so grateful. In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have looked twice at your uncle otherwise. He wasn’t the type of man I found at all intriguing, with all of his books and focus on ancient rituals and cultures.” She smiled. “But he was so unconcerned with my being part Indian that it endeared him to me. And, of course, as I got to know him, I fell in love.”

“I don’t feel ashamed, but the world makes it clear that I should, and I’m only one-eighth Cherokee.” Connie looked into the cheval mirror and adjusted a curl. “But that’s the trouble with the world. Certain folks have decided what we should or shouldn’t find shameful, and the rest of us have it imposed upon us.”

“That’s true enough. I’ve heard the same argument said of religious views,” Aunt Phinny declared. “That’s why I’ve always tried to focus more on being kind and loving as a means of getting people interested in better knowing God.”

Connie nodded. “In some cases, I’ve felt compelled to hide my faith along with my heritage. Isn’t it sad that people can’t just be themselves without fear of retribution?” She stepped back and met her aunt’s sad expression. “Few know that Papa is a quarter Cherokee, or that I’m an eighth, and they probably never will. And I can’t help but feel that that’s not right.”

Then, as she always had done, Connie pushed those thoughts aside and buried them deep.

She twirled like a little girl to show off her dress. “Well, what do you think, Aunt Phinny?”

Her aunt studied her a moment. “It’s hard to believe you’re all grown up. When you came here, you were just fifteen and so petite—just like your mother.” She motioned for Connie to turn again. “This time go slower.”

Connie did as instructed. “I love the fit of this gown.