A Bride for the Wounded Miner – Extended Epilogue

Two Years Later

“I swear, if this child doesn’t come soon, I’m going to explode,” Lisa-Jo said, shifting uncomfortably on the parlor sofa. She ran her hands over her swollen belly, which seemed to grow larger by the day. “I don’t think I was meant to be this big.”

Gillian laughed from the armchair opposite, where she sat in a similar condition, though perhaps a touch smaller. “You’ll survive, little sister. We Peterson women are made of stern stuff.”

“That we are,” Lisa-Jo agreed with a sigh. “Though I never imagined we’d be expecting at the same time. Bastian says it’s like God’s own little joke.”

Bastian entered the parlor carrying a tray with tea and freshly baked ginger cookies. He set it down carefully on the table between the sisters. “I wouldn’t say joke, exactly. More like a blessing doubled.” He leaned down to kiss Lisa-Jo’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a beached whale that someone dragged inland for good measure,” Lisa-Jo replied, but she smiled as she said it. Despite her discomfort, her eyes shone with anticipation and joy.

Ronaldo strolled in behind Bastian, his arms full of pillows. “More cushions for my beautiful wife,” he announced, arranging them carefully behind Gillian’s back. “Is this better, mi corazón?”

“Much better,” Gillian said, adjusting herself against the pillows. “Though I’m not made of porcelain, you know.”

“The doctor said both of you should rest as much as possible,” Bastian reminded them, taking a seat next to Lisa-Jo and gently placing her feet in his lap to massage them.

“Dr. Harrison has been a godsend,” Lisa-Jo admitted. “I don’t know what we would have done without him moving to Culver’s Peak last autumn. Remember the midwife in Haven, Gilly?”

Gillian shuddered dramatically. “Old Mrs. Partridge? I’m surprised half the town survived being born.”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and moments later Melanie entered, carrying a basket of fresh vegetables from the garden.

“Hello, everyone!” she called cheerfully. “How are the mothers-to-be today?”

“Ready to not be with child anymore,” Lisa-Jo replied with a laugh. “It’s June, Mel. It’s too hot to be this pregnant.”

Melanie set down the basket and came to sit with them. “Well, Dr. Harrison says it won’t be much longer for either of you.” She looked around at the cozy parlor. “The house looks wonderful, by the way. I hardly recognize it from when it was just Pa and us.”

What had once been a sparse, utilitarian farmhouse had transformed over the past year and a half. The curtains Lisa-Jo had sewn brightened the windows, and colorful rag rugs warmed the wooden floors. Pictures adorned the walls, and flowers from the garden filled vases on every available surface.

“Speaking of your father,” Gillian said, accepting a cup of tea from Ronaldo, “will he be joining us for supper?”

Bastian nodded. “He’s finishing up in the hop fields. The crop’s looking better than ever this year.”

“And George?” Lisa-Jo asked Melanie. “Will he and Terry be coming too?”

“They’ll be here,” Melanie confirmed with a small smile. “George wants to show Terry the books he’s been keeping for the farm. I think my husband is trying to convince your friend to invest in the hop business.”

“Husband,” Lisa-Jo mused. “I still can’t believe you’re married, Mel. It seems like just yesterday Art was telling you he’d never forbidden you from seeing George.”

They all laughed at the memory, remembering how Melanie had stormed out to find George and how, just a few months ago, they had finally wed in a beautiful spring ceremony.

“The best decision I ever made,” Melanie said, her eyes sparkling. “Well, second-best. The best was agreeing to help Terry open his goldsmith shop. I never knew I had such a head for business!”

Bastian gave his sister a proud look. “You’re running two households and a business. I’d say that’s impressive for anyone.”

“It helps that Pa is so much better these days,” Melanie said softly. “Remember how he was after Mother died? And then after Christopher?”

A momentary silence fell over the room as they remembered the losses they’d survived. But the silence wasn’t heavy—it was respectful, acknowledging what had gone before but recognizing how far they’d come.

“Art invited the school children to come see the hop harvest this autumn,” Lisa-Jo said, breaking the silence. “Can you imagine him doing that two years ago?”

“I certainly cannot,” Bastian said, continuing to massage his wife’s swollen feet. “But then again, I couldn’t have imagined all of this either.”

He gestured around the room, at the sisters sitting together, at the home they’d built, at the new life growing inside Lisa-Jo. His voice grew soft with emotion. “Sometimes I still can’t believe how blessed we are.”

“I hear there’s been some news about the mine,” Ronaldo said as they gathered around the large oak table for supper that evening. He passed a bowl of buttered potatoes to George, who sat beside Melanie.

Art Kramer, sitting at the head of the table, nodded. His once-perpetual frown had softened over the months, and though he’d never be described as jovial, there was a certain peace to his countenance that hadn’t been there before.

“Word is that a fellow from Denver’s coming to look it over next week,” Art said, helping himself to a generous portion of roast beef. “Name’s Harrington. Supposed to be fair in his business dealings.”

“That’s more than can be said for Samuels,” Terry added. He and George had become fast friends since the mine disaster, bonding over their shared experience. Terry’s arm had healed well, though it occasionally pained him in cold weather. “Still can’t believe he had the nerve to try to skip town.”

“But he didn’t get far, thanks to Lisa-Jo and Melanie,” Bastian said proudly, squeezing his wife’s hand.

Lisa-Jo smiled at the memory. “We didn’t really do much. Just made sure Sheriff Pierce knew exactly which road Samuels was planning to take.”

“And stationed ourselves right at the crossroads with enough supplies to camp there for days if needed,” Melanie added with a laugh. “I don’t think the sheriff had ever seen two more determined women.”

“The payouts helped a lot of families,” George said. “Especially those who lost someone in the collapse.”

A respectful silence fell for a moment as they all remembered those who hadn’t been as fortunate as Bastian and his companions. Twelve miners had never made it out of the mine that day, leaving widows and fatherless children behind.

“I never thought I’d see a cent from that weasel,” Terry said, breaking the silence. “But I suppose even Samuels knew better than to face down the whole town in court.”

“Especially with Mackie willing to testify against him,” Bastian said. “Last I heard, Paul’s doing well in Seattle. The doctors there think he might regain some feeling in his legs eventually.”

“He wrote to thank you again for saving his life,” Lisa-Jo reminded her husband. “Said he’s found God and wants to make amends.”

Bastian nodded. “I believe him. Near-death experiences have a way of changing a man’s perspective.”

“Speaking of changes,” Gillian said, changing the subject to lighter matters, “Junior has been asking when his new cousins will arrive. He’s convinced they’ll be playmates for him and Helena.”

Ronaldo laughed. “He doesn’t quite understand the age difference yet. But he’s very excited to be a big cousin.”

“Where are the children tonight?” Art asked, surprising everyone with his interest. He’d been slowly warming to Gillian’s children over their extended visit.

“Mrs. Wolfe offered to watch them for the evening,” Gillian replied. “Zach has been teaching them to play checkers.”

“That boy has grown into quite a responsible young man,” Lisa-Jo said with approval. “He’s one of my best students.”

“Hard to believe you’ve been teaching a full year already,” Melanie said. “The children adore you.”

Lisa-Jo blushed at the praise. “I’ve always loved teaching. Though I’ll have to take some time away once the baby comes.”

“Mr. Emerson said your position will be waiting whenever you’re ready to return,” Bastian assured her. “He was quite adamant about it.”

“The man may be a terrible horseman, but he knows a good teacher when he sees one,” Art commented, drawing surprised laughter from everyone at the table.

As the meal continued, the conversation flowed easily between topics—the farm’s improving fortunes, George and Terry’s business ventures, the upcoming harvest, and of course, the impending arrivals of the newest Kramer and Sanchez family members.

“Have you decided on names yet?” Terry asked, as Melanie served apple pie for dessert.

Lisa-Jo and Bastian exchanged a look. “If it’s a boy,” Bastian said softly, “we thought we might name him Christopher, after my brother.”

Art’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, and for a moment, Lisa-Jo worried they’d upset him. Then the older man nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips.

“He would have liked that,” Art said. “Christopher always did want a family of his own.”

“And if it’s a girl?” Melanie asked.

“Hannah,” Lisa-Jo said. “After my mother.”

Gillian’s eyes grew misty. “She would be so proud of you, Lisa-Jo. Of both of us.”

“What about you two?” George asked, turning to Gillian and Ronaldo. “Have you chosen names?”

“We’re thinking Maria after Ronaldo’s mother if it’s a girl,” Gillian replied. “And William after our father if it’s a boy.”

“Pa would have been pleased,” Lisa-Jo said softly. Despite his failings, there had been good moments with their father too. “Though he probably would have insisted on Will rather than William.”

“That does sound more like him,” Gillian agreed with a sad smile.

As the evening progressed, Lisa-Jo found herself observing the gathering with a sense of wonder. If someone had told her two years ago that she would be sitting here, married to a wonderful man, carrying his child, surrounded by a loving family, she would never have believed it. Life had a way of taking unexpected turns.

“What are you thinking about?” Bastian whispered, noticing her thoughtful expression.

“Just how fortunate we are,” she replied, leaning against his shoulder. “And how sometimes the hardest journeys lead to the most beautiful destinations.”

“My back is killing me,” Lisa-Jo complained as she waddled across the porch the next morning. She lowered herself carefully onto the rocking chair that Bastian had crafted for her, a beautiful piece with intricate carvings along the arms. “I swear this child is determined to make its presence known before it even arrives.”

Gillian sat in the matching rocker beside her, fanning herself against the June heat. “I remember feeling the same way with Junior. Though I don’t recall being quite this uncomfortable with Helena.”

“Every baby is different, according to Dr. Harrison,” Lisa-Jo said, gratefully accepting the glass of lemonade Melanie brought out. “Thank you, Mel. You’re an angel.”

“I’m just helping where I can,” Melanie replied. “George says I’m ‘practicing’ for when we have children of our own.”

Lisa-Jo raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to share with us?”

Melanie blushed deeply. “No! Not yet, anyway. We’ve only been married four months. But someday…” She gazed out at the fields where Bastian, Ronaldo, and George were working together, their shirts damp with sweat in the summer heat. “I want a family like this.”

“Like what?” Gillian asked, sipping her lemonade.

“This,” Melanie gestured around them. “Where everyone helps everyone else. Where there’s always someone to talk to, to laugh with.” She sat on the porch step. “I remember how lonely it was after Mother died, and then when Christopher…” She trailed off. “But it’s not lonely anymore.”

Lisa-Jo reached out to squeeze Melanie’s hand. “No, it’s not. And it never will be again.”

The screen door creaked open, and Art stepped out onto the porch, a ledger in his hand. “The figures for last month’s hop sales,” he announced, handing the book to Melanie. “George was right about that new buyer in Portland. Paid top dollar.”

“That’s wonderful, Pa,” Melanie said, scanning the ledger with a practiced eye. “We’re doing even better than last year.”

“We might need to expand,” Art said, settling into a chair. “Plant the south field next spring.”

“That would mean hiring more help,” Lisa-Jo pointed out.

Art nodded thoughtfully. “Zach Wolfe’s getting old enough. And there are a couple other boys in town looking for steady work.”

“Pa, hiring local boys?” Gillian whispered to Lisa-Jo with mock astonishment. “Who is this man and what has he done with Art Kramer?”

Lisa-Jo bit back a laugh, but Art heard and surprised them with a low chuckle of his own.

“I know, I know,” he said, waving a weathered hand. “I wasn’t exactly the most sociable fellow before.” He looked out at the fields, his expression reflective. “Losing your mother changed me, Melanie. Not for the better. Then Christopher…” He sighed heavily. “But watching Bastian almost die in that mine—and then seeing him survive, build this life—it made me realize I was wasting what time I have left.”

The three women stared at him, stunned into silence by this unprecedented openness.

Art cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional moment he’d created. “Plus,” he added gruffly, “someone has to teach my grandchildren how to fish properly. Can’t leave that to Bastian. Boy never did have the patience for it.”

This broke the tension, and they all laughed, including Art himself.

“Speaking of grandchildren,” Gillian said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, “I think this little one is going to be as restless as Junior. Hasn’t stopped kicking all morning.”

“Mine too,” Lisa-Jo agreed, placing a hand on her belly. “Dr. Harrison says it’s a good sign, but I’d appreciate a few hours of peace.” She felt a particularly strong kick and winced. “Goodness! I think we have a future baseball player here.”

“Or a miner,” Art suggested with a wry smile. “Got a good kick for breaking through rock.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Lisa-Jo replied, though she smiled too. “No child of mine is going anywhere near a mine shaft.”

“No argument here,” Art said. “The farm is a much better life.”

Melanie looked toward the men in the field. “Terry seems to be enjoying himself out there.”

Indeed, Terry had joined the others and appeared to be inspecting the hop plants with great interest, occasionally making notes in a small book he carried.

“He’s considering investing,” Art explained. “Got a good head for business, that one. His goldsmith shop is doing well, but he wants to diversify.”

“It was good of him to hire Arnold when the mines closed,” Lisa-Jo said. “I hear he’s become quite skilled with metalwork, despite starting so late in life.”

“Terry’s done right by a lot of the former miners,” Art agreed. “He and George both.”

The conversation paused as they watched a wagon approaching from town, the driver’s broad-brimmed hat visible even at a distance.

“That’s Dr. Harrison,” Melanie said, standing up. “Right on time for your checkups.”

“Thank goodness,” Gillian sighed. “My ankles are the size of melons. I need his reassurance that this is normal.”

“I’ll tell the men the doctor’s here,” Melanie said, heading toward the fields. “Bastian will want to be present for Lisa-Jo’s examination.”

As Melanie hurried off, Lisa-Jo exchanged a smile with Gillian. “Remember when we were girls and used to talk about what our lives would be like someday?”

“I recall you wanted to marry a prince and live in a castle,” Gillian replied with a laugh.

“Well,” Lisa-Jo said, looking out at her husband working in the field, his skin bronzed by the sun, “I’d say I did even better than that.”

***

“Both mothers and babies are doing splendidly,” Dr. Harrison announced as he packed his medical bag. He was a tall, lean man with kind eyes and a well-trimmed beard that was just beginning to show flecks of gray. “I’d say you’ve got about three weeks left, Mrs. Kramer. And you, Mrs. Sanchez, perhaps four.”

Bastian let out a relieved breath and squeezed Lisa-Jo’s hand. “That’s wonderful news, Doctor.”

“Just remember what I said about rest,” Dr. Harrison cautioned, looking pointedly at both expectant mothers. “No heavy lifting, no standing for long periods, and certainly no more laundry duty.” He directed this last comment at Lisa-Jo, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

“Melanie caught me hanging sheets last week,” she admitted to the others. “But they were already washed!”

“And now they’re Melanie’s responsibility until after the baby arrives,” Bastian said firmly. “You heard the doctor.”

“I did,” Lisa-Jo conceded with a dramatic sigh. “Though I warn you all, I’m likely to become insufferable with boredom.”

Ronaldo laughed. “Gillian said the same thing when Dr. Harrison restricted her activities last month.”

“And have I not been proven right?” Gillian asked, arching an eyebrow.

Dr. Harrison closed his bag with a snap. “Better bored than risking an early delivery,” he said. “Now, I’ve left detailed instructions with Mr. Kramer and Mr. Sanchez. If either of you ladies experiences any of the symptoms we discussed, send for me immediately. Day or night.”

“We will,” Bastian promised, walking the doctor to the door. “And thank you for coming all the way out here.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Dr. Harrison replied. “Besides, my wife insists that Mrs. Kramer’s apple pies are payment enough.” He tilted his hat to the ladies. “Good day, everyone.”

As the doctor departed, the family gathered in the parlor again. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting a golden glow over the room.

“I think we should celebrate the good news,” George suggested. “Perhaps a special dinner this weekend? We could invite Pastor Weaton and his wife. Maybe the Wolfe family too?”

“That sounds lovely,” Melanie agreed. “We could have it at our place in town if you prefer. Give Lisa-Jo and Gillian a change of scenery.”

“As long as we’re not cooking, I’m in favor of any celebration,” Gillian said with a laugh.

“Speaking of celebrations,” Terry began, exchanging a look with George, “we might have something else to celebrate soon.”

“Oh?” Bastian asked, settling beside Lisa-Jo on the sofa.

Terry nodded. “You know that man Harrington who’s looking at the mine? George and I met with him yesterday when he arrived in town. He’s not just interested in reopening the mine—he wants to do it right.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Lisa-Jo asked.

“It means proper supports, drainage systems, ventilation,” George explained. “He brought a geologist with him, and they’re surveying the entire area before they even consider sending men back down.”

“He asked about what happened,” Terry continued. “Wanted to hear firsthand accounts from the miners who survived. And he actually listened.”

“That’s… unexpected,” Bastian admitted. “But welcome news if it’s true.”

“He’s offered Terry a position as safety inspector,” George added. “With authority to shut down operations if he sees anything dangerous.”

A murmur of surprise went around the room.

“And are you going to take it?” Melanie asked Terry.

Terry shook his head. “I’m done with mining myself. But I recommended Clyde for the position. He’s got a good eye for danger after what we went through.”

“Harrington also mentioned he would be offering jobs to the men who lost work when the mine closed,” George said. “With better pay and safer conditions.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Art said, though his tone lacked its usual cynicism. “But it would be good for the town if the mine reopened properly. A lot of families had to move away when it closed.”

“Some are already talking about coming back,” Terry said. “Word travels fast.”

“And speaking of news traveling fast,” Ronaldo interjected, “Gillian and I have been discussing returning to Seattle once the baby is born and Gillian is strong enough to travel.”

Lisa-Jo’s face fell. “So soon?”

“Not right away,” Gillian assured her. “We’ll stay at least until both babies are born and we’ve all had time to recover. But Ronaldo’s business needs him, and the children should return to their school before the autumn term.”

“We understand,” Bastian said, though Lisa-Jo still looked disappointed. “But you’ll visit often?”

“Of course,” Ronaldo promised. “And perhaps you could all come to Seattle for Christmas this year? Our home is more than large enough for everyone.”

“I’d like that,” Art surprised them by saying. “Never been to Seattle. Might be nice to see the ocean again.”

Lisa-Jo felt tears welling in her eyes—partly from pregnancy emotions, she knew, but also from the overwhelming fullness of her heart. She reached for Bastian’s hand.

“What is it, my love?” he asked softly.

“I was just thinking about that day at my father’s funeral,” she said. “How terrified I was when those men threatened me. How desperate I felt when I wrote to Christopher.” She looked around at the family gathered in the warm parlor. “I never could have imagined then that his death would lead me here, to all of you.”

“Life has a strange way of working out,” Bastian said, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Sometimes the darkest paths lead to the brightest places.”

“Like a mine collapse leading to the surface,” Terry offered with a wry smile.

Everyone laughed, the somber moment breaking.

“Speaking of unexpected journeys,” George said, “I had a letter from Barnaby Wright. The lawyer?” He looked at Bastian. “Apparently Porter Samuels is trying to start a new venture in Nevada.”

“Good luck to him,” Bastian said. “After what happened here, I doubt he’ll find many willing investors.”

“Barnaby said the same,” George agreed. “News of the Culver’s Peak disaster has spread far and wide, along with Samuels’ name.”

“It’s like you said that day in the hospital,” Lisa-Jo reminded Bastian. “Whoever takes over the mine will be on notice now. The miners know how to stand up for themselves.”

“That’s right,” Bastian said proudly. “And not just the miners. This whole town pulled together when it mattered.”

“To Culver’s Peak,” Terry proposed, raising his glass of lemonade. “And to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” they all echoed, glasses raised.

As the golden light of evening deepened to dusk, the family remained together, talking and laughing. Outside, the hop fields stretched toward the mountains, green and vibrant with promise. Inside, two expectant mothers rested in the circle of their family’s love, awaiting the newest chapters in their journey.

Lisa-Jo caught Bastian watching her, his eyes soft with devotion. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That Christopher would be proud,” he replied quietly. “Of all of us.”

“Yes,” she agreed, laying her hand over his where it rested on her belly. “I think he would.”

The baby kicked beneath their joined hands, a firm reminder of the future taking shape. And in that moment, surrounded by the family they had built together, both Lisa-Jo and Bastian knew that whatever challenges tomorrow might bring, they would face them together—stronger for the hardships they had overcome, richer for the love they had found, and ready for whatever adventures awaited them.

THE END