“When I was growing up, I wished I had a brother.”
Something in his voice drew her around to meet his gaze, but she couldn’t discern a change in his expression. Before she could ask another question, Dusty barked, and Ben turned to speak to the dog. The moment to ask about that wish for a brother was past. Better to let it go, she decided, rather than risk more questions about Dylan.
She turned her attention to food on the stove and in the fridge. Before long, she had all of the taco fixings on the table, and the two of them sat down to eat. “Dig in,” she told him. He grinned as he obeyed.
For a short while, neither of them said anything, too busy reaching for various bowls of lettuce, chopped tomatoes, seasoned ground beef, shredded cheese, and salsa. Ben finished filling his taco shells first, but he waited for her before beginning to eat. She picked up her taco, smiled at him, and took her first bite. He smiled back, lowered his eyes for a few moments—although he wasn’t looking at his food—then picked up his taco and did the same.
He’d said a silent prayer, she realized. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been around anybody who blessed their food. Years? And even then she couldn’t say who it had been. Her family had never been religious, and her own journey toward God had been an unsteady one. Two steps forward, one step back. Mostly it had happened through books. She didn’t attend a church. Not yet anyway, although something she’d read made her think it wouldn’t hurt her to find one. Something about meeting together with other believers being important for a life of faith as a Christian. Maybe it was time she started looking.
Trying not to be obvious, she set the taco back onto her plate, closed her eyes, and silently thanked God for the food.
* * *
Ben noticed when Ashley got lost inside her own thoughts and decided to let it be while they ate. He spent the time watching her, enjoying the way light from a nearby window played across her face. It was such an adorable face too. He didn’t suppose anyone would call her beautiful. At least not in a classical sort of way. No, adorable seemed the correct adjective. She was simply nice to look at her. Doing so made him feel warm on the inside. He couldn’t remember any woman making him feel quite that way before.
After he took the last bite of his meal, he decided it was time to end the silence. Horses seemed the safest subject. He cleared his throat, then asked, “Is the rest of your family involved with horses too?”
She glanced up from her plate, amusement in her eyes, and released a soft laugh. “No. My mom’s afraid of them. She’s never understood my obsession with horses. That’s what she calls it. An obsession.”
“How about your brother?”
The smile faded. “No, Dylan never had any interest in horses. None at all.” She got up from the table and took her plate to the sink.
Ben got the hint. She didn’t want to talk about her brother. He didn’t know why. He didn’t need to know the reason. After all, he understood the feeling all too well. Talking about his mom made him uncomfortable too. He never knew what to say about her. Obviously, bringing up horses hadn’t taken them in as safe a direction as he’d expected. So now what? He stood, picking up his own empty plate. “You cooked. I should do dishes.”
“No way.” She turned toward him. “That would be a fine way for me to say thanks. Come over and eat, and then you clean up.” A hint of her smile had returned.
“Okay. How about we do it together?”
She seemed to consider the suggestion, finally saying, “All right.”
“I don’t know about you, but I get tired of doing the dishes every single day on my own.” He chuckled. “The benefit of being single is the only dirty dishes are the ones I dirty. But the downside is I never get any relief from KP duty.”
“KP duty. Were you in the military?”
“No. I thought about joining up after I graduated from high school, but . . .” He let the words trail off. But what? But I was an out-of-control mess by then. He didn’t really want to say that to her, despite the truth of it.
Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, she glanced over at him, waiting for him to continue.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t to be. So I bummed around for a bit.” A polite way of saying he’d let his life spiral completely out of control. “Eventually, I got a construction job and began learning a trade. Of course, I learned a little about farming from my grandparents through the years.”
“But you preferred construction to farming?”
“Yeah, I did. I had a decent employer who taught me a lot. I saved up enough to break out on my own right about the time the building business started to come out of its slump. I was one of the fortunate ones.”
“Yet you’ve decided to do something different now.”
Ben took a towel and began to dry the clean dishes waiting in the rack. “Yeah. Owning Grandpa’s farm changed everything yet again. I mean, if I didn’t own that property, I don’t know that God would have given me that particular vision.”
“You really believe it was God who gave you the idea for equine therapy.” She didn’t sound skeptical, exactly. Just curious.
“For this particular idea, yes. I do.” Which was the reason why he hadn’t given up when those first doors closed in his face. Which was why he wouldn’t give up now, even if more doors slammed in the future. Which was why he wouldn’t back down, even if his mom did something stupid.
Monday, December 8, 1941
On the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, sixty-two million Americans listened to the president’s address to Congress. Among those sixty-two million were the Hennings and the Finkels. All of them together in Andrew’s living room, the two families heard President Roosevelt say, “Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”
Andrew looked at Ben, who had stayed over at the farm the previous night rather than going to Boise. Ben was eighteen. He was old enough to volunteer for the military. He was a young man, not a boy. Andrew couldn’t tell him what to do. Ben could be impulsive, but he was also levelheaded. Still, there was no denying he was enraged by the unprovoked attack by Japan. Would he join a branch of the military now, or would he wait until he could train to become a pilot? Would the draft even allow him to wait? For surely, with the war, the rules would change again.
The president had continued speaking while Andrew’s mind wandered. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything important.
“No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion,” Roosevelt was saying, “the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.”
Was it possible to do that, to be certain no one could endanger Americans again? And even if possible, how long would it take to bring about such a result? Andrew met Hirsch’s gaze from across the living room. He saw a despair in the older man’s eyes that he’d never seen before, and it put a new kind of fear in his heart.
President Roosevelt ended his address by asking the Congress to declare that a state of war now existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire. No one in the Henning living room spoke as Andrew turned off the radio. Even Andy Jr., all of five years old, seemed to understand that only silence was appropriate.
At long last, Hirsch and Ida rose to their feet. “We will go home,” Hirsch said.
Andrew stood. “I’m afraid you were right about the Japanese threat.”
“Ja.” Hirsch looked at Ben and Oscar, sitting on kitchen chairs in the corner, their heads close together. “But I would have liked to be wrong.”
Andrew walked with his neighbors to the door and bid them goodbye, watching as they slowly made their way down the drive, their shoulders slumped, as if be
neath the weight of the world. He felt a similar weight on his chest as he turned to face his family.
Thursday, December 11, 1941
Four days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Nazi Germany declared war on the United States.
“Hitler does not understand America,” Hirsch said upon learning the news. Whatever despair the older man had felt following the president’s radio address had disappeared, replaced with righteous indignation. “He does not know this nation’s industrial capacity. And he thinks because it is a nation of different races, because it is not purely Aryan, that it is bourgeois, decadent, inferior, and undisciplined. I am thankful for his ignorance. He will not be ready for your military. He will not be ready for the resolve of your countrymen.”
Andrew hoped Hirsch Finkel was as right about this as he’d been about so many other world events over the past three or four years.
Ben took action of his own that day. He enrolled in the Civilian Pilot Training Program and enthusiastically informed his dad of it when he returned to the farm that evening. “I can begin my flight training now and stay in school at the same time. I’ll be in the Army Air Forces Enlisted Reserve, and when I graduate, I can go on to train to be a combat pilot.” Excitement flashed in his eyes as he spoke.
Andrew didn’t hear the news with the same sort of fervor, especially since he knew the words combat pilot would strike terror into Helen’s heart when she heard them, the same as they had done in his own. Yes, he was proud of his son for wanting to serve his country in its time of need. It would take many men, many sons, to win this war. But this was his son, and it was hard not to imagine the worst that could happen to him as a soldier or a combat pilot and to want to protect him from it.
Oscar, on the other hand, was frustrated. “I wish I was older. I could fight. I’m a good shot with a rifle. I’m ready to go right now.”
Andrew didn’t tell the younger boy that his time might come. He wanted to believe, as many did, that America could whip the Japanese and Nazis in a matter of weeks, that the war would come to an end in no time at all, that before Ben even graduated from junior college peace would have returned to the world.
God willing, those who believed in a swift victory would be right. Andrew was afraid it wouldn’t happen quite that way.
Chapter 9
Idahoans loved to flock to the mountains for the last three-day weekend of the summer. Ashley wished she could join them, even if only for one day, especially since she wasn’t scheduled to work on Labor Day weekend. But with the two rescue horses to tend to, she needed to remain at home. She settled for riding Remington, her buckskin mare, in the arena at the far end of her property. It wasn’t quite the same as riding her horse beside a splashing creek, surrounded by tall pines and rugged mountains, but it brought her joy. Just sitting astride her horse was all she needed to make a day brighter.
It had always been thus. From the moment she’d climbed aboard a pony at the fair when she was five, riding it around in that silly circle, her dad watching from the sidelines, she’d lost her heart to the noble horse. Her childhood bedroom had soon been filled with horses. Stuffed horses. Plastic horses. Paintings of horses. Photographs of horses.
Once Ashley was old enough to earn money babysitting and doing yard work, she’d saved every penny toward the day she could buy her first horse. She’d never spent her earnings on candy or clothes or jewelry. She’d deposited it all into her savings account at the credit union a half mile from their home. She had a tidy sum put away by the time she turned sixteen and was hired to work at a fast-food drive-in. Before the end of that summer, she’d bought Gus.
Trotting Remington around the arena, she smiled at memories of her first horse. The money from her job had gone to pay for Gus’s feed and boarding. There hadn’t been enough left over to buy a saddle, so she’d ridden the gelding bareback, and she believed those few years without a saddle had made her a better rider. Gus had been her best friend. Being with him had been everything.
Ashley reined in, stopping Remington. Then she let her gaze sweep over her property. The horses in their pens by the shelter. The dogs running along the edge of the arena. The shed and the house. The truck and horse trailer. She couldn’t help but wonder how different her life might be today if she hadn’t saved up and bought her first horse.
“I wonder what Daddy would think of all this?” she whispered as she patted Remington’s neck.
She liked to think her dad would be happy with the way she’d invested her small inheritance. Perhaps he would be disappointed that she hadn’t gone on to college after high school, but it hadn’t been an option for her at the time. While she’d been a good student, she hadn’t been at the top of her class, the type of student that earned free rides to college. Her mom had barely held things together financially, especially after Dylan began getting into trouble, so there hadn’t been money to spare for such luxuries as higher education. And the idea of leaving college with thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of debt had terrified Ashley, especially since she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do besides working with horses.
Perhaps one day.
She turned Remington toward the lean-to shelters and pens. Her thoughts continued to wander as she unsaddled and brushed the buckskin, then fed her and the other three horses. Afterward, as she walked toward the house, her wandering thoughts finally arrived at Ben Henning. A familiar place. He’d been on her mind often in the days since he’d joined her for dinner. To be honest, it bothered her that he hadn’t called her since then. Not that he’d had a reason to call. She hadn’t needed his help with feedings while she was at work. Her schedule had included several broken shifts that allowed her to take care of the feedings herself. Still . . .
As if in answer to her thoughts, the cell phone buzzed in her pocket. When she removed it, Ben’s face smiled back at her from the screen. She’d taken the photo of him on Wednesday as he’d stood beside one of the rescue horses, and she’d attached it to his entry in her contacts. Not that doing so had any special meaning. She tried to do that with everybody in her contacts list.
“Hey, Henning,” she answered. “How goes it?”
“Good. How ’bout you?”
“Good too.”
“Listen. I wondered if you could spare me a little time later today. I think I’ve found another horse, but I’d like your opinion before I accept.”
“Wow. That’ll make three horses already. You’re really moving along. Halfway there.”
“Only if you agree about the horse.”
“A lease?” she asked.
“Yes.”
How often would she hear from him once his stable was full? Would he still call her sometimes? It shouldn’t matter to her, one way or the other, but somehow it did. She drew a quick breath and said, “Yes, I could take a look today.”
“That’s terrific. How about I swing by for you about two?”
“Sure. I’ll be ready.”
They each said goodbye, and Ashley checked the clock on the phone’s screen before slipping it into her pocket. She would have plenty of time to eat a quick lunch and take a shower before he came for her.
* * *
The owner of the gelding hovered right beyond the paddock gate while Ashley ran her hand over the horse, picked up his hooves, looked him in the face and eyes, watched him walk as she led him back and forth. Ben couldn’t read her expression. She seemed intent, but he couldn’t tell if her thoughts were positive or negative. When she turned to Ben at last, she gave her head the slightest of shakes. In fact, he wasn’t sure that’s what he’d seen.
Ashley faced the horse’s owner. “Thanks for letting me look him over. We’ll let you know.”
The owner looked at Ben.
All he could do was repeat Ashley’s words. “We’ll let you know. Thanks.”
Then the two of them left the paddock and walked to Ben’s truck.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as they both slid onto the seat.
Ben looked at her in surprise. It had never occurred to him that anyone would want to use a nonprofit program that was meant to help people in such a way, pawning off a less-than-healthy horse in order to avoid paying for care.
Ashley shrugged. “You could call your vet and have him look at the horse, see what he has to say.”
“No. I trust your opinion.” He started the engine. “I’m disappointed. That’s all.”
Softly, she said, “People will do that to you. A lot.”
Ben cast a glance in her direction, but she was staring out the passenger window. Who disappointed you, Ashley? He put the truck in gear and followed the driveway out to the road.
It wasn’t long before Ashley broke the silence. “How soon do you hope to be in operation?”
“I’d hoped by the end of September, but that’s unrealistic. For a riding program, I need at least one certified instructor plus enough horses in the barn that we can train our volunteers. I’ve got an instructor’s commitment, but not enough horses yet and no trained volunteers.” He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not sure about starting up just as winter’s coming.” He glanced at Ashley, then back at the road. “I know diehard horse people like you ride in all kinds of weather. But can the same be true of a therapy program’s clientele? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s my plan for the riding program to run in six-week cycles with a break in between each one of them. It probably makes sense to wait to open until after the new year. Maybe late February. We usually have some decent weather then.”
“Too bad you don’t have an indoor arena.”
An indoor arena. He hadn’t even thought of that before. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough land for it. But he reined in his enthusiasm for the idea almost the moment it began. An arena wouldn’t be cheap to put up, no matter the materials used. It would surely be beyond his savings. And borrowing was out of the question. After all, he had no proof that he could make a go of his therapy barn. No financial institution would take a risk on his fledgling nonprofit. Not unless he put up something of worth . . . like the Henning family farm. That he wasn’t willing to do. Shoot, his mom would have him declared incompetent if he tried to mortgage the farm.
Cross My Heart Page 7
