Cross My Heart

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Kurt’s mom looked at Ben, then Ashley. Assessing them, no doubt. Trying to decide if they could be trusted.

  “Miss Showalter here is our barn manager.” He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled “She sees to the care and training of the horses.”

  Ashley felt that warm smile all the way down to her toes.

  He looked back at the boy’s mom. “We’d love to have Kurt come over sometimes.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want him to be in your way.”

  “Mom,” Kurt whispered.

  “Mrs. Jackson—”

  “Call me Tracee.”

  Ben nodded. “Tracee, I promise you. He won’t be in our way. Working with kids and horses is what our place is all about.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

  Ben gave her a quick summary of the way the Harmony Barn would operate once it was open.

  “I couldn’t pay you anything,” Tracee said when he fell silent.

  “Sorry. I guess I didn’t make that clear. Nobody will be kept from participating because of an inability to pay.” He leaned slightly to the side so he could look at Kurt. “Besides, this will just be one neighbor hanging out with another.”

  Ashley could have sworn she saw a weight come off of Tracee’s shoulders. A hint of a smile curved the corners of her mouth. “I suppose it would be all right, then.”

  “Good.” Ben straightened and removed his foot from the step. “Maybe you and Kurt could come over tomorrow to have a look around. I go to church in the morning and then have lunch with my grandfather. So let’s say anytime after two o’clock. Would that work?”

  “It would work, Mr. . . . I’m sorry. What was your name again?”

  “Ben. Ben Henning.”

  Tracee reached for her son’s hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Tuesday, July 4, 1944

  In mid-April, as had happened numerous times before, the Hennings received several letters from Ben on the same day. In one of them, he warned his parents not to expect regular communication from him, adding that if they didn’t hear for a while, they shouldn’t be concerned.

  They were concerned anyway.

  The country celebrated when the Allied forces occupied Rome at last. The celebration was more muted when they learned of the successful Normandy invasion. How could it be otherwise when the death toll was so high? Less than two weeks after that, the bombing of Japan began with a raid on the island of Kyushu. Surely, most believed, the end of the war on both fronts would happen soon.

  Samuel Valentine, now an employee of the hardware store in Kuna, warned others not to get their hopes up. The war wouldn’t be over by fall. Probably not even by the start of the new year. “It’ll happen,” he said. “We’re gonna win. But it’ll be bloody getting there. Our boys are gonna have to fight for every inch they gain.”

  That wasn’t the sort of talk Andrew wanted to listen to, even if he believed it to be true.

  However, it wasn’t the war or Ben’s safety or even Frani’s birthday that occupied Andrew’s thoughts on this Independence Day morning. Instead, he cared only that he wouldn’t stumble over his own feet and make a fool of himself as he walked Louisa down the aisle of the church on her wedding day.

  “Oh, Dad,” she whispered to him as they stood in the small narthex of the church. “I’m so happy.”

  He glanced down at her, standing at his side, her arm looped through his. For an instant, he saw the small, hungry orphan she’d once been. He remembered her dirty face, her tangled blond hair, and her large blue eyes. He remembered the way she’d tucked herself tight against her older brother while at the same time trying to protect and shelter her younger brother.

  Where had the years gone? When had she turned into this self-assured young lady? The white satin gown clung to her lithe figure, and her face was aglow behind the gauzy veil. He marveled at what Helen and Mother Greyson had managed to create. While wedding gowns weren’t rationed, it still wasn’t easy to come by fabric such as this. Or maybe it was the bride who made it all so beautiful.

  The first notes of the “Wedding March” reached his ears. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

  She looked down at the bouquet of pink roses in her hands. The flower stems had been wrapped in lace, the delicate material held closed with a brooch of his mother’s. “Something old,” he’d heard his mother say when she’d given the jewelry to her granddaughter.

  After a moment, Louisa glanced up again and nodded. They stepped forward in unison, right feet first, as they’d practiced often in the past week. He saw the smiles of their friends, standing now in the rows of pews. There had been so many reasons for sorrow in this small, close-knit community in recent years. It was good to have a reason to rejoice.

  He looked ahead and saw Samuel’s expression. One of awe, adoration, and perhaps a little bit of fear. There was no doubt the young man loved Louisa and was determined to make her happy. Still, they would have difficult times, as all couples did. When trials came, the Good Book said. That was a promise to all mankind. When, not if. But when people put the Lord first in their lives, they prevailed through the best and worst of times.

  Andrew and Louisa paused beside the front pew, long enough for the bride to lift her veil and kiss her mother’s cheek. Helen had tears in her eyes but managed not to let them fall. At least not right then. They moved on and stopped, at last, before the pastor.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  In a strong voice, Andrew answered, “Her mother and I do.”

  Louisa lifted her veil a second time so that she could kiss his cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too.”

  With that, he passed her hand to Samuel. It seemed that something sharp pricked his heart as he did so. Strange, how joy could be mingled with an equal dose of melancholy.

  God, be with them. Bless their union. Strengthen them in the hard places. Teach them to rejoice in everyday beauties. And draw them ever closer to Yourself.

  Chapter 26

  Ashley awakened in the wee hours of the morning. Her first thought was about her brother. His sentencing was expected to happen soon, and she had yet to comply with her mom’s request to go to see him.

  The idea filled her with resentment.

  “Please, honey. You need to do this,” her mom had said last night. “He needs to see his sister.” That request had kept her awake past her usual bedtime, wrestling between guilt and frustration. And apparently it hadn’t let her sleep very long either.

  She rolled onto her side, staring at the glow of the digital clock on her nightstand. Three thirty. Was her brother awake right now? Probably not. He was likely sound asleep, free of remorse.

  Her anger flared. Why? Why must I always be the one to do something for Dylan? He did this to himself. Why can’t he do something for me for once?

  The instant the thought formed, she felt shame. More than that, she felt something stir in her spirit. A sense that if she allowed the bitter feelings that consumed her to remain unchecked, if she continued to nurse resentment and distrust, she would lose something of great value. Perhaps it was crazy—she had no personal experience to draw upon—but she thought it might be God trying to speak to her.

  And if she was honest with herself, He’d been speaking to her for a while. She just hadn’t wanted to listen.

  “I’m not the one who needs help.” Wasn’t that what she’d tossed out to Ben the other day? It wasn’t her who needed fixing, right?

  She’d been saying that for so long, she’d almost begun to believe it.

  Almost . . .

  Overwhelmed by the feelings swirling through her, she closed her eyes. “God,” she whispered. “I’m tired of feeling this way. Help me. If You have something to tell me . . . I’m listening.”

  Five hours later, she drove into Boise, her stomach churning. She wasn’t sure of the reason. Was it anticipation or uncertainty? All she knew was that som
ething had begun to change in her heart that morning, and it seemed very important that she allow God to finish what He’d started. Would she find her answers today in church? She hoped so. She’d certainly felt led to come.

  The parking lot was filled with cars when she arrived. She pulled into the first open space she came to. As she dropped to the ground, she drew in a quick breath.

  “Ashley?”

  She turned at the sound of Ben’s voice, her pulse accelerating. “Hi.”

  “You didn’t tell me you’d be here today.”

  “I didn’t know for sure until this morning.” She gave him a swift smile. “But here I am.”

  He tilted his head toward the building. “Come on, then. We’re both running late.”

  Before they reached the front doors, Ashley heard singing coming from the sanctuary. She didn’t recognize the song. She wasn’t familiar with a lot of Christian worship music yet, although she’d started listening to one of the local Christian channels in recent weeks.

  There were still a few people lingering in the large entry hall. Some sipping coffee. Some standing outside the bookstore. Two men seated near a stone fireplace, leaning toward each other, obviously in prayer. Something about the scene calmed her.

  The sanctuary was dimly lit, except for the stage where the worship team performed. “This way,” Ben said, just loud enough for her to hear him above the music. He stepped in front of her and led the way to his grandfather. When they arrived, the older man’s eyes were closed as he sang. There were two vacant chairs beside him. “Those must be for us.” Ben stopped in front of the farthest one, giving Ashley the one between the two men.

  Grant Henning opened his eyes, saw her, and smiled. Then, ever so briefly, he took her hand in his and squeezed it. His welcoming gesture warmed her, like that first sip of hot coffee on a chilly winter morning.

  And somewhere, deep inside, she felt God welcoming her in a similar fashion.

  * * *

  Ben had been surprised when he saw Ashley getting out of her truck in the parking lot. She’d never committed to returning to his church, despite saying how much she’d liked her first visit. He hadn’t pressed her, despite how much he’d wished to do so. He knew better than that. While the wall she’d erected between them didn’t feel quite as impenetrable today as it had three weeks earlier, it was still there. Patience was his best friend for now. Nonetheless, he took it as a good sign that she was in church, of her own volition, standing between him and his grandfather.

  He closed his eyes and joined the singing, praise welling inside of him.

  It wasn’t easy, but Ben managed to keep his attention focused on the service instead of Ashley. Right up until the closing worship song. That’s when he realized Ashley was crying. She didn’t make a sound, and her head was bowed, hiding her face. And yet he knew. What should he do? Before he could find an answer to his own question, he saw his grandfather’s arm go around her shoulders. A moment later she turned and hid her face against the older man’s chest. Grandpa said something near her ear. She nodded but didn’t pull away.

  Whatever it is You’re doing at this moment, God, whatever the reason for her tears, open Ashley’s heart and her mind to You. Even if she never wants me, help her to fall more in love with You and to find her comfort in Your presence.

  Part of him wanted to take back the prayer. Not all of it. Just the “even if she never wants me” part. Ashley needed Jesus as everyone did. But Ben wanted her to need him too. He wanted her to fall in love with him. Still, there was no taking back the prayer. He sensed it was as much for himself as for her.

  * * *

  Ashley pulled up the collar of her coat as Remington picked her way along the trail. It was rutted in places and littered with various sizes of lava rock, but neither horse or rider minded. The desert was a good place to think, and they weren’t in a hurry. All was quiet except for the whistling wind. She let the buckskin have her head. Remington was smart enough to follow the trail with little guidance. As for the dogs, they were in canine heaven as they chased each other through the sagebrush.

  It was Ashley’s experience at church that morning that consumed her thoughts. She didn’t know what equated to a miracle, but that’s what she would call what happened. She’d gone to church, hoping that God would finish changing her heart, and that was exactly what had happened. In those blessed moments, she’d shed fear and anger the same way she shed her coat after entering a warm house. The years and years of resentment she’d felt toward Dylan had dissipated. Fallen away. Gone. Healed. And with it had gone fear and distrust. The experience had left her shaken, relieved, and in tears.

  She lifted her eyes. Clouds were blowing in, threatening a storm. For some reason, the weather made her think of Halloweens with her dad and Dylan. Dad had always been the one who walked with them around the neighborhood while they filled their little pumpkin buckets with miniature candies. She remembered the taste of Butterfingers and Milky Ways on her tongue, and the way her dad would take a few for himself. “Don’t tell your mom we all ate candy before we got home,” he’d warned with a grin. Of course, her mom had known. How could she not, given the smear of chocolate often left on someone’s chin? But it had been a fun game, all the same.

  Pictures of the family filled her mind. So much joy. So much laughter. Ashley had adored her little brother at that age, and he’d adored her right back.

  I forgive you, Dylan.

  Her heart thrummed.

  I forgive everything. I’m not angry anymore. Not anymore.

  Wednesday, November 1, 1944

  On the first day of the new school term, Oscar left the house along with the two younger children, but he didn’t return with them when school let out. Andrew wasn’t concerned at first. He assumed the boy, a senior in high school that year, was involved in some extracurricular activity. That changed when Oscar still hadn’t returned by nightfall. Nor the next day. Nor the next.

  Andrew and Helen searched high and low. They called or visited everyone who might possibly know where Oscar had gone. To no avail. But it didn’t take long for Andrew to suspect what must have happened. His son had grown tired of waiting to come of age. By whatever means necessary, Oscar had gone off to join the war effort.

  Their worst fears were confirmed weeks later when they received a letter.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  By the time you get this letter, I will be at sea with the navy, somewhere in the Pacific. Please don’t try to bring me home. I didn’t lie about my age, only that I had permission to join up. I could get in real trouble if they found out I forged Dad’s signature, but I am asking you not to say anything. I didn’t want to miss out on the fighting. The war is coming to an end, and I want a chance to serve my country before it is all over.

  I was in Farragut, Idaho, for boot camp. It was lots harder than Samuel made it sound when he told me about it. Days were long and full of marching, calisthenics, drills, pulling oars into a boat, loading heavy shells into a gun, and other kinds of training. Every night I fell into bed exhausted, and then, on too many nights, the chief petty officer would wake us up, shouting words he would not dare say in front of Mom. A lot of them are words I never heard before.

  There were times I wanted to quit, tell them the truth, and come home. Plenty of the boys got homesick, even the ones lots older than me. But we all managed to stick it out.

  Everything I own now can be packed into a sea bag, and it all has to be packed in a particular order. Mom, you would not believe how good I am at it. When we are moving, my sleeping gear gets rolled up inside a hammock and wrapped around my sea bag. Then I whip the whole thing over my shoulder and march off. It is efficient.

  I hope I will be a good sailor. Ben always wanted to be in the air. I always wanted to go to sea. I guess we aren’t land lovers like you, Dad. We loved growing up on the farm, but there is this big world out here, waiting for us.

  I love you, Mom and Dad. I know that is not something I ever said much
, but I do. You made a man of me, and I hope I will make you proud by the way I serve my country. Tell Louisa, Samuel, Frani, and Andy I love them too. And say hello to the Finkels too.

  Oscar

  “What do we do, Andrew?” Helen asked, her cheeks streaked with tears.

  “We do as he asked. We let him serve.”

  “But he’s only seventeen.”

  He took her hand. “He is at sea now. He is of age to serve.”

  “But he forged your permission.”

  “Helen, I don’t think we should force him to come home disgraced.” Emotion choked his voice. “I think we must let him be. No matter . . . no matter what may come.”

  His wife stepped into his embrace, the two taking comfort from each other.

  Chapter 27

  Just as Ashley turned her truck into Ben’s driveway on Monday morning, he was going the opposite way in his truck. They stopped next to each other and lowered their windows at the same time.

  “I’ll be gone most of the day on a job,” he told her.

  She hoped her disappointment didn’t show. She had so much she wanted to tell him, not to mention one big favor to ask. “Okay.”

  “Do you mind looking after Dusty?”

  “Of course not.”

  He grinned. “Good. I left the front door unlocked, just in case. Glad I won’t have to drive back to let him out.”

  “Me too.” She returned his smile.

  “I’ll try to be back before you leave. If not, just put Dusty inside again before you go home.”

  “Okay.”

  He glanced out the windshield and back again. “Have a good day, Ashley.”

  “You too.”

  He drove on.

  After parking her pickup, she let Dusty out of the house and watched as the three dogs wiggled and sniffed and wagged their exuberant hellos. Then she headed for the hay shed. Before long she was wheeling feed toward the paddocks. The horses whinnied and snorted. Impatient sounds that made her smile.