“We’ve been doing that with the cows and found it successful, we just have to be very careful in the dead of winter.” John tipped his head toward Granddad. “Chuck has been writing out details on what he’d like to see for our expansion as well.”
“Oh!” Maddy leaned forward and pointed her hand to her brother-in-law. “Don’t forget that you ordered a ram from Judas, which hopefully will arrive before the sound freezes over as well. If not . . . well, I guess we won’t have to worry about breeding at all. At least until spring thaw.”
“Good point. I’ve started building a creep pen for the lambs similar to the ones that Chuck made for the calves. That will aid us in weaning the sheep.”
Whitney squinted her eyes—a sure sign she was thinking through all the possibilities. “How much cheese production are we expecting from the sheep?”
Maddy made a face at her sister. “That we’re not quite sure about since we aren’t sure how much milk production we’ll have for certain. But we’ve already received orders, so we’re hoping to keep up with the demand.”
Her older sister nodded and turned to John. “And how much of the dairy milk will we be putting toward mozzarella?”
His brow furrowed, and he ticked things off with his fingers. “With all the new cows and calves, we’re selling about eight hundred gallons of milk a week. In addition to that, we made fifty pounds of butter a week, and this last week, we did fifteen pounds of mozzarella. So that’s my best guess for the time being.”
“That is quite amazing. And we’ve had enough hands for all this so far?” Whit was always into the details.
Havyn beamed up at her husband, pride clear on her face. “John has hired ten more hands from Amka’s people. They are hard workers and know the farm.”
Hiring the natives was always their first choice, since the trustworthiness of men who came to town to dig for gold was always questionable.
“So far, so good,” John confirmed. “But I’m sure it’s going to get busier and busier. That’s why it’s good we’re talking about each step. Just make sure that you each let me know how things are going and if you need any more help.” John patted his wife’s arm. “That brings us to the chickens. Would you update us, honey?” The look he sent Havyn made Madysen’s heart soar. The man really loved her sister.
Havyn grimaced at her husband.
Madysen and Whitney laughed. They knew that face all too well. Someone must have mentioned raising chickens for slaughter again.
“John has ordered an entire gross of chickens that we will raise with the intention of becoming . . . fryers. I’m still not sure how I feel about this, but there will be roosters to fertilize the eggs, and we will keep raising this new herd separate from my girls. Other than that, my chickens are doing very well, with egg production at fifteen dozen a day. All of which we either use or sell on a daily basis. We could sell up to twice that many, but that would mean adding a lot of hens. Of course, winter is coming, and production will drop considerably if things go as they usually do.”
“Do we have room for more hens?” Madysen tapped her chin with a finger. “Because if the demand is that high, I could see us adding to the flock. I mean, that’s why we’re having these meetings to talk about how we can increase production and make the farm even more profitable, right? More people are pouring into Nome every day, and those people have to eat.”
“We do have the room, but let’s see how we do adding chickens meant for eating, first. Obviously it will be better for us financially if we raise chicks from our own eggs.” John seemed to be tempering his reaction. “Chuck, I need to get your thoughts on all of this. Financially, we are fine. And I know your desire is not for us to overwhelm ourselves with too much work, but you’ve built this farm into what it is, and we want to honor that. And as Madysen said, there are more people arriving every day. Gold fever has driven people out of the Yukon and into Nome. I’m sure we’ll have the market for whatever we raise to sell.”
Granddad gave a slight nod and wrote on the paper.
Let’s talk about it in a few minutes. Whitney needs to update us on the dogs.
“We can do that.” John turned to Whit. “Anything new to report?”
Their older sister straightened in the chair. “I’ve decided that Granddad’s idea to train some of the dogs with the intention to sell is a very good idea. Everyone has always asked for my dogs because they know they are the best, but if I train them as sled dogs before I sell them, I can ask for more and be confident that their training is good. That would also help me to ascertain the real reason behind a lot of the requests for purchasing my dogs. An expensive, trained dog is less likely to end up in the fighting pits. The buyer will have to give a deposit for the dogs while I train them. And then wait for them to finish training. No rush jobs here.”
John placed his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Well, it sounds like things are in order all the way around. It’s taken us a little bit to get it all straight, but I feel we’re doing well. The workers are paid, all the debt to Mr. Reynolds is cleared, and we have plenty to move forward.” He looked to Granddad. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”
Granddad made a noise and held out a paper.
Havyn took it. “You want me to read this?”
A nod.
Havyn unfolded the paper and began to read.
“There are some things that I’ve been needing to say to you for some time. But my pride and selfishness stood in the way. I’m sorry. God has made some big changes in my attitude to get me to this point. He’s humbled me. Not just physically, but spiritually.”
Madysen stood up and went over to kneel by their grandfather. Whatever the letter entailed, she wanted to be by his side, letting him know that they supported him. No matter what.
Havyn continued.
“Girls, I don’t want you to hate your father. And I’m sorry I ever tried to turn any of you against him. At first, it was because I didn’t think you’d ever find out he was alive, and so that was my excuse for talking negatively about him. Then it was my own pride that stood in the way. I knew you all loved your dad, even though he hadn’t been the greatest father.
“Anyway, I know that he is in town and that he wants to spend time with you. I’m asking you to give him a chance. He is your father, and the Bible says that you need to honor him.
“Lastly, I need to ask for all of you to forgive me. I made excuses to myself and said that what I did was for your good—for your protection. But that wasn’t the whole story. I simply wanted him gone so we didn’t have to deal with him or the embarrassment anymore. I thought my daughter was too good for him. I’m so sorry that this had to come out the way it did, and I know this has been difficult for you all. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Madysen leaned over and hugged Granddad. It had been horrible what he did, but she understood why he did it.
Whit looked like a storm was brewing inside. “How are we supposed to honor someone who did the things he did? And I know you’re partially guilty, Granddad, for convincing him to sign divorce papers and telling him to disappear. But he was the one who actually left. He didn’t fight for us. Didn’t plead to stay with us or to see us. Has he even written to you all these years to check up on us? Wouldn’t that be what a loving father would do?”
The set of her jaw and red in her cheeks showed her anger, but a single tear slipped down her cheek. When Whit loved someone, she was a fierce protector, loyal, and compassionate. And when someone betrayed that love, it was almost impossible to regain her trust.
Havyn put an arm around their older sister. “I’ve asked the same questions, Whit. And I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive him for abandoning us. Or for starting another family while he was still married to Mama. Or for his drinking all those years. But I know that God would at least want us to give him a chance. To hear him out. Find out more about why he’s here, and what he’s done with his life since he left us.”
Silence descended
as they all looked to Whit. The seconds stretched.
“Fine.” She swiped at her cheek. “We can invite him for dinner. But just because he seems different and said he hasn’t had a drink in years, doesn’t mean that it’s true. It certainly doesn’t mean that we have to invite him into our lives. As far as I’m concerned, our father is still dead.”
FIVE
Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets and headed toward the parlor. Now that Granny was back, she wanted to have them gather in there each night and chat. Like they used to do. Before Mom died. Before Dad got injured. Before they left the farm, moved to Seattle, and then he left for the Yukon.
Before God turned His back on him.
Spending time with Granny and Dad wasn’t the problem. But if he knew his grandmother, she would want to read Scripture too. And she’d probably pry into what was going on in his mind.
Neither of which he wanted.
Things could never go back to the way they were. It wasn’t his fault. God could take the blame for that.
Changing direction, Daniel went out the side door and walked in the waning sunlight to the barn. He needed to get his thoughts straight before he went in to be with Granny and Dad.
They had hopes and expectations for him. And the thought of letting them down carved a deep hole in his gut, but he couldn’t let go of the past and his anger at God. It haunted him at every turn.
Staring out at the last vestiges of light on the horizon, he fisted his hands in his pockets. Why couldn’t he be happy?
When he was young, Daniel had loved everything about the farm. Yes, even the sheep. Life had been so good. It was hard to believe it had been almost ten years since Mom and Grandpa had passed. The cholera epidemic had been fierce in their little town in Illinois. And Daniel couldn’t blame his dad for not being able to work the farm after a wagon accident injured his leg shortly after.
But he did blame God. After all, God was all powerful and all knowing. He could have stopped the horrible sicknesses and accidents from happening. He must have known how much pain such things would cause. And, since He had known and could have prevented it, that made Him heartless and cruel.
Daniel had only been sixteen at the time, but he’d decided he didn’t want to have anything more to do with a God who would allow such atrocities.
And now here he was stuck in a home that wasn’t his and a town he didn’t like, but with a family that welcomed him with open arms, just like the prodigal son.
Problem was, Dad and Granny would ask questions about his years away. Daniel didn’t want to admit that he had hated it. And he wasn’t proud of many things that he had done. But none of that meant he wanted to get “right with God,” as Granny put it. She’d push. He’d try to be respectful. But he’d probably have to leave again because he wouldn’t be able to take it.
Was there no hope for a decent future for him? Where would he go now? It wasn’t like he had the funds to buy a farm or a store or anything else that could make him money.
All this wasted time. He was twenty-five! He should be in a better place. Not starting all over again.
The bitterness put a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t. Had he really become so hardened and cynical about life? About happiness?
He had to get rid of all that weighed him down. This wasn’t him. Dad was thrilled to have him back, but Granny had seen right through him. She hadn’t said anything, but she knew. Maybe that was why he was avoiding them.
He kicked a pebble and looked back at the dark sky. All the light from the day was gone. Just like his life.
No. The thoughts that had begun to darken his mind in the Yukon had to be stopped. He turned around and went back to the house. No matter if he agreed with his family or not, at least he could spend time with them. They were good, loving people. And he hadn’t been around anything good for quite a while. Maybe things would look up now.
Perhaps he could save up and start his own business here. That way, he could still be near Dad and Granny. They wouldn’t be around forever, and he loved them. They were all he had left.
Over time, he’d just have to let them know that he didn’t want to talk about God.
Ever again.
“Daniel, is that you?” Granny’s voice carried from the parlor as he stepped back into the house.
“It’s me.” He pasted on a smile, entered the room, and gave her a hug. “I took a little walk outside.”
“Good for you. The fresh air is always invigorating to the spirit.” She kept her eyes on her knitting as the yarn and needles seemed to fly effortlessly. “Martin, would you read for us?”
“Of course. I believe we were in John, chapter two?” Dad pulled out his Bible and put on his glasses.
Daniel bit his tongue, leaned back into the chair, and closed his eyes. Dad and Granny had good intentions. Good hearts.
But that didn’t mean that he had to listen.
Pushing Granddad’s chair back to his room, Madysen couldn’t get her father out of her mind. The thoughts weren’t very good either, which made her cringe. What did that say about her?
So she started chattering about the sheep. Granddad hadn’t gotten to see what they’d done with them yet. “I’m debating if I should name them all like Havyn names her chickens. But since the flock has already doubled, I’m not sure I could be creative enough to come up with that many names. Maybe I’ll just number them.”
She helped balance Granddad’s weight as he climbed into bed. The process was getting easier all the time since he was exercising so much, but there was still a long road ahead of them.
He grunted and pointed to his box with his writing supplies.
“I’ll get it.” She grabbed the box that he had set in his chair and handed it to him. “Here you go.” She pulled the covers up over his legs.
He immediately started scribbling.
What’s bothering you?
“I’m fine. There’s nothing bothering me.” She pasted on a cheery smile.
Don’t lie. I can see the wheels turning in that head of yours.
Letting out a long breath, she plopped down into the chair on the other side of his bed. “I should have known that I couldn’t get past you.” Madysen leaned forward and propped her elbows on his bed. “All this talk about Dad has my insides churning.”
Granddad was devoid of expression. But then she saw the unshed tears. He looked down and wrote.
I’m so sorry for all the pain this has caused you. It’s my fault.
“We’ve forgiven you. You know that. But how do we move forward?” She fidgeted with a loose thread on the coverlet. “I know, I know. I’ve always believed in giving people a second chance, but I don’t know what to think or do about him. If he straightened his life out for this other family—why couldn’t he do that for us? Why did he need another family anyway?”
Too many thoughts swirled around in her brain. “I mean, did he not love us enough? Did he not love me enough? Did he love any of us . . . at all?” Now that she opened the topic, tears flooded her eyes.
I’m sorry for what you are going through. But these are things you need to ask your father.
Not what she wanted to hear. Because talking to her father wasn’t something she wanted to do right now. If ever. “I know, Granddad. He says he’s different. And that he doesn’t drink anymore. I want to believe it, but then that means that I have to acknowledge that he changed for them and not us.” And there it was. All the hurt. All the anger.
Mistakes were made. A lot of them. I regret so many things that I did, but I just couldn’t stand seeing Melly’s heart broken over and over. She was strong and never said a bad thing about your dad, but I saw it. I wanted to fix it and make everything all right.
“To be honest, it was actually easier to think that Dad was dead. What does that say about me? I’m a horrible daughter. A terrible person.” She put her hands over her face.
How could she be so awful?
Granddad laid a h
and on her shoulder, prompting Madysen to lower her own. Granddad’s eyes were filled with tears, and several streamed down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Granddad. I didn’t want to make you sad.”
He shook his head and looked down at the paper.
As he wrote, Madysen pulled in several breaths. How many times had she wished that they could redo the last few months? So Granddad wouldn’t have fallen. Mama wouldn’t have died. And Dad wouldn’t have come back.
Guilt weighed her down for even thinking such things.
Granddad moaned, and she glanced at his paper.
It’s my own doing that makes me sad. You didn’t do that. We can’t change the past. But we can do something about the future. Together.
She looked up and nodded. “You’re right. I know. I just don’t know what to do with all this turmoil inside of me.”
Give it over to God.
Of course that was the answer. It was the answer to everything. But she hadn’t been listening very well lately.
She gave him a slight smile. “Do you need anything? I think I’ll go out with the sheep for a while and sort through all this.”
Go. I’m fine.
“Okay.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The night was beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky as twilight hovered. But it was cold. There was plenty of daylight now, but it would diminish quickly over the next couple of months. Madysen breathed deep of the night air and filled her lungs with the chill of the coming winter.
Everything seemed so clean and crisp.
Everything except her heart.
She’d made such a mess out of things. Especially the way she’d talked to Dad at her party. If only she had a muzzle.
The cries and bleats of the sheep as she drew near made her smile. She spent hours out here every day. Talking to them, singing to them. So that now, even if they were sleeping or napping when she came out, they wanted to be near her.
She and her sister had teased Havyn for months about carrying on conversations with her chickens. And here Madysen was, doing the same with the sheep. She blamed it on reading chapter ten of John one morning. She’d been fascinated by Jesus saying that the sheep knew their shepherd’s voice.
Endless Mercy Page 6
