“And where is that?”
“I got me the sweetest mansion in Heaven. Sits right on top a hill of the purdiest flowers and long flowing grass. Streets of gold for as far as the eye can see. I figure a couple missed meals now ain’t so bad once I get to the feast prepared just for me.”
“Sounds like a dream.” Ezra shifted. That’s where his mother was. She’d told him the same thing. The thought of seeing her again one day laid heavy on him.
“It sure does. But I tell you what. If that preacher is wrong, I’ll be buried somewhere in some cemetery a rotting corpse, but if he’s right, I got my mansion. It ain’t about saying the words, it’s about believing in something more powerful than yourself. That’s what it’s about.”
“Streets of gold, huh?”
“For as far as the eye can see. And no more worries. It’s what He promised. Preacher showed it to me. But there’s something more than that. It’s a peace that dwells inside of you. He called it the Holy Spirit. And I’ll be darned if he weren’t right. Got it right here.” He pumped his chest.
“Thanks,” Ezra answered. It was hard for him to see God differently from what he’d known as a father. A mean tyrant who cared nothing for his child. “You gave me plenty to think about.”
“Just doing my job. What’s eating you? I know you ain’t out here because you want to be. You’re young. You could get a job most anywhere.”
“I came here to find my father. I found him, but I’m wrestling with whether to have it out with him.”
“He weren’t so good to ya, was he?”
“No, he wasn’t. That was a long time ago, though.”
“The past ain’t an easy thing to recover from. Best thing to get it behind you is to confront it head-on. I wish I’d done that with my family.”
“Yeah.” The silence between them grew thick, and Ezra stood. He held out a hand to help the old guy up.
“You go on and face those demons head-on.” The veteran patted him on the back. “You’ll be the better for it. And don’t you forget what I told you about that saving thing. All you gotta do is say it. He knows your heart.”
“Thank you, uh . . . I didn’t get your name.”
“Stanley.”
“Ezra.”
“Good Bible name. You’re off to a great start already.”
Ezra grinned. “Yeah.”
As they said their goodbyes, Ezra headed back into the city. Words from his mother brought him comfort. He hadn’t remembered much about her, but her voice came back to him.
“I named you Ezra after the old testament man. He was strong like you. When the Jews returned to Israel, he was instrumental in helping them renew their fellowship with God. You can carry that name with pride, son.”
He hadn’t thought about those words in ages. He’d never opened the Bible once on his own. His mother thought him strong back then. But when she died, so did his strength.
Ezra stopped at the address where his father was being cared for. It was a two-story stucco building with a sign outside that read ― We Care. Underneath in smaller words it said, Nursing Home and Assisted Living.
Taking a deep breath, Ezra walked up the sidewalk to the front door. He went inside and walked over to the front desk.
“I’m here to see William McCain.”
The young woman at the desk smiled. “Are you family?”
Ezra wasn’t sure how to answer. He didn’t think of the old man as a father anymore and worried if he admitted the truth, they would look down on him for never visiting him. In the end, Ezra settled for the truth. “I’m his son.”
“Oh, great. If I can see some ID, I’ll get you right back there to see him.”
Ezra pulled out his driver's license, showed it to the woman. She looked it over and handed it back.
“Go on and have a seat. I’ll get a nurse up here to escort you back.”
Ezra sat and stared out the plated glass windows. The thought of seeing his father was a tremendous weight on him. Stanley’s words weighed on his heart. What he wouldn’t give to have peace. Without a beat, he closed his eyes and prayed. Admitting he’d always believed in God but never accepted Him as ruler of the universe, he asked Him to restore his peace.
I believe what You did for me. Sent Your son to die for my sins. Please give me the peace that Charlotte and Stanley have. I don’t want to wander in life anymore.
As he opened his eyes, a woman in light blue scrubs opened the door and led him back. As the Holy Spirit filled his heart, he was ready to meet his father. He didn’t know much about what he’d just done, but it felt right. Freeing.
“They’re just sitting down to lunch. You’re welcome to join him. The foods not the greatest here, but it’s not so bad.”
“Thanks.”
In the middle of the cafeteria, his father sat in a pair of brown pajamas. His face was worn and wrinkled, his hair thin and gray. He was no longer the strong man who ruled with an iron fist.
“William,” the nurse called out as they got closer.
His father didn’t even look up from the woman who was spoon-feeding him.
“William.” The nurse bent down, catching his attention. “You have a visitor.”
His father looked at him, his eyes blank. “Who’s this.”
“William, this is your son, Ezra.”
Confusion settled in his eyes for a moment and then he turned back to the assistant who was feeding him.
“He’s in the late stages of Alzheimer's. I’m sorry to say, but he may have no recollection of you.”
Ezra nodded. “Yeah, I kind of figured that.”
Ezra sat across from him and watched as his father robotically opened his mouth for the woman feeding him. His old, liver-spotted hands tremored on the table.
“Dad?” Ezra said.
His father looked at him briefly, mumbled something, and then turned back to the nurse for another bite.
“All done, William. Are you ready to go back to your room?”
He didn’t answer.
“He’s better on some days than others. This morning is one of those worse days. Sometimes he finds clarity, but it doesn’t last long.”
“He might remember me?”
“At some point. But like I said, it comes and goes. So, you’re William’s son?”
“Yes.”
The girl gave him a sad smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you. In bits and pieces only. Seems he thought you were . . . uh . . . he talks a bit about his son dying. Did you have a brother that passed?”
“No. It was just me.”
“Would you like to push him to his room?” she asked as she dabbed at his father’s chin. “I’ll give you some time alone with him if you like.”
Ezra stood and went around to the back of his father’s wheelchair. The nurse unlocked the wheels, and he followed her down the hallway. It seemed so strange to be in the vicinity of the father who had ruined his life and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to hold it against him. He’d set out to confront him. Get everything off his chest and have it out. He’d rehearsed over and over again how he would blame him for his life-long struggles. But pushing his father down the hallway, he couldn’t find the anger that had always taken over his heart.
It didn’t matter. The old man didn’t have the capacity to understand anyway. Even if he’d have gone off on him, his father would not understand a word he’d said.
The nurse stopped at a room and signaled for Ezra to push him in.
Once inside the room, she helped him stand as he wobbled to the bed, turned, and sat down on the edge. “It’s his naptime, but you’re welcome to stay.”
His father pushed himself backward on the bed and leaned back. The nurse lifted the side rail and turned. Before she could speak to him, a small phone on her hip rang. “Excuse me for a moment.” She walked out of the room, leaving Ezra alone with his father.
Ezra stared at his father for a long time. It seemed as though he didn’t know he was even there.
And then he spoke. “Ezra.”
Ezra jumped up. “Dad?”
“Ezra. Read me the book of Ezra.” He pointed a shaky finger to the Bible on the table by his bed.
“You know, I had a son named Ezra. He’s gone.”
Ezra picked up the Bible in his own shaky hands. Tears fled from his eyes as he opened it up. He searched through the index until he found the page number and turned to the book of Ezra. Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he read.
Now in the first year of Cyrus king of Persia, that the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah might be fulfilled, the Lord stirred up the spirit of Cyrus king of Persia, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying. . .
The words came out through the lump in his throat. With a deep breath, he continued. The page blurred as his eyes filled. He blinked to keep them at bay.
“My son is Ezra. He’s a good boy. Keep reading.”
Ezra sucked in a breath and continued to read. “Thus saith Cyrus king of Persia, The Lord God of heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth; and he hath charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah.”
Soon a soft snore came from beside him, and he closed the book. Ezra stood and leaned over the broken man. He touched his worn face softly and then with sorrow, he turned to leave.
He rushed out of the room and back to the front of the building. He didn’t care who saw how broken he was, he just needed fresh air and time to think.
“Sir,” the nurse at the front desk called.
He turned around. “Yes?”
She slid a single key across the desk. On it was attached a plastic hospital band that said two words ― Ezra McCain.
“What is this?”
“It’s a key to a safety deposit box. I don’t know what’s inside, but your father gave explicit instructions when he . . . well before he was so far along in his disease, he said if you should come, to give it to you.”
Ezra stared at the key as if it were a snake.
“Maybe it will help answer some questions?”
“Yeah, maybe. Thank you.” Ezra took the key and held it in his hand. He walked out the door, staring at it, wondering.
How many years had it sat in a drawer somewhere waiting for him to show? And what would be in the box when he opened it? Did he even want to know?
Hoping it would give him some kind of closure, Ezra pushed the key into his pocket and headed out.
Chapter 20 - Charlotte
Charlotte woke up with a start. Sitting up in bed, she looked out her window. It was still dark out. The clock on her bedside table said four a.m. Yawning, she scooted from her bed, got on her knees, and prayed. It was something she’d done for as long as she could remember.
Once she had finished and said an extra prayer for Ezra, she put on her robe and went downstairs to start the coffee. Nothing seemed to work without a strong dose of dark French roast.
Whispered voices in the living room stirred her curiosity. Peeking into the room, she saw Cole and Samantha cuddled up on the couch. Upset that Cole had broken the one rule she’d set for him, she walked in.
“You two are up early,” she said.
Cole looked up startled. “Oh, hey sis. I thought you’d still be asleep.”
“So, I see. Cole, could I talk to you for a moment in the kitchen?”
“Wait, no,” Samantha stood. “It’s not what you think. We were going to . . . I mean . . . well—” she looked to Cole.
“Might as well tell Miss Nosey Bottom now,” he said.
“We wanted to get an early start on painting the store. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”
Charlotte’s face fell. The two of them were wearing old, worn out clothes perfect for painting.
When she didn’t speak, Samantha came around to her. “Charlotte, I wouldn’t disrespect your home like that. Nothing was going on. I was just telling him about . . . well, you’ll have to wait and see, but I swear, it’s completely innocent.”
Cole came up beside her. “Seriously. Nothing’s going on.” He put his hands in the air. “We just wanted to get an early start.”
“Okay, then.” A bit ashamed of where her thoughts had gone, she smiled. “No harm done. Why don’t we have some breakfast? I’ve got coffee brewing.”
Relief showed in Samantha’s eyes. “Yeah, sure. I make a mean omelet.”
Together they made a quick breakfast as they chatted. Charlotte liked the girl more each time they spoke. Samantha had a wholesome way about her that made Charlotte believe she was the perfect girl for her brother. The thought that she’d almost had that same love with Ezra saddened her deeply. Where was he? Had he started that fire at the Monroe house? If he had, she didn’t know if she would ever be able to forgive him.
“Have you checked on Clementine?” Cole asked as they sat down to eat. “She should be foaling any day now.”
“I’m going to check after breakfast. Then I’ll come and help you two paint the store.”
“Oh, no you don’t. We got this. Samantha has it all planned out. We want it to be a surprise.”
“You know how I hate surprises, Cole. And the guests will be here tomorrow.”
“It won’t take long. Don’t worry, we’ll get it done by the end of the day. You just keep your nose away from it. Sew up some more of those stuffed animals or something.”
Charlotte took a bite of her eggs. “Fine, but if you two come out with more paint on you than the walls, I’m not going to be happy.” Her words brought her back to her and Ezra installing the tile. I’ll give you a kiss for every tile you lay. Her heart yearned for him to be back there on the ranch with her. Ezra, what are you doing? Where are you?
“You hear her, Sammy? No face painting allowed.”
Samantha leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Walls only. I promise.”
Cole’s face turned a lovely shade of red as he grinned.
Feeling their flirting was a bit too much for her, Charlotte finished her breakfast and stood. “I’m going to check on Clementine.”
The two lovebirds giggled and whispered some more, and Charlotte rolled her eyes. She couldn’t blame her brother, though. She’d been just as happy in Ezra’s arms. It was the only place she wanted to be.
Not even bothering to get dressed, she headed out to the stable. Clementine had been placed in a larger open area by herself to give her plenty of room to foal. Walking in that direction, she stopped to talk to each of the others. Their wounds were all healed, and it was time to test their emotional scars. She was hopeful that they were ready to carry riders once again but planned to put them each through a series of tests to be sure they were ready to go.
As soon as she got to the back of the stable, Charlotte covered her mouth in awe. There, next to Clementine, stood a beautiful slick-skinned foal. Her mother was bathing her lovingly. She couldn’t be more than an hour old.
Charlotte walked gently toward the mother and foal. “Hey, Clementine,” she cooed. “I see you’re a momma now. Good job, girl.” She reached up and petted the mare. “How you feeling?”
Clementine nudged Charlotte with her nose.
“You did a good job, girl. She’s nice and healthy.”
Charlotte walked slowly to the foal who stood behind her mother. “It’s okay. Let me get a look at you.”
The foal allowed her to come closer. Upon further inspection, she noted that there was another baby girl in the family. “What a pretty filly you are,” she cooed.
Charlotte backed away and went to the area where she’d left the supplies needed to get the foal cleaned up and ready to nurse. With a soft, clean towel, she cleaned out the foal’s nostrils and then, with a betadine solution, she soaked the spot where the umbilical cord had already come away. “This will stop you from getting any infection.”
She rubbed the foal down softly, desensitizing her ears, nose, and mouth. “What should we name you, girl?” she asked as the filly warmed up t
o her. “Doc Evans will be so happy to see you came on your own.”
She directed the filly to her mother’s teats, and she grabbed on easily and instinctually began to nurse. The bonding between mare and filly was important, and those two were already doing well. Clementine cleaned her young as she nursed.
“Lucky. I think we should call you, Lucky. After all, I thought for sure we’d lost you both.”
Once she was finished nursing, Charlotte led the two outside to the corral where they could bond more while she cleaned up the stable. One by one she led each horse outside as she did each morning. As they hit the corral, each horse came over to get a look at the newest member of the family. Titus played with the foal, nudging her in the bottom.
“Is that your foal, Titus?” Charlotte asked. Of course, she was. He was the only stallion on the ranch. The rest were geldings which made for calmer trail horses.
Clementine took immediate offense to his antics and nosed Titus away.
“Come on, Daddy, leave them alone.” She led Titus away then came back and brought Clementine and Lucky into a ringed off area of the corral. When it came to mothers, no matter whether human, horse or otherwise, they were always protective of their young.
Back in the main corral area, Charlotte ran the horses through a battery of tests. Leaving Samson and Clementine, there were seven horses to work, and each of them got an equal amount of her time. Cole was better at that sort of thing, but he and Samantha were being so secretive about painting walls that she decided not to bother them.
After spending the entire day running them through an extensive workout, testing their skittishness to surrounding noises and objects, she concluded that all of them but one, Titus, were ready for the trails. He was sort of a wayward beast anyway, and they didn’t usually use him for trail rides unless she or Cole rode him.
Checking her phone, she saw that it was already late evening. She got the horses cleaned and brushed then led them back to their stalls where she fed them. She headed back to the house intending to fall out on the couch and rest her weary body. Before she could make it there, she spotted Cole and Samantha sitting on the bench outside the store. They were engaged in a kiss.
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