What Comes My Way

by Tracie Peterson

  He glanced down. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He struggled into his coat and did as she suggested.

  Ella didn’t know what to think or say. Phillip was a good man deep inside. She knew he was. He was just so troubled and fearful of life. He felt cut off from the people who loved him because he was convinced they couldn’t possibly continue feeling that way if they knew the truth about him.

  “But I know.” She hadn’t meant to murmur the words out loud.

  “What?” he asked.

  Ella smiled and patted his arm. “It’s nothing.”

  For a few moments they rode in silence, but Phillip finally turned to her. “Ella, I’m sorry for this. Sorry for all the other times too.”

  “I know, and I forgive you.”

  He gaped at her. “Why? Why do you forgive me so easily?”

  “How can I not? I want to be forgiven my trespasses too. The Bible says that if we forgive others, our Father in heaven will forgive us. However, if we don’t forgive, we won’t be forgiven. That’s in Matthew, chapter six.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “None of us do. And, I’ll admit, I think that rather than simply beg forgiveness, we should strive to be done with sin as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The driver hit a particularly large hole and sent Ella crashing against Phillip. He caught her to keep her from falling forward. Their faces were just inches apart, and Ella wished the circumstances could be different.

  She sighed and pulled back. “I mean that if we just keep sinning without any intention of stopping—what good is it to be forgiven? It means nothing to us unless we work to stop doing wrong.”

  “You think your forgiveness means nothing to me?”

  “I believe forgiveness means the world to you, but I don’t think it’s mine you are seeking. I think you want Wesley’s. And even more than that, I think you want God’s.”

  He stiffened. “Wes would never forgive me if he knew the truth. I doubt God would either.”

  “Oh goodness. How very self-centered you are.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Phillip DeShazer is the only man in the world God cannot forgive. His sins are far worse than anyone else’s—worse than murderers, thieves, and liars. Phillip DeShazer has done more evil than anyone in the history of human beings.”

  “That’s not what I said,” he argued. “I just, well, it was a bad situation, and . . .”

  “And Jesus died on the cross for everyone but you? Is that what you’re saying?” She crossed her arms in frustration. “Jesus couldn’t fit you in with the others? He died on the cross for the entire world except you?”

  “Of course not.” Phillip shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. But folks are hard-pressed to forgive sins that are close to their hearts.”

  “Maybe it will be hard for Wesley. I don’t know. What I do know is that seeing you drink your life away is killing him.”

  Phillip frowned. “No, it’s not. He doesn’t know how bad it is unless you’ve told him.”

  Ella rolled her eyes and sat back against the leather seat with a huff. “I don’t have to tell him. He knows, and he cares so much about you. You aren’t fooling anyone, Phillip. Everyone in the troupe knows you drink. When you don’t show up at night, they figure you’re in jail or lying in a gutter somewhere. Wes is no fool. He’s worried about you because he loves you.”

  For several long moments neither of them said anything more. Ella hoped and prayed that Phillip would understand the truth of his situation. He longed for forgiveness, that much was clear. It was also clear that he had convinced himself that forgiveness wasn’t possible.

  “Do you think God will really forgive me?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She didn’t offer anything more, as nothing more was needed.

  “Do you think Wes could forgive me?”

  She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I really don’t know Wesley that well. But it doesn’t matter what I think, because it is still up to him.” She sighed and took his arm. “Phillip, it might take time, but you’ve been running from the truth for over twelve years. Don’t you think it would be worth at least trying to set aside the past and letting the truth be known? You need to do this for your own sake. Only God can heal you and make this better.”

  Phillip leaned closer. “You make it better, Ella.” He put his arm around her and tried to kiss her, but Ella jerked back.

  “Don’t!”

  “But why not? I know you care about me.” His brown eyes looked sadder than she’d ever seen them.

  “I do care about you. Maybe too much, but my love can’t save you. Only God can do that.”

  “But I love you, and I know you love me.”

  His words struck deep, and Ella felt herself wanting to give in to his desires. “Even if I do love you, Phillip, we can’t be together. We can’t have a future until you resolve the past. It’s that simple. It will never work otherwise.”

  “But if I tell Wes the truth, he’ll hate me. He’ll never speak to me again.”

  “That’s a risk you’ll have to take. If not, you’ll bear this guilt and drink yourself to death.” She held his hand. “I won’t stand by and watch you die. If you truly care about me, then you won’t ask that of me.”

  The carriage came to a stop, and before Phillip or the driver could offer their assistance, Ella jumped down and started walking in the direction of the hotel.

  Phillip watched Ella hurry away and felt the emptiness threaten to swallow him whole. He had used her again to save him from his circumstances. Circumstances he’d brought on himself. She was completely innocent and good, and he was treating her poorly.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and contemplated what he should do. He felt ill, as he often did the morning after drinking. His stomach was green, and his head throbbed. He vaguely remembered fighting with some man, but for what reason, he couldn’t say. He supposed it didn’t much matter. Part of him was always looking for a fight. As if that could somehow set the past to rights.

  Ella’s words came back to him. “Phillip, it might take time, but you’ve been running from the truth for over twelve years. Don’t you think it would be worth at least trying to set aside the past and letting the truth be known? You need to do this for your own sake. Only God can heal you and make this better.”

  “But running is what I’m good at, and maybe it’s time to move along,” he muttered to himself.

  A man passing by glanced over with a frown but said nothing. Phillip looked down at his clothes. They were dirty and torn in a couple of places. He would no doubt raise eyebrows when he returned to the hotel. Maybe it would be best to go in through the back entrance.

  He cut down the alley and made his way around back, hoping no one would think him a beggar and turn him away. He pulled out his hotel room key in case he needed to offer proof, but thankfully no one was around. Without bothering with the elevator, Phillip made his way up the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief once he was safely behind his locked room door. He knew he was late for work, but he needed to change his clothes and pack. They were leaving after the evening performance.

  Ella’s words continued to echo in his thoughts. “Only God can heal you and make this better.”

  “Maybe He is the only one, but will He do it for someone like me?” Phillip glanced toward the ceiling. “I’ve made a real mess of my life, Lord. What if I’ve made too big of one?”

  Wes looked around the stalls and pens for Phillip. He was nowhere to be found. He questioned some of the assistant wranglers, but no one had seen him. Then, just when he was ready to give up, Phillip came waltzing into the place like he hadn’t a care in the world. There was bruising over his left eye, however, and a slight swelling along his jawline. He’d been fighting.

  “Where have you been?” Wes asked.

  Phillip grinned. “Good morning to you too.”

  “Morning? It’s nearly noon. You
should have been here at six.”

  “I wasn’t feeling too good,” Phillip said with a shrug. “I’m better now, and I apologize.”

  “Seems you’re always apologizing.” Wesley decided not to bring up the subject of Phillip’s fighting. He cared so much about his brother, but it was obvious Phillip didn’t care about anyone but himself.

  “We’re heading to El Paso tonight, right?” Phillip asked.

  “That’s right. Why do you ask?”

  The younger man shrugged. “I worked there once.”

  Wes narrowed his eyes. “I thought you mostly stayed around Wyoming. Or was that a lie?”

  If his tone offended, Phillip didn’t show it. “No lie. I was in Wyoming more than anyplace else, but I got around. I told you I worked clear down to Texas and back up. El Paso was just one of those places.” He pushed back his hat and sobered. “It’s a rowdy town, and we might have trouble. It’d be good to keep a close eye on the ladies . . . and the livestock.”

  Wes nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, but what about you? Will I need to keep a close eye on you, or will you have my back?”

  Phillip picked up a rope, then met Wesley’s gaze. “You’ll have my help. I promise.”

  Wes wanted to believe him, but past experiences had soured his trust. “I hope so. I really want to believe you.”

  Phillip’s expression was regretful. “I know. I want to do better.”

  “Well, at least that’s a start.” Wes decided to leave it at that. “Come on. There’s work to be done.”

  Later that night, wrapped in Lizzy’s arms, Wes tried to fall asleep to the rhythmic rocking of the train. Unfortunately, sleep eluded him, and his thoughts were all about Phillip. He wondered if he could count on his brother to keep his word. Wes wanted to believe in him—wanted to trust him—but it was obvious alcohol held a tight grip on Phillip.

  “Are you going to stop worrying anytime soon?” Lizzy murmured.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” He pulled her even closer.

  “I haven’t been able to sleep with you so restless.” She rose up on one elbow. “Want to talk about it?”

  “I’m just afraid of losing Phillip again. Afraid I’ve already lost him to liquor. I want to believe he can stop drinking—that he can overcome this—but I don’t know that he can.”

  “With God, all things are possible.”

  “Yeah, but a fella’s got to want God’s help. I think Phillip is content to face his demons alone.”

  Lizzy touched his unshaven cheek. “He’ll come to the place where he realizes he can’t do it on his own. We all do. When he does—just make sure you’re there for him.”

  Wes couldn’t see her very well in the darkness, but occasionally light from the open window flashed enough of a glow that he could just catch a glimpse of her sweet face. He was blessed to know she loved him. Blessed that he had her encouragement and support. Unfortunately, he didn’t think she really understood his position. If Phillip wasn’t willing to stop drinking and putting the people he loved at risk, Wes would have to fire him. Yet how could he do that? How could he walk away from his brother?

  “Do you think God ever calls us to give up on folks?” he asked.

  She yawned, and he felt guilty for keeping her awake.

  “Never mind, just go to sleep, sweetheart.”

  Settling down in his arms again, Lizzy sighed. “I don’t think God ever gives up on us. He does let us go our own way and reap the consequences, and I suppose if a person completely rejects Him, then God lets him go like Jesus did when He was talking to the rich young ruler who didn’t want to sell everything and follow Him.” She yawned again.

  Wes hugged her close and settled his face against her hair. She smelled sweet, like the lilac and rose scent of her soap.

  “I love you, Wes.” Her voice was fading. “Just give it to God. With Him to guide you . . . you’ll make the right choice.”

  eight

  Ella accompanied Lizzy and Mary to the costume car in search of Amanda—and Mary’s wedding costume. Lizzy was confident that Amanda hadn’t even begun the creation and wanted to gather the supplies so that Mara could get to work immediately.

  “Try not to worry, Lizzy. Mara will be able to make the outfit without any trouble. I’m sure of that.” Ella tried to sound convincing even though she wasn’t sure Mara had ever sewn with leather.

  Due to the increased number of performers, Henry Adler had devoted one car to nothing but costumes, laundry, and sewing. Most of the clothes used for performances hung against the wall, running the entire length of the car. The girls overseeing the laundry had their equipment at the far end. There was a washroom set up with tubs and hot water, as well as lines where the clothes could be placed to dry. At the other end was the sewing machine and a cabinet full of supplies for just about any sewing need. Henry Adler had thought of everything. The only thing missing was Amanda.

  “She’s so seldom at her job,” Lizzy declared. “I don’t know why I bothered to look for her here. I should have gone straight to Uncle Oliver’s office.”

  The two laundry girls came from the far end of the car. One of the girls, named Sue-Ellen, offered a smile. “If you’re looking for Miss Moore, she isn’t here. She told us she had to go work on her wedding plans.”

  Lizzy frowned. “Do you know if she’s worked at all on Mary’s wedding costume?”

  Sue-Ellen looked at the other young lady. Ella couldn’t remember her name, but she couldn’t have been much more than sixteen. The girl shook her head, and Sue-Ellen shrugged.

  “I don’t think she’s worked on much of anything, truth be told.”

  “That’s what I feared.” Lizzy began to look through the cupboards. “Do you know where that white doeskin is? Uncle Oliver had it specially delivered in Denver.”

  Sue-Ellen pointed. “I think she put it in the big trunk over there.”

  Lizzy went to the trunk and knelt. She raised the lid. “Yes, here it is. Let’s gather up whatever you think Mara will need. I know Uncle Oliver got a special sewing kit for leather. In fact, here it is under the hides.” She began to pull the items from the trunk. “Ella, why don’t you rummage through the cupboards for material to use for linings and other supplies.”

  “There’s some white tulle here. It would make a lovely veil if you were of a mind to have one.” Ella held it up.

  “Bring it,” Lizzy commanded. “If not for that, then perhaps we’ll need it for the undergarments.”

  “What about something for you and Ella?” Mary asked.

  “What in the world’s going on here?” Amanda all but yelled, stomping into the costume car. She threw a glare at Lizzy. “You have no right to be going through my things.”

  “These aren’t your things, they’re the costuming supplies. And, just as I suspected, you haven’t even begun to work on Mary’s wedding costume.”

  Amanda shrugged and plopped down at the sewing table. “Didn’t much feel like worrying over someone else’s wedding when I have my own to be concerned with.” She smiled, and Ella could see that Lizzy wanted nothing more than to slap the grin from the seamstress’s face.

  “You’re impossible. I’m so glad God provided us with Mara,” Lizzy said, looking back into the trunk. She gathered up several more things along with the hides and stood. “We won’t be entrusting you with this project. But there are a great many other projects you should direct your attention to. There are a lot of repairs to be made, and I suggest you get them done.”

  “Or what?” Amanda asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Will you fire me?” She laughed. “I don’t think Oliver will allow that. He’ll never believe you over me.”

  Ella took what she could of the white material and went to stand by Lizzy. “We should just go, Lizzy. There’s a lot of work to do.”

  Lizzy stared hard at Amanda for another heartbeat, then stormed out the door. Ella could see that Amanda was enjoying herself. She didn’t care at all about her offenses. Mary followed Li
zzy out of the car, and Ella knew she shouldn’t delay any longer lest she say something she’d regret. Where Amanda Moore was concerned, that would be quite easy.

  Phillip finished cleaning the horse stalls and rolled the wheelbarrow to the open side door. Hot, dry air rushed in against his sweat-soaked body and refreshed him. They were moving through open wasteland. He had no idea where they were, but the desolation of the landscape matched his soul. He dumped the manure and soiled straw out the door and momentarily found himself wishing he could jump off with the debris. His life was worthless. He had done nothing but cause pain and grief to those he cared about.

  For the last few days, he’d continually thought about Ella’s words and Wesley’s concern. He knew they loved him, and he hadn’t had a single drink since Denver. But he wanted one. He wanted one more than he’d wanted anything else, and at the moment, that desire was enough to make him want to abandon his chores and go to the lounge to see what might be available. Why couldn’t he just forget about alcohol? Why was it the first thing on his mind each morning? Why was his desire for it so overwhelming?

  He glanced around to see if anyone was watching him, wondering what he was up to, standing here in the open door of the train car. Thankfully the rest of the crew was elsewhere—busy currying animals or tending to the gear. Phillip was alone with his thoughts and regrets. It was times like these that all his mistakes and poor choices came barreling at him like boulders loosed down a mountainside. He didn’t like to be alone. He despised his own company. The only time he found it tolerable was with a bottle in his hand. How was he ever supposed to stop drinking?

  One of the horses at the far end whinnied as the door to the next car slid open and Wes walked in. He paused to console the gelding. For reasons he didn’t understand, Phillip felt the urge to talk to his older brother—to tell him everything. Ella had said it would change things. She was convinced he would never truly be able to live until he confessed his part in their father’s death. But the risk was so great. What if Wes wanted nothing more to do with him? What if he sent Phillip away? Brookstone’s show was all he had. It had become a family to him. And it was where Ella was.