by Ford, Linda;
Realization shot through her and she grasped the stove for support.
She loved Anker.
But she didn’t want to. She wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Loving made her vulnerable. Made her open to bitter disappointment. She wanted only to have her life defined by work and freedom from indebtedness.
She would not love him.
As she straightened, something rolled under her foot. She bent to pick up an amber and green ball of molten glass. She had no idea what it had been originally. Light flashed through the glass as she turned it around and round in her hand. Its shape was uneven, yet it contained no sharp edges. She held it to the light and saw an amber star shape embedded in the center. She dropped it in her pocket along with the bit of china.
Deciding she had seen enough of the shattered remains of her home, she stepped over the puddles and hurried to the barn. She thought of setting up a household here until she could rebuild. But why not rebuild immediately? She had the skills after helping Johnson. She snorted. What she lacked was the means. She had no supplies. No money.
She walked the edges of the fields. She had no horse to pull the plow so she could plant the crop, but perhaps she could hire it done on shares.
She had to manage. She had to end this temporary marriage to Anker as quickly as possible. While she could walk away from him without weakening. If she stayed now after admitting to herself that she loved him . . . She wrapped her arms around her stomach and pressed hard . . . She could not let him guess how she felt. Nor allow anything to give away her feelings.
The sound of a wagon approaching warned her Anker had returned. She steeled herself to hide her feelings toward him. The effort made her insides twang with a combination of fear, alarm, and sweet acknowledgement.
“Mama,” Charlie called, as Anker pulled the wagon to her side.
Anker’s blue eyes revealed concern and lots more besides—happiness to see her again, and hope. Always she saw his endless hope, only now it caused a swift response in her heart that she struggled to contain.
She smiled, letting none of her feelings reveal themselves in her gaze.
Anker jumped down and helped her to the seat. Charlie chattered away like an excited bird. She understood little of what he said but welcomed the diversion. Finally, he quieted.
“How was your afternoon?” Anker asked.
She told him how she had toured her farm. “I can salvage the stove.” Sucking in a huge, courage-giving breath of spring air, she announced, “I made a few plans. I intend to rebuild.”
She felt his shock and disappointment. But he only nodded. “How do you plan to do that?”
“I haven’t worked out the details yet.” Apart from having decided to return, she had worked out nothing more.
Over the next few days, she sketched out plans for a tiny house. Even smaller than the one she and Johnson had built. But then, she and Johnson had big plans for a family and expansion. Now she only wanted her own place and shelter as she ran her farm. She carefully counted out the board feet she would need, the area of shingles. She would also need supplies. Thankfully, she had seed in the barn and equipment. Though no horse.
She tapped the pencil on the paper and considered her options.
Anker sat in the living room. Whenever she pulled out the papers to work on her plans, he left the kitchen. He spent more and more time outdoors but with the warmer weather, she understood that. He had fences to repair, rocks to pick, and his farm equipment to get in order. She often saw him going to his herd of horses and walking amongst them.
The sooner she got back to her farm, the sooner she could get to work. And the easier it would be to put aside this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach every time he came in the house. She had learned to sidestep when he reached for her. Not because she didn’t want him to pull her to his side, but because of how much she wanted it. She realized it would take very little to lose her resolve and offer to stay.
The mere thought of it filled her with a whirlwind of confusion. She did not trust life—or was it God? To love was to invite more pain, more owing, more losing, more aching. Her insides quivered at the thought.
Better to stick to her plans.
She picked up the list she’d created and reluctantly went to Anker’s side. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He lowered his paper and looked at her with wariness.
She faltered only a heartbeat. She didn’t want to hurt him, but there seemed no other way she could handle this. “When are you going to town again?”
“I agreed to go see a man about some mares. I thought to do that soon. Why?”
“I need lumber to rebuild.” Did he plan to ride his horse? If so she couldn’t ask him to take her. “I’m going to ask Mr. Lowe for a loan.” The request coming from a woman would be unusual, but perhaps he would find it in his heart to allow it. “I need a ride to town.”
“I see.” His tone indicated disapproval. “Very well. I’ll take you tomorrow and see about those horses at the same time.”
“Thank you.” Her finger traced the rough edges of the bit of china in her pocket. She pulled it out.
“What’s that?” Anker asked.
“Something I found in the ashes of my house.” She showed it to him. “It’s all that’s left of a cup and saucer I had.”
Neither spoke for several heartbeats.
“I’m sorry it’s gone.”
“Everything I ever cared about has been taken away.” Thinking of Charlie, she shuddered. “I almost lost Charlie too, when I was cutting hay. I could never love again.” She couldn’t go on for the tightness in her throat.
For a long while, neither spoke then Anker began, his voice low and calm. “Lena, I am sorry about your losses. It seems you have had more than most, and I understand why you are afraid to love again. I am most sorry for that.” He paused. “But this one thing I know, and you can count on it too. In spite of all this, God loves you. I know no matter what happens, He will always love you. No matter what, I believe in God’s love. I believe in His promises. He says, ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’“
Lena wished she could believe as easily as he did.
They again fell into silence.
“Perhaps God uses circumstances to shape us for His good purposes.”
Angry words rushed to her mind. “How could something good come of losing my loved ones or being Mrs. Miller’s servant?”
“Are matters of the heart any more difficult for God who rules the universe to handle than asking Him for rain in season? Do not fear the hand of the Lord, for at His hand are pleasures forevermore.”
Her anger died, replaced by a deep hunger. She curled her hands tightly, enclosing the bit of broken china. She wished it was otherwise, but she was afraid to trust God in this matter. She could trust Him for other things, but not for the courage to love again.“If God really cares for me, He will let me get back to my farm and start over.” She did not want to hurt him, but she could see no other way out of this predicament she had landed in.
“Unless He is trying to do something new and better for you.” His voice conveyed both gentleness and a touch of hardness. She understood that he thought she was being stubborn.
When she didn’t answer, he pushed to his feet and strode out the door without a backward look.
Chapter 15
Lena could hardly believe that Mr. Lowe had agreed to advance her credit for lumber and supplies. Her heart raced. She tried to decide what emotion she was feeling. Joy? A bit of fear at the challenge the future held? Regret?
She glanced up and down the street but didn’t see Anker and the wagon. Too restless to stay near the store, she took Charlie’s hand and walked along the street. Grassy Plains was small enough that Anker would find her without any trouble. Her feet led her toward the church, and she went into the small cemetery to sta
nd in front of Johnson’s grave, marked only by a plain wooden cross.
She released Charlie’s hand and he trotted along the perimeter fence. Lena knelt before the grave. “Johnson, what would you want me to do?”
But of course, he could offer no advice. If he’d been able to, if he were still here, she wouldn’t need it.
She sat back and crossed her hands in her lap and felt the broken piece of china and the molten odd-shaped piece of glass. She took them from her pocket. They seemed to signify her life—a dead husband and before him, a dead mother and a missing, and likely dead, father. A bit of broken china that reminded her of all she’d lost. And like the china, everything in her life had become broken. And the bit of molten glass? What did it signify?
Perhaps nothing, and yet it was something created by the fire.
She turned it over and over in her hand. So smooth. So pretty. The golden light glowed in the center like something alive. Again, she thought it looked like a star.
Her thoughts harkened back to the drive home Christmas Eve and the star-laden sky. Anker told her his grandfather said the stars were where God poured out his love.
She held the molten glass in one palm and considered the stars in the heaven. Were they connected? Was God trying to tell her something?
Had He used the fire to create something new and beautiful, a hidden star? Was it to convey a message?
“God,” she whispered, “I am so afraid. Afraid of love. Afraid of trusting. It seems my past is so full of loss and hurt that I expect nothing but bad and yet. . . yet, in my mind, I know you are a God of love. Why can’t I feel it?” She paused and let all the fear in her heart rush to the surface. “Show me what I should do.” The fear burst from her heart like an explosion and she gasped as she saw what lay beneath. “Are you saying you can turn my past into something beautiful? Can you take it and refashion it like you did this bit of glass?”
Indeed, He could if she would but let Him. She knew it. Knew, too, only her stubborn resistance stood in the way of something new and exciting.
“God, forgive me. I will trust You.” She thought of Anker’s promises. “I will accept the good things You have given me.” Suddenly, all her plans meant nothing compared to the wonderful things she’d been offered.
The old could become new. She could have a new thing in her life.
If she would simply trust.
But trust did not come easily.
Reverend Sorrow stepped from the church and came to her side. “How are you doing?”
She pushed to her feet. Perhaps this man could help her. “I need to talk to you.”
“By all means. Come. Let us go to the altar.” He called to his wife, who had followed him from the church. “Will you watch the boy?”
They went to the steps in front of the pulpit and sat. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure. All winter Anker has told me about God’s love. I thought I believed in it. I guess I did. But I didn’t trust it. Does that make sense?”
The pastor patted her hand. “We often find it difficult to feel with our hearts what we know with our heads. You are not alone in that.”
“I learned it in my childhood.” She sketched out the events of her past as he listened keenly.
“Isn’t it wonderful that God can turn our pasts into opportunities? Do you mind if I share a verse?”
“Please do. I need all the help I can get.” And guidance to convey her change of heart to Anker. A swirl of doubt etched her mind. Perhaps Anker had changed his mind too, grown tired of her resistance.
Reverend Sorrow flipped the pages of his Bible. “Here it is. Isaiah chapter sixty-one, verse three, this is what God wants to do in our lives: ‘Give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.’“ He closed his Bible. “Let God do that in your life.”
She nodded.
Anker stood in the doorway, watching her, his expression filled with such yearning her breath caught halfway up her throat.
Reverend Sorrow saw him too and chuckled. “I believe God has done great things for you. Go enjoy them.”
She rose as if lifted by angel wings and made her way slowly down the aisle. She joined Anker, almost blinded by the longing in his gaze before he replaced it with resolve. He was a good man and intended to honor their agreement no matter how much it cost him.
She only hoped she hadn’t burned away her chances. Beauty from ashes, she reminded herself. God, give me the opportunity and the words.
They got Charlie and started home.
He waited until Grassy Plains lay behind them. “Lena, if returning to your farm is what you truly want, if it is what will make you happy, I will help you. I will honor my word and speak to the preacher of an annulment.”
“Anker—”
“Please let me finish.”
She had never heard him speak so firmly and it kept her from stopping him as he continued.
“But you must know I love you. I want to be your true husband. I want to share your life. The land will always be Charlie’s. You have my word on that.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to signal he wasn’t done. The reins lay slack in his hands and the horse stopped.
“Have you not learned that you can trust me? When I offer you my love, it carries no owing. I will never expect you to somehow pay me back. I want only to be able to love you and take care of you—”
“Anker, let me speak. Mr. Lowe agreed to lend me the necessary funds.”
Anker’s shoulders sank.
She handed him the molten glass blob.
“What is this?”
“Lift it to the light. What do you see?”
“It looks kind of like a gold star.”
“That’s what I thought. And it got me to thinking how God can use fires, disasters, other bad things to create something new.” She scrambled to sort out her tangled thoughts. “I thought if I didn’t let anything change, didn’t let anything new into my life, didn’t let myself love anyone ever again, I could prevent anything bad happening. What I didn’t see is that God controls the good and the bad and only allows the bad things to create something new and beautiful like the star in that bit of glass.”
She searched his gaze to see if he was understanding and saw encouraging interest. “I’m not going to rebuild.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and fearing what she might see in his eyes, she studied her fingers curled in her lap. “I almost denied myself love. Anker, you are enough for me. All I need and want.”
She allowed herself to look into his eyes, and her heart stalled at the hope she saw.
He whooped and pulled her into his arms. “Lena, does this mean you love me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say.”
He eased her back so he could look into her eyes. “I love you, Lena, my sweet wife.”
Love filled her so completely, so sweetly, she wondered why she had denied it all these months. In fact, all her life. She’d never felt this consuming emotion with Johnson. For a second, she felt guilty, then realized they had enjoyed what they had and she’d grown up enough to enjoy what Anker offered.
“I love you, Anker Hansen, my wonderful husband.”
She barely got the words out before he kissed her, sweetly, gently, but thoroughly.
Epilogue
“Are they here yet?” Charlie asked as he jumped from the horse.
Lena studied her son. At twelve years old, he was tall and handsome. But he rode like— She shook her head.
“Don’t tell me not to ride like a wild Indian. I’m proud of being such.”
“Only you’re not wild.” Although her son was self-sufficient and strong-natured, reminding Lena of herself at a younger age, Charlie was also gentle and loving.
As if to prove her point, he kissed her cheek and tickled baby Anna in Lena’s arms. A
nker was always telling her not to worry about Charlie. He would make his own way in life. Of course, Anker was right.
“To answer your question, they aren’t here yet,” she said.
“I guess that explains why you’re standing in the middle of the yard gazing down the road. Do you want me to take the baby?”
“Not yet. I need to hold her while I wait.” She smiled at her eldest. “Just like I used to get comfort from holding you.”
“Aww, Ma. The others are coming. They don’t need to hear this.”
“Hear what?” demanded Lars, the eight-year-old. With a start, she realized he would soon be nine.
Lena shifted baby Anna and reached out to hug Lars. “Charlie doesn’t think you should know that I used to hug him like I do Anna.”
Lars smiled. So much like his father that it tugged at Lena’s heart. “She hugs us all. You were just lucky enough to be born first so you got the most of it.”
John, the seven-year-old, trailed across the yard to join them, and she hugged her youngest son too. Charlie took the baby so she could hold the boys on either side.
They had waited a long time for the only girl in the family, and everyone adored her.
“I see something coming,” John announced, and they all turned to watch the road from town.
“It’s Papa’s buggy.”
Charlie handed Anna to Lars and put his arm across her shoulders. Of all the boys, Charlie was the most like Anker in temperament. The pair had a special love for each other that exceeded blood lines and birthright. Anker considered Charlie his eldest son and treated him as such.
“They’ll soon be here,” Charlie said. “And you’ll finally get to see your father.”
“And you will all meet your grandfather for the first time.”
Unknown to Lena, Anker had hired a private detective to track down her father. It had taken a long time, mostly because her father didn’t want to be found.
“He had an accident years ago and has been crippled since. He’s in a wheelchair and needs assistance. He lives in a home with other crippled people,” the detective explained. “He would never tell anyone his real name or if he had family. I met him, and he seems a very proud man. I think he was afraid he would be a burden to family if he lived with them.”
