by Linda Ford
And Annie?
No, not Annie though of course she would be present.
He forced himself to remain in the office another hour, then, with the excuse he needed to assure himself that the others were safe, he returned to the kitchen.
Grandfather sat in his soft armchair reading a book. Annie peeled potatoes and Evan sat on the floor beside Happy. Both of them examined a knot of wood.
It seemed none of them had missed him. Not that he thought they should. Nor was he disappointed. Yet his mother’s voice echoed through his head. I don’t need you. The wrong boy died.
He shook his head, trying to drive away the painful memory.
Annie had stopped peeling potatoes and studied him. She wiped her hands on a towel and came to his side. “Are you okay?” She touched his arm, her soft voice and gentle touch going a long way to erase his mother’s words.
“I’m fine.” He couldn’t smile. Not yet. It always took a few minutes for the pain to subside after he’d remembered how little his mother valued him.
“Come. Sit down and have coffee and cookies.” She led him to the table and he let her. Welcomed her guiding hand. If only he could trust her kindness to be permanent. But he feared the day she would realize he wasn’t what she wanted or needed. That she’d made a mistake in wanting to marry him.
By the time she placed a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies before him, he had his feelings firmly under control.
Evan slipped to the chair kitty-corner from Hugh and eyed the cookies. “You may have two,” Hugh said.
Evan took one then looked to Hugh for direction.
“One more.”
Evan took it and sat eating carefully. Hugh couldn’t say if it was because he feared incurring wrath if he made a mess or if it was because he was unfamiliar with eating at the table.
Hugh looked at Annie, the questions unspoken but shared.
Evan finished and slipped down. The pup raced into the living room and Evan followed at a much slower pace.
Annie took Evan’s place. “I sometimes wonder what he’s been through but then I’m glad I don’t know. It’s easier to deal with what we see than to try and undo the past.”
Grandfather finished his coffee and pushed the cup aside. “God returned him to you. I gotta believe He sent Happy to help the boy heal. Seems to me the best thing you two can do is love him and you’re doing a fine job of that.” He looked from Annie to Hugh and Hugh knew he wasn’t mistaking the look of warning in the old man’s eyes. He recalled something Grandfather had said. Sometimes Annie got a bee in her bonnet and he stood by and waited for her to get it out of her system. Was that what he hoped would happen here?
Hugh expected it so he’d be okay. He knew he would. He had to be. How would Evan react?
The storm continued unabated the rest of the day and still raged as night fell.
Evan took Hugh’s hand and the boy went to bed without a fuss. Happy followed them and curled up alongside the boy. Hugh watched them. Then realized Annie stood in the doorway.
He took her arm and they tiptoed down the hall. “God is good to me even when I don’t deserve it.”
She chuckled. “I guess none of us ever deserves it.”
Grandfather had gone to bed and Hugh and Annie settled on the couch in front of the fire. Hugh wasn’t wanting to go to sleep just yet and it seemed Annie wasn’t either.
“It’s good to see Evan doing so well,” he said. “I was afraid I’d fail to help him though I suppose I did so when I let his mother leave.” He hadn’t meant to mention Bernice. What point was there in letting Annie know how badly he’d failed? Except perhaps to make her understand why she should run from marrying him.
She shifted to look directly at him. “You let her go? Why wouldn’t you stop her?”
“Let is the wrong word. I came home one day and she was gone.”
“Did you try to find her before you came here?”
He might as well tell her the whole story. That way she’d understand why he was not the man for her. “I admit I licked my wounds for a few days, believing she would come back.” He let the truth come through in his own mind. “I suppose I knew from the first that she wouldn’t. I had failed to live up to her expectations. Just as I have always failed.”
She studied him silently for a moment. He could not look at her but stared at the flames as they twisted and turned…much like his thoughts did.
“What do you mean, you have always failed? Are you saying Bernice wasn’t the first time you felt this way?”
He watched her reaction out of the corner of his eye. “I had a brother. Kenny. He was five years older than me and I suppose he was like a father to me seeing as our pa was gone. Seems he preferred hunting and wandering to taking care of his family. It was Kenny who taught me to ride, to braid a rope, to fix things around the place. It was Kenny who taught me how to play games.” He stopped as memories of Kenny washed over him. “A boy couldn’t have asked for a better brother.” He didn’t know if he had reached out for Annie’s hand or if she had reached for his but he was grateful for the comfort her grasp offered.
He drew in a steadying breath so he could go on. “Then came the winter I was eleven. Kenny went to town and I had stayed home to tend the fires. Ma would often forget to and we’d come home to an icy house. Kenny said it was too cold to leave her without heat.”
His throat tightened so he had to stop a moment. “Kenny never came back.” He would not let the wail clawing at his teeth escape and forced himself to speak slowly and calmly. “The preacher brought us news he had slipped on the ice and fallen under the wheels of a loaded wagon. He didn’t suffer, the preacher said by way of comfort. I tried to talk to Ma but she acted like she didn’t hear me. We buried him in town next to the church. To this day I find funerals hard…to hear the sound of the dirt peppering onto the coffin—” He shuddered.
Annie edged closer and rubbed his arm.
He closed his mind to everything but the story he must tell. She had to know what sort of man he really was. “I tried to take Kenny’s place. About two months after Kenny’s death, Ma fixed supper. I was so grateful for this return to normal. I told her I would do my best to look after things like Kenny had. She put the big spoon down with a thunk. Boy, don’t you ever think you can take Kenny’s place. You don’t hold a candle to him. You’ll never be good enough. She marched from the kitchen and left me alone.”
He did his best to still the shudder those words still had the power to trigger.
“After that day she never again sat at the table with me, and got out of bed less and less.”
The pain inside was too great to hold and he sprang to his feet and moved closer to the fireplace to stare at the licking, leaping flames, wishing they would consume the clawing memory.
When he could continue without his voice breaking, he did so. “Pa returned once, learned that Kenny had died. Saw Ma huddled in her bed. He said, Well, that’s that, and left the next morning. Didn’t even say goodbye or ask if I needed anything. Ma died a few weeks later. I was too young to be left alone, the preacher said and he took me home with him.” This part of his tale contained less pain and he hurried on. “He and his wife treated me good. Preacher was kind and often read to me from the Bible and explained verses to me. He made such a difference in my life I knew I wanted to follow in his footsteps. And so here I am today.”
Annie rose and stood beside him, also staring into the flames.
What was she thinking? Did she see him for the failure he was? Did she see how much the admission…the acknowledgement…burned at his insides? Would she now realize why she shouldn’t marry him?
She confronted him, her face turned up to his. So close he could see the flames dancing in her eyes, see the tiny white lines at the corners of her mouth. Feel the promise of her personality.
“Hugh Arness, why would you believe such awful things about yourself? Don’t you know that you are ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’? That God does no
t make mistakes?”
He swallowed hard at her challenging look. “God’s creation was perfect until sin entered. Now it’s flawed. People bear a marred image.”
“That’s so. Yet it seems to me you are more willing to believe what your mother says about you than what God says.”
“I am?” The idea both surprised him and startled him. He saw the flicker of truth in her words. “Are you saying my mother was wrong?”
She chuckled. “You know she was.”
“How do I know?” He searched her gaze for more of those cleansing words.
“Because you know what the Bible says.”
“Well,” he said with some modesty, “not everything. In fact, I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“How about the verse in Second Corinthians that says, ‘Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’ Or ‘For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ Aren’t you thinking your mother was right when you know God doesn’t agree with her?”
He wanted to argue, to say he didn’t doubt God but neither did he disbelieve his mother. Her gaze was so tender, so giving, so believing, he couldn’t pull the words from himself.
“Do you want Evan to believe that the way he was treated before you found him is the way he deserved to be treated?”
“Never.” The word exploded from him.
“Nor does the way your mother treated you and talked to you mean it’s who you are or how you should be treated.” She pressed gentle fingers to his cheek. Her gaze poured into him until he felt as if some healing balm had been applied to his insides.
“You make me want to believe.”
“Then choose to do so.”
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Her skin was soft and warm as summer air. His heart overflowed with pleasure at her encouragement. And to think he thought her unsuitable. “You make me want to kiss you.” And before he could think better of it, he lowered his head to her tipped-up face and caught her lips in the gentlest of kisses. He lingered for a long, forgetful moment, mesmerized by the warmth of her lips. Her hands clung to his arms, accepting and giving.
A log in the fireplace fell to the grate with a noisy explosion of sparks.
He jerked back. Or was she the one to move away? They stood a foot apart staring at each other. Her eyes were wide with shock. Remorse and a hundred accusing thoughts filled him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He scrubbed at his hair. “I only meant to be grateful.” It had started out as gratitude but shifted rather sharply to something else. Something he couldn’t even identify. A feeling so intense it felt like he’d stepped too close to the fire. Those feelings lingered still though he tried to drown them in apology. “Forgive me.” He should promise it would never happen again but was it a promise he could keep? Unless he could be certain of doing so, he wouldn’t give it.
She shifted her gaze to the fire, leaving him feeling cold and empty. “No need to apologize. After all, if we’re to be married, I expect we’ll have to practice kissing.”
Her airy words sucked at his insides. She spoke of marriage as if it would happen. He knew he should remind her he had almost three weeks to find someone more suitable though the days were slipping by so fast.
He had to find someone else. Someone less appealing.
Less threatening to his peace of mind.
Not so given to pointing out the flaws in his thinking.
Was that what he really wanted? He could not answer the question honestly. Instead he made preparations to go to bed, waiting only until Annie went to her own room and closed the door behind her to go to his room.
If only he could close the door to his errant thoughts as firmly.
Chapter Eleven
It took Annie a long time to fall asleep. She couldn’t say who had initiated the kiss but it didn’t matter. She had kissed him. And he had kissed her. It wasn’t her first kiss. She and Rudy had kissed a time or two but it was nothing like this. It seemed her heart would explode with warmth and longing. With joy and hope. And when she’d reminded him of his promise to marry her in three weeks, he hadn’t added unless he could find someone more suitable. Maybe he had seen that she was perfectly suitable.
Suitable? What an empty word. And yet wouldn’t Hugh have rejoiced if his mother had found him at all suitable? The poor man to have his own mother treat him so poorly.
Perhaps God had sent her here for Hugh’s sake as much as for Evan’s.
She could live with being suitable if it helped Hugh. And if it made her needed so badly that he would never consider anyone else.
It would provide the security she craved without the risk of loving. She ignored the twist in the bottom of her heart. The protest that it was too late. She closed the door firmly to such thoughts and returned to the idea of being suitable.
There was one more way she could prove herself invaluable and she’d broach the subject with Hugh in the morning.
*
The room was icy cold when she wakened and she dashed to the kitchen to start a fire in the stove. She tried to see out the window but snow crusted the outside. The wind tore at the eaves and howled around the corners. The sound made her shiver every bit as much as did the cold.
Hugh hurried into the room and held his hands out to the warmth of the stove. “I peeked out the door. I still can’t see past the corner of the house. I wonder how long this will last.”
Grandfather hobbled into the room. “Another day according to my bones. Maybe longer. Sure glad to be indoors where it’s nice and warm.” He eyed the coffeepot which had not boiled yet. “I recall a time I was outside in weather like this…” He launched into a story that Annie had heard before but Hugh hadn’t and he listened with interest as Grandfather told of being caught out in a storm and how he’d fashioned a shelter out of bushes and survived. “Could’ve died. Sure thought I was going to but the good Lord saw fit to spare me. That coffee ready yet?”
It was and Annie poured him a cup and set it on the table. She did the same for Hugh.
Hugh met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. She gave a slight lift of her shoulders. If he thought she’d be thinking about last night’s kiss he needn’t worry. She had other things to consider.
Grandfather harrumphed. “God has left me here to make sure my family live good, God-honoring lives and conduct themselves appropriately.”
Annie hurried back to the stove lest Grandfather see the heat rushing to her cheeks. Not that she’d done anything wrong.
Except let her heart go beyond the boundaries she had set for it. That must not happen again. Despite her mental warning, she recalled that kiss and how something inside her had burst free.
She shook her head. Her imagination was running away with her.
Evan and Happy hurried into the room. Evan stopped by the stove to get warm.
“Good morning, Evan. Did you have a good sleep?”
He eyed her a moment then nodded. Happy had circled the room and returned to Evan’s side. He watched Evan and then sprang up and down on his back legs and barked.
Evan startled and then laughed.
Annie chuckled and turned to meet Hugh’s eyes, intending to share joy over the child. Instead, she got lost in the warmth of his gaze. There might have been just the two of them for all she knew. Was he thinking of last night? Or was he simply grateful for Evan’s progress and sharing his joy with her?
She jerked back to the stove. It was the latter. No reason to think otherwise.
She made breakfast and served it.
Evan slowly came to his chair. Spot the stuffed dog was on it and he picked up the toy and took it to his mat, sitting it up.
Annie’s throat tightened. The boy had clearly changed places with the pretend dog who thought he was a boy.
As Grandfather asked the blessing, gratitude welled up inside her. There were so many things to be thankful for—a warm house and a l
ittle boy who was doing better; a puppy who helped Evan. For Grandfather. And for Hugh. Her thoughts stalled there. She could not think, would not admit that her world tipped sideways at his name.
“Amen,” Grandfather said. “Nothing like a hot breakfast to make a man forget about the weather outside.” He ate with enjoyment.
Annie watched Evan. She’d noticed before how carefully he ate and he did the same this morning as he struggled to use a fork.
Her insides ached at the neglect and abuse this child had endured. She shifted her gaze to Hugh. Saw a reflection of her pain and something more. The best way she could describe it was to say it made her feel like he saw a shared future with them both dedicated to making life good for Evan.
Making life good. The idea held great appeal. However, it wasn’t security that accompanied that thought. It was happiness and belonging.
She jerked her attention to her food and her mind to her plans for the day.
As soon as the meal had been cleaned up, she sat back at the table where Hugh remained. Grandfather had gone to his soft chair and Evan played on the mat with Spot and Happy.
“It’s not long until Christmas,” she said.
“I know. The children at Sunday school are already learning parts for the concert.”
“Let’s talk about what we’ll do for Christmas.”
Hugh sat up straight, looking confused. “Isn’t the Christmas concert enough? I understand oranges and small gifts are distributed to the children.”
“I don’t mean how the church will celebrate. I mean how we, as a family, will.” She watched as the implications of what she said sank in.
He rocked his head back and forth, clearly confused.
She pressed on. “What did your family do to make it special?”
His eyes darkened and he looked past her. “My ma didn’t celebrate anything after Kenny died.”
She guessed as much. “What about before? Surely Christmas meant more than another day.”
