by Jillian Hart
Something moved at the edge of Aiden’s vision. Something pink. “Mister, do you know what?”
He stared into the girl’s blue eyes—like Joanna’s—and swallowed hard.
“I made all this.” She patted the pink carnations wreathed around her neck. “Do you know what? I made you somethin’, too.”
To his surprise she stuck a flower in his shirt pocket.
“There.” She gave it a pat, so innocent and pure hearted. “Did you know God made all the flowers?”
“Y-yep.” The word scraped like a serrated knife. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t feel a thing. He wouldn’t let himself.
“Daisy, come sit down,” Joanna said in that patient, gentle way of hers. “Sorry about that, Aiden.”
“It’s no trouble.” Her nearness rubbed the edges of his heart raw. His throat worked and he gathered the reins. He could no longer make himself cold or steely enough not to feel. Longing whipped through his soul, regret though his heart. He released the brake. “You ready back there?”
“We’re all seated.” She sounded calm, as if he had never hurt her. As if they had never been anything more to one another than strangers.
He snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward into the searing August sunlight. It was the brightness; surely that was the reason his eyes stung and why he found it hard to see.
“Why, look at you, children. You are simply charming.” Ida knelt in the church aisle and welcomed the little ones with a grandmotherly hug, and then went on to tell Noelle how cute each child looked.
Joanna filled up with adoration. Ida was an absolute blessing. The older woman fondly praised Daisy’s flowers and was delighted when the girl presented her with a carnation for her bonnet. Wearing the pink flower proudly, Ida hugged her again and complimented James’s new hat. He put it on for a moment to show her, before taking it back off politely. Ida said he looked like a wrangler, and he happily settled next to her on the pew.
“I need to talk with Thad,” Aiden said, a shadow at her back and nothing more, before striding off toward the far aisle.
Joanna caught her mother-in-law’s curious gaze and shrugged. What could she say? She remembered the lovely lace Ida and Noelle had made for a wedding gift, stitching in all their hopes and prayers for Aiden. How did Joanna tell Ida that present was still wrapped up for safekeeping? That she and Aiden were like strangers again, and no amount of prayer, it seemed, would stop it?
She settled on the hard wooden bench, disheartened. There was Aiden standing at the back of the church, discussing something with his brother. He looked serious and so grim, his face a granite mask.
“How are you, dear?” Ida asked after the children were settled. “You look weary.”
“It’s a lot of work to keep up with the orchard. I suppose you know that, since it used to be yours.”
“And glad I am that it’s yours now. It was getting far too much for me to tend to at my age. I wouldn’t mind lending a hand, if you would have me.”
“And me,” Noelle offered. “Although I’m not sure how much help I could be, but I’m excellent at moral support.”
“You both are more than welcome.” She had been alone for so long in the past, and now again in her marriage, that to have this friendly offer felt like a great treasure. Joanna hoped that she could offer them as much in the years to come. “How about after threshing day? I’ve been doing a fair amount to prepare for that, including enough baking for the both of us.”
“You are a wonder, Joanna,” Ida said as Daisy leaned against her for another snuggle. “And with all that is happening in your life, you get so much done. Now I have a question for you.”
Uh-oh. She had a terrible feeling that her mother-in-law was going to ask about Aiden or their marriage. She sneaked a glance over her shoulder, and there he was, deep in conversation with Thad and another man.
“That’s Joe Wolf,” Ida told her. “He’s a good lawyer, from what we hear. Now, how was Aiden after he came home from trying to see Finn?”
From trying to see Finn? What had happened? Had Finn refused to see Aiden? She knew that had to be hard for him; Aiden loved his family. “He said nothing to me about it.”
“I suppose it was late by the time the day’s work was done.” Ida nodded. “I remember how it is. There’s never enough daylight to get everything done in, and it seems the work doesn’t end. He looks troubled. What’s happened to Finn is a heartache for all of us. His lawyer says they are going to make some kind of a plea, so he will get less jail time. He wouldn’t even see me when I tried to visit him.”
While Noelle soothed Ida with comforting words, Joanna sat there silently, dismayed. She did not turn around. Aiden was hurting; she was hurting. What was the solution? She had once asked for God’s guidance in helping Aiden, and she thought she’d been heard. She really had.
She stared down at the battered Bible clutched in her hands, the one that had been her ma’s and her grandma’s before that, and had been held through decades of prayers. As she stood for the opening hymn and then the opening prayer, no answers came to her. She had felt this way so many times, in need and feeling forgotten. Lost. When the sermon began, she took Daisy onto her lap. The little girl settled against her, a sweet weight in Joanna’s arms and in her heart.
“Today’s sermon will be from Psalm 71. ‘But Iwill hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.’”
Her soul stilled. How was that for an answer? Maybe she had forgotten to listen and to wait for Him—certainly God was worth waiting for. Humbled, she listened to the minister’s words, realizing one thing. Faith, life and love were not easy. Sometimes you just had to hold on and—no matter what—believe.
She was still wearing her patched dresses, and it irked him no end. Aiden dumped a few cups of oats in the trough for Clyde and Dale. The old horses dug in, eager for their favorite treats. While they munched, he leaned to get a good look out Thad’s stable door toward the front yard, where Joanna stood in the shade of the house talking with Ma and Noelle, a peach cobbler in hand. Faint snatches of conversation whipped by on the breeze, and he couldn’t deny the way Joanna’s gentle alto could bring him peace. Or how softer life was simply from being near her.
“How’s the arrangement working out?” Thad asked wryly as he secured the lid on the grain barrel.
“Just fine, little brother. And keep in mind my marriage is none of your concern.” He arched his brow, but judging by the grin on Thad’s face, it didn’t work.
“Let me know if you need help.” Thad unhooked Sunny’s lead from the wall. “I’ve got a fair bit of experience when it comes to marriage.”
“Funny, as you’ve been married, what, four months?”
“I’m just offering, is all. Trying to be a good brother.” He ambled past and clipped the lead on the mustang’s halter. “Here come your stepchildren.”
Aiden gulped. He’d done all he could not to think of them that way. They weren’t his; they were Joanna’s children. Sure enough, they were bounding across the grass. The little girl was in the lead, braids bobbing. The boy stayed with her, keeping watch over her. They had both changed out of their Sunday clothes, and as they pounded closer, Thad’s wild mustangs broke into a run in the nearby field, startled by the sound and the motion.
The kids started talking. Thad answered, leading Sunny out into the yard. The mustang swished his tail and lowered his head politely to accept their eager strokes. He clearly wasn’t one to mind basking in the glow of adoration. Aiden gathered his strength, took a deep sustaining breath and followed his brother out into the yard.
“Sir!” James ran right up to him with a grin just like his ma’s and an earnestness that was hard not to like. “I got denim riding pants just like yours. Ma just finished ’em!”
So that’s what Joanna had been doing late last night. He had noticed the parlor lights on past midnight. He had wondered if she had been unable to sleep, too. Watching the night skies had always soothed him. May
be sewing did the same for her.
The boy seemed to expect some sort of approval, so Aiden gave him a nod. A small twitch of pain made it through his defenses. He shored himself up more as the little boy ran back to Sunny, but the days of not feeling anything were past. Emotions slammed into Aiden like a summer storm, crashing with a physical pain against his ribs, and deeper, against his soul.
Joanna. She was coming toward him like a song, lightly, breezily, carrying a tray with a pitcher and cups, her skirt rippling in the wind. Those patched skirts. He clenched his hands, fighting the pain and something worse.
He wanted to be angry about those dresses she wore, and about why she hadn’t gotten new ones as he had told her to. A voice of reason somewhere in the back of his brain told him that maybe she was too sensible to go spending a bunch of money on dresses all at once. That would be just like her, he reckoned. But maybe she hadn’t done it because she did not want to rely on him. Her stubborn independence made him grind his teeth.
He wanted her to be closer. He wanted her to keep away. He wasn’t making a lick of sense and he knew it.
That irked him, too.
“I thought you all might be thirsty. It was a hot, dusty ride out here from town.” She set the tray down on the top of the feed barrel and faced him. “Aiden?”
He was not strong enough to look at her. If he did, he felt he might come apart. All his defense seemed to be nothing against her loving presence. He cleared his throat and studied his boots. “Sounds good.”
The kids clattered up to her, pressing close to her skirts. He did his best to shut out their happy sounds, telling Joanna how they were going to go riding. He heard James say, “I get to learn to ride by myself today! He’s gonna teach me how to rein!”
“You mean, Aiden?” Joanna sounded confused. “No, honey, I think you misunderstood.”
“Nah, I heard just fine.”
Thad’s promises, Aiden knew. Thad was trying to help, that was all. Aiden realized his mistake. He had been trying to stay back from the children, so hadn’t been able to keep watch over what Thad was telling them.
He swallowed hard against something fluttering in him—panic. He felt trapped. Suffocating again, unable to get air. Then suddenly there was Joanna, offering him a cup of lemonade. She was like rain in a drought. Everything he wanted beat within him like a deadly thunderhead.
“Your ma said this was your favorite.”
Her smile was likely to undo him, and yet he could not look away. Her hand against his was the greatest comfort and the deepest agony. He would have moved but he was rooted like an oak to the ground.
“Dinner won’t be more than a few minutes.” She was compassion and hope and love. It was all there in the brush of her fingers against his, before she slipped away. She gathered up the tray and the empty pitcher. “We’ll be eating on the porch due to the heat. Don’t be long.”
His soul seemed to follow her, and there it was, the love he could no longer hold back, cracking like a lightning bolt against his spirit. He stood as if paralyzed, a man unable to think, and too afraid to feel.
“Aiden, you okay?” Thad asked.
Somehow he managed to nod. He glanced around, realized Thad held a cup, too, and took another sip of his lemonade. The little ones had already gulped theirs and were standing next to Sunny, who was trying to get at the sweet-smelling cups they held. The children’s giggles lifted his heart.
“You don’t look okay.” Thad ambled closer. “Maybe it’s the heat. You want to go sit in the shade for a spell?”
He shook his head, not trusting his voice. What he wanted to do was be alone and stay real still until this pain died down. Until the turmoil settled.
“Then if it’s not the heat, it’s got to be Joanna, right?”
His throat worked. How could he admit to that? It was folly, that’s what it was, to let himself care about her. No—that wasn’t the truth. He didn’t just care about her. Caring was too miniscule of a word to describe what he felt for her. From the bottom of his scarred soul to the top of his battered heart, he loved her. What was he going to do about that? How was he going to stop it?
Thad was still there, concerned. “You told me once that you trusted God to know what He’s doing. Maybe bringing Joanna and these kids to you is God’s doing, too. Have you considered that?”
“I’ve been trying not to.”
“Well, consider it. That’s all I’m saying.” Thad paused as the dinner bell clanged from the porch.
Aiden bowed his head, refusing to look up to see Joanna ringing that bell, refusing to note the sympathy on his brother’s face.
“Sir?” The boy sidled up, peering at him from beneath the brim of his hat. Those big, need-filled eyes brimmed with too many questions, every one of which was too big for Aiden to answer now.
“What is it, kid?”
“I wanna be just like you when I grow up.” Joanna’s son looked as if he’d been gathering up hope the way his little sister picked flowers. “I’m gonna be a wheat rancher with lots of horses.”
Aiden hung his head. There was nothing he could say to that, fighting as he was not to feel.
Thad saved him. “James? I figure we can tie Sunny to the porch rail, and after dinner is done, you can ride him. You wanna lead him to the house for me?”
“Do I!” James rushed up to take sole possession of the rope. “C’mon, Sunny. Come along with me.”
Aiden was barely aware of feet scampering off and Thad’s voice, calm and friendly with the children, moving farther away. All that he had been holding back broke apart like a winter’s thaw. The keen rush of emotion that rolled through him nearly brought him to his knees. Perhaps this pain was life coming back to him. Whatever it was, it hurt. He drew in the hot air and let the sun bake him, trying to fight it. Trying not to be ripped apart.
There was Joanna on the front porch, waltzing down the steps with a carrot, a treat for Sunny. James and Daisy swirled around her skirts, excited by the horses and by the family surrounding them. Thad joked with James and then with his wife. Ma reached for Daisy’s hand. Noelle leaned in to kiss Daisy’s cheek. They were a family again.
Aiden had done everything he could to keep this from happening. He’d held back his feelings. He’d refused to care for Joanna and her kids. He’d stayed away from them. He’d barely talked to them. Hardly acknowledged them, and still, it happened just the same.
He clenched his fists, moving without realizing where he was going, only knowing he needed to get somewhere quiet and pray. He had to take this to the Lord because he was not strong enough to do it on his own. He was sure he would never be strong enough.
Chapter Eighteen
Oh, Aiden. Joanna caught a glimpse of him through Noelle’s kitchen window as she grabbed the pan of rolls to carry outside. He stood far out in the sun-scorched bunchgrass beyond the mustang pasture, with his back to her. He gazed off at the river and the reaching prairie, hands behind his back, feet braced, looking like a solitary pillar of strength. Aloneness radiated off him like sunlight off the dry earth.
So much was pulling at him right now. According to Thad, Finn was seeing a judge next week, and it did not look good for him. It was a heartbreak for all the family, she knew, but especially for Aiden, who had fought so hard for his little brother, whom he loved. That was Aiden. He was faithfulness and loyalty. Those were a few reasons why she loved him so much, why she longed to go out to him and hold him until he no longer felt sore and alone.
If only she could. She tucked away her wishes and turned from the window. No matter what, she would not give up on him. She would not stop loving him. Love made a difference in this world, she firmly believed, and she would be Aiden’s difference. She would wait and she would hope. Maybe all he needed was time. God had brought her here for a purpose—to love Aiden. She would not yield.
The breeze off the river was a pleasant relief after being in the hot house. Joanna pushed through the screen door, renewed at the sight of Dai
sy sitting next to Ida at the outdoor table. The little girl wiggled with happiness; it didn’t look as if she could sit still.
“Ma!” Her grin was the widest ever. “Grandma Ida said we’re gonna have ice cream!”
A rare treat. “We are?”
“Yes! To go with the cobbler we brought. I helped make it,” she told her grandma, leaning toward her eagerly. “I sifted the flour and got to put the peaches in.”
While Ida praised her as lavishly as any doting grandmother, Joanna slipped the pan of rolls onto the table and looked around. James’s place was empty. Where was he?
“Joanna? Is that you?” Noelle was standing at the railing. “Thad went to look for James. He was right beside me on the bench when you went into the house. I felt him slip behind me, but he must have been moving fast. I called out to Thad, and he looked up just in time to see him dart around the corner of the house.”
“He knows not to run off.” Joanna fought down the panic. She tried not to immediately think of the long list of dangers to a small child on a working ranch—especially the wild mustangs. “I can’t believe he’s not right here. Noelle, will you watch Daisy?”
“Yes. Are you sure he didn’t run off to the outhouse?”
“No.” Thad’s voice came from around the corner. “First place I checked. Then the barn.” He strode into sight, worry and dust marking his face. “There’s no sign of him in the corral. I’m going to check the mustangs’ field next.”
“He went to Aiden.” Joanna was sure of it. She was already moving, hurrying around the wraparound deck to the back of the house. Panic beat with her footsteps, and she tried to stay clear and focused. She scanned the pastures and the stretch of field beyond, where Aiden was. No sign of a Stetson among the waving grass and wildflowers.
“James!” She hurried down the back steps. “James!”
No answer. She heard Thad and Ida calling out his name on the other side of the house.
She rushed through the fields, fighting panic, heading toward Aiden. Surely that’s where James would go.
