by Linda Ford
The day sped past. Alex came home from school and slipped out to do his chores.
Out the window, she watched Alex and Colby talking. Alex leaned over as if waiting for a signal to run. Colby leaned over, too, planting splayed fingers on the ground. He must be showing Alex how to start a race.
She smiled and tucked away this little picture of just what a good man Colby was.
As she watched, she mixed up cake batter. She turned to put more coal in the stove to keep the oven at an even temperature. The coal bucket was empty. One of Alex’s chores was to fill it. Anna sighed. He might want to run but when it came to chores he was slower than a spring thaw. She grabbed the bucket and headed to the shed.
Colby was right about one thing. She coddled Alex. He needed to grow up and accept the few responsibilities he had. She must speak to him.
Colby and Alex came in for supper a little later, both of them grinning with eagerness.
“Colby says I’m a good runner.”
“You’ve got potential. A little practice and perseverance and you’ll do fine.” The smile Colby sent Anna’s direction melted away a great deal of the day’s tension. It was good to have him here. His presence seemed to give each moment a slice of calmness. She wished he could stay longer, share a few more hours but he spent his nights elsewhere. And tonight when she relished every minute, he left early, saying he expected Slink and a few others to stop by.
As soon as he left, she forced herself to deal with Alex. “What about your chores after school?”
A guilty look flitted across his face. “Forgot,” he mumbled.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you all the time. You’re old enough to be responsible. For the next two days, you’re confined to your bedroom after school.”
“That’s not fair,” he yelled. “It’s just a bucket of coal.”
Dorrie’s eyes grew big. She looked from Anna to Alex, her little mouth round with concern. Anna patted her hand, silently assuring her.
“It’s your job. I have enough to do.”
“It’s sissy work. I’m too old for it. Besides, Colby is training me to run.”
“You can train again after you’ve spent some time in your room. Hopefully it will help you remember your responsibilities in the future.”
He pushed back so hard his chair fell with a clatter. “Stop treating me like a baby.” He rushed to his room.
Dorrie whimpered.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” But it wasn’t. Her whole life frayed apart before her eyes. She wanted it back, neat and orderly. She didn’t want things to change, especially this way.
Alex should have helped with dishes but she didn’t want to deal with his anger, so she did them alone, even though she realized it probably defeated the purpose of confining him to his room in the hopes he’d learn responsibility.
By the time she got Dorrie in bed, Anna wanted nothing more than to lie down and cry. Knowing that served no purpose, she did what she learned to do throughout previous times of trial. She headed to the church to pray, pausing at the door to make sure Colby’s friends had departed. Hearing no sound, she crept in through the front door. Colby sat in a pew near the front, his head bent as if reading.
She didn’t want to attract his attention, needed to think about him without his presence invading her thoughts so she tiptoed into the cloakroom. She needed to sit in front of the cross and find peace. She stopped in the middle of the tiny room and blinked.
The cross was gone.
The frustrations of the day boiled over, filling her with despair-laced anger. She spun around and stomped into the sanctuary.
Colby, hearing her, turned to face her.
“It’s gone. One of your friends must have taken it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The cross. Where is it?” The enormity of her loss sucked the strength from her knees and she sank to the nearest pew. Her anger melted into sorrow. A sob caught in her throat where she trapped it. Her reaction left her feeling foolish and vulnerable.
“It’s safe.”
“Where is it? Who’s taken it?”
“Trust me.”
The words mocked her, drove spikes through her thoughts. Trust? The one thing she wanted to do but seemed unable to. She’d even prayed for a chance to test it. Was this an opportunity?
Memories assailed her. She could barely remember her mother except for a fleeting picture of her in a beautiful steel-blue dress and a feathered hat, bending over Anna to kiss her cheek. The whiff of flower-scented toilet water.
But she could never forget the wagon flipping over, the incredible agony of learning to live without Rose, of having to clean out Timmy’s belongings. The sob she’d held back escaped in a gentle wail. “It hurts so much to lose the people you love. I think it would be easier to never care about people.”
Praying at the cross had held her together through it all. She sucked in air, forcing back sobs she feared would tear her apart if she let them out. “I want the cross back.”
“You’ll get it. Trust me.” His words sounded like a promise. He sat beside her and tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Not everyone leaves. And whatever you face, God will never leave you.”
She searched his eyes, found an undeniable strength there. She let his promise, his strength reach deep into her being and filter into the dusty chambers she’d kept locked for years. The doors cracked open and she discovered that his smile had cleansed the room. He reminded her of where she got her strength—God, and he offered what she wanted and needed—his promise, his presence. She had only to take one small step into her fears to get it all.
His eyes filled with soft evening light. “I won’t disappoint you.”
She considered all he asked, measured it against what she had to lose. If it was only the cross, she could bear it. It was only a symbol of God’s love and grace, which flowed freely without need of a damaged piece of wood.
But her heart…that was something else entirely.
She couldn’t risk breaking it again. Doubted she would survive another time of loving and losing. Firmly she shoved the doors to the secret, dark places closed.
“I’m sure whatever you and Father decide will suit.” She returned to the house, her insides more knotted than when she left, not from external stresses but from her inner turmoil.
Colby’s chest muscles didn’t release their vice-like tension until Anna slipped out the door and crossed the yard, her steps firm, her shoulders back, her spine rigid. Not until she entered the house did his thoughts spring into action.
She would trust her father, but refused to trust him. Not that he could blame her but his whole heart and soul longed for her love and trust.
Would she ever give it?
Would he ever be worthy of it?
He collapsed on the pew and buried his head in his hands. How could he prove he was different? Lord God, show me a way.
A few minutes later he left the church. With God’s help he would not disappoint her again.
The next week was extremely busy with the day of the big celebration approaching. He pushed to get the final touches done to the repairs and enlisted the help of several of his friends. He also involved them with his plans for the cross.
A group of people descended on the church two days before the big event. In the cemetery, the men cut grass, pruned scraggly trees and scoured the tombstones. Inside, the women washed windows, scrubbed the floor and polished pews.
Colby cleaned up the materials and equipment from his work. As he stood back to admire the result, several people gathered at his side.
“Good as new.” It was an elderly gent who had come inside to borrow a broom.
Mrs. Percy stood at the front of the sanctuary staring at the wall behind the pulpit, which had been returned from the room above the saloon. “Where’s the cross? Shouldn’t it be in place? Who is in charge of that detail?”
Pastor Caldwell stepped to the woman’s side. “I
am.”
“Well, where is it?”
“We’ll have it in place on the seventeenth.” Despite the woman’s fussing, the pastor refused to say anything more.
Colby met Anna’s gaze across the room as she polished the piano. He felt in her look the same questions and doubts Mrs. Percy expressed.
Trust me. You’ll see.
Asking her to trust him about the cross would give him a chance to prove himself. If she would only take this one little step perhaps she would see that more was possible.
They looked long and hard at each other until she finally jerked away, her attention claimed by someone wanting to know where to put a lamp.
Colby let out a frustrated sigh. Her expression had not shifted one bit. Would nothing ever change?
The work bee ended. The church was ready.
The next day another crowd descended and long plank tables soon filled the yard. Colby glimpsed Anna hurrying from one task to another.
Determined to speak to her, to urge her to trust him about the cross, he edged around the crowd, planning to catch her as she trotted toward the house for yet another errand.
He fell in beside her.
“Can I help?”
“All the seats need to be wiped off. Can you do that?”
“Of course. I’m willing to do whatever I can to ease your responsibilities.” He meant so much more than preparing for the birthday celebration.
He wanted to share her life.
“Anna, we had so much. Can’t—”
She handed him a basin and a rag. “There’s hot water in the reservoir.”
He wanted to talk. But now was not the time and he filled the basin with water and wiped the benches.
After a community-style lunch with everyone contributing, Colby headed to the little shack where Tobias lived and where they’d been working on the cross.
Every street in town looked as if it had been swept. Every window gleamed. The storefronts had either been repainted or scrubbed, all in preparation for the upcoming birthday celebration. Colby felt pride at the way the town showed its solidarity, and excitement at the little part he’d had in the upcoming party.
Slink, Tobias and eight others crowded the tiny room when Colby arrived.
“It’s almost finished,” Slink said.
Colby admired the handwork. “It’s beautiful.” He hoped Anna would see the love that had gone into every detail.
Chapter Thirteen
June 17
The day the town had prepared and planned for the past six months.
Anna checked Dorrie. She looked perfect in her white dress and stockings. And it didn’t matter in the least that she would come home at the end of the day dusty and soiled.
She stepped to the street, turned as she heard the church door click. Colby paused on the step.
Thankfully, the past few days had been busy, leaving them little opportunity to talk and even less to be alone, which suited her just fine. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the longing to trust him, the feeling that somehow trusting God and trusting Colby were linked.
Because they felt so totally different. She had no trouble trusting God. He loved her. But trusting Colby was another matter entirely. She’d once thought he loved her. As she loved him. But she had misjudged his feelings.
Trusting him again would take time. And proof.
Dorrie saw him. “Da-da,” she chirped, and Colby moved to take Dorrie’s hand.
Anna’s heartbeat picked up pace as she saw he meant to accompany them. Despite her misgivings, she could not pretend her love for him had died. Although she’d done her best to quench it.
They headed toward the heart of town.
The main street had been closed off and turned into a fairground. Booths lined each side of the street—one selling popcorn, another with a fishing game, yet another with a guess-your-weight challenge, and past that, a test-your-strength bell.
Alex came by with a couple of schoolmates as Colby and Anna stood in front of the strength game. “Try it out, Colby.”
“We’ll both do it.” He paid a penny for each of them as a crowd gathered round cheering him on. He wiped his hands then grabbed the hammer and swung it over his head and hit the pad at the bottom. The metal indicator shot upward, stopped three quarters of the way up and dropped down.
The spectators jeered and laughed.
He handed the mallet to Alex.
Alex hesitated. “I can’t do that good.”
“No one expects you to, but you might be surprised at how well you do.” Colby squeezed Alex’s upper arm. “Feels to me like you’ve put on an inch or two here.”
“You think so?”
“Give it a try.”
Alex widened his stance and swung with all his might, groaning when the indicator went about halfway.
Colby clapped him on the back. “Let’s see if your friends can beat that.” He paid a penny for each of the boys gathered round. And when only one, a big lad, beat Alex, he grinned as widely as if Alex had handed him a trophy. “What did I tell you? Nothing like hard work to build muscles.”
Alex puffed out his chest.
Anna hid a grin. It was nice to see Alex growing up. She sobered instantly. What had Laura said? He’d grow up and leave home. Anna wanted to pull him back and protect him from all that growing up meant.
But her sudden fear couldn’t survive amidst all the fun of the day.
Colby grinned at the men crowded round him. “Who can ring the bell?”
Mike, a big farm boy, paid his penny and tried. He beat Colby by one mark.
Colby clapped. “Come on. Who’s next?”
Men pushed closer, vying for a turn to pay for the chance to outdo each other.
Colby leaned over and whispered in Anna’s ear, “This will end up making a lot of money.”
The funds raised throughout the day were to go to providing a library.
Anna laughed as she understood he egged the others on until the bottle beside the machine reached almost to the top and Father came along and emptied it.
Colby certainly would benefit the fundraiser. The town could use a man like this changed Colby.
Watching him laugh and enjoy the crowd filled her heart with admiration, made the whole scene dance with color and enjoyment. She teetered on the edge of giving up her resistance to him.
But as Dorrie tugged at her hand, she was jerked back to reality. Colby could leave as quickly and easily as he returned. What was to stop him? Neither she nor Dorrie had been enough in the past.
What drove him away?
Responsibilities? Her? She must know before she released the locks on her heart.
Dorrie grabbed her father’s hand. “Go,” she said.
Colby and Anna exchanged glances and laughed. Their gazes clung. Anna’s cheeks grew warm at the look in his eyes. And then Dorrie jerked at them.
She blinked back her feelings. How easily she forgot to be cautious.
They moved on to a puppet show. Dorrie screamed with laughter when the puppets tripped over each other and flew through the air.
They moved on to the bake and craft sale being held under shelter of the hotel portico. Anna picked up a pretty pinafore.
“Did you make this, Miss Weaver?”
Miss Weaver chuckled, a merry sound. “Please call me Grace. And, yes, I made that little thing. I seem to have more time on my hands than I know what to do with.”
“It’s beautiful.” It would fit Dorrie and although she needed a new one, Anna could make one for far less. She went to put it down but Colby plucked it from her fingers and held it in front of Dorrie.
“It’s the right size, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll take it.” He paid Grace.
They walked on. “I planned to make her a new one,” Anna whispered. “It wouldn’t cost near that much.”
“I thought I’d save you the effort. Seems to me you work hard enough as it is.”
No o
ne ever worried that she might have too much work to do. No one even offered to help. Knowing Colby noticed made Anna almost stumble on the wooden sidewalk, not because it was rough but because of her surprise.
She pinched her nose to stop the sting of tears.
Thankfully the mayor spared her from embarrassing herself. Using a bullhorn, he announced games and races over at the schoolyard. Much of the crowd drifted that direction.
If only she could give her heart fully to Colby she could enjoy his support and encouragement every day. For a moment, the idea almost capsized her stubbornness. But again, her doubts prevailed.
A race for toddlers was announced first.
Colby squatted in front of Dorrie. “Do you want to run?”
She nodded. “I run.” She took off instantly.
Colby grabbed her. “Wait a minute. We’ll go to the start line.”
Anna laughed as he tried to explain the event to Dorrie who babbled and squirmed, trying to escape.
“I run, Da-da.” Her feet churned as Colby lifted her off the ground and carried her to the marked spot.
Anna giggled at mothers and fathers trying to sort out children under the age of three and explain the concept of a race.
“Go to the finish line,” Colby said. “I’ll head her in your direction.”
Anna did as he suggested and soon one parent of each child did the same.
Someone hollered go and the children were released.
“Dorrie, come to Mama,” Anna called. A dozen other parents yelled at their offspring. She wondered how anyone could make out who called whom. The names were indiscernible in the melee.
Dorrie veered toward a little boy with a ball in his hands.
“Dorrie, no. This way.”
Dorrie ignored her and tackled the boy. They tumbled to the ground, the boy shrieking for his mother.
Anna shook her head. She found Colby’s face in the crowd and laughed at his stunned look.
Then they joined the race to separate the two. Colby got there first and scooped Dorrie off her victim. She clutched the ball triumphantly.
