Love for All Seasons

by Stacy Henrie

  She could see that while the war had stolen a portion of Rex’s old charisma for life, perhaps it wasn’t all gone. That realization was further confirmed when they stopped at the Gatsons’ home next. Instead of standing off to the side, Rex offered to pass out the gifts to the children.

  “Looks like we have two trains in here, boys,” he announced to the twins. “They must be for you.”

  Ben Gatson grinned as he accepted the wooden train from Rex, but Billy’s expression fell with disappointment. “Got any animals in there, Mr. Montgomery?” the boy asked. “Like an elephant?”

  “Now, Billy,” his mother soothed. “I know you wanted an elephant, and we can still be grateful for what Rex and Samantha brought . . .”

  Samantha felt a prick of remorse that they didn’t have any animal carvings this year. She’d try to remember in the future that’s what Billy liked.

  Rex squatted next to the boy. “Do you believe God knows us, Billy? That He knows you?”

  The boy scrunched up his face a moment before nodding. “I think so, ’cause that’s what my ma and pa’ve taught me.”

  “I think so too, Billy. In fact, I know so. And this is why . . .” Slipping his hand into his pocket, Rex produced a small but intricately carved elephant. Happy surprise coursed through Samantha as she watched him set the toy in the boy’s palm. “I made two of these and wasn’t sure which one to give my nephew. But God knew which one my nephew needed and which one you needed. The giraffe will go to him and the elephant is yours.”

  “Golly, thanks, Mr. Montgomery.” Billy threw his arms around Rex’s neck. Rex looked momentarily startled, then he embraced the boy, a smile settling on his mouth.

  They left the Gatsons’ soon after, but with each house they stopped at over the next hour, Samantha watched more and more of the old Rex coming back to life. The part she’d known and admired for so many years. The part of him that had coaxed her more times than she could count to let go of her fears and worries and enjoy life a little.

  When they piled into the sleigh after their sixth delivery, she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself any longer. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

  Rex slapped the reins lightly against Titus, shooting her a lopsided smile—one that succeeded in twisting her stomach with hidden pleasure. “I am.” He leaned toward her and added in a warm breath that tickled the tops of her cheeks, “I may have to thank your father for coercing me to come.”

  Her breath caught at the husky quality of his voice and the bemused look on his handsome face. Was she also glad her father had forced him to come? She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. It had been far too long since she’d been alone with Rex or really spoken to him.

  She didn’t plan to tell him her thoughts just yet, though. If he knew part of her heart was softening toward him, would he swoop in and claim it once more? Did she dare let him after his decision two years ago had affected her so deeply?

  “Do you still wish to see all those places Miss Rogers talked about?” she blurted out, hoping a change of subject would be a distraction from the mental tug-of-war inside her head. “To see Paris or London?”

  “No.” He flicked a glance at her. “I could stay right here the rest of my life and be just fine.”

  Samantha twisted on the seat, facing his profile. “But you wanted so much to see the world. Did you get that during the war?”

  He shrugged. “A bit, but you were right.”

  “I was right?” she echoed with a smile. “Pray tell me, what was it I got correct?”

  Instead of smiling, though, his expression turned grave. “You were right about war not being the adventure I thought it would be.”

  She lowered her gaze to the blankets, embarrassed. “That isn’t something I wish to be right about.”

  Except for the whoosh of the sleigh and the muted thud of Titus’s hooves against the snow, there was only quiet between them. Samantha shifted on the seat, wondering how to restore the earlier lighthearted mood. Before she could think of anything, Rex straightened beside her and blew out a sigh, as if making some sort of a decision.

  “War is worse than you can imagine, Sammie.” His voice was low, his words tinged with severity and despair. “Men shot and dying all around you. Men dying because . . .” A shudder ran through him. “Because of you . . .”

  She sat perfectly still, listening, afraid even the slightest movement would cause him to retreat into himself again.

  “It’s no adventure,” he continued, his words louder but still filled with pain. “It’s nothing but blood and stench and death and exhaustion. It’s going to bed, wishing and praying it were all over, and getting up the next day to slog through the ugliness again.” He ran a hand down his face. “And yet . . .”

  She waited a full minute or more for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she gently prodded, “And yet?” She wanted so much to share the burden of his suffering.

  Rex looked at her as if suddenly remembering she sat beside him. Visibly swallowing, he faced forward again and cleared his throat. “And yet, you search and search for those glimmers of Heaven. For those moments when you know the whole world hasn’t gone mad and God still reigns.”

  She’d felt much the same after his letter, needing to find those glimmers of Heaven. Another minute passed before she asked, “Did you find them? Did you find those glimmers, Rex?”

  “I did.” His answer sounded almost reverential, and it brought her great relief. He’d had something good to cling to amid the horror he’d experienced

  “Where?” she asked.

  He turned toward her, and in the lantern light, the tears in his eyes glistened. “In my prayers . . . and in my memories of you.”

  “Me?” But he hadn’t wanted her; he’d made that very clear in his last letter. “What do you mean?”

  Coughing once more, he glanced away. “Thinking about all of our dares as kids.” A brief smile lifted his mouth. “Or reading your letters. Those things gave me something else to focus on.”

  She sucked in a breath through her cold lips. His admission filled her with joy but also regret. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Memories of the day she’d received his letter flooded her thoughts, bringing the emotions she thought she’d relinquished. “I would have written you the entire time you were gone, Rex. I would have written you every day.”

  “I know.” His agreement was laced with intense sorrow. “I wanted you to, but . . .”

  “But what?” she pressed, suddenly tired of not knowing. “What made you throw away our future?”

  He tugged his hat lower. “I explained it in my letter, Sammie. War changes men. I wasn’t . . . I’m not . . . the same.”

  Samantha fisted her hands beneath the blanket. “So your feelings for me changed?”

  “No.” The single word echoed across the snowy stillness before he turned to meet her gaze. “My feelings never changed.”

  Did that mean he hadn’t stopped loving her? Could he love her still? “You never even gave me a choice, Rex. I didn’t get a chance to find out more or try to work things out. You were just . . . gone.”

  His gloved hand curled over hers. “I’m sorry for that. But I knew how persuasive you could be, Sammie. I figured you would talk me right out of my decision.”

  She released a half sob, half laugh. “And you call me stubborn?”

  His mouth rose. “I guess we both are.”

  “Did you pray about it? Is that what you felt God wanted for us?”

  He released her hand at once, his shoulders lowering in defeat. “No, I didn’t pray about it.”

  “But then—”

  “It was for the best.”

  She shook her head, ripples of anger heating her cheeks. “The best for whom, Rex? For you?”

  His expression hardened. “You don’t understand. What I told you just now about the war is only a fraction of what I saw and did.”

  “And you think that changes how I see you?” She wanted to reach out and sh
ake him. Didn’t he know her better than that? But she quickly amended the thought. She would never fully understand what Rex had been through, and yet, she cared about him still.

  “Doesn’t it?” he countered, though some of the fight had left his tone. “Wouldn’t you prefer someone less haunted by guilt and remorse?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But that’s for me to decide.” She tipped her chin upward. “Not to have someone else decide for me.”

  He pulled the sleigh to a stop in front of the next home, the Stuarts’ place. “Samantha, don’t be unnecessarily pigheaded.”

  “I could say the same about you,” she muttered, though she wasn’t sure if he heard her or not. She felt both annoyed and relieved at the interruption to their conversation. She needed time to think on what he’d shared with her. And on what she wished to do next. The thought of trusting him again, even with friendship, filled her with worry, and yet, she was tired of trying to cling to faith and fear at the same time.

  Help me trust in Thee, Lord. If things are meant to be between Rex and me, help us both know.

  The Stuarts didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as they invited her and Rex inside and offered them seats in the parlor. Samantha perched on the settee, the oldest Stuart daughter, Regina, across from her.

  While the rest of the family laughed and exclaimed over the jam and gifts, Regina sat silently in the rocker, twisting her wedding band around and around her finger. She’d married a boy from the next town over before he left for the war. But the young man had been killed two years later, leaving Regina a young widow. She didn’t even have a baby to remember him by.

  Though still reeling from her talk with Rex, Samantha wanted to help the other girl and lift her downtrodden spirits, but she wasn’t sure how. What would fun-loving Rex do to cheer up Regina? A sudden idea had Samantha rising to her feet and moving to the piano across the room. Her family and the Stuarts were the only ones in their town who owned such an instrument. “May I play, Mrs. Stuart?”

  The older woman smiled. “Of course, Samantha.”

  She played a few of the slower Christmas carols, to which everyone but Regina sang along. Then she switched to a livelier tune, calling over her shoulder, “Who’s in the mood to dance?” Regina had always adored dancing in the past. She looked at Rex and stealthily tipped her head toward the other girl.

  Without hesitation, he stood and offered his hand to Regina. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  It seemed everyone held their breath, waiting for her answer. Then the girl murmured, “Yes.”

  Samantha grinned and struck up the song’s introduction a second time as Rex and Regina and Mr. and Mrs. Stuart took their places to dance. Some of the younger children joined in after a minute or two.

  Knowing the song by heart allowed Samantha to watch those dancing. Rex met her gaze and smiled. Warmth and gratitude blossomed in her heart. They might not see eye to eye, but she was beginning to sense a return, however tentative, to their once deep and abiding friendship. And she had to admit that she was enjoying herself in his company—mostly.

  When was the last time she’d been able to fully let go of her worries about her father, about life, and simply have a nice time? She had Rex—and God—to thank for that. Rex’s love of life was contagious. It always had been.

  Even Regina was smiling now. But when the other girl laughed at something Rex said, a shard of jealousy cut through Samantha’s happiness. She didn’t want anyone dancing with Rex, at least not permanently, unless it was her.

  Because I still love him.

  The realization made her start and she struck a wrong chord. Cheeks burning, she lowered her head and focused on the song, ending with a flourish. But inside her heart hammered at her thoughts.

  Her love for Rex hadn’t dimmed with time as she’d thought. Rex had expressed similar feelings, and yet, would he keep holding with stubbornness to the idea that he’d changed too much for them to be together?

  “One more,” Regina requested, her face flushed with enjoyment.

  Samantha couldn’t deny her. “All right.” She played another number for those dancing, then ended with “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Everyone joined in the singing this time, even Regina.

  There were happy tears in the other girl’s eyes as Samantha trailed Rex to the door. “Thank you for coming,” Regina whispered, hugging Samantha tightly. “And thank you for sharing him.”

  Samantha drew back, unsure what Regina meant. But Rex was already outside, moving toward the horse and sleigh. It was time to go.

  “That was brilliant, Sammie,” he said as they settled onto the seat. “Getting Regina to join in by dancing.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed at his compliment and at the remembrance of her revelation while playing the piano. “It’s not so different than what you did to help Mr. Hammon and Billy Gatson.”

  He tipped his head as if studying her. “We make a good team.”

  “Best friends usually do,” she replied softly, her heart beating wildly with fear. Would he deny it? Would he tell her that they weren’t still friends?

  “Best friends.” His murmured echo and thoughtful look calmed her pulse. But only for a moment or two. When Rex’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, her heartbeat began thudding for an entirely different reason.

  The memory of their first kiss flooded her mind and senses. It might have been more than three years ago, but she could recall it vividly. How she longed to brush those masculine lips again, to feel the graze of his beard against her chin and cheek.

  She leaned an inch or two closer to show him that she welcomed his kiss. Rex matched her movement. Renewed hope leapt inside her. Just before they could narrow the last bit of space between them, a loud tapping sounded from behind.

  Startled, Samantha whirled to see the three youngest Stuart children tapping on the window glass and waving. Heat filled her cheeks as she faced forward again. The magic of the moment was gone.

  “Giddyup,” Rex called to Titus.

  This time the lack of words between them wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable as it had been at other points during their ride tonight. Rex was likely sorting through his thoughts as she was hers.

  Even though she felt disappointed at having their near-kiss interrupted, Samantha also felt relief and happiness that she and Rex were friends again. He hadn’t argued that point. And if they were friends once more then she perhaps could convince him that she still longed to be more than that.

  Is that what Regina meant? she wondered. By thanking me for sharing him?

  There was still the matter of claiming Rex’s heart. Samantha sat straighter, her shoulders pulled back with determination. They were nearly done with delivering all of the gifts, but she didn’t want to voice her true feelings here, where she’d likely be interrupted again. Once they returned home, she would do her best to convince Rex—kind, thoughtful, handsome Rex—that she still loved him.

  It was time to take a leap of faith with him for a second time.

  Chapter 5

  Rex strangled the reins, causing Titus to toss his head in protest. Relaxing his grip, he tried to assure himself he’d done the right thing by not kissing Samantha outside the Stuarts’ home. But, oh, how he’d wanted to. His attempts to keep his distance tonight had failed miserably. He’d even gone so far as to share a portion with her of what he’d experienced during the war.

  And yet Samantha hadn’t recoiled in horror or disgust. Instead she’d listened, as she had so many times in the past. Did that mean she didn’t condemn him? He shot a glance her way and found her staring straight ahead, a resolute smile on that lovely mouth he’d nearly kissed just now. He recognized that look—she was scheming at something. But what could it be?

  He thought back to her question about whether he’d prayed before issuing his edict that they stop writing each other. At the time he didn’t think he needed to ask Heaven’s blessing for something that made sense. He was trying to protect Samantha,
albeit from himself. But had he done the right thing? Accompanying her tonight and hearing her call him her best friend again had filled a hole inside him that had been present since he’d written that fateful letter.

  Rex recalled what he’d asked Billy Gatson earlier. If the boy understood that God knew him personally. Did he believe that about himself? He considered the miracle of having the elephant Billy wanted or the times of protection and comfort he’d experienced during the war.

  Or, he thought, glancing to his right, my friendship with Samantha.

  God did know him and he’d ignored that truth by acting on his own. Rex stifled a groan of regret. I was wrong, Lord, and I’m sorry. For the first time in two years, he could see things from Samantha’s perspective and how much the effects of his choice had hurt her, even if he’d meant well. Please forgive me.

  A quiet, nudging thought entered his mind. You have to forgive yourself, too. For the war.

  The impression came unbidden and penetrated every space of his head and heart, including every dark, anguish-filled corner. He’d done his best to cling to his faith, even as a soldier. But perhaps the ultimate peace he sought would only come with forgiving himself.

  The weight that had been pressing on his chest for three years eased at the realization. Forgiveness of himself wouldn’t be immediate. But if he kept praying, kept asking God for direction, kept looking for ways to reach out to others, then maybe one day his burden would be lifted completely. Another look at Samantha reminded him that she’d helped lift some of that weight tonight, by listening to him and not turning away in revulsion.

  Could they still have a future together? Rex had stopped himself from believing that was true a long time ago. But if there was a chance . . . If Samantha had no one else she fancied, then perhaps it was high time he put his own fears aside and did all he could to win her heart a second time.