by Linda Ford
"Mrs. R. I'm so glad you're home. I hope I'm not bothering you. I need to talk to someone," she wailed.
The older woman chuckled. "You are never a bother." Darcy smiled. Mrs. R always said the same thing, and Darcy always liked to hear it.
"How are you?" Mrs. R. asked. "Or should I ask, where are you?"
"At the ranch where my father lived." She explained the events of the past day to her long-time friend and mentor imagining her sitting in her big armchair, her Bible next to her, a notebook open on her lap as she made notes for her Sunday school class, her salt and pepper hair in a wild disarray of curls, her gray eyes always so watchful and kind as if every word Darcy uttered, even as an eager new Christian, mattered more than the next breath.
"Sounds like God has a purpose for your visit beyond the reading of a will."
"You mean Amy, don't you?" Darcy sighed. "She's a sweetie for sure. And hurting."
"I don't just mean Amy, though I'm sure you'll be a real comfort to her. I mean you, dear. This can be a time of healing for you."
Darcy gripped the phone so hard it beeped a protest. "I thought I'd dealt with all this stuff about my father." At first she hated him and resented the new family but it was a destructive emotion. Through Mrs. R's counseling and pointing Darcy toward God's love, she'd let all that go. "But being here and listening to Blake tell what a wonderful father he was—" She couldn’t go on as pain pierced her soul.
"Forgiveness is a choice; healing takes time."
Darcy rocked her head back and forth. "I don't want to go back to all that stuff. I just want to move forward."
"That stuff, as you call it, will always be part of who you are, how you feel and react."
"You know what really hurts?"
"What, dear?"
"Blake thinks I should stay away from Amy." She repeated Blake's ultimatum. As she talked, she wandered into the kitchen and faced the slanting rays of the sun coming through the sun porch. "Amy and I clicked. To think I missed six years of her life. I will never forg—" She made herself stop as she realized the mistake of what she'd been about to say. Of course she forgave everyone concerned. She had long ago learned the futility of anything less. "I've missed enough of her life. I intend to enjoy every minute of my vacation with her."
"What happens when you have to go back to work?" Mrs. R asked softly.
Ahh. Something twisted in Darcy's gut as her friend's words echoed Blake's concern. "I guess we'll make some sort of arrangement." Perhaps both Blake and Mrs. R were right. Maybe she should move on now. After all, they didn't need her. They had each other. She had her life. But telling herself so didn't change how she felt. She wanted to be part of Amy's life. She needed to feel she mattered to this child.
"I'll be praying for you to have wisdom and strength to deal with this situation." Mrs. R's words smoothed Darcy's emotions.
"Thank you. I don't know what will happen. I just know I won't walk away. I've been deprived of my little sister too long."
"And she's been deprived of you." Mrs. R made it sound like an equal loss.
"I suppose you're right." Despite Blake's objections, Darcy knew there was something important about being a big sister. "I'll do my best for her while I'm here and then we'll decide where to go from there." She took a deep breath. "Thanks as always, Mrs. R."
The older woman laughed. "When are you going to start calling me Olive?"
Darcy laughed too. It was a long-standing joke between them. "When I'm older than you." She paused. "You know I like calling you Mrs. R."
The woman snorted. "You just like making me aware of my age."
Darcy chuckled. "You haven't aged a year in all the time I've known you. Nope, I just like you being Mrs. R, the woman who saw past my anger as a teenager, and loved me into God's family."
"You were easy to love. Still are."
"Thank you." She hung up a few minutes later, feeling refreshed. She knew why she was here. Because of Amy. Not even Blake's resistance would make her leave.
She dragged a chair out to the sunroom and called Irene to bring her up to speed.
"He sounds like a nice man," Irene said after Darcy finished telling her all the news.
"Probably is except he doesn't like me. In fact, he's made it clear he'd like nothing better than for me to leave ASAP. Or sooner."
"Want me to come out and persuade him otherwise?"
Darcy could imagine Irene flexing her arms and she laughed. "I'll call you if I need some muscle."
"Promise? He sounds like my sort of man."
Darcy made a choking noise.
"Don't say it," Irene warned.
Darcy took a deep breath and tried to sound bewildered. "What is it I'm not supposed to say?"
Irene sighed dramatically. "That I never met a man I didn't like."
They laughed together and chatted a few minutes longer. Darcy felt tons better after talking to two of her closest friends. With God's help she would find the grace to deal with this situation.
Blake didn't go directly to the house. He was too ticked off to risk meeting Amy or Aunt Betty. Instead, he went to the shop and began to repair the cultivator. Bad enough he was stuck with Darcy for two weeks. Now he had to sit back and let his little sister spend as much time as she wanted with the woman. How was the child supposed to deal with all this? But his loyalty to Rob caused him the most confusion. He'd loved the man. He'd also trusted Rob totally and completely. A niggling doubt skidded over his thoughts. Until now. Yet, knowing Rob, he knew the man must have had a reason for bringing Darcy into their lives. Something more than the misguided guilt Darcy suggested.
He heard a shuffling sound and turned to see Amy in the doorway, her face folded into a scowl. He could no longer put off talking to her about Darcy. He leaned the hammer against the cupboard, and wiped his hands on a rag. "Let's go see your cats."
She followed him without a word although her mutinous expression spoke volumes. She was going to have some hard questions for him.
At the supply room, he waited while Amy filled the cat dishes and murmured to the animals. He wasn't surprised to be excluded from her conversation.
When they were both sprawled comfortably on the floor, he asked, "What did Darcy tell you?"
She crossed her arms and plunked them over her chest. "She's my sister."
"Uh huh."
"The house is hers."
"That's right."
She scooted away several inches. Blake told himself it was only Amy showing her displeasure but the little gesture made it clear that no matter what Darcy did or said, it was going to affect the rest of them.
"How come you never told me about her?" Amy demanded.
"There didn't seem to be any point. I never expected she'd ever come. She's never been here before."
"How come?"
"I really can't say." Though he had his own opinions. Too self-centered. Full of bitter unforgiveness. Jealousy. Any or all of the above.
"How come Daddy didn't tell me about her?"
"I don't know." In hindsight, he too wondered. But then Darcy had never given any of them any reason to include her in their lives.
Amy studied him hard, her expression thoughtful. "Is she your sister?"
"No. She's your half sister. Just like I'm your half brother." He tried to explain the convoluted relationship but wondered if it made sense to Amy.
She giggled. "You're half a brother."
He growled low in his throat. "I'm all here. Thank you very much."
She tipped her head and looked serious. "How come you didn't want to see her before?"
He shrugged. He could hardly tell her his personal opinion of the woman—without natural affection or a normal sense of duty. "Guess I was too busy to think about it."
Amy harrumphed. "I don't think so."
He chuckled. "Like any of us have had time to run out to Seattle to try to find her." He didn't expect the child to understand how swamped he'd been. For years. Even before Rob got sick, his
mother needed help. Seems there had been more work than they could catch up with for a long time.
"I would have gone to see her."
He knew Amy thought she was old enough to tackle anything in her path but the idea of his little sister on her own made him smile.
"I would have," she insisted.
He ruffled her hair. "Good thing you won't have to. She's here for two weeks. You'll get plenty of chance to visit her." He hesitated. He had to prepare Amy for the inevitable. Lord, give me wisdom. This situation is more than I know how to deal with. He gave Amy a gentle look. "Just remember, it's only a visit. Then she's leaving again. She lives a long ways away. You might not see her again..." He couldn't leave her without a speck of hope. "...for a long time."
Amy sat back and stroked several of the cats who'd finished eating and wrapped themselves around her, purring. "Why can't she stay here?"
Already the regrets and shattered dreams. What would it be like after two weeks? He knew it wasn't going to be pretty. He leaned closer to the child. "Listen to me, Amy. She's only here for a visit and then gone again. Don't start to think she will stay, or you're going to get hurt, and I don't want that."
Amy's eyes clouded. "But why can't she stay? She's my sister."
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. "She can't. That's all." She wouldn't. And she'd likely forget Amy as soon as she left. Poor Amy. Thankfully there was no need to mention the guardianship thing. Darcy would probably forget it once she was back in Seattle. He was counting on it.
"Come on. Let's go have lunch." He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Want a horsy ride?"
She nodded soberly and climbed to his back. By the time he bounced her half way across the yard, she was giggling. And he could breathe easy again.
His stomach rumbled as they went into the house. Aunt Betty's idea of lunch was canned tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches made with processed cheese between slices of anemic white bread. Sometimes they got a treat and had vegetable soup. Not that he was complaining. It was a perfectly good combination. But every day? It got a little tiresome. He'd bought other things, suggested a few alternatives, but Aunt Betty said she'd grown up with that menu every day and she saw no reason to change it.
Aunt Betty had the food out. She plopped her cat in the box at her feet. Amy looked at Blake and rolled her eyes, then scowled at the cat who returned her glare with such a disdainful look, Blake shook his head. Amy and the cat hated each other.
Without bothering to wash her hands after handling the old cat, Aunt Betty sat down and nodded at Blake to say grace. He had to pause a moment to feel thankful.
"Aunt Betty, Rob left the old house to his older daughter. She's there now."
Aunt Betty nodded. "Thought I saw someone down there."
"Amy has permission to visit her while she's here."
"I do?" Amy asked around her mouthful of sandwich.
Blake nodded. "As long as you don't make a nuisance of yourself. And remember what I told you. She's leaving in two weeks."
"Oh goody, goody, goody. We are going to have so much fun."
Aunt Betty sighed. "Can't say as I mind. Maybe it'll keep the child out of trouble."
Blake wasn't sure Amy wasn't substituting one set of 'trouble' for another. He would keep Amy with him as much as possible.
"Amy, I going to take the four-wheeler and check the pasture fences this afternoon. Want to come along?" He probably wasn't playing fair. Riding the quad was one of Amy's greatest pleasures.
Amy shook her head.
He plunked his fists on the table and stared. Maybe she hadn't heard him. "You can come with me."
"I know." She stared at him, eyes wide.
"You never turn down a chance to ride with me."
"Can't I stay and see Darcy?"
He thought of saying no but if he forced her to go with him she'd be miserable the whole time. "Sure. But remember..."
"I know." She sighed. "Two weeks."
Blake didn't stay out as long as he originally planned. Normally he would have bummed a meal somewhere rather than return for supper. Any one of his neighbors would have welcomed him. Especially Norma Shaw who'd been trying to get Blake interested in her daughter, Jeannie, since Jeannie came back to teach at the school. He might have been more interested if he wasn't already so busy he hardly had time to scrape the crud off his boots.
But Mrs. Shaw and her lovely daughter would have to wait. He was worried about Amy, restless at the thought of her being with Darcy all afternoon.
"Amy," he called, as he barreled into the house. "Ame, where are you?"
Aunt Betty came from her room, straight pins between her teeth. She removed them so she could speak. "No need to shout down the house. She's over with her sister." She waved the pins at him. "About time I had some peace so I could get these quilts done. Those children in Romania have nothing." She hurried back to her room and her quilting.
Blake wondered if it wouldn't be more charitable to give Amy as much of her time as she gave those nameless orphans she knit and sewed for and for whom she attended endless meetings.
He stood in the middle of the room and tried to decide what to do. He had no excuse to run over to the other house. Besides, he probably wouldn't fool Darcy. She'd know he was checking on her.
There was lots of work to choose from but being used to Amy hanging around demanding attention whenever he came to the house, he felt restless. It seemed he wasn't indispensable anymore. He reluctantly headed for the office. He was in a bad mood anyway; he might as well pay bills.
The box Blake brought from the other house sat in the middle of the desk. He'd have to move it before he could use the desk. It seemed like a good enough reason to put off the loathsome job of paying bills, but he'd already put it off far too long. He grabbed the box. Smiling up at him from among the books and his roping trophy was the photo of his mother and Rob. They'd all been so happy back then. He put the box in the closet, picked up the picture, and let the missing fill him. He swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He waited for the hurricane of emotions to pass. He looked around for a place to put the picture, saw the old photo of Darcy that Rob always kept on the shelf by the desk, grabbed it and shoved it in the bottom drawer—an appropriate spot for it. She had no place on this ranch. He put up the picture of Rob and Mom, smiled at them and comforted by their presence, he sat down to pay bills.
5
Suppertime approached. Blake welcomed the excuse to leave the desk, the bills and the record keeping, almost as much as he welcomed the legitimate reason to take Amy from Darcy's house.
He stood in the afternoon sunshine and stretched. Spring was his favorite time of year. His fingertips hooked in the front pocket of his jeans, he headed across the yard. He heard them before he saw them, recognized Amy's throaty giggle. Then he heard an echoing giggle, sweet as bird song. Why did her voice tickle across his senses like music?
At the corner of the sunroom, he came to an abrupt halt.
Amy and Darcy sat cross-legged on a black and red blanket he recognized from the closet of the old house. Darcy looked like a flash of sunlight in a bright yellow tee shirt and matching stripped pants that ended at her knees. Both the girls wore dandelions chains, piled on their heads like golden crowns, and hanging around their necks like happy Hawaiian greetings.
Amy grasped a handful of yellow flowers and reached for Darcy, trying to brush the dandelion butter on her already painted face.
Blake leaned against the wall and watched Darcy bat Amy's hands away, each time swiping a yellow streak across Amy's already very yellow cheeks.
Darcy ducked out of Amy's reach, laughing as she tumbled over. Amy rolled into Darcy's arms. She hiccupped and giggled. Darcy echoed her and they exploded into louder giggles, punctuated firmly by more hiccups. Darcy wiped tears away, smudging the yellow into war paint.
As the sisters rolled around like playful puppies, giggling and hiccupping, he let a deep laugh boom out.A cheerful heart is good medicine. An
other of his mother's often quoted Bible verses. How long since he'd enjoyed a belly laugh?
Darcy sat up, pushed Amy to her side and met his eyes across the greening yard. Her eyes were as blue as summer skies, bright as the flash of running water in the sun, full of magic and fun and welcome and living. Life shared, blessed with the sharing.
Amy saw him, bounced over and tackled his knees. He grunted and steadied himself without breaking eye contact with Darcy.
"Come play with us," Amy demanded.
"What are you playing?" He couldn't pull his gaze from Darcy. He didn't want to. His heart bundled up inside his chest and demanded more. He wanted to discover the secret promise behind her flashing eyes.
Amy shook his legs to get his attention. "We're playing spring."
"With dandelions?" He couldn't help but smile at the amusement in Darcy's face.
She turned her expression suitably sober but her eyes continued to remind him of all life offered to the brave and free. To someone who hadn't vowed to guard his heart against more loss and pain.
Darcy nodded seriously. "Dandelions are the official badges of spring. Proves it's finally here to stay."
"Funny," he murmured, still stuck in the spell of her gaze. "I always thought it was the meadowlark." As if on cue, a bird trilled from a nearby fence post and they turned toward the sound.
"Can't be. Not everyone gets to enjoy a lark. But everyone gets dandelions."
He chuckled. "Glad you didn't say enjoy them or I'd have to argue."
She flashed him a quick smile. "I believe we've proven they can be enjoyed." She waved a bouquet of yellow blossoms. "If the world hands you dandelions, make crowns and celebrate."
Blake again fell into the promise of her gaze, promises of enjoyment found in ordinary things, ordinary events turned into celebrations. Amy diverted his attention as she lifted a dandelion wreath from her head and offered it to him. "Bend over and I'll give you a dandelion crown."
He hesitated.
"Aren't you glad for spring?" Amy said, disappointment making her voice thin.
