by Linda Ford
Aunt Betty coughed. Amy moaned. Darcy sat up and glanced over the back of the sofa. Blake sprawled out on the recliner, his arms hanging over the sides, his head tipped to one side. He'd have a sore neck when he woke. She could tuck her pillow under his head but he'd wake up if she disturbed him. He needed his beauty sleep. She snorted. Like he needed the plague. He was the most handsome man she'd ever encountered. Those warm chocolate eyes seemed to treasure every word she sad. Whoa. She jerked her thoughts back. Sure he was good looking and kind. But—
He sighed and turned toward her and she forgot all her 'buts'.
She slowly pushed aside her covers and eased to her feet, glancing at him, wishing he would waken and smile at her. Perhaps with his mind clouded with sleep he would let his guard down and see her for who she was.
Darcy stared into the glowing embers of the fire. Who was she indeed? What a stupid thing to think. What you saw was what you got. Darcy. Nothing more. Nothing less. No pretense. She snorted softly. That's what came of too many late nights sitting before a fire, kissing the man of her dreams.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. She had no man in her dreams. She didn't dream. She just lived. Ignoring the deep ache behind her eyes, blaming it on the late night, she tiptoed over to Amy, touching her forehead to check for a fever. She didn't seem too warm. Tenderness filled her as she smiled down at her little sister. Her throat tightened. How did someone walk away from a child like this? Yet her father had walked away from her. And she would leave at the end of her two weeks. Not that she thought Amy would even notice Darcy's departure. She was surrounded by love and care.
"Is she okay?" Blake's whisper jarred through her thoughts. She jerked her gaze toward him. Yep. Eyes soft and filled with sleep-muffled thoughts. Her breath gave a little jerk at the way he smiled at her.
"Amy's okay?" he repeated.
She sucked in steadying air and scolded her imagination back to the corner. "I think her fever is gone."
He sat up and looked around. "The storm is over."
She smiled as he bounded from the chair and squinted out the window at the blinding sunlight. "Not as bad as it might have been."
She joined him. "It's beautiful." The landscape spread out like a clean white sheet, full of mounds of whipped cream with sharp peaks.
He grunted. "I guess I should be grateful for the moisture, but I'll just be glad if the cows and calves are safe."
Aunt Betty stirred and moaned.
Blake turned from the window. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
"Awful," she croaked.
Darcy hurried to make the older woman a hot drink and give her two acetaminophen.
"Missy," she pointed toward the cat. Darcy hid her shudder.
"I'll do it." Blake gave the necessary shot.
He straightened, grinning as humming filled the room. "Power's on."
Soon the room filled with warmth from the furnace. Aunt Betty dragged herself from the couch. "I'm going to my bed. I don't want to be bothered until I'm over this." She shuffled to her room, mumbling, "I don't want to be bothered at all."
Amy sat up and rubbed her eyes. As soon as she saw the sunshine, she scrambled from under the covers and raced to the window for a glance and then shot for the back door. "I gotta check on my cats."
Blake caught her as she charged past. "You're not going out with that sore throat."
She struggled in his arms. "I got to see if the baby kittens are okay."
He carried her back to her tangled blankets. "I'll check on them. You have to stay inside until you're better."
"I'm better already."
"You're not going out today and that's final."
Darcy turned to hide a smile as Amy dropped her crossed arms over her chest in a defiant gesture.
Already Blake headed for the door. "I'll have to shovel the snow."
Darcy made breakfast and coffee, glancing out often to watch Blake steadily tossing scoops of snow over his shoulder. She knew from the way the snow clung to the shovel and landed in lumps that it was heavy and wet but he worked until he had the sidewalk and driveway cleared. He left the shovel in a snow bank and headed toward the barn.
A few minutes later, he stomped into the house. Amy raced toward him. "Are they okay?"
"All cats accounted for. I fed them and gave them water." Amy sighed loudly. Blake smiled across at Darcy. "I checked on your house. Everything's A-okay.
"I made breakfast." She loved cooking and often made meals for her friends but there was something cozy and special about making it for Blake and Amy. Stop playing house, she warned the errant side of her thoughts.
"Great." He helped himself to the bacon and eggs. "Don't tell anyone I said so," he whispered to Amy, "but this is a nice break from Aunt Betty's cooking."
Amy nodded. "Darcy should cook for us all the time."
Darcy sent her little sister a suspicious look. Had Darcy's thoughts developed a neon sign over her head? She forced herself to keep her gaze on Amy, afraid her expression would reveal more than she wanted. She well knew the distinction between fantasy and reality. And would never make the mistake of confusing the two.
Blake sighed. "We can't keep her just to cook for us. Besides, she has to go back to Seattle in a few days."
"Aww," Amy protested. "Why don't you ask her to stay?"
Darcy stole a glimpse of Blake twitching uncomfortably at Amy's suggestions. Poor man. She'd have to rescue him. "It's not that easy, Amy."
"Why not?" the child demanded. "Aren't you big enough to do what you want? When I get big I'll do what I want." Her scowl dared anyone to argue with her.
Darcy laughed. "I guess I'm not big enough yet. I still have to do things I don't want to."
Amy wasn't buying it. "I won't when I grow up."
Darcy finally allowed herself to look at Blake, seeing her amusement reflected in his eyes.
"Good luck, little sister," he said.
At least they didn’t return to discussing Darcy's ability to stay here. If she were asked...
She knew no one but Amy would ask.
Blake lingered over his coffee as Darcy put the dishes in the washer and turned it on. She wiped the table and dried her hands on a towel. "I guess I better get back to my house." There didn't seem any more excuse to hang about.
Blake set his cup down. "I have to go check on the herd."
"What about Amy?" Darcy asked. "Aunt Betty isn't going to be able to supervise her."
Amy did her mad routine—crossing her arms and jerking them across her chest. "I don't need Aunt Betty to look after me."
Blake looked thoughtful. "Don't worry. Aunt Betty will hear her if she's into anything."
Darcy had her doubts. She'd seen enough of Amy wandering around on her own. Of course she realized children needed less supervision on a ranch than in the city but it still felt a little scary.
"I'll just hang around until you're back. I have one more box to sort out anyway."
Amy bounced forward. "Will you make lunch?"
"Do you want me to?" Darcy looked at Blake.
He shook his head no but his eyes said yes. "I can't ask you to do that. It's not your job."
Her smile came from a roped off area behind her heart. "I don’t mind. I like cooking." And they needed her. It filled her with intermingling thoughts of belonging, being appreciated, and a trickle of fear and caution against letting those feelings out to play.
Blake nodded. "If you're sure?"
"I am."
Amy whooped. "I want..." She paused. "I want..." She sent a blank look toward Blake. "What do I like?"
His eyes danced with mischief. "Macaroni and cheese?"
She crossed her arms. "Not macaroni and cheese." She leaned forward to her brother. "Tell me what I like besides mashed potatoes and gravy and homemade soup." She smacked her lips
Darcy laughed. "You hardly tasted the soup I made."
"Yes, I did. It was good."
Blake ruffled Am
y's hair. "Why don't you let Darcy decide what she wants to make? I'm sure you'll like it."
Amy nodded so hard her hair tossed over her head. "I will. I know."
Darcy decided she would spend some time with Amy before she tackled the last box of papers. She'd show the child some feminine pleasures.
As soon as Blake left, she ran a bubble bath for Amy. She scrubbed her hair until it glistened like bottled sunshine and blew it dry, curling the ends into a sweet flip. She found a brand new pair of green cords in the back of the closet. "Where did these come from?"
Amy shrugged. "I think some one gave them to me."
Darcy dug further and found a matching green sweater. "These are really cute. Why don't you put them on?"
As soon as Amy was dressed, Darcy led her to a mirror. Amy stared at her reflection. "I'm pretty, aren't I?"
Darcy hugged the child hard. "You're beautiful."
Amy returned to the mirror, pirouetting and admiring herself. Darcy wondered if she'd created a vain monster. But Amy's gaze shifted to her pile of stuffed toys and she skipped over to pick them up and talk to them as she arranged them on her bed.
"I'm going downstairs to the office. I'll be there if you need me." Amy was so engrossed in her make believe, Darcy wondered if she even noticed her leave.
She really didn't want to go back in the farm office. She felt like her emotions had been dragged along on the storm's wind—battered and rearranged until she hardly knew what to think any more. If she let herself, she could spin a whole imaginary world where she became an integral part of life on the ranch. A partner to Blake, him caring what she thought of various things. Really and truly joint guardians of Amy.
Enough make believe. The sooner she got the last box done, the better.
She paused at the office door, listening to Amy's murmurs overhead. For two cents she'd go play with her little sister. But then this job would still be hanging over her head. She might as well get it over with.
This box contained letters. She hoped they were all farm related but it took her about five minutes to realize she couldn't be so lucky. There were letters from Blake's mom, Kathy, which she set aside for Blake to deal with. There were birthday cards from Kathy and Blake and various aunts and uncles. Again, she set these aside for Blake. He might want to keep them for sentimental reasons.
She saw an envelope with her mother's writing on it and grabbed it. What would her mother have to say to the man who had abandoned both of them for ranch life? She pulled out a card and stared at a mountain scene then flipped it open. It said only “new address” and gave a house and street number. Darcy didn't remember that address. She studied the postal mark and did some math. She'd only been six at the time. Had her mother sent him a notice of every address change? If so, she should find the evidence in this box. She pulled out a stack of cards held with elastic. More address change cards. She flipped through them. One every six months or so for several years and then about fifteen years ago, they ended. She tapped the stack with a fingertip. Odd. Had her mother stopped letting her father know when they moved? Why? Was this the reason he never contacted her? But all he had to do was call information for a number. But when had her mother started getting an unlisted number? She couldn't remember. Only that she'd done so after an ex boyfriend started to hassle her.
She tossed the stack in the garbage and continued to sort through the contents. She pulled out an envelope with her own writing on it. Without looking, she knew what it contained. Invitations to her graduation. She'd sent two tickets thinking how generous she was to include the second wife. She could still imagine the taste of the glue on the envelope as she licked it, her hands trembling. Would he come to share this important occasion with her? She'd clutched the reply envelope to her chest when it arrived and carried it to her room where she put it on the bedside table and stared at it for a long time before she could bring herself to open it.
The response was yes. She remembered how she'd kissed the official card with only a checkmark by the word, as hot tears flooded her eyes.
But neither of them showed up. And she'd never spoken to him or contacted him again.
She pulled the two embossed invitations from the envelope and ran her fingers along the printing.
It was seven years ago. It no longer had any power to sting. Please, God. Help me not to let those long ago feelings return. I've given them to You. They can no longer hurt me. But she couldn't keep back the pain of that day. Her throat closed off. Her eyes stung. He'd never called or offered an explanation. A tiny memory plucked at her thoughts. Hadn't Mom said he'd called? Something about his wife being very ill. But she'd shut her mind to the excuses. And refused the calls from him until they no longer came.
A mental abacus clicked in her brain.
Seven years ago.
Amy was six. That meant—was Kathy pregnant with her at the time? Blake had said they'd discovered her weak heart when she got pregnant. Was it the reason they hadn't come?
She shoved the invitations back in the envelope and tossed it in the garbage. She wouldn't allow herself this torture—looking for reasons. Hoping for something to explain her father's absence. Besides, it would only explain one event. Where was he the previous twelve years? Why hadn't he called or visited or sent a card on her birthday?
Why was she letting herself get worked up about the past?
She dug further into the box. No more address change notices. Nothing that gave her the slightest clue about what had taken her father so completely away from her.
Not that she was looking for it. She was only sorting old letters.
The box almost empty, she pulled out a folded letter and opened the three pages. She hadn't seen this dark bold scrawl before. She flipped the last page and read the signature. Rob Hagen. She lowered the pages and stared out the window, blinking from the glisten of the sun on snow. The eaves dripped. Blake's footsteps toward her house filled with water.
She swallowed hard and looked at the pages in her hand. Her father had written this letter. Maybe it had been meant for her. She checked the first page. Dear Kathy.
What did she expect? A reasonable explanation?
The letter wasn't hers. She piled it with Blake's stuff.
A few more scraps of paper and the box was empty.
Darcy stood in front of the window hugging her arms around her. Despite what she kept telling Blake, she'd been secretly clinging to the hope of something more. She hadn't found it.
Unless....
12
She turned back to the desk.
No. The letter wasn't hers.
But Blake gave her permission to sort through everything and decide what to do with it. She reached for the letter.
The first page described the business trip that took her father away from the ranch for a week. The second page asked about the ranch as if he couldn't wait for the week to end so he could get back and discover for himself.
The third page began, "Kathy, you asked me to be certain before I told you again I love you. I am more certain than ever. And I hope to convince you when I get back but in the meantime let me try and make you see just how much you mean to me. On the ranch I have found a peace and contentment I've never before known. I'd be the first to admit there is something about the land that calms me. The rolling hills, the sunshine at noon, the distant mountains like guardians—" Darcy stopped reading to press a finger to the bridge of her nose. She too felt calmness and peace as she gazed at the landscape. She could understand how her father would feel pulled to it. She continued to read.
"And I love the ranch, the demands of the work, the pride I feel in knowing I had a part in bringing it back from the edge of bankruptcy."
Darcy smiled through the sheen of tears, proud to know her father had been so devoted to a good cause.
"But those are not the things that matter most. It is you who has helped me heal, enabled me to get past my anger to this place of peace. Your love has made me whole again. I resent each mo
ment I am away from you. I want to be able to see your smile every morning, feel your arms around me every night, see you smile when I tell you day after day until we're both old and gray how much I love you. Kathy, you are everything to me. Without you I am empty and aimless. Thank you for loving me when I was unlovable, for showing me the way back to myself, for believing in me when even I didn't. For showing me that God loved me. I will never leave you."
Darcy sighed as she finished the letter. Had her father ever loved her mother like this? She tried to remember them together but nothing came. Was she too young to have memories or had she blocked them from her mind? She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, calming herself, letting herself go deep into her memories. She wasn’t sure but she thought she saw them arguing. Had her father run from a tumultuous relationship with her mother to this peaceful haven with Kathy?
Is so, she could forgive him. At least for ending his first marriage.
She didn't know if she could forgive him for leaving her.
Forgiveness?
She spun around to the brightness of the window. She'd already forgiven him. It was over and done with. Yes, a little explanation would be nice but forgiveness was unnecessary.
Yes, the deep, calm voice within her said, You need to forgive him for abandoning you. And choosing Blake.
What he did was unforgivable.
She leaned her head against the window frame remembering something Irene shared from going to a series of workshops after her divorce. Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting our enemy to die.
But how could she let it go when there was no explanation? It was easier to cover it over and ignore it.
It will never go away if you do that. You will always be haunted by feelings of unworthiness even though you know you are precious in God's sight.
Unworthiness. Where had that come from? This was getting way too weird. Besides, it was time to prepare lunch.
She hurried from the room as if chased by a hundred voices. She made a Mexican chef salad for lunch.
