by Linda Ford
“Hurry, Daddy,” Violet said. Turning toward Lizzie, she added, “Caleb brings Daddy good presents.”
“Really? Tell me about them.”
She pointed toward a seascape that looked as if it had been cut from a magazine and framed. Lizzie recognized the frame as being similar to the ones Caleb had made her. “He gave Daddy that picture. Daddy says it makes him feel good looking at it.”
Frankie ruffled Violet’s hair. “That it does, Sweetie.” He lifted his gaze to Lizzie. “I feel like I’m free as that bird hovering over the water.” His gaze shifted to Caleb. “No more stuck in one place.”
“No more stuck,” Caleb echoed.
Junior touched the scarf Frankie always wore around his neck. “Caleb gave him this.”
“No more freezing,” Frankie muttered, his gaze never flickering from Caleb.
“Open the present,” Violet demanded.
Pearl pulled the two children back to lean on her knee. “You best give your daddy some room.”
Frankie lowered his gaze slowly. He broke the string and tore back the brown paper to reveal a pair of sturdy, black leather boots with thick soles. He ran his hands along the smooth leather and cleared his throat.
Caleb cleared his throat as well.
Lizzie glanced back and forth between the men, noting how they avoided looking at anyone. The room echoed with silence. She watched with wonder the emotions play across Frankie’s face—pain, sadness, then hope and resignation.
“Thank you, Caleb.” Frankie finally managed, his voice sounding tight. “But I think you can use these more than I can.”
“I want you to know you’ll never have cold, wet feet again,” said Caleb.
“Thank you,” Frankie murmured again. “Put them on the shelf next to Petey, will you, Pearl?”
Pearl set the children aside and placed the boots beside the mouse cage. They all stood in a circle, silently admiring the boots.
“Well, now.” Pearl clapped her hands. “The good doctor will be along shortly to see about Daddy, and I need you children out of the way. So you run along outside. Robbie is in the barn. Go find him and tell him to watch out for you.”
The two youngsters scampered to do as they were told.
One look at Frankie’s face, and Lizzie knew the doctor’s visit was not anticipated. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked Pearl.
Pearl and Frankie exchanged glances. Some unspoken message passed between them. Her expression tight, Pearl turned back to Lizzie. “If it’s not asking too much, it would ease both our minds if you could take the children to your place until the doctor’s done.” She swallowed hard, struggling visibly to keep back tears. “The doctor has to clean Frankie’s feet.” She bit her bottom lip before she continued. “You see, it’s quite painful,” she whispered.
“It’s no problem at all, is it, Caleb?” Caleb turned away, but not before she saw the dark, hollow look on his face. Her heart dropped. Whatever goodness their visit to this home had accomplished fled as quickly as it came. “I’ll gather them up and take them home for tea. Are you coming, Caleb?”
He muttered something unintelligible and strode from the room. She wondered if he would walk away without her, but he waited at the edge of the yard as she collected the children.
The two younger ones raced ahead, eagerly exploring every rock and fallen branch.
Robbie walked beside Caleb and her, as lost in thought as the adults.
“Were you working in the barn?” Lizzie asked, determined to lift the mood.
“Yeah. I was brushing the team.”
Caleb lifted his head. “Why is there a team at home?”
“Audie couldn’t get anyone to drive the wagon. Mom says we lost a job because of it.”
“You should have called me. I could take a load.”
Robbie nodded. “I’ll tell Mom.” After a moment, he added, “Audie says he’s tired of running the business. Says he only figured on helping out Dad until the war was over. Now, he says, the war is over; but Dad ain’t ever going to take over again.” Robbie’s shoulders drooped.
“What does your mother say?” Caleb demanded.
“I never told her,” Robbie mumbled. “She tries her best.”
“Good lad. Let’s keep it to ourselves for the time being.”
“It’s all right by me.”
As they approached the house, the younger children ground to a halt, and Violet turned to face Lizzie. “What will we do?”
Lizzie grinned. “I know lots to do.”
Caleb groaned. “She’ll have you playing all sorts of games and play acting.”
“Really?” Violet looked intrigued.
“What would you prefer?” Lizzie asked. “A game of tag or a game of pretend?”
“Tag!” Junior shouted.
“Pretend!” Violet said.
Lizzie laughed and touched Robbie’s shoulder. “You’re it.” She darted away.
The others scattered. For a moment Caleb looked as if he might like to join them, but then he muttered, “I’ve got to finish the fence.”
The children screamed and giggled as they chased back and forth. Lizzie laughed as she hadn’t in a long time. Not since she’d left England.
Finally, sweating and breathless, they collapsed in a heap.
“Can we play pretend now?” Violet asked.
“As soon as I catch my breath.”
Robbie stirred himself. “I’m going to help Caleb.”
Lizzie watched him go, then turned to the others. “What would you like to pretend?” They gave her blank looks. “I know. Let’s pretend we’re sailing a ship across the ocean in that picture your daddy has.” She looked around until she found a nice tall stick and stuck it into the ground next to a tree. “Here’s our mast. You, Junior, find something to make a hat out of, and you can be the captain. Violet and I will climb the rigging and see if any other boats are on the sea with us.”
Violet scrambled up one tree and Lizzie up another while Junior picked up a stick for a sword and marched back and forth saying, “I’m a cap’in.”
Later, Caleb and Robbie came to the house to share sandwiches, milk, and cookies. The children helped clean up.
“I guess it’s time to take the children home.” She met Caleb’s eyes, hoping he would offer to accompany them.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
The five of them marched back toward town, quieter now, but with a peaceful contentment. When Lizzie took Caleb’s hand, he pulled her close. A sense of rightness filled her. Surely Caleb would be okay now.
Pearl sat on the steps of the house plucking at the hem of her skirt. The five of them stopped in front of her. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.
Lizzie caught the sound of tears in her voice and whispered to Caleb, “Take the children inside.”
Robbie hesitated, but after Caleb whispered something in his ear, he followed the others.
Lizzie sat beside the other woman and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Something she’d heard someplace came to her mind: It’s the women who bear the pain of war most quietly.
Pearl leaned into her embrace, a sob shaking her.
“You go right ahead and cry,” Lizzie said. “You’ve had to be strong for everyone else far too long.”
Pearl cried softly a few minutes, then sniffed and sat up, scrubbing her eyes with her hands. “It was awful. Frankie tried to be brave, but it hurt so much he screamed.” Pearl shuddered. “I could see for myself his feet are worse.”
Lizzie didn’t say anything. What could she say in the face of such suffering?
Pearl sighed. “I must go to the children. They’ll be worrying.”
“Frankie?” Lizzie half feared what she’d find inside.
“The doctor gave him something to ease the pain.” She pushed herself to her feet. “It did little to help whilst the doctor was working, but at least it made him able to sleep now it’s over.” She shuddered. “I’m hoping he sleeps the night.”
Indoors, Caleb had the children clustered around the table. Pearl thanked him, then addressed the children. “Daddy’s sleeping so I want you to be as quiet as possible.”
They nodded. The two younger ones hopped down and went to their bedroom, but Robbie stayed at the table, his eyes never leaving his mother’s face.
“Is Dad all right?”
Pearl faced him squarely. “He’s plumb wore out after the doctor’s visit. He’ll be right as can be after he’s rested.”
Robbie’s expression hardened. Lizzie wondered if he believed his father would ever be “right as can be” again.
Caleb had been standing to one side watching the exchange, his arms crossed over his chest. Now he grunted and dropped his arms, his fists clenched at his side. “Give my regards to Frankie,” he muttered, heading for the door.
Lizzie sprang after him. “Caleb, wait.”
He glanced over his shoulder, as if startled to remember she was there.
“My thanks for your help,” Pearl called after them.
Lizzie practically ran to keep up with Caleb. “Slow down,” she begged, but he acted as if he didn’t hear. “Caleb.” She tried again. “I’m getting winded.” She grabbed his arm.
He jumped as if she’d struck him.
“Caleb. It’s only me.” She clung to his arm, forcing him to slow down.
He faced her, his fists raised defensively in front of him, a wild expression in his eyes as he rocked on the balls of his feet.
Lizzie jerked back, her mouth suddenly parched, her heart drumming in her ears. “Caleb?” Her voice squeaked. “Don’t hit me.”
Caleb stood poised and tense, blinked once, and slowly lowered his fists. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thought I heard something.”
She exhaled loudly, her heart still racing. “You frightened me.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled again.
Lizzie blinked. Sorry wasn’t good enough. It was time to confront Caleb’s problems. “There must be something I can do to help you.”
He kicked at the ground. “Can you erase my mind?”
“Of course not.” The idea made her shudder. “I wouldn’t want to. What would become of the good things in it?”
“The same thing that would happen to the bad things. They’d be gone.” The harshness in his voice grated along her nerves.
“Caleb. I don’t want to lose you.”
He marched on without turning. She hastened to keep up, to catch what he said. “Maybe you already have.”
Her blood turned cold at the finality of his words. “No.” The cry wrenched from her. “No. I won’t believe that.”
He snorted, a sound filled with helpless despair.
Lizzie followed him home in the dusk of the evening, praying for a way to get through to him, for words to break through his despair. Somehow she must prove to him it wasn’t too late. She practiced a speech, changing it several times, but at the door he turned aside.
“Things to do,” he mumbled and strode away.
Lizzie pressed her palms to her chest, holding back the ache in her heart. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks. She longed to run after him but knew he wouldn’t hear anything she had to say. Her limbs heavy, she went inside to a gloomy, lonely room, praying silently for understanding. For patience. For a miracle. She wanted to trust God. She knew He could help. But it was hard being shut out time after time.
Sometime in the almost-daylight hours of early morning, Caleb stumbled in and threw himself on top of the bed. He said not a word nor made any attempt to touch her.
Lizzie turned on her side, a toothache-like pain eating at her insides.
Lizzie stabbed the shovel into the ground, searching for a spot that would yield to her efforts.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” It was Father Hughes.
“Yes. A place where I can dig a garden spot.”
He took off his hat and scratched his head. “Nothing but virgin sod around here. Best thing you could do is lift the sod and set it aside. Use the soil underneath.”
“I see. Thank you.” Father Hughes continued toward the barn.
Several hours later, dripping with sweat, Lizzie measured her progress and decided she would have a very small garden plot. Just then Caleb marched into sight across the yard. Lizzie called him. “Can I get you to help for a few minutes?” She wasn’t sure if he’d agree. In the two days since their walk home from the Duncans’, he’d avoided her as much as humanly possible.
“What do you need?”
She indicated the bare soil and the pile of sods. “I’m trying to prepare a garden spot. I could sure use some help with the digging.”
He grabbed the shovel and stabbed it into the ground, turning over a clump of musky-smelling earth. He moved back, stabbing again and again, turning over a row of clumps.
Lizzie watched the rich earth yielding to his attack. He worked with sharp, quick jabs, grunting as the shovel encountered resistance. His frenzied movements didn’t seem quite right. His face muscles twitched. His eyes had a dead, hollow look. His grunts grew louder, more agony than effort.
A shiver snaked across her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, squishing the material of her sleeves. “Caleb?”
He didn’t respond.
She spoke his name louder.
He threw the shovel down so hard it bounced twice, and he gasped. “I hate digging in the dirt.” He jerked away and strode off. A few minutes later, she heard the sound of hammering along the fence line.
She rubbed her chest, trying to ease the tightness that made each breath painful. When she could move without feeling brittle, she picked up the shovel, carried it to the house, and leaned it against the wall. Perhaps later, when her arms stopped shaking, she would go back to preparing a garden spot.
After the noon meal, after Caleb had disappeared again, she returned to the garden. The ground was stubborn, resistant to her efforts, but she doggedly turned over clump after clump, ignoring her aching shoulders and the blisters forming on her palms.
“What’cha doing?”
She jumped in alarm and spun around to face Robbie. “You gave me a fright.” She expelled her breath in a gust. “I’m trying to make a garden.”
“Looks like a lot of work.”
“It is.” But work made it easy not to think about the changes in Caleb.
“I could help.” He took the shovel.
She sat on the pile of sods. “Thanks. Whew! I’m hot.”
“I bet you could use some of Mom’s garden space.”
“I wouldn’t want to have to run into town every time I felt like pulling a few weeds.”
“Guess not.” He worked steadily.
“I’m going to fix us something to drink.” She filled a pitcher with cold water from the pump and carried it to the garden, laughing at her optimistic reference to the bare patch of brown soil. “I call this my garden,” she told Robbie. “Even though it so stubbornly refuses to be tamed.”
Robbie sat beside her and gulped a cup of water. “Nothin’s easy, is it?”
“Robbie, you’re much too young to be so pessimistic.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I suppose it means you don’t expect good things to happen.”
He shrugged. “What good things are there?”
She studied the boy at her side. “Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?”
He nodded and turned to face her. “Mom tries to pretend everything is okay, but I know my dad’s not getting better.”
She bit the inside of her lip. Robbie was right. Things weren’t easy.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
She thought about her answer. It wasn’t her right to tell this child things his mother didn’t want him to know. Finally she said, “Your mother is grateful your dad is able to come home. She wants you all to have good memories.”
Robbie thought about it awhile. “I don’t want my dad to die
.”
There was nothing she could say. No words of comfort could ease the pain and dread he faced.
“I’m so afraid sometimes.”
She nodded, wanting to say, “Me, too—I’m afraid, too.”
“Robbie, I can’t promise you it will be easy. I can’t pretend you don’t have hard things to deal with. But I can pray for you.”
“Right now?”
“Certainly.” They bowed together. Lizzie folded her hands and prayed, “Father God, You know Your child Robbie has difficult things to deal with. I ask You to give him patience and wisdom and strength. I ask You to ease his father’s pain and be with the rest of the family. Thank You for hearing and answering our prayers. Amen.”
They sat in quiet reflection as she silently prayed for herself and Caleb.
“What about you?”
She blinked. “What about me?”
“You and Caleb.”
She watched him, wondering what this lad saw.
“Before the war, Caleb was different. He was fun and easy.”
“That’s how I remember him, too.”
“Now he acts like he’s scared and mad and—I don’t know—he’s just different.”
She nodded, amazed at his perceptiveness. “It’s hard to forget the horrible things he saw during the war.”
“Will he? Will he ever forget?”
It was a question she had asked herself many times. And didn’t like the answer. “I don’t suppose he will.” She rushed on with the arguments she had given herself time and again. “But perhaps it will fade with time. Maybe he’ll learn to put it behind him.” She blinked back tears and whispered, “I simply don’t know.”
He jumped up and started digging again. “Like I said, ain’t nothin’ easy.”
She couldn’t argue.
The next day, Father Hughes stopped by the house. “Letter from home,” he called.
She rushed out to take the letters, feeling she’d been handed a pocketful of hope.
“Caleb said he’d get the horses hitched up and start ploughing,” Father Hughes said, looking pleased at the prospect.
“Yes, he said spring work was waiting.” She nodded and rushed inside, settling herself on the rocking chair before she tore open the first letter and eagerly read the news from her sisters. The second envelope contained a letter from Father. She read it once quickly, then again, more slowly, chewing the words in her mind.
