Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  “Please, Lawrence, no.”

  “Don’t be a fool.” Gunther’s words were harsh. “It’s suicide to try to ford the river now.”

  Harriet clenched her fists as Gunther’s words sent images racing through her brain. “You can’t do this, Lawrence. Even if you could cross, how could you bring anyone back?”

  Lawrence’s lips tightened. “We’re wasting precious time. I crossed it before, and I can do it again. Snip knows how to swim this river. He can bring Priscilla back. I’ll ride her horse.” Lawrence gave Harriet a fleeting smile. “Don’t worry.”

  But she would. Of course she would. Until Lawrence was safely back on this bank, she would worry. And pray. Dear Lord, keep him safe.

  Lawrence leaned forward, murmuring something to his horse, and the two galloped toward the Medina, water splashing each time Snip’s hooves hit the ground. When they reached the raging river, the horse hesitated.

  “No, Lawrence!” Harriet doubted he heard her shout, for he was a block away. She turned toward Gunther. “We’ve got to stop him.”

  It was too late. Snip entered the river and began to swim toward the opposite bank, his rider bent low over his neck. It was slow going, for they had to dodge the branches and logs that were being propelled downstream at a fearsome rate. Harriet winced when one collided with Snip. But then she realized that there was another, greater threat. The river had begun to swirl, creating a series of whirlpools that threatened to drag Lawrence and Snip down. Twice Harriet saw the palomino falter, and she feared he would drown. Keep them safe, she prayed. Let them reach the other side.

  They had reached the middle, the deepest part, when a loud rumbling filled the air. Harriet looked at Gunther, confused. Though it sounded like thunder, she knew it was not. Storms like this brought no thunder.

  “Nein. Gott in Himmel, nein.” Gunther’s eyes widened, and his words were part prayer, part horrified exclamation. “The dam has broken.”

  It couldn’t have. Harriet remembered Gunther entering his kitchen during the last rain, telling Isabelle the dam was fine. Surely he was mistaken. Surely the dam would hold again.

  Harriet stared at the spot where Lawrence had been. More quickly than she had dreamt possible, an enormous surge of water swelled the already overflowing river. Gunther was not mistaken. The dam that powered his mill had crumbled, sending hundreds of thousands of gallons of water downstream at a truly frightening speed. The deluge was sweeping everything away, including the man Harriet loved. Please, God, she prayed silently. Save him. Save Lawrence.

  There was no answer, no sound but the roaring river, no sight but raging water that had overflowed the banks and was heading toward her and Gunther. Lawrence was gone.

  As the horses began to rear in panic, Gunther tugged the reins and turned the wagon northward toward his home. “There is naught we can do for Lawrence.” Sorrow filled Gunther’s voice. “Isabelle needs us.”

  Harriet shuddered, her heart refusing to admit what her brain had registered. It wasn’t possible. Lawrence hadn’t been taken from her. But he had and in the worst way possible. Oh, Lawrence! She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of the water closing over his head. How horrible it must have been, knowing he was suffering the same fate as his sister. Surely it was a nightmare. Surely she would soon awaken. But the emptiness deep inside told Harriet this was no nightmare. It was real. What a fool she had been. She had wasted the time she and Lawrence might have had. She had let her pride, her foolish pride, keep them apart, and now it was too late.

  Numb with grief, Harriet nodded. Gunther was right. There was nothing they could do here. Nothing she could do would change what had happened. Nothing would bring Lawrence back. But now, somehow, some way she had to help Isabelle.

  “Please, God, help me.” She murmured the words, praying that the fact that she had spoken them would make a difference.

  God had not answered her first prayer. He had not saved Lawrence, but surely he would not let Isabelle and her babies die. Surely he would not let Gunther lose another wife. Taking a deep breath, Harriet resolved to do everything in her power to keep Gunther’s family alive.

  “I knew you’d come,” Isabelle said five minutes later when Harriet entered her bedchamber.

  “I’m here, but your husband is heading out again. He’s going to bring Madame Seurat.”

  “But the water . . .”

  Harriet gripped Gunther’s arm and turned him toward the door. “We need her. And,” she added softly, “Isabelle doesn’t need to know what has happened.” Once the babies were born would be time enough to tell her about the broken dam and Lawrence. “She doesn’t need to know, not now.” And Harriet did not need to think about all she had lost. There would be time for grieving later.

  She studied the woman on the bed. Isabelle’s face was paler than normal, her brown eyes two enormous spots in an expanse of white. Lines etched the corners of her mouth, telling Harriet more clearly than words the pain she was experiencing. Though the last thing she wanted to do was laugh, Harriet respected the therapeutic effects of humor. Fisting both hands on her hips, she pretended to glare at her friend. “Your babies sure picked a fine day to be born. I hope you’re planning to call them Rain and Drop.”

  As she had hoped, Isabelle began to chuckle. A second later she grasped her abdomen as a contraction began. “Don’t make me laugh,” she said when the pain subsided. “It hurts.” But, though Isabelle might claim otherwise, she looked better. A tinge of color had reached her cheeks, and the pain in her eyes had diminished.

  “I’m going to boil some water and gather some clean cloths.” Harriet gave Isabelle a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve always heard that’s what you need for a birth. I guess you and I are going to figure out what we’re supposed to do with them while we wait for Madame Seurat.”

  “You’re doing it again. You’re making me laugh.” Isabelle’s laughter ended abruptly as another contraction seized her. “Oh no! I think they’re coming. Do something.”

  But what? It was one thing to comfort her friend, quite another to deliver two babies. The closest Harriet had come to birth was watching the barn cat have kittens.

  “Can’t you wait?” Even as she asked the question, Harriet recognized its absurdity.

  “No!” Isabelle screamed as another pain rippled through her. “I can’t wait.”

  It had been only a few minutes since Gunther had left, not nearly long enough to have reached Madame Seurat’s house, much less bring her back here. There was no choice. You’re going to have to help me, Lord, Harriet thought as she positioned herself at Isabelle’s feet. Guide me. I can’t do this alone. She closed her eyes for a second, and though her hands continued to tremble, Harriet felt a newfound confidence settle over her when she opened them again. “I see something,” she told her friend. “I think it’s a head.” When Isabelle merely grunted, Harriet continued, “The next pain you feel, push. Push hard.”

  By the time Gunther arrived with Madame Seurat, Isabelle was cradling both sons in her arms. Though tiny, they had been endowed with powerful lungs and wasted no time in announcing their arrival. While Madame Seurat checked the babies, Harriet wandered around the parlor, passing the time until she could ask Gunther to take her home.

  When she spied a Bible sitting on a small table, she picked it up and, as she had only a few hours earlier, opened it at random. This Bible fell open to the New Testament, and a chill ran down Harriet’s spine when she read the words of John 15:13. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

  How could she have ever doubted Lawrence? There were times when she had believed him to be a taker like Thomas, but she was wrong, so very, very wrong. Lawrence was a giver. Harriet sank into a chair and cradled the Bible between her hands. Now, when it was too late, she recognized the depth of her love for him. Like the first seeds in the children’s garden, Harriet’s love had sprouted quickly, but then it had appeared to die from an early frost.
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br />   Why hadn’t she realized that love didn’t die? It had merely become dormant. Under the surface it was still alive, waiting for the spring rain to bring it back to life. Tears streamed down Harriet’s face as she admitted the truth. It wasn’t friendship she felt for Lawrence but love. She loved him, and she knew without a single doubt that he loved her. Though he’d never said the words, Lawrence’s actions had proven how much he loved her, for, as the Bible said, he had given his life to help her. There could be no greater love than that.

  By evening the rain had ended. The river was still high and would remain so for several days, but the current was slowing. Soon after Harriet returned home, the townspeople emerged from their houses to recount the day’s events: the arrival of Isabelle and Gunther’s sons and the tragic loss of Ladreville’s sheriff and mayor. Finally as night fell, they went back indoors, leaving the streets empty once more.

  Harriet stared out the window. Though the rest of her family was upstairs, she was unable to sleep. Each time she closed her eyes, instead of seeing Isabelle and Gunther, their faces wreathed in radiant smiles as they looked at the tiny boys they had named Harry and Joshua, her mind filled with images of Lawrence being swept away. Sterling had told her that God would give her the strength to endure the pain. Perhaps that would be true in time, but tonight her grief was too deep, her emotions too raw, for her to sleep, and so she sat in the parlor, searching for words of comfort in the Book that had guided her before.

  Help me bear the pain. Show me what to do. Instead of an answer, Harriet heard the sound of wagon wheels and horses’ hooves. That was odd, for few people traversed this block of Rhinestrasse, and never so late. More than a little curious, Harriet peered out the window, trying to see who was coming this direction. The answer surprised her. Though the night was dark, the moon that emerged from the heavy cloud cover was bright enough that Harriet recognized Clay. For some reason the town’s physician was on this side of the river and headed her way. He tugged on the reins, stopping the wagon directly in front of the Kirk house.

  Why was he here? Harriet hurried outside. “Clay! I didn’t expect to see you for a couple days.” And she wouldn’t have expected him to be driving a wagon. Normally Clay came into town on horseback. It was only when he brought Sarah and little Rob that he drove the buggy. As for the wagon, this was the first time Harriet had seen it here.

  “Why did you come?”

  Though he nodded solemnly, Harriet thought she saw a note of amusement in Clay’s eyes. It must have been her imagination, for there was scant reason for amusement tonight.

  “The river dropped faster than I expected,” he said, “so I thought I’d check on Isabelle and her babies, but first I have a delivery for you.” There it was again, a hint of amusement. This time Clay’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh. He dismounted, then gestured toward the wagon bed. “Your delivery is here.”

  A taller woman might have been able to peer inside, but Harriet’s less than average height left her staring at the side of the wagon, not its contents.

  “Here, let me.” Clay placed his hands on her waist and lifted her so she could see inside.

  For a second, Harriet stared, not believing her eyes. “Lawrence!” This couldn’t be a dream, for her imagination would not have conjured the image of a badly bruised man lying on the wagon floor, his left leg encased in a white plaster cast, his face sporting four large bandages and an even larger smile.

  “Oh, Lawrence!” Harriet leaned forward, wanting to touch him, to assure herself that this was no mirage. When he stretched out his hand and clasped hers, Harriet’s last doubt vanished. This was a flesh and blood hand, Lawrence’s hand. “Thank God. I thought you were . . .”

  “Dead.” He finished the sentence. “So did I, but God appeared to have other plans for me.” Lawrence struggled to a sitting position. “Will you invite me inside?”

  “Of course.” She held the crutches while Clay helped Lawrence slide out of the wagon. Then, slowly so he would not fall, Harriet and Lawrence walked into her house. “What happened?” she demanded when he was seated on the settee, his leg propped on an ottoman. “How did you survive?”

  She lit two more lamps, wanting to banish the darkness, for even though Lawrence sat only a foot away, Harriet’s mind was filled with images of him being swept downstream, disappearing into the muddy depths of the Medina.

  “I don’t really know what happened,” Lawrence admitted. “When the dam broke, I was knocked off Snip.” His eyes darkened. “I’ve never felt anything like it. The river was moving faster than I could have imagined. Even though I can swim, there was no way to fight the current, especially with all the water I’d swallowed. Every time I managed to get my head above water, I’d be knocked under again. Each time I thought it was the last, but then I’d bob to the surface, only to be knocked under again.”

  Harriet shuddered, trying to imagine how frightened he must have been, knowing this was how his sister had died.

  “I knew I was drowning.” Lawrence confirmed Harriet’s thoughts. “There was nothing more I could do. I was so weak that all I could do was take one more breath. Then everything went black. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the other bank of the river.” Lawrence’s eyes reflected the light of wonder. “I have no idea how I got there. What I learned afterward was that Clay went out in the middle of the storm to check the horses, and he felt an urge to head toward the river. When he got there, he saw Snip. Somehow, Snip managed to swim to shore, and he was standing next to me, keeping watch. It seems he’s gotten me out of a tough spot again. Clay might not have found me if it hadn’t been for Snip.” Though Lawrence’s words were matter of fact, the tremor in his voice told Harriet how deeply affected he was by his rescue.

  “God sent him.”

  Lawrence nodded. “Our Lord knew that I had unfinished business. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I felt. Harriet, I—”

  “No, Lawrence.” Harriet held up a hand, asking him to wait. No matter what he wanted to say, she owed him an apology. That was the first part of her unfinished business. “I’m the one who was wrong. You were only doing your job when you arrested Jake.” She bit her lip as she remembered her harsh words that night and all the times since then when she had rejected Lawrence’s overtures.

  “Jake deserved to go to jail,” Harriet said firmly. “Nothing else was working. If you hadn’t insisted, there’s no telling what else he might have done. Now he’s a changed boy.”

  A smile crossed Lawrence’s lips. “A changed young man.” He amended her words.

  “You’re right. That’s another thing I’ve learned. My siblings are growing up. They won’t need me much longer.” Though it was painful, though it meant baring her heart, she could not stop now. She owed Lawrence a full explanation. “You were right. I fought that, because I liked being in control. I made all the decisions.” Harriet shook her head slowly, her eyes moving from his face to the Bible on the small table. “You know what I learned? I was only deluding myself. I wasn’t in control, not ever. It was God who was leading me. He was trying to show me the way, even when I stumbled. Once again you were right. I needed help, and I had to learn to ask for it. When I did, God answered my prayers. He saved you.”

  Harriet’s eyes filled with tears at the realization that not only had she not lost Lawrence, but she had also regained her future. Lawrence claimed that God had more plans for him. Maybe, just maybe, those plans included her.

  “Can you forgive me for being so pigheaded?” Harriet asked softly.

  His eyes a deeper blue than she had ever seen, Lawrence met her gaze. “Can you forgive me for being so proud? I thought I knew better than everyone, even God. I was the big, strong Ranger. Even though you told me otherwise, I was sure I knew what Isabelle needed today.” Lawrence gave his broken leg a wry glance. “Look what that got me. I was also sure about my life. Even when God pointed me in a different direction, I kept going my way.” Lawrence shook his head slowly. “I cons
idered myself a good Christian, but—like you—I forgot who was in charge. I hope I never make that mistake again. God gave me a second chance today, and I don’t want to waste it.”

  Harriet nodded as Lawrence’s words echoed her thoughts. The psalmist was right. It was pleasant to dwell together in unity. It was even more pleasing to be at peace with the Lord. Whatever God’s plans were for her, Harriet would do her best to accept them, for he was the source of all wisdom. She knew that now.

  Lawrence reached forward and took her hand in his, his voice husky as he said, “Life is too precious to let another day go by without telling you how I feel. That’s why I insisted Clay bring me here tonight. I want you to know what’s in my heart.”

  Raising her hand to his lips, Lawrence pressed a kiss on it. “I love you, Harriet. I know you once said you would not marry for a long time, if ever, but I hope you’ll reconsider. Will you be my wife?”

  The bubble of happiness that had started deep inside her rose to her throat, and for a second Harriet could not speak. The second’s delay was too long, for Lawrence’s smile faded. “There have been times when I thought you cared for me. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

  She was such a fool! Though it had been unintentional, once again she had hurt him. “You were not mistaken, Lawrence,” Harriet said firmly. “And you’re right that I once feared marriage.” She had to make him understand that she was the problem, not him. “I have to admit I was scared when I realized I loved you. You see, I haven’t had a lot of experience with love. My parents weren’t much of an example, nor were my grandparents. It was only when I came here and saw the Friedrichs and Gunther and Isabelle that I started to realize love is real, not just a story in a book.” Lawrence nodded as if he understood.

  Tears of happiness filling her eyes, Harriet smiled at the man she loved. “For a while I didn’t dare to dream. All I thought about was the present, because I was afraid there would be no future. What would I do when Mary didn’t need me anymore? I thought I’d be too old to have a life of my own, and so I tried not to think about it. But then you came into my life, and I began to believe there was more than the present. I started dreaming about a future, and suddenly I knew what I wanted. I wanted marriage and children of my own. I wanted you, Lawrence.” Harriet tugged his hand toward her and pressed a kiss on it. “You’re the man of my dreams.”