[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years

by Tracie Peterson

  But it wasn’t Ashley who greeted him, it was Natalie. She smiled up at him with her endearing expression—her brown eyes huge with wonder.

  “You’re here!” she declared. “Come on in. We can go through the house and out the back door and I can show you my pony.” She reached for his hand and pulled him along.

  “Good evening to you too, Miss Natalie,” E. J. said, laughing. She had such a way about her. It completely disarmed him and took away all fear of the evening.

  “Mama said I should show you the pony first and give you plenty of time to clean up. But Penny’s not a dirty pony. I keep her real clean. I comb her every day.”

  “You sound very devoted,” E. J. replied.

  “Mr. Carson,” Ashley said as she came into the hallway. “We’re glad you could make it on such short notice.”

  E. J. looked up and felt his breath catch in his throat. She was a vision in the butterscotch-colored gown. The most feminine of lace collars trimmed the neckline of her dress, giving her a dainty appearance in spite of the rather shapeless straight lines of her outfit. The dress was a bit longer than most fashions these days, but E. J. liked it very much.

  “I appreciate the invitation. The food was so delicious last time that I felt I had to try it again.”

  “I hope you’ll enjoy our southwest flavoring tonight. I’ve put together a few Mexican dishes.”

  “They’re my favorite,” Natalie chimed in.

  “I’m sure to love them, then,” E. J. responded.

  “Mama, I’m going to show Mr. Carson my pony. Is that all right?”

  Ashley smiled. “Of course.” She looked at E. J. and added, “I’ll introduce you to my aunt when you come back. She’s with my grandfather right now.”

  E. J. nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  E. J. followed Natalie outside to the backyard. Living on the east edge of town had afforded them a bit more space than some. The yard was large, with an area that had been cultivated for flowers and maybe even vegetables. A small lean-to served as Natalie’s stable, and around this someone had built a circular wooden fence. Inside that fence was the object of Natalie’s affection.

  “Penny’s really friendly.” Natalie whistled for the pony and sure enough, she came trotting to the gate, kicking up dust all the way.

  “She’s very pretty,” E. J. offered as he inspected the pinto. He’d picked up a bit of horse knowledge when he’d worked for a time on a horse farm in Kentucky. The brown-, black-, and white-spotted pony seemed a perfect fit for Natalie.

  “I’ve only had her a year,” Natalie told him. “Grandpa got her for me for Christmas, and then he got me a saddle for her on my birthday.”

  E. J. smiled. “Seems like a very fitting present for you.”

  Natalie grinned up at him. “I’m going to see if my mom will get me a dog this year.”

  He laughed. “Are you trying to build your own farm here?”

  “Nah, I just don’t want Penny to be lonely. Besides,” she said soberly, “after Grandpa’s gone, it might be nice to have a watchdog.”

  E. J. didn’t want her to dwell on the sadness in her life. “Well, she’s a perfect horse for you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one prettier.”

  “She can go pretty fast too, but Mama doesn’t like me to ride her that way.”

  “Your mother sounds wise. A lot of things can happen when you ride too fast.” He hated the very thought of his daughter meeting injury for any reason. He stroked the pony’s velvet nose, while Natalie stroked her mane.

  “I called her Penny ’cause I used to have a doll named that, but I lost her,” Natalie said as though he’d asked the question. “When I get a dog, I’m going to call him Duke ’cause my daddy had a dog named that when he was a boy.”

  E. J. drew his breath in sharply. He hadn’t thought about that dog in years. “A black Lab,” he murmured.

  “How did you know?” Natalie asked, her eyes wide in amazement.

  E. J. realized his mistake. He quickly worked to cover his tracks. “That just seems like the kind of name you’d give to a dog like a black Labrador.”

  Natalie nodded. “My daddy was really smart.” She smiled in her girlish self-confident manner and went back to stroking the pony’s neck. “If you were a daddy, what would you name a dog?”

  The words rang in his ears and echoed in his heart. “If you were a daddy . . .” But I am your daddy and I want to be your daddy. E. J.’s stomach knotted and he forced the thoughts away. “I don’t know. I guess I like Duke well enough.”

  “Natalie, it’s time to wash up for supper,” Ashley called from the house.

  E. J. rubbed his stomach. “Good thing too. I’m starved.”

  Natalie giggled. “Mama made lots of good food. You won’t be starving for long.” She took hold of his hand once again. The action caused a lump to rise up in E. J.’s throat. For a moment he actually felt tears sting his eyes. This was his daughter, a child he scarcely knew. How could it be that she so easily reached out to him when she didn’t know him at all? How was it that they had found each other across the years and miles that had separated them?

  The question haunted E. J. all through supper. The food proved to be as delectable as Natalie had promised. He’d had three helpings of the enchilada pie before realizing he’d made such a pig of himself.

  “I’ll have to be the one to furnish dinner next time,” he said apologetically.

  “Nonsense,” Ashley replied, offering him more spicy rice. “I made plenty.”

  The real surprise of the evening was that Grandpa had asked to join them for dessert and coffee. Ashley had already enlisted E. J. to help get the old man to the table. When E. J. waved off the rice, that seemed a signal to the group. Ashley gathered up several of the empty dishes while her aunt took up the serving dishes. Natalie collected silverware and the salt and pepper.

  “Maybe you could see if Grandpa is ready to join us,” Ashley told E. J. as she returned from the kitchen. “Natalie can show you the way.”

  He pushed back from the table and placed his napkin beside the plate. “I’d be glad to.” Ashley reached for his dishes and met his gaze. The warmth there in her eyes might have given him reason to believe she held an interest in him, but E. J. knew better. That was merely a look of gratitude for his kindness to her grandfather. It was nothing more.

  Natalie hurried off down the hall. “Grandpa!” she called. “Grandpa, it’s time for dessert.”

  E. J. followed at a slower pace to give the man time to compose himself after Natalie’s invasion. E. J. wondered if Russell Whitman would be angered at his appearance; after all, the man didn’t know E. J. at all. They’d never met—not even in those earlier years when life seemed so charmed.

  E. J. entered the dimly lit bedroom and smiled. The room was warm and inviting—a man’s domain to be sure. A bookshelf with numerous volumes sat in one corner, while additional books were stacked beside the old man’s bed.

  Overhead, a Mexican-styled iron fixture offered light, giving the room a decidedly regional flavor. He’d seen Mary Colter use similar pieces. He turned to the old man, who was even now watching him, while Natalie fussed with finding her great-grandfather’s slippers. “I’m E. J. Carson. I’m here to help you.”

  Russell Whitman eyed him seriously for a moment, then smiled. “Glad to know you, E. J. I’m Russell, but most folks your age call me Grandpa. You might as well.”

  His voice held none of the strength he must have once known, but E. J. immediately liked the old man. “I’d be honored to call you Grandpa. I’ve never known my own. Both my grandfathers died before I was very old.”

  “My grandpa is the best in the world,” Natalie offered. “He’s got enough love to share, so he can be your grandpa too.” She put the slippers on her grandfather’s feet, then stepped back.

  E. J. was touched by her words. “I’d like that,” he said softly, realizing how dearly he missed a sense of family. He’d been very close to his mother an
d father, perhaps because his younger siblings had died as toddlers or at birth. There had been a sister and two brothers, but polio had taken one brother, meningitis another, and his sister had been stillborn. It gave his parents great reason to cling to him, and because he was older and knew the pain of losing part of his family, it caused E. J. to feel the same way. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much to return home from the war only to find his parents gone.

  The short walk down the hall was a strenuous effort for the old man. As they neared the table, E. J. nearly carried him in full. Helping Grandpa to take a chair, E. J. couldn’t help noticing the laborious way the man strained to draw a breath. He looked at Ashley, meeting her worried expression. Grandpa’s time was certainly running out. Her expression acknowledged this fact with a sorrow that seemed to permeate her entire being.

  “I’ve made Grandpa’s favorite chocolate cake,” Ashley announced, appearing to recover from her sadness. E. J. watched as she put her defenses back in place, her expression masking the pain he’d seen there only moments before.

  The old man looked up with a hint of gratitude. E. J. thought his eyes looked rather cloudy. Probably the medication, he reasoned. “Thank you, young man,” Grandpa murmured.

  E. J. took his seat and nodded. “Glad to help. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you, I knew I had to meet you for myself.”

  Soon they were served with large pieces of what E. J. clearly knew was the best chocolate cake he’d ever tasted.

  “I remember Mama made a cake similar to this,” Lavelle said, sampling her dessert.

  “It’s the same recipe,” Ashley replied, forking into her own piece.

  “How in the world did you get it?” Lavelle questioned.

  “Grandpa gave me a book of recipes that had belonged to Grandma. They were among the things he managed to save when . . .” Ashley’s voice trailed off. Her expression was clearly one of embarrassment.

  “When we forced him to divide up the household?”

  Ashley looked away, and E. J. felt most uncomfortable in this sudden baring of dirty family linen.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Lavelle. I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

  “Nonsense, Ashley. I’ve caused my own hurt.” Lavelle reached over and patted Ashley’s hand. “Don’t give it a second thought. You could, however, copy the recipes down for me.” She smiled lovingly.

  E. J. thought the matter closed until Grandpa spoke up. “Lavelle, I hope you and Leticia understand that I’ve left my remaining possessions to Ashley. There isn’t much—your mother’s china, some odd pieces of furniture, and a couple of photo albums.”

  “The things we didn’t pillage in our war with you, don’t you mean?” Lavelle asked softly. “Oh, Father, I’m so sorry for the past. Of course I don’t mind those things going to Ashley. Who better to care for them and pass them down through the generations?”

  “Mother won’t like it,” Ashley declared, surprising E. J.

  “Have you even heard from her?” Lavelle questioned.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean she won’t make her presence known when it comes to possessions and what she believes she has coming to her.”

  Lavelle reached out again to Ashley. “Darling, you have no idea how she might react. Let’s give her a chance. Tomorrow I’ll do what I can to locate her. I have friends in Baltimore who can help.”

  Ashley bowed her head, and E. J. longed to put his arm around her and offer whatever comfort he might.

  “I don’t care if she comes at all, except that I know it means a great deal to Grandpa.”

  “It does mean a lot,” Grandpa managed to say. This brought Ashley’s immediate attention. “It means even more to know that you’ll try to put an end to this bitterness and let the past die.”

  Ashley nodded. “For you, I would do that.”

  “I hope you’ll do it for yourself and for Natalie too.”

  The little girl smiled and leaned over to touch her head to the old man’s shoulder. “Grandpa’s been praying for us, Mama. It’s bound to work out. And Grandpa said we don’t have to be afraid, because perfect love casts out fear. That’s in the Bible.”

  Ashley nodded. “But the only perfect love I knew was with your daddy, and he’s gone.”

  E. J. felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The chocolate cake, as light and succulent as any he’d ever known, suddenly felt like a lead weight in his stomach.

  “Perfect love is God’s love, Mama. People can’t love perfectly, but God can. And He doesn’t want us to be afraid. So when we love Him, we don’t have to be afraid of what will happen or what other people will do.”

  “You should listen to the child,” Grandpa said, breathing heavily. “She knows what she’s talking about.”

  Later that night E. J. continued to think on Grandpa’s and Natalie’s words. Reluctantly, he took out a Bible Natalie had brought him. She had lent it to him when E. J. admitted he didn’t have one of his own.

  Now, turning the book over and over in his hands, E. J. felt almost afraid to open it. What if he read something there that caused him even more pain?

  “But how can I not seek God’s direction?” he whispered aloud. “I’ve long put off paying attention to what God wants in my life. I’ve tried to deal with the past in my own way, but still it haunts me.” He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Nothing is working. I still have nightmares. I still struggle with my guilt, and now I have this revelation that my wife is alive and I have a daughter. I have to at least try to figure this out—with His help.”

  For so long he’d held God at arm’s length. He didn’t feel as Ashley did, that God didn’t care, but rather it was more a situation of God putting more on him than E. J. could bear. God seemed a harsh taskmaster, pushing E. J. to limits that were far beyond his ability—then standing back to laugh cruelly at his plight.

  But the God Natalie described—the loving Father Pastor McGuire preached of—didn’t seem the kind to laugh at his children’s sorrows. Perhaps I’ve missed something, E. J. thought. If his little daughter could hold God in such esteem and trust the future to His care, then what was it that kept E. J. hesitant?

  E. J. opened to the Psalms, remembering they offered comfort and wisdom. His gaze fell to the page where the thirty-second chapter declared, “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile.”

  E. J. read on, a prayer in his heart that the words would somehow give him strength and encouragement. Several verses later he came to a passage he could not ignore.

  “I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”

  E. J. took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, God, can you forgive me? The wrong I’ve done is so hideous—so destructive. I’ve killed men. I’ve watched them die, even as they pled with me for life. How can you forgive that?”

  The silence did nothing to reassure him, but a quickening in his heart ignited a spark of hope. God was in the business of forgiving grave sins. He recalled a story his friend John had told him about a man in the Bible, King David. The man had been a chosen king of God—a man after God’s own heart. Yet David had sinned greatly in the eyes of the Lord. He had committed adultery with another man’s wife, then arranged for that man to be killed on the battlefield. David had murdered the man as sure as if he had wielded the weapon himself.

  And God forgave David.

  The spark ignited and his heart warmed.

  “You can forgive me. If I choose to repent . . . if I give this to you and seek your forgiveness . . . if I let the past be put to rest . . . then I can have peace and maybe even be a husband and father in action as well as deed.”

  E. J. knew he’d never wanted anything more in his life. These past weeks of getting to know Natalie and Ashley had greatly blessed
him. Even Mary had noticed the change in his attitude and temperament. Natalie and Ashley were good for him. Was it too much to ask God that he might be good for them in return?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next few weeks were spent in a routine that Ashley found much to her liking. Lavelle sat with Grandpa in the morning while Ashley took care of the house chores and sent Natalie off to school. Then around noon Ashley would relieve her aunt, and Lavelle would take care of her own needs. Near to the time when Natalie was due home from school, Lavelle would take over Grandpa’s care again, freeing Ashley to be there for Natalie. By evening Grandpa was usually fast asleep, completely worn-out from his efforts of trying to stay awake and communicate through the day. It was only at suppertime that he’d allow Ashley to give him a large dose of morphine, pleading with both her and Lavelle to understand that he needed to be cognizant for as long as he could stand the pain.

  Near the end of the month, however, Ashley felt her neatly ordered world once again shift. A telegram arrived from her mother. After weeks abroad, her mother had finally returned to Baltimore to receive word that her father was dying. Lavelle received this information from friends who lived nearby and knew Ashley’s mother.

  Ashley felt the wind go out of her at the words on the telegram. WILL ARRIVE ON THE TWENTY-EIGHTH TO OVERSEE THIS MATTER.

  The words pierced her heart. Her mother was making it clear she intended to take control of the situation.

  “Well, we won’t allow it,” Lavelle said, trying to encourage Ashley. “Your mother will find us both much stronger than when she last saw us.”

  “Have you not had contact with Mother these last eleven years?”

  Lavelle brushed lint from her already immaculate navy blue dress. “There have been letters, but I only saw your mother once in that time. It was about four years ago. She and your father came to Los Angeles on business. She was greatly disappointed in the way in which I lived. I have only a modest home, not even as big as this one. I live very comfortably, but your mother was completely put off by it. She had hoped to step into Los Angeles society through my introduction. When she found that was not to be the case, she found other ways, of course.”