[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years

by Tracie Peterson

  Half an hour passed and Ashley slowly recomposed herself. She heard a car pull up and stop in front of the house. Looking out the window, Ashley saw a black sedan, and behind it, another car also came to rest. Ashley recognized it as belonging to Pastor McGuire, and in the front seat Natalie sat all prim and proper. Penny was tied to the back. The scene brought a smile to Ashley’s face. Natalie seemed to take life and death in stride. She didn’t seem to bear any long-lasting grudge against her grandmother, and neither did she seem destined to despair over her great-grandfather’s passing. Perhaps she would handle the news of her father’s surviving the war as well.

  Natalie jumped out and saw to Penny, while Pastor McGuire and Mr. Watson made their way past the wrought-iron gate and up the walkway. Ashley met them at the door. They took off their hats as they walked into the house.

  “I’m so glad you’re both here.”

  “Has your mother returned?” Watson asked, peering past Ashley toward the living room. Apparently Natalie had told him of the urgency involved.

  “No,” Ashley said, taking the men’s hats. “I thought for sure she would be back by now. She and Lavelle have gone to the bank, forgetting that it’s Saturday. I suppose they’ve tried to locate the bank president and see what can be done about all this business of last week. I’ve asked my mother to move out of the house. She struck Natalie, and I have no intention of letting it happen again.”

  “Struck her?” Watson questioned.

  Ashley nodded. “Mother was upset by the telegram my brother sent. It had to do with the stock market troubles.”

  “Ah, I see.” Watson nodded thoughtfully.

  “Anyway, Natalie suggested we needed to pray about the matter, and my mother let her nerves get the best of her and she slapped Natalie. I told her to pack and get out. Perhaps that’s where they are now. Maybe my aunt is helping Mother arrange to move into the Harvey House.”

  The men nodded. “We will just wait with you, then,” Simon Watson stated matter-of-factly.

  Pastor McGuire gently touched her arm. “I know Grandpa’s passing is both a relief and a grief.”

  “Yes, to be sure,” Ashley said, drawing a deep breath. “Would you like to see him?”

  “Yes. Yes, I would,” McGuire responded. “Simon?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll pay my respects later.”

  Ashley led Pastor McGuire back to Grandpa’s room and closed the door quietly once they’d entered. “I need to tell you something,” she said softly, almost reverently, as if God’s spirit had settled over the room.

  Pastor McGuire looked at her rather oddly. “Oh?”

  “I . . . well . . . I prayed.” Ashley knew it sounded silly, but she felt completely flustered. “I’ve taken Jesus as my Savior.”

  Pastor McGuire grinned. “No wonder Grandpa felt he could finally go. What a blessing that must have been to him—he did know, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he knew.” Ashley had a great sense of peace about being able to honestly come to God before Grandpa died. “I had thought of just telling him what he wanted to hear. After all, God would know the difference.”

  “So would Russell Whitman. The man was no fool.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Like I said, I toyed with the idea, but I could never bring myself to do it. Then I thought of coming to God merely because my mother so thoroughly rejects Him. That hardly seemed right either.”

  Pastor McGuire’s smile broadened. “No, it would never do to come to God in order to spite someone else. It wouldn’t be genuine.”

  “I know. It just seemed that the more trouble came, the less confidence I had in myself or anything else. It hurt to deal with the past and the present, and the future just seemed like a nightmare waiting to happen. I wanted nothing more than peace of mind and heart, but it eluded me at every turn.”

  “And do you know that peace now, Ashley?”

  She looked into his compassionate face and smiled. “I do.” She looked back to where she’d left Grandpa. She’d neatly combed his hair and pulled up the blanket to his chest. She’d carefully brought his arms together, and it looked as though he were simply taking his afternoon nap. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

  “Nor can I,” the pastor replied. “Good men like Russell are hard to find. We need to cherish them when we come across them.”

  For some reason Ashley thought of E. J. Carson. He seemed to be such a kind and considerate soul. Always so gentle and loving with Natalie. Perhaps that alone should have endeared him to Ashley. But then there was the issue of Ethan. Somehow she had to know the truth about him.

  “Pastor McGuire, there’s something else.” Ashley swallowed her pride and self-reliance and explained the situation regarding Ethan. She noted the man’s expression as it changed from sympathetic to intense concern. “I don’t know,” Ashley continued, “how to go about finding him. He may be remarried, and how awful that would be, because we’re still married—I’m not dead.” She knew she stated the obvious, but she needed to hear the words aloud.

  Pastor McGuire put his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll do what I can to help you. There are records the army keeps and people who can help in this. Don’t worry. But tell me, does Natalie know?”

  Ashley shook her head. “I don’t want to tell her until I’m certain he’s still alive. She positively worships his memory. It would be so hard for her to think he’d come back to her, only to lose him again.”

  “I understand, and I think you’re wise. We’ll take care of matters with Grandpa, and then we’ll get right on this other.”

  The unmistakable sound of voices in the hall confirmed that her mother and Lavelle had returned. She heard her mother saying something about taking over the matter of her father’s burial just before she opened the bedroom door and pushed past Ashley to Grandpa’s bedside.

  “So he’s finally gone,” she stated, then looked to Ashley and the pastor as though she’d posed a question.

  The pastor maintained his hold on Ashley, and she wondered if he did so out of fear of what she might do to her mother. He gave her a gentle squeeze of support before speaking. “Your father is in a better place now. He’s finally out of pain.”

  “Be that as it may,” Leticia said, looking to them again and then to her sister and the lawyer, who had now joined them. “There are matters to be taken care of.”

  “All the arrangements were made by your father,” Simon Watson stated.

  Leticia’s expression changed to one of smug assurance. “But I am here now and have my own ideas of how things will be handled.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Murphy. Your father stated specifically that I was not to allow you to make any changes in the arrangements. You are, of course, free to return home and not participate in the plans he made. However, there will be no changes.”

  “I am quite sure—”

  “No changes, Mother,” Ashley stated, pulling away from the pastor.

  “You are in no position to dictate to me.” Leticia arched her brow and squared her shoulders. She held the look of a tyrannical queen.

  Ashley thought to demand that she leave, but instead she stayed her anger. She didn’t know how she was supposed to act or respond as a Christian—not really, but she did know what Grandpa would want her to say, and he was a Christian. She could almost hear him saying, “Be a peacemaker, Ashley.”

  “Mother, you need to respect Grandpa’s wishes. I think you should sit down with Mr. Watson and Pastor McGuire and listen to what they have to say. You too, Aunt Lavelle.”

  Lavelle nodded and agreed. “I think we should, Letty. Why don’t we go out into the living room and talk about this.” Lavelle led her sister toward the door.

  To her great surprise, Ashley watched as her mother allowed Lavelle to direct her down the hall. Simon Watson followed, with Pastor McGuire bringing up the rear. Ashley glanced back at Grandpa’s still figure.

  “I wish you were still here to advise me,” she murmured.
>
  ****

  Ashley listened to the lawyer quietly explain the situation surrounding Russell Whitman’s last requests and arrangements. Her mother often interrupted to dispute issues, but Simon Watson was no small-town lawyer to be bullied. The man had come to practice in Winslow after a long career in Chicago. Had his wife not needed the dry climate, he might be there still, he’d told Ashley previously.

  Tiring of the details she already knew by heart, Ashley dismissed herself to make some refreshments for the group.

  “Mama?” Natalie questioned quietly. “Oh, here you are. I thought you’d be out there with Mr. Watson.”

  “I’m fixing a plate of cookies for our guests. Do you want to carry it out to them and then come back and have a couple for yourself?”

  “Sure. Can Penny have something too?”

  Ashley took an apple and cut it into four pieces. “You may give this to Penny when you get back.”

  Natalie picked up the plate of cookies and started to leave. She paused, however, and turned back to Ashley. “We will be all right, won’t we?” She dragged the toe of her shoe across the tiled floor.

  Ashley saw the apprehension and uncertainty in her daughter’s face. The moment reflected the questions in her own heart. “Grandpa said we would be just fine. He said God would take care of us. You believe that, don’t you?”

  Natalie looked at the floor. “I want to believe, and sometimes I feel really strong. But sometimes, like now, I just don’t know. Will God be mad at me?”

  Ashley had no idea what to say, but her heart was overwhelmed with love for her child. She reasoned the matter quickly. “Natalie, sometimes bad things happen, right?” Her daughter nodded. “And we don’t always understand and sometimes they scare us.”

  “Like when you found out about Daddy dying?”

  Ashley stiffened. “Well . . . yes. When bad things happen, it’s easy to forget that God is there. That’s what happened to me all those years. I didn’t think God cared about me anymore. But I know now that I was wrong. God does care.” She felt strength mixed with turmoil. There was no easy answer to give her child, but she wanted very much for Natalie to be at peace. “Some of this is just as hard for me as for you. I wish I’d listened to Grandpa a long time ago. I wish I’d read my Bible and gone to church, and I wish I knew better what to expect from God. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen in the future, but Grandpa told me that God has a plan for us.”

  “He told me that too,” Natalie said. “And Grandpa never lied.”

  Ashley smiled. “And God doesn’t lie either. That much I’m confident of.”

  Natalie’s expression changed to one of relief. “That’s true—and Grandpa said that Jesus promised to be with us always. So we’ll be okay.”

  Ashley could see that Natalie now had great satisfaction in this solution. Somehow her daughter’s confidence gave Ashley strength. “Exactly. So you deliver the cookies, and then you can take the apple out to Penny.”

  Natalie disappeared and in a few moments she was back collecting her own cookies and Penny’s apple. Ashley figured she’d dart right outside, but instead, Natalie posed another difficult question.

  “Mama, is Grandma . . . I mean Grandmother . . . going back home now?”

  “I suppose after Grandpa’s funeral she will. She has no reason to stay here.”

  “She doesn’t love us, does she?”

  Ashley stopped fussing with the coffeepot and looked at her daughter’s curious expression. What could she say? There was no way to lie to the child. She already knew the truth of it. Kneeling down, Ashley toyed with her daughter’s braid. “Some people don’t know how to love, Natalie. I think Grandmother is one of those people. I don’t think she does it because she wants to be mean or hurt people. I just think she’s got a lot of anger and bitterness inside and there’s no room for love.”

  Natalie’s eyes widened. “Just like there’s no room for Jesus. Grandpa told me that God is love. He showed me a verse in the Bible that says that. If Grandmother doesn’t have any love inside, it’s probably because she doesn’t have God inside either.”

  “I suppose that could very well be true,” Ashley said, amazed at how insightful her daughter could be.

  “Mama, after I give Penny her apple, can I go let Mr. Carson know about Grandpa?”

  “Sure. Just be careful.”

  “Oh, I will. Today was the day we were supposed to go see him anyway. He didn’t want me to come by last week because they were doing dangerous things and he didn’t want me to get hurt. But when I told him I’d come today and bring you, he said that was okay.”

  “I can’t go with you,” Ashley said, almost wishing she could go along. “But you tell Mr. Carson we’ll have him to dinner once Grandmother goes back to Baltimore.”

  “I know he’ll like that,” Natalie said, grinning. She gave Ashley a kiss, then burst out the back door as if the house were on fire.

  Ashley laughed and went back to work on the coffee. That girl never slowed down for more than a second. She put her grandmother’s posy-patterned cups and saucers on a tray, then added the sugar bowl and creamer, some napkins and spoons, and finally a china coffee server. She filled the china pot with coffee, then hoisted the heavy tray and made her way to the living room.

  Seeing that Simon Watson had the situation clearly under control, Ashley felt a sense of relief. She wondered if she should begin to pour the coffee and glanced at her aunt. Lavelle waved her off and reached for the pot instead.

  Sensing that the trio had her mother fairly well managed, Ashley backed out of the room. There was no point in remaining, especially when there was so much work to be done.

  Thinking that she should probably get their Sunday clothes ready for the following day, Ashley went upstairs to Natalie’s bedroom. She chose her plum-colored dress, knowing that it had been Grandpa’s favorite. She wasn’t going to wear black to church. She might very well don it for the funeral but not for church.

  The thought of a black dress made her smile. I could always wear my Harvey uniform, she thought. Minus the apron, of course. And then it came to mind that she was now free to go back to work. Free to work for the Harvey Company while she tried to figure out what was to be done about Ethan. She made a mental note to contact her supervisor on Monday.

  She rummaged through Natalie’s dresses and found a dark green one that seemed serviceable. Ashley hoped to avoid any last-minute ironing and quickly inspected the dress for wrinkles. It appeared quite passable.

  She put the dresses aside and went to make sure Natalie had clean socks to wear. Sliding open the top drawer of Natalie’s dresser, Ashley noted at least three pairs. She also noted a rolled-up piece of paper. She smiled. No doubt Natalie had been drawing again.

  Unrolling the paper, Ashley couldn’t help but gasp aloud. There in charcoal, just as it had first been sketched, was the house she had dreamed of building with her husband. Surely Natalie hadn’t drawn it. The lines were too perfect—too certain. From the columns to the French doors to the . . .

  A strange feeling washed over her as her gaze caught sight of the initials in the right-hand corner. EJC.

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat, then released as a low moan. Hurrying from her daughter’s room, Ashley threw open the door to her own bedroom. Under the bed was the suitcase her aunt Lavelle had given her so long ago. Ashley knelt down and pulled the case out. Opening it, she searched for what she knew she’d find.

  Along with Natalie’s baby clothes and other cherished memorabilia was the drawing Ethan had sketched for her so very long ago. She tenderly unfolded the paper and placed it atop the bed. She pushed the suitcase back and got to her feet.

  Picking up the drawing, she walked back to Natalie’s room and placed the drawings side by side. She already knew they’d be nearly identical. The way the house sat amidst the imagined landscape. The same light fixtures in the portico. Only here and there did Ashley find any real differences, and even then the
y only served as more conclusive evidence. They were changes she and Ethan had discussed.

  Closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath, Ashley prayed, “Oh, God, I’m not very good at this, but please hear me. I . . . what’s happening? What does this mean?”

  But even as she asked the question, she knew what it meant. She opened her eyes and looked at the initials in the corner of Natalie’s drawing. Then she looked at the corner of her own drawing. EJR. Same style of writing with the “R” being the only change.

  Without thinking another single thought, Ashley took up both pictures and darted from the room. She raced out of the house so fast she gave no one any indication of where she was going. The sun was setting in the southwest, the blue sky mottled with orange, pink, and yellow. It was a cold sky nevertheless. Or maybe it was just that the world seemed suddenly cold.

  Ashley went to the new Harvey resort and marched into the building without slowing. She looked from side to side, seeking E. J. Carson. She found him in the dining room. Holding the drawings behind her back, she fought to steady her voice.

  “I need to speak to you . . . in private.”

  E. J. nodded. “Is something wrong?”

  Apparently Natalie hadn’t caught up with him yet. Ashley nodded. “Yes. I need to talk to you.”

  He appeared to catch on to the urgency, for he moved across the room quickly and didn’t even stop to talk to a worker who was signaling him. “Come this way. Is Natalie all right?”

  “She’s fine,” Ashley said, the words sticking in her throat. “For now.”

  He looked at her oddly, but Ashley dropped her gaze. How could this be? How could this man have eaten at her table—walked beside her—and she still not know who he really was?

  E. J. led her to a private office. “This is where I usually work. Now tell me what’s wrong.” He stood directly in front of her.

  Ashley raised her head, praying for strength. She held up Natalie’s picture. “I found this.”

  E. J. looked away. “I drew it for her from a drawing she’d given me.”