by LoRee Peery
“I love to swing! Is it a rope swing in a tall tree?” Enthusiasm tinted her cheeks an appealing blush.
Creighton grinned at the show of color. “Let’s go, then.”
He ran to the stairs, jumping down all steps at once, and was on the quad before Shana reached the bottom step.
Their laughter rang out as they took a playful, reckless ride to the other side of the ranch house and garage. He enjoyed the heightened speed because Shana nestled in close and grabbed his sides for balance a couple of times.
A giant cottonwood watched over the garage. Creighton recalled the day when as a teen he could no longer encircle the trunk. On the opposite side of the garage, a huge tree limb dripped two streams of bright yellow rope. The board seat of the swing spanned nearly three feet.
Shana jumped off the four-wheeler in her exuberance. “I love it! It’s so big.”
Creighton tucked his fingertips into his front pockets, pleased that something he had made with his hands brought her such delight. “I figured Rita would have more than one kid, so I made it to fit a couple of kids.”
She sat, gripped the thick ropes, leaned way back and lifted her feet. Her laughter thrilled his heart.
“If I did that,” he finally managed, “I’d lose the last chocolate chip cookie I gobbled.” Creighton pulled his gaze away and wheeled his four-wheeler into the garage. Then he busied himself by straightening the cab of his truck. He even picked up the floor mats and shook them off, anything to keep him busy.
All he really wanted to do was join in Shana’s play. He longed to push her high in the swing, to feel the movement of feminine muscle and fine bone beneath his hands. But he ignored the need that dug at his belly. Could it be the love Valerie had mentioned?
“I can’t think about need. Or love.” He ground out through clenched teeth as gravel flew from one of the mats. Then he pounded the mats together. “My old man was a drunk and I followed in his footsteps.” How could he even consider sharing his life with a woman as gifted and delightful as Shana? He couldn’t. “Bent elbow disease, Dad. Bending that elbow to take the next drink. And I inherited the same desire,” he mumbled to the mat he placed against the floor pedals. “I never measured up as a son. How could I measure up as a husband, or father?” In despair, he slammed the truck door. I’m better off alone.
****
Shana felt like a child in the swing. She lifted her toes away from the earth and drifted. Back and forth, back and forth, the slight breeze lifted her hair and gently dropped it again with each sway to and fro. She could see the barn, corral, and beyond the stock tank, to the endless sea of grass over hill and dale. She laughed out loud at her poetic choice of words.
God had worked a miracle in her heart. Sure, she had troubles. But she didn’t have to face them alone. Identity theft may be a misnomer. She had discovered her identity in Jesus.
She floated to a stop, stepped around the swing and turned to face the other direction. Once again, she pushed off and pumped her feet, higher and higher. So high, that she glimpsed a stretch of the paved road to the north of the ranch. A road that would take her home to Lincoln in a few short days. Shana sat in the motionless swing a long time before she meandered back to her cabin.
She saw nothing of Creighton.
She stopped, closed her eyes and opened her senses: the warmth of the sun, the kiss of the breeze, the meadowlark’s song. The dry grass and earth smell that she could almost taste. She opened her eyes to colors that God alone had made.
She soon had everything picked up, cleaned, and put in its place in the cabin. Everything except her laptop and research notes. She moseyed to the table and wrapped the charcoal gray stone in the palm of her hand. Rubbing a thumb over the ridges worn smooth by the passage of time, she considered the person who had used this stone as a tool.
She came to no conclusions except one. Well, two. They had nothing to do with a native person who had lived long ago.
Shana knew without a doubt that as much as she believed Creighton was the one man for her, she could move on with her life, with or without Creighton.
And she could be content, as long as she sought God and walked by faith. He would light her path. And if it was a dark path, He’d still be with her.
She set down the stone and picked up Vera Rice’s Bible. Crossing the room to the kitchen area, she ran a tall glass full of water, and went outside. Following Creighton’s example, she found references for different words in the concordance.
Psalm 121:1 set a prayer of thanksgiving in her heart when she read aloud, “’I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from?’” Shana studied the Word until dusk, when she could no longer read the print.
A pee-ik cry pierced the early evening silence. She caught a movement and followed the quick dart of a good-sized bird with a white stripe underneath each gray wing. The bird dove and rose straight up again.
“Nighthawk,” Creighton’s voice drifted from near the cottonwood tree.
Her pulse, kicked into high gear by the hawk’s cry, continued its wild fluttering at the low cadence of his voice. Out on his evening stroll again.
She listened to the rustling leaves as he drew closer.
“Leslie once explained that Indians called them thunderbirds.”
“Really? Do you know why?”
“Guess it’s because the silly birds fly around during thunderstorms. I’d think that insects take shelter, so hawks can’t be flying for food. The way the male nighthawk likes to dip and rise, I guess it’s for the thrill of a ride in the wind.”
“I think I’ve seen a thunderbird in some Indian designs.”
“Sure you have.” Creighton stood with his hand resting on the deck floor. After companionable silence, he pushed back, his face in shadow. “Guess I’ll say good night.”
“Night, Creighton.” She counted to seven. “Creighton?”
“Yeah?”
“A Bible in the cabins is a good idea. Thanks.”
She didn’t hear his reply, if he gave one. Shana stood with her hand on the door, waiting. For what, she couldn’t say. She finally entered the cabin. Again, she felt her way without a light, not disturbing the comfortable atmosphere, and positioned herself in the corner of the sofa for a time of prayer. Down deep, she knew she’d need all the strength she could muster in order to face what lay ahead for her in Lincoln.
But first, she needed to finish her proofreading. She turned on the light and worked long into the night.
17
Wednesday and Thursday morning, between polishing her thesis, Shana walked with Valerie. They sang hymns and cemented their friendship. Shana hiked in the afternoons. She went farther than ever the second day, all the way to what she surmised had once been a homestead, seeking to glimpse all she could of Creighton’s world before she left.
Trudging down a hill, Shana was glad to have her walking stick, since she needed it to step over low spots and worn trails of the uneven pasture. Some of these were cattle trails of old, as deep as her knees. She paused to look over the trees in front of her. The frame of a windmill remained near a pile of rubble that she guessed was once a barn. But she couldn’t piece together where a house or other buildings may have been.
“Oh!” she exclaimed at a disturbance in the row of scrubby trees to her left. A pair of wild turkeys beat their retreat, and she laughed in delight. Their wings spread, but they appeared to run rather than fly.
When things were quiet again, a rat-a-tat-tat drew her closer to the trees. Soon she saw the red head and speckled wings of a flicker. Glancing at the ash trees, Shana was amazed at how many holes she spied in the tree trunks, thanks to the woodpeckers.
These trees sheltered and nurtured the birds, and had watched them grow.
The windmill drew her eye again. After a few giant steps, she tested the ladder for safety. Just for the thrill of it, she climbed, and turned to sit on what was left of a plank platform. It held her weight. She gloried in the land that spread ar
ound her as far as she could see.
Once upon a time, had Creighton climbed this same metal ladder?
A horse and rider appeared like a mirage around a curve in the old driveway that snaked off to the west. She felt a stab of uncertainty before she recognized Howie Mitchell.
He saw her and waved his Stetson in the air. “Hey, pretty lady!”
Shana eased her way down the old galvanized iron as the horse approached at a gallop. Her feet hit the ground.
At the same time Howie said, “Whoa! I sure didn’t expect to see you out here,” he boomed. “Wanna hitch a ride?”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” She smoothed the sleeves of her shirt. “Does Creighton know you’re here?”
He swung a long leg over the creaking saddle and dismounted. “No matter.” He removed his hat and held it in his hand. “My uncle’s place.”
Shana visored her hand over her eyes to look up at him. “Oh, no. Then I’m trespassing?”
Had he been trespassing in her cabin? No way. He smelled like a horse-riding man.
“Not as long as you didn’t cut a fence wire,” he joked. “Mind if we walk a bit? Firebrand here might get a little restless.” He took a step before Shana could answer.
They headed down the winding drive. She studied the horseshoe prints and searched for something to say. “Is this where Leslie lived? Did you know him?”
“Yes. And yes. He was my adopted cousin, but we didn’t spend much time together. Leslie and Creighton were pretty thick.”
Something in his voice made Shana uneasy. She suspected that her talking to Howie Mitchell would not sit well with Creighton.
Howie replaced his hat and smiled down at Shana. “You remind me of some colts I’ve known. Kind of skittish. I’ve had to live with my size for a long time now. I’m a gentle giant. The good Lord made me. But I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I’ll see you around.”
She stood transfixed. Had he been in her cabin? No, he was way too big to move as fast as the intruder a couple nights before. He didn’t smell the same, either.
She stared into space after Howie and his horse had disappeared. A movement drew her gaze to the north. and Shana gasped at the yellowish-brown eyes of a mangy, lone coyote.
Sadness gripped her heart.
The animal stood with nose and tail down, but appeared to be as curious and as enamored with her as she was with him. Yet the coyote kept his distance while she read longing and curiosity in its uplifted golden-brown eyes.
Later, as Shana approached the creek side of Valerie’s cabin, Valerie stepped onto the porch, drying her hands on a bright yellow apron tied around her waist.
“Hi, there, hon,” Valerie greeted. “Creighton was here about an hour ago. Said he had a phone message for you and he’d leave a note on your table.”
Shana thanked her. Inside the cabin, she found the note tucked under the coffee can that held the dried grasses.
Shana,
Rita called with some news. Not an emergency, but come on up after supper and use the phone. I might not be at the house.
Later, Creighton.
Relieved over the non-urgent message, Shana ran up the hill and tried in vain for a cell signal. Nothing happened, so she went home, showered, and then ate a healthy veggie sandwich before trekking up to the house. With every step, her heart grew heavier. She would miss this place when she was gone. She’d miss Creigh even more. She’d grown to love him.
Would Creighton miss her, just a little?
The garage door stood open when she reached the house. There was no sign of the four-wheeler. Shana entered and kept her eyes focused on the phone. Too many memories to look around.
“Hi, girlfriend,” she returned Rita’s greeting.
“So, I hear you’ve turned into a first-class hiker.” The lilt in Rita’s voice made the day right.
“What can I say? I’ve grown to love it here.”
“We have sonogram pictures of the baby.”
“Oh, wow. I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, that made up for the news I received when I returned from the appointment,” Rita sobered.
“What’s that?”
“The Youth Center’s in trouble. The Pines has funds to cover my agreed maternity leave, but I’ll soon be out of a job.”
“Oh, no!” Shana longed to be with her friend to console her. “I’m so sorry, Rita. I guess I’ll find out Monday just what’s up.”
“Until then, you make my brother behave.” Rita paused again. “Do you need us to come get you?”
Shana snorted. “For a second, I forgot I don’t have a car. I guess while I’m here at the house, I’d better call Dad. We’ll arrange something.”
“Creigh—”
“No,” Shana interrupted, “I’ve taken enough from him.”
After asking for more details of the ultrasound pictures, Shana ended the call. Then she dialed her mom’s and dad’s number.
Her mother answered after the second ring. “Hi, honey, you ready to come home?”
“Hi, Mom.” Then she sighed. “Suppose I’d better leave this peace and tranquility and get back to reality.”
“Dad and I have already decided we’ll drive up Saturday morning. Will you be ready?”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Sounds good to me. You sound rested. Did you accomplish what you went there to do?”
“Yes, my project is done. I’ve dubbed the ranch ‘the healing hills’ and I guess I can handle what’s ahead of me at home.”
“That’s my girl. Well, this is probably costing your friend. Can you give me directions?”
Shana did just that. She replaced the receiver of the old-style cordless telephone and stepped closer into the common room of Creighton’s home. Flashes of her moments with him curled in her stomach. Moisture filled her eyes, but she refused to give in to the tears.
It was time to leave the placid setting and face the future, whatever it would be.
Early Friday morning, Shana followed her determination to clean up the cabin rather than go for a walk. Why leave it all for Creighton? She had packed up her notes and was ready to print her thesis draft. She waited for Valerie to appear on her daily jaunt. “Hey, neighbor, think you could give me a hand?”
“What’s up?” Valerie rested her hands on her stick.
Shana answered her friend’s smile. She’d always carry this picture of Valerie with her. The floppy hat that shadowed the vivid blue eyes and character lines, the long denim skirt and worn leather boots. More than anything, the introduction to hymn singing. “I’m going to miss you as much as this ranch.”
“That’s what you need a hand with?”
They laughed as Valerie climbed up the steps to the deck.
“Any chance you could help me take out the rug?”
The two made an easy task of sliding it out the door. Then in silent agreement, the women each grabbed an end, unfurled it over the rail, and shook in tandem. They draped the rug on the rail.
“Two are better than one.”
Shana agreed. “Always.”
“That’s from Ecclesiastes, you know.”
Shana raised a brow in question.
“In the Bible.”
“Oh.”
The women embraced in a heartfelt hug.
Valerie loosened her hold first and stood back. “We’ll meet again, you know. If not in this life, we’ll be together in eternity.”
“You’ve gladdened my heart, and I’ll be in touch through e-mail,” Shana responded. She went into the cabin to prepare to leave.
Valerie pranced down the steps to resume her walk. Valerie had mentioned that a washer and dryer for cabin dwellers were housed behind the side of the garage where Creighton kept his truck. Sure enough, it was towards the back, even with the shop.
Circling the building, Shana spied the swing and directed her steps to the huge cottonwood. Facing north, she lost herself in the pleasure of movement and the slight breeze that she created as sh
e swished. Suddenly, the swing jerked and she was suspended in air.
“Hi.” With that greeting, Creighton lifted the board swing high above his head and let Shana fly.
She had no idea if the thrill came from his deep voice which had resonated near her ear, or the accelerated movement of the swing. But all her senses kicked into high gear.
He raced in front of her and caught her ankles before she could swing back.
Shana drew in her breath, and held it.
He appeared vibrant, dressed in green flannel and worn jeans.
She hadn’t seen him in two days. The sight of him held her spellbound.
****
Creighton soaked up the vision of the woman he loved. His blessings overflowed. He felt the pulse in her ankle beat wildly against the pad of his thumb. He noted the auburn highlights accenting her dark curls from her recent days out in the open air.
“If I were older, you’d have given me a heart attack!” she said with a shaky laugh, her eyes huge in her sweet face.
Creighton looked towards the cottonwood leaves and laughed wholeheartedly. “You were miles away. Or maybe my old stealth walk came back.” He wanted to growl at the thought of the footprints he’d seen at Leslie’s old place.
“Well, are you going to just stand there, or give me a push or two?”
How could he resist her teasing invitation? I’d like to pull you into my life and keep you here forever. He grabbed the thick soles of her cross-trainers and shoved, then ran around behind to answer her bidding.
Their laughter soared in the leafy glade.
Creighton felt as though they were the only two people in the world.
After a while, Shana yelled, “Enough!”
He gentled the swing to a stop and her back heated his chest. Creighton rested his hands on her elbows, slid them upward, and then lightly massaged her shoulders. He rubbed his thumbs over the nape of her neck, relishing the softness of her skin. He ran his hands over her shoulders down to her elbows, then up to the fingers that wrapped around the yellow ropes.
Shana sighed and turned her head to the side, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.
