She certainly wouldn’t find such a man hidden away in the Canadian mountain wilderness where she’d spent her life. Thus the reason she’d begged to come on this journey.
As they secured their horses to the hitching post, the second man who’d hung back near the cabin door seemed to be taking his leave. Now that she could see him better, his features drew her attention more than they should. He was young indeed, but he carried himself with a crisp efficiency and confidence many older men didn’t possess.
As he strode down the stairs, his gaze slid toward her family, snagging on her. She dropped her focus back to her horse, stroking its neck. But that look—that connection—had shaken her more than it should. Was she so starved for male attention that any stranger would do?
As that man mounted his horse and rode away, she followed her parents onto the porch, where Papa introduced her and Mama. Reuben nodded. His blue eyes were different in coloring from Papa’s brown, yet their intensity felt much the same. His height and the breadth of his shoulders was similar, too. How could anyone not recognize their connection?
Did Reuben know? If not, she could only imagine the shock this would be. Lord, guide our time here.
Reuben motioned for the dog to stay outside, then they followed the man into the cozy cabin, a little smaller than their own. He pointed to chairs by the hearth at the far end of the room. “Mum will be most comfortable in her rocking chair, but take any of the other seats. I’ll bring her out.” He turned and stepped through one of the two doors in the back wall.
Papa didn’t move, didn’t step toward the chairs. Just stood, his gaze locked on the well-worn rocker. Did he remember it from before? She could only imagine the pain resurrected from seeing this place again.
Actually, she couldn’t imagine.
Her father had been her strength through all her growing up years, completely devoted to their family and not afraid to show his pleasure in being with them. She’d heard his circumstances had been dire when he’d given Reuben and his twin sister to the Scott family to raise. It had been before he’d met Mama, and the twins’ mother had died just after their birth.
But still, for Papa to give up his offspring—his family—she couldn’t fathom it.
Mama slipped her hand into his, always there as silent support.
The bed chamber door opened, and Reuben stepped out leading an older woman by the hand. She looked to be in her early sixties, although her hair had already faded to a pure white that made her seem a decade older.
Or maybe it was the vacant look in her faded blue eyes that aged her. She clutched Reuben’s hand as she shuffled into the room, and another woman followed, holding her other hand. This lady was younger, closer to Hannah’s age, with striking auburn hair and regal features.
Reuben motioned to the younger woman. “This is my wife, Cathleen.” Then he walked the older woman to the rocking chair and eased her into the seat.
Finally, he straightened and motioned her father forward. “I’ll introduce you.”
Papa stepped close until he stood in front of the older lady alongside Reuben. So close, the similarity between them was unmistakable. Both men held that capable, frontiersman look, something she could hardly define. A combination of power and lean strength, coupled with quiet wisdom. Her other brothers, William and Robert, possessed the same, although it looked a little different on them. Maybe the quality was simply not as seasoned.
Reuben still held the older woman’s hand, and he spoke to her now. “Mum, an old friend came to visit you. Do you remember Simeon Grant?”
Papa dropped down to sit on his haunches so he was eye level with the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Scott. I’m glad to see you again. Do you remember many years ago when you helped my wife and me? Our twins were being born, and you brought us into your home and managed the birthing. You were a godsend to us.” His voice almost cracked on those last words.
Hannah’s chest ached, but she turned her focus from her father to the little woman, who rested her head against the rocker and eased forward and back as she studied him. “I’m glad I was able to help you, honey.” Her voice held a wavering quality, as though she didn’t have the strength to steady it.
Papa cleared his throat. “It’s been thirty years, so I’m sure I’ve aged a bit. Do you...remember me at all?”
She’d never heard so much desperate hope in her father’s voice. The sound made her want to drop to her knees beside the older lady and plead for her to think harder. Lord, help her recall.
The woman rocked a moment longer, her eyes fixed on Papa’s face. “Honey, we have so many travelers come through here, it’s hard for me to keep the faces and names straight. What did you say your name was?”
Papa cleared his throat again, bringing back his usual steady tone. “Simeon Grant.”
Another pause as the woman thought. “Seems like that name’s familiar. I just can’t recall.” Her words dragged on with a languid quality that required more patience than Hannah’s nerves contained.
Papa breathed out a long breath, then looked up at Reuben. Slowly, he rose to standing. “I suppose I’ll need to tell you everything then. I was hoping she could help. Do you have a few minutes to sit?”
Reuben shot a glance to his wife, who stood on the other side of the rocker, then looked back at Papa and motioned toward the other chairs by the fire. “Have a seat.”
They brought three more chairs from around the dining table, and it didn’t take long for everyone to settle. Reuben sat beside the older Mrs. Scott, with his wife on his other side. Papa positioned himself directly opposite Reuben, with Mama close by.
Hannah sat at the edge of the group in one of the ladder-back chairs. She almost wished she were nearer the elderly woman so she’d have someone’s hand to clutch when the conversation grew tense.
As it surely would.
Everyone looked at Papa, waiting for him to take the lead. His face held its usual calm steadiness. There was no sign he was nervous about the coming conversation. His gaze slid from Reuben to his adopted mother, then back to Reuben. “About thirty years ago, I was traveling through this country with my first wife, Nora. We’d purchased some land another week’s ride into the mountains and planned to build a house there, but Nora was with child, and her time came much sooner than we expected. Her pains had started, and I still remember how relieved I was when we saw the smoke from this chimney through the trees.” He motioned toward the hearth—cold at the moment, since only the cookstove fire was needed in June.
“Mrs. Scott realized what was happening right away and brought Nora in to their bed to have the baby.” He motioned to the two doors along the back wall. “The birthing felt like it took hours, and I could tell Nora was wearing down, but I thought that must be normal. Mrs. Scott seemed to have it all in hand, knowing exactly what to do.”
Hannah shot a glance at Mrs. Scott to see if Papa’s words had brought the memories back to her. The woman was looking at him, but her faded eyes didn’t seem to register his story. In fact, her expression seemed almost stoic.
“Finally, our little boy was born. So little, yet full of lusty wails. Mrs. Scott wrapped him in a blanket, then handed him to me. I didn’t know what to do with such a tiny thing, but he was absolutely perfect.”
Papa looked down at his clasped hands as though lost in the memories of holding the infant—his firstborn son. Then his hands gripped tighter, his knuckles going white. “The labor pains kept coming though.” He looked up, his eyes hollow. “A second baby was on its way. A girl. She was even smaller than the boy.” He turned his large, calloused hand palm up. “Not much bigger than my hand.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine a sweet babe, skin pale and pinkened, lying in her father’s work-worn grip.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he seemed to be working to hold himself together. “I was trying to feed the baby boy warm milk to ease his crying while your mama held the little girl. I didn’t realize how bad things were with Nora.” His throat worked again
, and he kept his focus on his palm. “Until just before she slipped away.”
A long moment passed without a word. Hannah’s chest ached so much it was hard to breathe, much less speak.
At last, her father raised his head to take in the three sitting across from him. Reuben’s face was void of any expression, as though protecting himself from the tale unfolding. But his wife had pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes glimmering with emotion.
Papa pressed on with his story. “I was so deep in my grief, I barely knew what happened those next few days. Mr. and Mrs. Scott handled most of the care for the babes, and I finally pulled myself free enough to realize I had to make a plan.
“We had no home where we were going, only virgin trees and mountains I’d never actually seen. And winter was coming fast. The trip had taken much longer than we’d thought—such a young, foolish thing I was. I couldn’t imagine how I would be able to care for those two tiny babes. So fragile.”
He inhaled a breath that heaved his shoulders. “And even the thought of moving forward without Nora—trying to carry on with the life we’d imagined—I couldn’t fathom it.
“The Scotts said they’d be happy to take the children in, to raise them as their own. They’d wanted babies for years but had never been blessed with them. I could see how well they took to the infants already. I barely knew how to feed them. And I knew nothing of what to do if either of those tiny bodies took sick.”
He paused again, then leveled his gaze on Reuben, but the younger man met the look with an impassive stare. “I finally realized that the best thing for both babies was for them to stay with the Scotts. But before I left, they promised to write and tell me how the children were doing. They also allowed me to name them. Nora and I had already talked about the names.” Papa paused here, took a deep breath. Then, with the same courage he’d used to start the story, he finished it. “Reuben for a boy. The little girl, she looked so much like her mama, I called her by the same. Little Nora.”
Reuben’s face was blank. Impossible to read. He had to know what Papa’s story meant. Had he heard any of it before? Had the Scotts given him any inkling he wasn’t their child by birth?
A long silence settled over the room. Thick. Heavy with all the thoughts unspoken. Should they offer to leave and give Reuben and his family time to come to terms with the news?
Before she could think exactly what should be done next, Reuben stood. “Maybe you folks would like coffee and biscuits. I’m going out to check on the stock in the barn.” He laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder as he walked by, and she reached up to touch his. A simple gesture, but telling. Something Hannah’s parents would have done to show silent support in the midst of such a shock.
Chapter Three
Who would have thought that life as I know it could shatter in the space of a quarter hour? I can only cling to the Foundation I know won’t shake.
~ Reuben
Tension clung to the air as the door closed behind Reuben. Hannah forced a breath out. What could she say to lessen the strain?
The younger Mrs. Scott offered a kind smile and rose from her chair. “It might be easier to eat at the table, but you’re welcome to sit where you’re most comfortable.”
Hannah’s parents looked like they might need a moment alone, so she stood to help. She’d much rather be doing something than watching anyway. As she approached her new sister-in-law, she offered a tentative smile. “Tell me how I can help.”
Mrs. Scott returned the smile as she pulled a plate of biscuits from the warming oven. “I don’t think I caught your name. Mine is Cathleen.”
“Hannah. Hannah Grant.” She stepped forward to take the biscuits.
Cathleen motioned to the table. “There’s already butter and strawberry jam on the table from when we were visiting with our new neighbor. We have a bit of coffee left in the pot, but I’ll make more so there’s enough to go around. Cups are on the shelf behind that curtain.” She pointed toward a pretty calico fabric hanging above the counter.
It felt good to finally have something to do, and they soon had a pleasant snack set out. Her parents brought the extra chairs back to the table, and Cathleen took a plate to the older woman in her rocking chair.
When she returned, Mama said, “Would she like to sit with us?”
It did feel odd to leave the older Mrs. Scott sitting so far apart from the group.
Cathleen gave a sad smile. “We bring her to the table for meals, but she’s really more comfortable in her chair. New faces seem to tire her quickly, so it will be good for her to have time alone.” She motioned toward the chairs. “Please, sit. You must be exhausted from traveling.”
As they ate, Cathleen proved a gracious hostess, asking about their home and how far they’d journeyed. Papa was mostly silent, so Hannah and her mother carried the conversation. It wasn’t hard to like this woman, although the weight of Papa’s story seemed to hover around them all.
At last, the sound of boots thudded on the porch, and the front door opened. Reuben stepped inside, and once again she was struck by how much he looked like a younger version of her father.
His step was quiet and his manner reserved as he approached the table. “I imagine you’ve traveled quite a ways, so you’re welcome to stay the night if you don’t mind pallets on the floor. I’ve made three stalls ready for your horses.”
Not a word about the life-changing news, but that was probably to be expected. Sometimes men handled things like this differently than women would. But at least he wasn’t sending them away at gunpoint. Surely he just needed time to adjust.
Papa eased his chair back and stood. “Appreciate that. I’ll get the animals settled if you’ll show me where.”
She itched to go along and help, but the two probably needed a few minutes together. Time to get to know each other. To lower the wall that had been built between them by distance and the passing of time.
Trust would surely come hard for this new brother of hers.
THOUGHTS CHURNED INSIDE Reuben Scott as he rose from the evening meal later that night. Conversation around the table had been simple. Lightweight.
He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the story this man had told. Simeon had even known Nora’s name, his tiny twin sister who had died at the age of six months. If the man’s story wasn’t true, he must have at least known Reuben’s parents in past days.
Could this stranger be his father? Reuben had always thought it unusual that he’d grown so tall, even though his mother was a little sprite of a thing and Pa possessed only average height.
But Simeon Grant not only matched his own build, he exceeded it. As they’d walked to the barn earlier, his mind still numb from the consequences of what the man had said, Simeon strode just ahead of him. Seeing his broad shoulders, the way he carried himself—he’d looked at the same so many times in the mirror Cathleen kept in their bed chamber. Even the shape and intensity of the man’s eyes were like looking at his own reflection, although the coloring was different.
Why had his parents never told him?
He glanced at his mother, still sitting in her place at the table, wadding a serviette with her bony fingers. Cathleen usually took her into the bed chamber to prepare her for sleep while he saw to the night chores, but perhaps this would be a good time for him to talk with Mum alone.
He moved around to her chair. “Let’s go get you settled for bed, Mum.”
Cathleen raised her gaze from where she was gathering used plates and dishes. Her eyes showed that well of understanding that always made him so thankful God had brought her to him. She could comprehend his thoughts without him saying a word.
As he helped his mother to her feet, Cathleen turned her sunny smile on their visitors. “Let me just put these to soak, and I’ll pull out blankets for your bedding.”
Both Mrs. Grant and her daughter—his half-sister?—stood and began clearing the table.
Simeon had already risen, his intense presence almost intimidating wit
h so many people in the small cabin. “I’ll bring in more wood. Can I get you water, too?” His question was directed to Cathleen, and she responded with a gracious answer. It looked as if she’d have plenty of help without him.
Mum seemed to shuffle slower than normal as they made their way to her bed chamber. He did his best not to let his own angst rush her.
In the privacy of her room, he looked around the space. What all did Cathleen do with her? Just help her into her nightdress? His wife was so good with Mum, a natural nurse. Not surprising since her father had been an apothecary and both her brothers were doctors in Butte.
Mum reached for a nightdress laid over the chair, and he helped her transition from her day clothes to the simple cotton gown. She picked up a hair comb from her dresser, then sank into a chair. Clearly, she knew the routine better than he did.
He settled on the bed across from her. What was the best way to ease into this conversation? Maybe simply to ask questions that would stir the memories. “Mum, do you remember the day Nora and I were born?”
Her gnarled fingers worked the braid loose from her hair as she studied him. Her eyes seemed to always hold a faraway look these days, but maybe she was thinking back. “Nora?”
He nodded. “My twin sister. Do you remember the day we were born? Was it in the room next door?” His parents had occupied that larger chamber until after his father died and Mum’s dementia set in so strongly. Just before he married Cathleen, they’d moved Mum into this smaller room.
That last question seemed to stymie her, and her thin brows lowered in a confused frown. “The room next door?”
He shouldn’t have added that detail. Especially since she still went into the wrong bed chamber at times. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “When Nora and I were born. Which of us came out first? Do you remember?”
Now that he thought about it, Mum had never really talked about their birth. Wasn’t it common for mothers to reminisce about the special details of their children’s first minutes? Even the Bible spoke of the unique way the twins Jacob and Esau were born.
This Healing Journey Page 2
