by Janet Dean
Beaming, she flashed Ted an “I told you so” smirk before turning back to Rose’s father. “Why thank you, Mr. Stevens. That’s one of the nicest things you could say to me.”
He smiled, obviously warming to Ted’s wife. “Please, we’re family. Call us Richard and Lily.”
“She’s not a member of our family, Richard. And never will be.”
“You might want to reconsider that, Lily,” Ted warned affably enough, but he saw in Lily’s eyes that she’d caught his meaning.
“When will Anna return from the neighbor’s?” Lily asked.
“She should be home soon.”
No more had the words left his mouth, than Rebecca knocked at the back door and peeked through the screen. “Well, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.” The door opened, Anna entered. “Have a nice visit,” Rebecca called through the screen, practically running to the wagon, tugging Grace along after her. The coward.
Lily flung out her hands. “Anna, darling! Grandma and Grandpa are here for a visit.”
Anna stepped into the circle of her grandmother’s arms, accepting her hugs and kisses, giving a hearty embrace in return. “Who fixed your braids, sweetheart? They’ve almost come undone.”
“Come here, sweetkins. Grandpa’s got a nickel for you.” He dug in his pockets, coming up with the coin.
Beaming, Anna took the money then kissed Richard’s cheek. “Thank you, Grandpa. I can buy some candy at the mercantile.”
“Just don’t ruin those pretty teeth.”
Having her grandparents near had put a sparkle in Anna’s eyes. Their presence appeared to comfort her.
A wail sounded from the children’s bedroom. Ted rose from his chair. “I’ll get him.” He changed Henry’s diaper in record time and returned to the kitchen.
Lily rose and took Ted’s son out of his arms. “Big precious boy!” she cooed. “Oh, look at your shirt. What is that? Oatmeal?” Her accusing gaze traveled to Elizabeth.
Henry wiggled out of Lily’s arms to the floor.
As he toddled away, Richard grinned. “My goodness, look at that, will you? Henry’s walking.”
“Come to Grandma!” Lily called.
Arms stretched out for balance, Henry tottered over to Elizabeth, throwing his arms around her legs.
Lily buried her face in her hands. “Oh, how I wish Rose could see this. She’d be so proud of her little boy.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “And of you,” she said, blowing Anna a kiss.
His eyes misty, Richard cleared his throat. “So, Anna, what do you think of your baby brother’s walking?”
“He gets into my stuff,” Anna groused.
As Henry sailed past Ted’s chair, he made a grab for his son. “He’s starting to climb.”
“Be careful he doesn’t fall out of his crib,” Lily said.
“So…how long will you be staying?” Ted asked.
Lily’s gaze never left Henry. “Long enough to spoil our grandbabies.” She bit her lip. “We’ve been at loose ends of late.”
Across from him, Elizabeth’s eyes brightened, a smile curving her face. He could almost see an idea plant itself in her mind. What was she—
“I’m glad you’re here,” Elizabeth said, turning to his in-laws. “You can help Ted look after the children while I return to Chicago…for my brother.”
Without a word to Ted, Elizabeth had set her plan in motion. Would she remain in Chicago? No, she’d return for her brother’s sake and in obedience to those vows she’d taken. He couldn’t delude himself. He was not the draw.
“Richard and Lily, you can take, ah, our room while Elizabeth’s away.” He cleared his cup to the sink. “I’ll sleep in the barn.”
Lily clapped her hands. “A change will do us good. Richard can help with the chores and I’ll help with the children and the cooking. It’ll be fun!”
Elizabeth gave a huge smile. Obviously pleased by the turn of events. While he’d have to deal with Lily alone. And deal with his daughter’s reaction to having a big brother.
Elizabeth’s plan had nearly come full circle. In a matter of days she’d give Robby the dream she’d promised—a home. On a farm. With a dog. And her open, dependable arms.
As she walked toward the barn in search of Ted, she pictured Robby hugging Tippy, feeding the livestock and trailing after Ted. So why did she feel a twinge of doubt nip at her stomach? Why did she feel this icy shiver slither through her veins?
She tamped down her silly reaction. Everything would be fine. She was sure of it. Things had worked together beautifully so she could go to Chicago, knowing with Lily and Richard in the house, Ted could finish planting without uprooting his children.
Whether Ted would agree or not, the Stevenses’ arrival today was the answer to her prayers.
In the west, the sun had dropped to the horizon, the sky awash with soft pink and peach. As if God had dipped a long rag mop into paint and streaked it across the heavens. The quiet, the stillness of the farm enveloped her, filling her with peace. For a moment, she felt happy. At home.
Then from the barn, she heard a cow low and the soft bleat of the sheep, a reminder of all the work left undone.
The sweet scent of hay mingling with the pungent odor of manure drifted through the door. She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Ted was bent over some kind of metal contraption, tinkering with it then pushing a lever.
Nothing happened. He tried it again. Again nothing happened. He paced in front of the machine, muttering in disgust, and then gave it a good kick.
Alone in the barn, or so he no doubt thought, Ted had relaxed the tight rein he kept on his emotions. In his hunched shoulders, she saw tension, even hostility.
“That thing causing you trouble?” Elizabeth said.
Ted whirled to her, then he tried a smile that fell flat. “Yeah.”
“Looks like you’re having a hard day.”
A sigh whistled out of him. “Farming’s hard work,” he said then went back to the machine. “It doesn’t help that this planter’s clogged.”
She watched him fiddle with that lever, his frustration mounting with every passing second. “Hard work wouldn’t deter you. It’s something else.” She laid a hand on his back. Beneath her palm, his muscles bunched. She blinked, startled by sudden insight. “You hate all this.”
“If you mean this planter, well, I think I do right now.” But he didn’t turn around when he said it.
“No, Ted, that’s not what I mean.” She stepped back. “Why can’t you be honest about what you feel? About this life, this farm?”
He stepped away from the planter and leaned against a rough-hewn support post, his gaze roaming the barn. “Maybe I don’t have time to feel. I do the work, pray for rain, sun and warm nights. I don’t examine my feelings about the job.”
His relaxed posture and matter-of-fact tone didn’t conceal the rigid lines around his mouth, his lack of eye contact, as if…
As if he had something to hide.
Why would he deny emotions—anger, joy, sorrow, all the feelings she struggled with daily? “You hate relying on something you can’t control.”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be married to you.”
Though a smile turned up her lips, she refused to credit his comment with a reply.
“The Bible teaches God is in control, not man.”
Had Ted used the Bible to avoid her questions? Hadn’t she read that believers were to share one another’s burdens? That should definitely be true of husbands and wives.
Elizabeth looked around her at the sturdy barn, the cows munching in their stalls and sheep curled up in their pen for the night. “What is it about farming that you don’t like, then?”
He shifted under her steady gaze. “Reckon you’re determined to make me open a vein and bleed my innermost thoughts.” He removed his straw ranch hat, swiped his sleeve over his forehead. “I hate breaking my back planting the crop and then a hailstorm, too much or like now, too little rain, undoes it al
l.” He slapped his hat on his thigh. “Not because of the need for control, but for the risk farming is for my family.”
“So why do you stay?”
His eyes lost their focus. “I’ve had a thought…nothing I’m ready to talk about now.”
“Well, if I could, I’d leave.”
He took a step closer. “Would you? Really?” he said, his voice soft, his eyes compelling as he searched her face.
Had her declaration hurt his male pride? If so, why? He didn’t love her. He wanted to coexist amicably, to give Anna and Henry a mother, a good home. Exactly as she wanted to do for her brother. Yet the lump in her throat said she’d miss Ted if she left. Not that she could. The ring on her finger tethered her to a world she didn’t fit.
How had he managed to put the focus on her? “Why do you stay?” she persisted, ignoring his question.
“I’m a man who sticks with things. I stick with this farm. And I stick with this town.”
“Well, that’s just silly. You should like what you do.”
“I’m a father, Elizabeth. Fathers don’t run off to pursue whatever whim or urge they get.”
She looked away, at the hay cascading over the haymow, at the rafters where owls roosted. At anything but Ted. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “they do.”
Ted cupped her jaw with his hand. “Good fathers don’t. I’m sorry if you had a childhood filled with uncertainty.”
She jerked away from his touch. “I didn’t. It was…fine. Everything was fine.”
But it hadn’t been. She was playing the game she’d been taught, the one her mother always played. Put on a brave face, pretend everything was all right and eventually Papa would come back home and make it so. For a while.
Oh, why had she asked the question? Why couldn’t she have come in here and said goodbye and been done with it?
He frowned. “When will you be back?”
“I’ll return with Robby by the end of the week.”
“I’ll miss you.” He raised a hand toward her then let it drop to his side. “This afternoon…making biscuits…I had the most fun I’ve had in my entire life.”
His admission rocked her back on her heels, but she wouldn’t let him know how much his words meant. “I liked telling you what to do.”
“Never a doubt in my mind about that.” He tweaked her under the chin.
She headed to the door.
“Elizabeth.”
She circled back.
“I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For filling a bit of the emptiness this house had.”
His words squeezed against her lungs. “I’m glad,” she said, her admission a whisper.
He took a step toward her, but Elizabeth strode to the house, eager to get away from Ted and the feelings he brought alive in her heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Ted dropped Anna and Jason at school, and then drove to the parsonage. Holding Henry in the crook of his arm, he knocked at the door, every muscle as tightly strung as a new fiddle. Perhaps talking to Jacob would set him back on his even-keel course.
Lydia ushered them inside, snatching his son from his arms before they made it to the living room. “Jacob’s in his study. Go on in.” She ran a fingertip down Henry’s neck and he giggled. “I’ll watch this precious little boy.”
Sitting across from Jacob’s desk, Ted told his pastor he’d experienced another verification of God’s Call. Three different people had told Ted he sounded like a preacher. “But I’m certain I’ve misinterpreted God.” To prove his assertion, he shared every ugly part of his past. When he finished, he said, “No church is going to accept an ex-gambler for a pastor, Jacob, especially this one. Not when my father swindled our church out of the remodeling fund.”
Jacob’s brow wrinkled. “Though the debt wasn’t yours, you made restitution for that swindle.” He rose and walked to the window, pointing in the direction of the saloon on down the street. “I believe you’re the right pastor for Joe Lessman. He might actually listen to you.”
If only Ted could believe that. Whether he believed it or not, The Call got stronger every day. And so did his resistance. For reasons God must surely approve. He had to protect his family. “I’ve made too many mistakes.”
“The Bible’s packed with stories of men who failed, yet God used those men in a mighty way.”
A few of those men paraded through Ted’s mind. Moses killed a man before God spoke from a burning bush and commanded him to save his people from Pharaoh. To hide his sin with Bathsheba, David arranged for Uriah to die in battle, yet David was God’s man. Saul persecuted the early Christians, but God gave him a new name and the task of taking the Good News to the Gentiles.
Ted didn’t doubt God had used these men and countless others to do His will. Could Jacob be right? Could men like Joe be the reason God wanted him, of all people, to pastor a church?
Jacob perched on the corner of his desk. “I have a story I want to tell you, Ted. About a young man who didn’t believe in God. This man made a point of using God’s Holy Name in vain. This man snorted in derision at others’ attempts to tell him about the love of God. This man committed every sin in the book and then some. I’ll spare you the details.
“And he was miserable.” Jacob’s voice cracked. “One night he met God. Not in some miraculous way, but in the deeds and love of a godly woman.” He smiled. “I was that young man, Ted. That woman is Lydia.” His brow crinkled. “I’m no squeaky-clean pastor. And yet, God forgave me. For every sin I committed. For every foul word out of my mouth. For every time I jeered His name. After receiving that pardon, I wanted to devote my life to serving and leading others to Him.”
Tears filled his eyes. “Amazingly I’ve had the privilege of sharing with others the joy I’ve found in the Lord. Not to judge them, but to love them, as Jesus did the sinners in the gospels. As Lydia did in my life. As I know you will here one day.”
Ted was speechless, barely able to take in that this scholarly pastor had lived such a life.
Jacob took a deep breath. “I haven’t shared that story often. Conversion isn’t about me. But upon occasion someone needs to hear that nothing he’s done puts him on a list of untouchables, of spiritual lepers. Because of God’s perfect love, we all have hope.”
Ted stared into Jacob’s eyes and saw the humility, saw the awareness of missed years, missed opportunities. But he also saw a man who valued the gift God had freely given him—forgiveness.
“Ted, Lydia’s parents are getting old. They need us. And Lydia’s home church needs a pastor.” He smiled. “I’d be amazed except I’ve seen God provide time and time again. We’ll miss the good folks here, but we’ve decided to move back home.” He studied Ted. “God is calling you to fill the pulpit here. Not because you’re righteous. No one is.” He smiled. “Though I can name a few who believe they are. But because you’ve experienced the incredible pardon of Jesus, and you want to lead others to that precious freedom.”
Ted shook his head. “It’s too big a risk. I’d have to tell Elizabeth and this town about my past. I could lose my wife.” If I haven’t already. “Once people know about my past, they won’t allow me to fill the pulpit. I can’t blame them.”
“God doesn’t call a man to a task without giving him what he needs to accomplish it and that includes an open door. You’re never on your own when you’re obedient.”
In his humanness, Ted couldn’t see how his past and God’s Call could mesh without bringing harm to those he loved.
“Don’t you see? I can’t let Anna and Henry suffer the ostracism I faced as a child.”
“Secrets have a way of coming out, Ted.”
As easily as a hot knife slid through butter, Jacob’s words sliced through Ted’s arrogant assumption that he had the authority to protect his family.
“God’s in control, Ted. We aren’t. He’s opened the door. Will you walk through it?”
Elizabeth pushed through the crowd of trav
elers moving pell-mell across the platform and spotted Robby, riding her father’s shoulders and waving wildly to get her attention. Papa’s big welcoming smile eased her concern that he’d still be angry at her defiance. By the time she reached them, he’d swung Robby to his feet.
“Hello, princess,” he said, wrapping her in a hug then releasing his hold.
Dropping her satchel at her feet, she tugged her brother close, smothering his upturned face with kisses. “You’ve grown a foot!”
Robby giggled and puffed out his chest. “Papa says I’m his little man.”
“Yes, you are.” She turned back to her father, noting for the first time that his suit hung on his large frame; lines grooved his once-smooth face. “You’ve lost weight, Papa.”
“About time,” he said. “You look wonderful.”
She smiled her thanks. “I’ve gained a few muscles working on the farm.” She ruffled her brother’s hair. “Oh, Robby, you’re going to love all the animals, one shaggy black-and-white dog in particular.”
Robby leaped up and down like a tightly coiled spring. “Really, Lizzie? A dog for me?”
“Tippy belongs to Ted, but—”
Papa’s brow knitted. “Who’s Ted?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, I can’t wait to see Martha.”
“She asked that I hurry you home.” Papa picked up her bag and they moved toward the street where he hailed a hack. Once they’d settled inside, Robby plied her with questions about the farm the entire way.
The hack stopped in front of the imposing portico. Ted’s two-bedroom farmhouse would surely fit into the third-floor ballroom. She dug in her purse, but Papa paid the driver. Where had he gotten the money?
They hadn’t reached the front door before it opened. Martha stood waiting, a smile as wide as her open arms and a dusting of silver softening her fiery red hair. Trim, tall, with an iron will and a no-nonsense demeanor, Martha let her hazel eyes skim over her, sizing her up in one swift glance.
Elizabeth slipped into the comfort of those arms and gave the nanny a fierce hug. “I’ve missed you.” A few weeks in Ted’s household had given Elizabeth new appreciation for all Martha handled.
