Wings of a Dream

by Anne Mateer

  I shrugged my answer, hoping the truth wasn’t apparent in my eyes.

  He picked up his coffee, washed down his eggs, and cleared his throat. “I thought we’d make a trip into Terrell today.”

  “All of us?” Ollie nearly shouted.

  “That’s right, honey. All of us.”

  Ollie’s head whipped in my direction. “Terrell, Rebekah.” Her wide eyes told me this was a pleasure she’d experienced before, one she longed for again.

  “How does that sound, Rebekah?” Frank’s words turned all eyes in my direction. “Think you can get us ready?”

  I laid down my fork, breakfast suddenly a rock in my stomach. Did he mean this as my farewell party? Maybe he’d tell the children that two weeks from today I’d board the train and ride back out of their lives.

  Frank grinned at me and pushed his plate away.

  I let out a long breath and managed an answering smile. “I’ll have us ready. Ollie will help.”

  “Me, too!” The boys’ words tangled with each other.

  Frank slapped his hands on his legs and stood. “I best get my chores done, then.”

  As he left the kitchen, I grabbed his empty plate along with my half-empty one. Terrell might not be quite as big as Dallas, but according to the things I’d heard, it had a sight more to offer than either Downington or Prater’s Junction. And if I were doomed to live out my days in Downington, I wouldn’t let this last opportunity for excitement pass me by.

  We rode into Terrell behind a skittish Dandy. We weren’t the only ones in a horse and buggy—or horse and wagon—but enough automobiles zipped from street to street that Dandy spooked quite often.

  Frank gripped the reins, held Dandy’s head more tightly. “Times are changing, aren’t they?”

  I took a deep breath. “And will you change along with them?”

  “When it seems prudent.” Frank shrugged. “Some things are lasting; some are gone in a flash. I’ll adapt to the lasting changes, but it might take me some time to figure out what those really are.”

  I considered his words as the jangle of harnesses and the creak of leather intertwined with the chug of motors, just as the smell of gasoline mingled with that of horseflesh and manure. Before, I might have protested his cautiousness. Now I wondered if it held more wisdom than my desire for everything new and flashy.

  “ ’Course, if this bond election for new roads comes out right, I might be tempted to jump right into the automobile craze.”

  I shot up a silent prayer for voters on their way to the polls, then reproached myself. I wouldn’t be here to enjoy new roads, anyway. Let alone any automobile Frank might be persuaded to purchase.

  Dandy walked farther into the heart of the city. My head turned this way and that, craning to see every possible sight Terrell afforded. A large hotel. Several grocers and drug stores. Auto shops and harness makers, almost side by side. The train depot.

  “Oh! What’s that?” I pointed toward a large building fronted with massive columns.

  “Carnegie library,” Frank said.

  “Mama took me there once,” Ollie whispered from the back.

  I bit my lip, wishing my comment hadn’t elicited that response. And yet that was the truth of the matter. They’d had a mama. One that only Ollie and James and possibly Dan remembered. I swallowed hard and glanced at Frank. His face held no discernable expression.

  “What do you remember about it, honey?” I asked Ollie.

  “Rows and rows of books. And being shushed. A lot.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. My mama would have had to shush me, too, I imagined.

  We rolled on down Moore Street. Then Frank turned and hitched Dandy to a post and we climbed from the buggy. Frank set Janie on his shoulders. She clapped and grinned. I caught Dan by the hand.

  People swarmed before the storefronts. I felt certain I gawked like a country girl as we clomped up and down the board sidewalks, my arm swinging with Dan’s. My day in Dallas hadn’t been filled with such wonder. Only with expectations—and then disappointment. But today Ollie and James walked beside me, wide-eyed and excited. And I couldn’t help but join in their enthusiasm.

  We ended our meanderings at the soda fountain. With my handkerchief, I wiped away the dirt that had collected on our sweaty faces before we stepped inside. Frank ordered three sodas. I shared with Janie, Frank with Dan, and Ollie with James. As we rested and laughed, the contentment on each face both freed and squeezed my heart.

  James slurped up the remaining drops in his glass and let out a long sigh.

  “Good day, son?”

  James nodded. “A family day.”

  I held my breath and let my gaze rest on Frank’s face for only an instant before my trembling hands fussed with Janie’s dress. He had nothing but smiles for his son. What did it mean? Did he like the idea of us as a family? Maybe just seeing his children’s happiness had sparked his own. I beat back hope, reminded myself that it wasn’t me he wanted.

  He slapped his hands against his knees and stood. “We best be on our way back before the sun decides it’s worked long enough and heads to bed.”

  “Daddy”—Dan grabbed his father’s hand—“you know the sun doesn’t have a bed.”

  “Oh.” His forehead wrinkled as he gazed into his son’s upturned face. “Doesn’t it?”

  “No. Bekah says it goes to the other side of the world at nighttime.”

  “Does she now?” His eyebrows rose in my direction. Why in the world did I blush and turn away?

  “Well, let’s race it home, shall we?”

  The children nodded to sleep, one by one, as Dandy’s pace steadied us home again. I kept quiet, as did Frank. Had James’s comment disturbed us both? The thought made my head hurt, for I couldn’t discern the answer. So instead, I wondered about Mama.

  I hadn’t heard a peep from her since she’d arrived back in Downington. I expected a long letter detailing my youthful foolishness for remaining with Frank’s family, but none arrived. Had Daddy stayed her hand or was she simply not speaking to me? And did it matter?

  She had plenty of opinions as to what my future should entail. But in spite of her suggestions, I couldn’t find the peace I sought. Whether she recognized it or not, I had my own life to live. My own decisions to make. The Lord wanted me to hear Him and obey.

  But as day passed into day, I found myself afraid to ask for His direction. For more and more I wondered if He’d side with Mama and tell me to be content to go back home.

  “I’ve been praying for you,” Irene said after church the next morning. Her face didn’t hold the same laughter as it had before Beulah’s passing. It had turned serious and searching.

  I squirmed in my seat, for the first time uncomfortable with my friend.

  She sat beside me. “How are things at the house?”

  “Fine.” But I couldn’t meet her eyes. I smoothed my skirt, crossed my ankles, pulled my handbag closer to my body.

  She placed a hand on mine. “I’m still praying.”

  I nodded without looking up, my gaze stuck on her hand until it moved from view.

  Then the sheriff stood at the end of the pew. “Rebekah?”

  With a small shake, I tossed off my melancholy and offered him my brightest grin. He returned it, tucking my hand in the crook of his arm and escorting me from the church into the gray day. More winter than spring.

  “May I stop by this week?” His eager eyes terrified me. I needed to tell him I’d be leaving soon.

  “I . . . Well, I guess that would be fine.” What could I say? Please don’t ask of me what I can’t give? Maybe I imagined the question in his eyes after all. Maybe he just needed a friend. I laid my free hand on his arm. “Please, come. It’s always a pleasure.”

  Sheriff Jeffries knocked at the kitchen door just after supper the next evening, his hat turning in his hands, his tongue swiping across his lips. Frank and the children retreated to the parlor as I poured coffee and sat across the table from Henry
, my heart thumping a frantic pace. It had been a long time since I’d felt so uncomfortable in his presence.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” He stared into his cup as if he could read his next words on the dark, shifting surface.

  Frank’s low laughter drifted in from the parlor. My feet longed to run to him, to hear what childish antic had brought amusement, but I stayed in my seat.

  Henry pulled a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and slid it across the table.

  “What’s this?” I unfolded it, and my breath caught at the words. “A Texas Ranger.”

  He nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “It’s all because of you, Rebekah.”

  “Me?” I bit my lip to hold back the tears. Henry would get to live his dream.

  “I’d have never tried if you hadn’t encouraged me.”

  I reached across the table and squeezed his hand before I realized what I’d done. I let go as fast as if I’d touched a frozen water pump handle barehanded.

  But he held on. “I love you, Rebekah. I think I have since the moment I caught you on the train platform.”

  I held my breath, wishing I didn’t have to disappoint this man.

  “Come with me. Marry me.” His eyes radiated hope.

  I remembered the driving lesson—and the dinner at Irene’s. Henry Jeffries had adventuresome dreams, but he wanted a safe wife. Someone to be coddled and cared for, like Clara Gresham. I wasn’t sure I could be that, just as I could never seem to be the docile daughter Mama longed for.

  I reclaimed my hand, wishing I could soften the hurtful words. “I can’t.”

  He sat back as if I’d struck at him.

  “We aren’t right for each other, Henry. We’d come to despise each other, I think. Eventually.”

  His head shook. “We wouldn’t, Rebekah. I’d do whatever you wanted, be whatever you wanted.”

  Such the opposite of Arthur. Humble. Caring. Saying he loved me. “That’s the problem, Henry. You shouldn’t have to change for me.” Why couldn’t I return his affection? Why did the Lord doom my heart to care for those who didn’t care for me?

  “Everything all right?” Frank poked his head into the kitchen, his eyes meeting mine. Those blue eyes, deep with passion and love for his family.

  I pushed away from the table and ran out the door, all the way to the barn. I groped through the dark interior, hearing Dandy and Tom and Huck gallivanting in the corral, Ol’ Bob mooing from her stall. I lifted my skirts, charged up the ladder and into the hayloft, and wept, wondering if I’d just turned down my very last chance at love.

  I kept myself apart from the family after counting eleven days remaining on my paper. Frank didn’t ask any questions. He just grabbed three squares of cornbread and a cup of coffee and returned to the barnyard. Or the fields. He didn’t bother to tell me which.

  I was glad to escape him, for no matter how I chided my heart, it continued to race in his presence. He’d already made it clear he had no intentions toward me. And now I’d refused two eligible young men who did. Perhaps he thought me young and foolish. Perhaps he wished I would leave. After all, he’d said he wouldn’t need me to care for his children forever. Yet I saw no evidence that he intended to take a wife to mother them, either. What was his plan?

  My disconcerting thoughts set me to slamming pots and barking orders. Courage stirred until I believed I would spew all my words the minute he walked in the door. But I knew how he’d react: He’d stand there quietly, smiling shyly, as if he didn’t want to offend, leaving me to bite my lip and turn away in hopes he wouldn’t see the flush creeping up my neck.

  A whole week I endured, until I imagined my heart would burst from my chest. Something had to change. And it seemed I needed to be the one to make it happen. Ollie skipped off to school that morning. James and Dan raced out the door close behind.

  “Stop!” I called.

  Their shoulders hunched and heads hung as they turned back.

  “Take Janie with you.”

  “Why?” James asked.

  “Because I said so.” I led her to the porch, put her hand in James’s. He huffed his displeasure, but Dan bent low, his hands on his knees, his face near Janie’s. “You can be the bad guy, okay?”

  I wanted to laugh and cry as they helped her down the steps. But I also wanted this infernal waiting to end. I needed it to end.

  They turned the corner, headed for the front yard. I ran in the opposite direction. To the garden behind the house. In the far corner, among the soil Frank had readied for planting, I dropped to my knees and covered my face.

  “I’ve waited so long, Lord. What do You want from me?” My weak and weary heart cried for help as the cool morning warmed, but I didn’t move. I prayed, desperate for direction. The Lord had brought me to this place, to this family. Aunt Adabelle had been sure of it. And so had I. Until this moment, I believed He’d asked me to stay, too. But the unwelcome new stirrings inside me couldn’t be denied.

  I had no desire to torture Henry Jeffries or Frank, one who wanted me and one who didn’t. And I had no desire to bring further heartache to the children, either. But they needed me, didn’t they? Or did I just wish they did?

  The longer I prayed, the more I sensed what had to be. “Why is doing the right thing so hard, Lord?”

  He didn’t answer back. But He knew all about my struggle. He’d sweat His own blood over the agony of His obedience.

  Take no thought for the morrow. I took a deep breath, brushed the dirt from my skirt, walked back into the house, and started dinner.

  I knew what I had to do, though it rankled all the same. But fresh air and a stretch of the legs would do me good. I could walk to town at leisure, not in haste like the day Dan cut open his head. I would enjoy the solitude, the exercise, and the last of the winter-scented air. And when I arrived in town, I’d send a Western Union telegram to Mama and Daddy to let them know I was coming home.

  I set the pork chops on the kitchen table, but I didn’t sit. Instead, I pulled off my apron and donned my hat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have some errands that must be done in town. I won’t be long.”

  Frank and the boys looked stunned but didn’t protest. And so I hurried away, enjoying the journey much less than I’d tried to convince myself I would.

  The telegram didn’t take long to write. Arriving tomorrow. Rebekah. No other explanation needed. A man I didn’t recognize copied down the telegram. Thankfully, no one else stood by to wonder about my business.

  I fumbled for the money in my pocketbook. Daddy’s money. Plenty to cover the telegram and any cost to change the train ticket. I ought to offer the rest to Frank, for Dallas and for the Christmas presents. Or maybe I could send it back later.

  My bottom lip trembled just a bit. I caught it with my teeth. No one must suspect my agony. Like leaving a limb behind. Or five.

  I’d heard whispered stories about men with amputated limbs, how they still hurt long after the appendage was severed and buried. It would be the same with my heart, a lingering ache for Frank and his children, no matter how long they’d been gone from my sight.

  Frank could hire another housekeeper—someone like my aunt. He could live in his own house, sleep in his own bed, be with his children day and night. And I supposed I’d survive—even though my heart felt like an old dress Mama had ripped to pieces to make a rag rug. I imagined myself as that dress, once a pretty thing to be admired, now destined to be trampled beneath dirty feet.

  “More time,” I whispered to myself as the road to the house both pulled and repelled me. “I wish I had more time.”

  Deep breaths calmed me on the outside. Measured steps took me to Mr. Crenshaw’s store, the remainder of Daddy’s money clutched in my hand.

  Mr. Crenshaw peered past me as I entered. “Alone today?”

  Then I noticed Sheriff Jeffries. He paled, doffed his hat, and scooted past. I watched him go, swallowing down the ache in my throat.

  “How can I help you?” Mr. Crenshaw’
s friendly face brought me back to my task.

  “Peppermint sticks, please. And . . .” My gaze swept over the shelves. “Two combs, a lace handkerchief, and a lace bib.” I laid Daddy’s remaining bills on the counter. Maybe the trinkets would soften the blow.

  After Mr. Crenshaw had wrapped my purchases, my dawdling excuses vanished. Heavy steps carried me back toward Frank Gresham’s farm. I let my shoulders droop and my feet drag as I traveled the lonely road.

  Aunt Adabelle’s face intruded into my musings, purplish blotches on a bloodless background. A woman, from all accounts, who loved people—especially this family. In fact, she’d used the last of her earthly breath to commend them to me.

  “God sent you.” Words that had both sustained and challenged me.

  I knew Mama loved me, too, but I dreaded returning to her brand of affection. Yet after these months of caring for the children, I could imagine some of the love behind Mama’s actions. And I wondered if in this experience came my chance to be different. To let go of the ones I loved in spite of my longing to keep them close. To trust all our futures to the Lord, not to my own plans.

  The farmhouse appeared as I rounded the bend. No longer unfamiliar. Now every porch and window and square of yard held a memory. My chest ached, but my will stood firm. Come morning, I’d announce my plan to catch the train home. It would be easier that way. No time for the children to work themselves into a tizzy. No time for anyone to try to change my mind.

  I’d make my good-byes in my own way, like Will had. Remembering the last days with my brother, his grace in the midst of his own personal tragedy, made me proud. I wanted to be as strong as him.

  I circled around to the back gate and pasted on a carefree smile before gliding through the kitchen door. “I’m home—and I brought presents!”

  Feet pounded the floor, little faces lit with contagious excitement. Frank presided over them with a smile as bright as the sun.