Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles)

by Lori Wick

  Felicity has been wonderful, but Drew can be rather

  .Aiding and I want to continue feeding him myself." This

  punctuated with yet another yawn as Stacy's eyes slid

  it.

  She was almost asleep when her grandfather rose to leave

  id was uncertain later if he tenderly touched her hair and

  leek or if she only dreamed it.

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  Q/u^~QMtee

  more than

  Two years later

  "would you like something, Lady Stacy?"

  "No thank you, Mercy. Grandfather should be here any

  minute, and I'm really not hungry."

  Stacy fell silent then and continued to watch her son eat.

  He was working on bread with jam. A cup of milk sat at his

  elbow, and he already sported a milk mustache. Completely unconscious of the adorable picture he presented, Drew sat

  staring out the kitchen window at the half-dozen ducks that

  waddled complacently across the grass.

  "You look miles away," Mercy commented as she sat down

  beside Stacy and studied the younger woman's face. Stacy

  knew that this type of familiarity with servants was unheard

  of at Winslow or even at Roddy and Luanda's, but this was all

  Stacy had ever known.

  "I just can't believe he's two," she told Mercy with a voice

  of wonder. "I don't wish the months back, but I do wonder

  where the time has gone."

  "It flies, it certainly does. Did you say Lord Andrew is

  going with you today?"

  "Yes. Drew misses him terribly when he doesn't come to

  the pond, and that was all Grandfather had to hear to be

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  177

  r~ed Anyway, Papa claims that you don't need eyes to t fish, only the feel of them tugging on your line."

  rfercy chuckled Having Stacy and the child with them had i like a tonic for the old viscount and his entire household y had no trouble believing that the old man would do

  Liing the boy wished. Andrew's sight had been completely

  ,j for months now, but his face was constantly wreathed in

  lies since his great-grandson was always at his side.

  "Are we ready to go then?"

  Peters had led Lord Andrew into the kitchen just then, and

  pfore anyone could answer the viscount, Drew was out of his

  iair and running to embrace those long legs.

  "Drew, you're getting jam on Grandpapa," Stacy said to

  young son as she stood readying to leave.

  Mercy moved toward Drew with a damp cloth. The little ~/ obediently removed his arms from Andrew and held his

  Jliands out for Mercy's attention. Andrew nearly protested, but

  file, as well as the rest of the household, had found out during

  Drew's first year what it had finally taken to make Stacy a

  fighter. She would brook no interference with the discipline

  of her son.

  This did not make her impossible to live with; in fact,

  quite the opposite. Everyone concerned was thrilled with the

  outcome. Lord Andrew Tanner Richardson, whose status as

  the future Duke of Cambridge outranked everyone's at Morgan,

  was the sweetest, most obedient child any of them had

  ever encountered He was not perfect, but Stacy dealt with all

  willfulness swiftly and effectively, thus showing Drew his

  boundaries and his mother's love.

  "Well, are we ready?" Andrew asked again, peering down

  as though he could actually see the small child at his feet.

  "Ready," Drew said and reached for Andrew's weathered

  hand.

  Stacy led the way with the poles and then came Peters,

  walking a step ahead for Andrew, the older man's arm tucked

  in his. Drew skipped along with childish ease, chattering all

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  the while. It was a bit of a jaunt to the pond, but he didn't S(

  to notice.

  "I saw the ducks," Drew said to Andrew, catching his h;

  again.

  "Did you now? How many were there?"

  "I think 200."1

  Everyone walking to the pond smiled. It was Drew's stan-1

  dard number. Stacy was in the habit of saying, "I have at least I 200 things to do today." So the little boy was only mimicking

  his mother.

  Just ten minutes later the three fishermen were seated on

  the banks of the pond, their lines in the water. Drew's string

  did not have a hook on the end, which was for everyone's

  Gaff*tr Kill-hdnmf

  ^-,. .: '*

  _-- w u iUiMi* lv 1113 giaiiuiauier ana the

  older man's hook and line. His own pole was poised over the

  water, but he spent all of his time watching for a tug on

  Andrew's line.

  "I think I've got one," Stacy called just a few minutes after

  her pole went into the water.

  "Oh, Mumma," Drew jumped with excitement, dropping

  his own pole. "Can I help? Can I?"

  "May I," Stacy corrected automatically, "and, yes, you may.

  Here you go." She passed him her pole and kept he-hands ready to assist. She laughed out loud when Drew couldn't lift

  the heavy catch from the water and ended up backing up the

  bank and dragging the poor dying fish from the pond.

  "Drew." The little boy had no more finished with Stacy's

  fish when Andrew needed him. Drew was swift to attend. So that her grandfather could enjoy the moment, Stacy, out of

  habit, quietly described everything she was seeing.

  They fished on in such a fashion for more than an hour,

  until Peters came to retrieve Drew. It was the boy's naptime

  and indeed he was beginning to flag. They had talked that

  morning about the fact that Drew would go to nap with Peters

  that day, but still there was some protest.

  "No, Mumma, not yet."

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  *t)rew." Stacy's voice was stern without being loud "You

  go with Peters immediately, and you will not fuss about

  F

  ' Drew stood for just a moment, and Stacy watched a look of

  jptance come over his face. She spoke again. "Kiss Grand-a

  and then come and kiss me."

  Drew did as he was told, and just moments later he was

  jping off with Peters, chattering fifteen to a dozen. The two

  raining fishermen were quiet for a time, but Stacy was

  _rly certain she knew what her grandfather was thinking.

  ie was correct of course, and when he spoke, it was con-

  plrmed

  "You should have let the boy stay."

  "I appreciate your not saying that in front of Drew, but ; you're wrong. He needs his nap."

  Andrew chuckled. "I wouldn't have believed anything

  could change you so much, but becoming a mother certainly

  has."

  "I will admit that becoming a mother alters everything,

  but the greatest changes in me have little to do with motherhood"

  "You mean this thing between you and God?" Andrew's

  skeptical voice spoke volumes.

  Stacy sighed very quietly. Her grandfather refused to

  believe that a person could have a personal relationship with

  God or his Son, but at least he was talking. This was the first

  time he'd brought the subject up. Stacy was usually the initiator,

  and when she did talk of her beliefs Andrew changed the

  subject very quickly. Seeing an open door for the first time,

  Stacy chose her words carefully.

  "I b
elieve the Bible, God's Word, to be true. And in His

  rf *

  Word, I've read how much I mean to God and how much He

  wants to mean to me. My belief is a choice, Papa, one that I'm

  more than satisfied with."

  "What about the church?" It was a sore subject between

  them.

  180

  "The bishop never has answers to my questions," Stac

  explained as she had before. "I don't think he studies the Bib!

  at all. I haven't given up on the bishop, but it concerns me thafl

  he only stares at me in dismay when I ask questions and tellsl

  me that I must not take the Bible too literally. Well, that's!

  absolute rubbish." Stacy's voice was very earnest, but not

  accusing or angry. "Noel and Elena have spent enough time in

  God's Word to help me. If they don't have an answer to my

  questions, they at least know where to look.

  "The Bible is our standard and if we shift our foundation,

  we're going to fall. It was in the Bible that I read that because I

  was a sinner without a Savior, I was headed to a lost eternity, i

  But I've now met that Savior, and I know where I'm headed 1

  "I love you, Papa, but I think the very reason you argue

  with me is that you're afraid. You have no peace about your

  eternity, and that terrifies you; it would me also. I have peace,

  and if you would let me read the verses to you, I could show

  you how to have it too."

  "Does your Bible also teach you how to speak disrespectfully

  to your elders?"

  Stacy wanted to cry, but now was not the time. She hadn't

  been disrespectful, and they both knew it. Her voice was

  gentle when she went on, and unbeknownst to her, somewhat

  defeated.

  "I'm sorry if you find me disrespectful, but if that's all you

  got out of what I just said, I'm even more sorry for what the

  future holds for you."

  A heavy silence fell between them, and Stacy prayed. She

  asked God to give her patience and not to say things that

  would antagonize her Papa or drive him further from the

  truth. She loved him so much, and it was at times like this that

  she had to remind herself that God loved him more.

  You are not the one who saves, Stacy, she said to herself.

  "I'm ready to go in now," Andrew said then.

  "All right," Stacy answered simply and rose to help him. In

  the past she would have apologized for what she said, but just

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  ffche last few days she had realized that was a mistake. She

  to be bold for Christ. She had spoken the truth, and

  , couldn't possibly be sorry for that.

  That her grandfather expected an apology was more than

  nous by the time they arrived at the house. He stood just

  ide the kitchen, his face turned toward her, a look of

  ifused anticipation in his eyes. Stacy did not satisfy him.

  "Would you like me to get Peters or ask Mercy to fix you

  nething?"

  Andrew was silent for a moment, and Stacy knew he would

  3t to go to his room.

  "Peters, please." His voice was low, and Stacy had all she

  ,ould do not to throw her arms around him and beg his

  I forgiveness. It was so hard to admit that the man you have

  always loved and respected was wrong. She swiftly moved

  from the room before she could change her mind

  "Does Grandpapa love Jesus?"

  Stacy smiled. It was bedtime, and Stacy had just read Drew

  a Bible story about Jesus and His disciples. What a question to

  come from her son the very day she'd laid things on the line to

  her grandfather!

  "I'm not certain how he feels right now, Drew, but we can

  pray that he'll understand how much God loves him."

  "God loves me."

  "Yes, He does," Stacy agreed and wrapped her arms around

  his sturdy little form.

  He was the image of his father, and at times it pained Stacy

  to look at him. He was tall for his age, which was no surprise,

  and other than Stacy's straight, thick, honey-blonde hair, he

  was every inch Tanner Richardson's child

  Because Drew lived in a houseful of adults, his speech

  habits and vocabulary were rather advanced She read to him

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  from the Bible every night and was amazed at how much 1

  retained, and how excited he became whenever Jesus was

  the story. Stacy believed his understandng of the Script!

  was a gift from the Lord.;

  It had been a temptation to sugarcoat the truth of Christ'^

  death and resurrection, but Stacy had not yielded. She knew:

  well that this was the foundation of all she believed The

  sooner Drew understood, the sooner he could make his own

  decision and commit himself to Christ. Stacy prayed for his

  belief every day as she did for her grandfather's and everyone!

  else's at Morgan.

  She also prayed for Tanner. She asked God to prepare his

  heart for acceptance. Stacy was beginning to believe that she

  would never see him again, but still she prayed. Each and every

  time she considered writing about Drew, she knew it would be

  a mistake. But at some point Stacy knew she needed to explain

  to Tanner about what had happened to her concerning Jesus

  Christ.

  Tanner had always been cynical about things concerning

  the church, something that had never bothered Stacy before

  to any great degree, but now it made her fearful of how he

  would respond to her beliefs. "Religious fanatic" was sure to

  be the nicest thing he would have to say.

  The thought gave Stacy no peace, and she wrestled inside

  of herself often as she tried to give her husband to the Lord At

  times she would lie in bed and dream about their first weeks

  together, when he made her feel treasured and cherished

  Stacy ached for her husband's love, but knowing how godless

  their life had been cast something of a damper on her memories.

  Tonight as Drew fell asleep, Stacy remained by his bed and

  let herself remember. After a time she prayed.

  "Please save Tanner, Father, and bring us back together. I

  know You love him, and I believe You would want us to raise

  Drew together. How long do I wait, Lord? He never acknowledges

  my letters, I know unless he sees him, Tanner will never

  believe Drew is his son, but You can work this out, Lord. You

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  move in hearts and lives so that Your will is done and You

  glorified."

  The day ended, but Stacy's faith and hope did not. Days

  id weeks passed. She continued to pray, committing her life

  ad loved ones to God. But time moved on, and before Stacy's

  _/es she watched her son blossom toward his third year. At the

  Lame time, she watched her grandfather wither as he approached

  his last.

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  Q/uwfo-

  drew

  galloped along beside his mother on the way to the

  pond, pausing now and then to inspect a stone or watch a bird.

  It took some time, but eventually he turned and noticed that

  Peters was not following with his grandfather.

  "Where's Grandpapa?"

  Andrew had not fished with them f
or several weeks, but

  Drew still asked after him every time they went.

  "He wanted to rest today." Stacy's line was becoming

  standard. "We can go to his room as soon as we're done,

  however, and show him our catch."

  Drew seemed content enough with this, and Stacy was

  glad when he did not chatter on. Her grandfather's ill health

  was a source of great concern for her these days, and some

  quiet hours at the pond were just what she needed. However,

  Drew had other ideas. He was quiet only until he remembered

  the special event of the next day.

  "Are we going to have cake?"

  Stacy smiled. He knew they were because Mercy had

  talked of nothing else for days, but she answered him anyway.

  "Yes, we're having cake."

  "And surprises?"

  "Surprises too."

  "When?"

  "Oh, maybe a little bit all day."

  "I'll be two."

  "No, you're two now. Tomorrow you'll be three."

  "Please show me the fingers."

  Stacy placed her pole on the ground and used both of her

  hands to carefully position Drew's tiny fingers until three

  stood in the air.

  "This is three," he stated

  "That's right. Tomorrow you'll be three."

  "How old are you?" the small boy suddenly asked

  'Very old," Stacy told him with a twinkle in her eye.

  "Two hundred?"

  Stacy laughed and grabbed for him. She tickled him and

  laughed at his small giggles until they both lay spent on the

  ground. After just a moment Drew heaved a great sigh and sat

  up in order to peer down into his mother's face.

  "I love you, Mumma."

  "I love you, Andrew."

  "I'm Drew."

  "I love you, Drew."

  The little boy smiled, and Stacy smiled in return. They

  didn't fish again for a time because Drew wanted to hear a

  story. Stacy told him all about Noah and the ark God told him

  to build. Before Stacy could finish naming the animals that

  came two by two, her almost three-year-old had fallen asleep

  in her arms.

  "It's a train, Grandpapa! Look at it, look at it."

  Drew shoved his favorite birthday present into his greatgrandfather's

  hands and waited for him to respond. They

  were sitting around the fire in the main salon, for Morgan was

  cold until midsummer.

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  j

  "Well, now," Andrew spoke with proper seriousness. "An! engine. Who's going to drive this fine train?"

  "Me," Drew nearly shouted and proceeded to make the