For now it didn’t matter. He needed the distraction. He couldn’t go to Iraq and find his sister. He couldn’t make things right. So he was walking around in a stupor, rescuing everyone in sight.
She saw him at the front of the church, no longer himself. He wore khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. She compared him to that cowboy she had met back in May, with the toothpaste smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners.
Today he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was a burden he needed to give to God. She knew it was easier said than done.
“She’s coming home, Clint.” Willow squeezed his hand and let it go.
He touched his lips with his fingers and lowered his hand. THANK YOU. His gray eyes watered, and he looked away.
The pastor walked through a door at the side of the sanctuary, a kind man in his sixties who loved his congregation and treated them all like family. His family. And the compassion in his eyes said that he hurt when they hurt.
Pastor Gray smiled out at the gathering. Willow turned, seeing people she’d never seen before. The pews were crowded. People were lining the walls.
As the pastor spoke, Clint signed the words for Willow. And she let him, because she had to accept what was happening to her hearing. She was learning to let go of pride.
“When we pray, we’re to pray believing that God in heaven hears our prayers, and answers our prayers. Sometimes we say we’re ‘just going to pray about it.’ And we make ‘just’ sound like a last resort. But the word just means something very different. It means ‘immediately.’ It means ‘now.’
“‘I’m just going to pray’ is sometimes our way of saying, ‘well, nothing else has worked, I’m just going to pray.’ But add the word immediately in place of just. ‘I’m immediately going to pray.’ That’s what we should do in every situation. Every time we stumble, doubt, or fear, we should ‘just pray.’” He paused and smiled. Clint continued to sign, catching up. “And that’s what we’re going to do now for Jenna Cameron. We’re just going to pray.”
He stepped out from behind the pulpit. “And we’re going to pray, believing our God in heaven hears and answers. We’re not going to pray thinking that God might or might not answer. We’re going to be the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’s garment, knowing in faith that to touch Him would bring healing.”
“Amen.” Clint whispered the word.
Amen.
Clint stood and Willow walked with him to the altar, aware that others were pushing in around them to pray. It was warm and close. Willow knelt next to Clint, aware that someone had knelt next to her.
I’M TRYING TO HAVE FAITH, Clint signed.
Willow swallowed, nodding, because she understood “trying to have faith.” She understood moving forward one day at a time, waiting for that moment when a person realized the meaning, the purpose of a situation and knew they could make it.
WE HAVE TO ASK FOR MORE FAITH. She moved her fingers, silently, words for Clint alone.
MORE FAITH. Clint bowed his head and nodded.
Walking out of the church with the boys, Clint saw Willow standing off to the side waiting for him, her expression soft as her gaze settled on them.
“Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Willow asked as they walked across the lawn to the parking lot. He noticed her truck at the edge of the road. Janie had ridden with him.
Janie rounded up the boys, smiling and talking like everything was normal and that tomorrow would be a fun day. She told them they would even get out the garden hose again. If it didn’t rain.
Willow had asked him about dinner. “No, not tonight.”
“Clint, you should come to the house. There’s no reason to be alone.”
“I’m not alone.” He looked away.
“There are ways of being alone without being alone.” She smiled, but the gesture was weak. “I know from experience. And I know all about using pride to close out the world. I know…”
“I know you do.” He wanted to hold her, because she knew how it felt to lose things important to her. Someone important to her. He couldn’t imagine her pain in that hospital, alone. He couldn’t imagine complete silence.
He felt pretty weak compared to her.
“Don’t shut us out, then.” That determined lift of her chin.
“I won’t shut you out. But I’m going to get the boys to bed early. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“Willow, I’m fine.”
“Of course you are. We women are the only ones who need someone to lean on, right?”
“Something like that,” he teased, hoping she’d smile and let it go.
“I’m here if you need me.” She let it go, that easily.
“I know you’re here.”
He watched her walk away, and he was sorry that he’d spent a lifetime hiding his own pain and handling things alone. Janie had always just known, without him telling her.
From the looks of things, her niece didn’t think he was a closed book, either. He’d sure never thought of himself as transparent.
On Thursday afternoon the military chaplain called with news. Clint listened to the man on the other end, faceless and practically nameless, telling him that they had leads. They were hopefully optimistic that they would recover Jenna Cameron.
Hopefully optimistic and recover. Clint tried to push the terms aside, to not think too deeply about what they meant. He was pretty sure the military had meant to give him hope. He reached down deep for faith, because it felt buried by the emotion of the last few days.
Sunday and the prayer meeting felt like a lifetime ago.
The boys were in the barn with Willow. Clint walked through the double doors and headed in the direction of the office. He could hear the boys laughing and Willow talking to them.
He stopped short of entering the office. He couldn’t go in there like this, because he knew the boys would see it in his eyes. If they didn’t, Willow would.
Deep breath, and he ran a hand through his hair. The smile he plastered on was for the boys, to keep them smiling. They looked up when he stepped into the room.
They were on the floor, coloring pictures of Black Beauty. Willow was sitting at her desk, a catalogue in front of her.
“What’s going on in here?” He sat down opposite Willow.
“The boys are coloring.” She smiled at Timmy and David. “I’m picking an Arabian mare from this catalogue.”
“You know the guys at the feed store are going to tease you.”
She smiled. “They tease me about everything. The feed I buy, the vitamins I give my animals, and I think they make fun of my truck.”
He laughed because they did make fun of her truck. “You drive a purple diesel around the country. And then there’s your Ford. You have fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror.”
“A little girl gave me those dice.”
“Tell that to the guys, not me.”
“Nope, let them talk.” She opened the catalogue and pushed it across the desk. “I like this mare.” Eye contact. “Have you heard anything?”
“Yes.”
She looked down at her hands, the mood slipping from easy laughter to serious. She glanced at the boys, and he followed the look.
THEY HAVE LEADS AND ARE “HOPEFULLY OPTIMISTIC.” Clint signed, I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. BUT LAST NIGHT DAVID ASKED WHEN HIS MOM WILL CALL. Willow’s eyes filled with tears. WHAT DO I SAY TO A QUESTION LIKE THAT?
She shook her head and her hands moved in silent communication. I DON’T KNOW. I’M SORRY.
THEY NEED NORMAL. THEY NEED CHURCH AND THE PARK. I NEED TO TAKE THEM TO THE ZOO OR THE LAKE.
THEN DO IT. KEEP THEM BUSY. She smiled. KEEP YOURSELF BUSY. TAKE THEM BACK TO CHURCH.
Clint glanced back at the boys. They were still coloring, ignoring the silent communication between adults. They had accepted that sometimes signs were used for words.
I’M AFRAID THAT THEY’LL HEAR SOMETHING AT CHURCH.
I KNOW. BUT, CLINT, YOU CAN’T HIDE THEM AWAY HERE. HIDING IS JUST THAT, HIDING. IT’S FEAR AND LACK OF TRUST.
She was right, he signed. He didn’t tell her the rest. If he couldn’t handle this situation, how would he handle the next fifteen or so years, trying to raise them alone, trying to make the right choices?
WE’RE HAVING FAITH THAT SHE’S COMING HOME. Willow signed with determination. Determined, the way she approached everything in life.
She was facing profound deafness, and yet she didn’t seem to waver in her convictions, in her determination and her faith.
“You’re right.” He stood up, but another catalogue caught his attention. “What’s that?”
“Independence.” She smiled, her eyes bright, maybe with tears. “I’m facing my future and letting go of pride. There are ways I can help myself to be independent. New phones. Answering machines that change a voice message to a typed message, and a few other gizmos.”
“I think that’s great. And don’t forget, you have friends.”
“I won’t forget.” She smiled up at him, winking in a way that made him want to forget everything. “And don’t you forget either.”
“Hey guys, let’s go riding.” He turned back to Willow. “Want to go?”
She did. Smiling, she stood and held a hand out to David. Clint didn’t know what he would do without her.
And that thought brought a lot of other questions he wasn’t ready to deal with. Questions like—where did she fit into the rest of his life? Did she even want to be there, or were they just friends?
He pushed those questions aside and walked to the tack room to pull out bridles and saddles.
After a long ride, Willow slid to the ground and pulled a groggy David down. He wrapped his arms around her neck and she held him for a minute. When he didn’t move, she glanced down and he smiled up, his eyes heavy.
“You need a nap.” She pulled him close and held him for another minute before setting him down.
Timmy seemed a little more alert, but not much. Willow smiled at Clint, and he winked. Her heart couldn’t take much more of his charm. Cowboys either didn’t know their power over women, or else used it so effectively that it came off as innocent and unknowing.
She’d met hundreds over the last five years. And she’d always managed to keep her distance and not be touched by that charm.
Until now.
“I’m going to take these boys home for a nap.” Clint was unsaddling the horse he’d ridden and Timmy and David were sitting on the ground, leaning against a stall door.
Willow cross-tied the mare in the center aisle for a good brushing. “Do you want me to brush your horse?”
“No, I can take care of him. What about dinner tonight?”
“What about it?”
He glanced over the bare back of the big old buckskin he’d bought. The horse was faded gold with a black mane and tail. Showy, but solid. A cowboy’s horse.
“Dinner. What are you doing? Janie is gone, isn’t she?”
“She’s with her friends.” Willow tossed the currycomb in a bucket and led her horse into the stall. Clint walked up behind her with a scoop of grain. He leaned in past her and filled the bucket.
“Do you want to run into Grove with us?”
“For dinner?” She shrugged.
“You have to eat.”
“Yes, I have to. Okay, sure.”
“If you don’t want to…”
She glanced at the boys, now leaning against each other, eyes closing. “Take them home. And yes, I’ll go with you. They have great fried chicken at the new diner.”
“Fried chicken it is.”
He led his horse away, out the back door to the gate. Willow watched. She glanced back at the boys and Timmy was awake. He gave her a look and then shifted away. When Clint returned, the boys jumped up, grabbing his hands and mumbling goodbye to her.
Willow watched from the barn as Clint headed down the road to the foreman’s house, a boy on either side, both leaning against him.
It was a picture she’d like to have hanging on the wall of her office, the cowboy in his faded jeans, T-shirt and white cowboy hat, and two little miniatures walking next to him down a dusty country road. For a minute it almost felt like they belonged in her life in a forever kind of way.
She allowed herself to have that dream, of being loved forever. She thought it might feel like this, like a summer afternoon in the country and a man who was always there. It had been a long, long time since she’d daydreamed of cowboys and forever. Sixteen years to be exact.
It could only be a dream.
She walked across the road to the house, Bell following at her heels, a stick in the dog’s mouth. Bell was an optimist, always believing someone would take the hint and throw the stick. Willow leaned and grabbed it from the slobbering dog, regretting it immediately. She tossed the stick and wiped her hands on her jeans. The dog ran across the yard. Rather than bringing the stick back, she took it to a hole she’d dug and lay down with it.
Willow walked up the front steps of the house, listening to quiet country sounds that were even now fading. She sighed, because she didn’t want to think about it all being gone.
Silence. She’d spent two days in a world of complete silence until she got new hearing aids. And soon it would be permanent.
She would survive. Because God was with her, always. Even in the silence.
And if there was a miracle, she prayed it was for Jenna, bringing her home to her boys.
Janie wasn’t at home. Willow walked through the empty house, thinking about the time when Janie would move. She hadn’t allowed herself to really contemplate that day, and what it would mean to her.
Now she did. As she sat in the living room under the gentle push of air from the ceiling fan, she thought about living in this house, in silence. Alone.
She closed her eyes and thought about the business she’d built, and holding on to independence. And for a minute, just a minute, confidence faded and she felt afraid.
She wouldn’t be able to hear the telephone or the radio. She wouldn’t be able to hear the announcer at bull-riding events.
Everything she’d lost, and would lose, coiled around her heart. Brad. The baby. Now her hearing, and maybe her business. She’d thought Brad would love her forever. She had believed they would have children and a family that laughed together. She had never dreamed she would lose her hearing completely.
Her mind snaked back to thirty minutes ago, thinking about Clint in her life forever. She had let go of those dreams until he walked into her life again. And now, how did she go back to being content with this life she had chosen, living on this ranch, raising bulls and being single?
“God, get me through this,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “Give me peace that surpasses all understanding, and show me your will for my life, so that I don’t feel so alone.”
The fan continued to swish cool air from the air conditioner, and Willow drifted off.
Clint dozed off in the recliner, feet up, two boys on his lap. When he woke up one arm was asleep. The other was empty. He blinked and sat up, sort of. He moved his head and then his arm, the arm Timmy had slept on. Stiff.
He moved it a few times, bending and clenching his fist. David slept on the other arm. He moved the little boy, who moaned and curled up as Clint got out of the chair. He reached for a blanket on the couch and draped it over David.
Timmy. He peeked in the kitchen. No sign of the missing twin. On the way down the hall, toward the bedrooms, he turned the temperature up on the thermostat.
No sign of Timmy in the bedroom. No need to panic. He could picture his nephew sneaking outside to play with Bell, or with toy cars. He couldn’t see him wandering too far from the house.
He walked out the front door and stood on the porch. No sign of the missing twin. The yard was dusty from lack of rain, and humidity hung in the air like a wet rug, weighing down the atmosphere. Clint wiped a hand across his already-perspiring brow.
“Timmy!” He cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted into late afternoon silence. “Timmy!”
No answer.
He walked back into the house, the screen door banging behind him. David was sitting in the recliner, holding on to the blanket like it was a lifeline.
“David, do you know where Timmy went?”
David shook his head, but his eyes were big, and Clint wondered.
“David, buddy, this is dangerous. If you know, you have to tell me.”
The little boy shook his head again, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Clint didn’t blame him. He felt a lot like crying, too. But someone had to be the grown-up. And that seemed to fall on him.
“Come on, let’s go to Willow’s.” Clint picked up David’s shoes, and the little boy slid them on. And then he raised his arms to be carried.
Clint walked down the road to Willow’s, searching the fields on either side for the figure of a little boy. David clung to his neck, wiry legs wrapped around his waist. The boy sucked his thumb, and Clint didn’t stop him.
Timmy could be anywhere. He could be in the barn, or with Willow. He could have gone in with the bulls. Clint told himself Timmy wouldn’t do that.
But then again, an hour ago, he wouldn’t have thought Timmy would take off while everyone else was sleeping. So where did that put Clint on the parenting scale? Not too high, he figured.
He pounded on Willow’s front door, and she didn’t answer. That gave him hope. Maybe Timmy had gone to her and the two were together. He knocked again. Still no answer. He pushed the door open and looked in.
Willow was asleep in the living room, stretched out in a chair with her feet on the ottoman. He stepped into the room and hesitated above her, looking down at a face peaceful in sleep and every bit as beautiful as when she was awake.
He knelt, setting David on the edge of the ottoman and reached for Willow’s hand. She shifted and then jumped a little. Her smile was sleepy, unguarded.
“Waking me like that could get you hurt.” She sat up, pulling her knees to her so that David had more room.
A Cowboy's Heart Page 16
