Liana rubbed Jellybean’s silky red fur. “It’s so quiet. Where is everyone? They can’t still be sleeping.”
“No, everyone’s up. Austin drove off about an hour ago. Said he had business in Casper. He’ll try to be back tonight. My husband’s off in the fields again, but he’s working closer to home today, so he’ll be in for lunch. Darrel’s out feeding the animals and gathering the eggs before he goes to school. The other boys are still in bed—not sleeping, mind you, but watching TV in their room. Their daddy bought it for them last year when they were sick.”
“Are they any better today?”
Mercedes frowned. “A little worse, I think. But that’s the course of the thing. Tomorrow they’ll be almost as good as new. Shouldn’t have let them go out to the barn yesterday, but I never would’ve heard the end of it if they’d missed Buttercup’s babies.”
“And how are they? The little goats, I mean.”
Mercedes smiled. “Beautiful. Especially that second one. Has very interesting markings on her face and the tips of her ears. I bet she’ll win the county fair this year.”
“I’d like to see them again, if it’s okay.”
“Sure, but let me get you something to eat first.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“I want to. You’re my guest.” She reached for a pan and skillfully cracked two eggs into it.
Liana frowned. “I’m sorry to have barged in on you. I’d thought we’d be staying at your grandmother’s place or maybe at a hotel.”
“Goodness no! A hotel, when I have all the room in the world here? Austin knows better than that. And Grandmother’s home is rented now. Besides, I enjoy talking to you. Heaven knows when I’ve had time to converse with another woman. On Sunday at church, and that’s about it.” As she spoke, Mercedes stirred the eggs with one hand and turned bacon with the other. Liana figured it didn’t occur to Mercedes that she might not care for bacon and eggs.
Liana ate her food, watching Mercedes strain fresh milk from the cow and put it into gallon jars. “I let the cream rise to the top, and then I skim it off,” Mercedes told her. “Make some into butter and some into cream for my pies.”
“That cream was excellent.”
“Nothing like fresh cream, sweetened with a bit of powdered sugar.”
Mercedes put the jars into her refrigerator. “In an hour or so the neighbors down the road’ll show up for a gallon of this and another gallon or so from last night’s milking. They have ten kids and use all that I can’t. They trade me for quilt scraps. The mom’s a quilter. Good one, too. Her sister works at a fabric store, and that’s where she gets the material for both of us. I’ve made a heap of quilts from those scraps. I’ll show you some later.”
Liana could have just as easily shot a deer, skinned it, and made a skirt from the hide as to have pieced a quilt. Though the idea had always fascinated her, she’d never had anyone to show her how, and now she was too busy making a living to worry about it.
She sighed and pushed back her chair. “I guess I’d better get to work. There’s a lot of papers to go through.”
“Did you forget about Buttercup and her babies? Why don’t you just take a quick peek at them first? Those papers have been there for months, some of them decades. Won’t hurt to let them wait a bit. Go on now. No, I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Practically driven from the house, Liana walked out onto the wide deck, passing the log swing set on her way to the barn. Jellybean tagged along, wagging his tail furiously.
“Go ahead and pet them, if she’ll let you,” Mercedes called after her.
Liana lifted her face to the morning sun, feeling the heat and marveling at how it lit up the world. Everything around her glowed with life. Buds of green forced their way through the dried brown grasses of last year, stretching toward the life-giving sun. Liana began to whistle and then laughed for the sheer joy of living. She wished the moment would last forever.
In the barn, she found Darrel carrying hay to the horses. She paused at Setzer’s stall, noting how the far side of the stall also had gates that permitted him to go outside into the small corral beyond. The far gates were open, but Setzer was still inside eating.
“Good morning, Darrel,” Liana called. “And good morning to you, Mr. Setzer.”
“Hi.” Darrel paused in his work. “You come to see the goats?”
“Is that all right?”
“Sure. She’s right in there. But she doesn’t like the dog around her babies. So go in and lock Jellybean out.”
“Okay.”
Under the child’s watchful eye, Liana opened the stall and slipped inside, ignoring Jellybean’s protesting whine and soulful eyes. In disgust, the dog ran toward Darrel, hoping to find someone willing to play. “Go away, Jellybean,” Darrel told him. “I have to finish. The bus’ll be here soon.”
With a bored yawn, the dog found a mound of straw and threw himself down.
Shaking her head in amusement, Liana turned toward the goats. The mother was eating from a bucket while the babies were lying in the straw, watching as Liana approached. She crouched down beside them, and they stared at her with wide eyes. The gray one with the white and brown markings on her face and ears nibbled her outstretched hand.
“You are a beauty,” Liana murmured, recalling the miracle of birth the night before. The goat’s silvery gray coat was softer than she had imagined.
A butting head broke her concentration. The mother goat had left her bucket and was hitting her head repeatedly against Liana’s shoulder. “Whoa, there.” Liana turned to defend herself but was surprised when the goat allowed her to scratch her head. She could feel nubs where the goat’s horns had been at one time. “You like that, huh? You know I’m not going to hurt your babies, don’t you?”
“She’s really nice for a goat,” came a voice over the gate.
Liana looked up to see Darrel peering at her. “Nice?”
“Yeah. Once we had a goat I totally hated. She used to chase me around the barn when I was younger. She had horns, too, that hadn’t been cut off. I had to carry a stick to keep her away. She was real ornery, I tell you. One day she butted Scott to the ground and trampled him. He was about four then. Mom got mad and gave her to a farmer. Then last year we got Buttercup. She’s as sweet as honey. For a goat, anyway.” He paused for breath. “Well, I gotta go catch the bus. Make sure you lock the gate when you leave.”
“I will.” Liana turned her attention back to the mother goat. The kids were trying to nurse again. “I’d better leave you to your business.” She gave a final pat to Buttercup, not daring to touch the babies again for fear of disturbing their feeding.
Out in the barn, even Jellybean had deserted her, so Liana wandered down the stalls alone. They had four horses here, a cow with the largest brown eyes she’d ever seen, a half-grown calf, Buttercup and her babies, and a fat pig who snorted as he gobbled at a trough full of what looked like grains mixed with the remains of breakfast. Another section of the barn led to a small henhouse. Liana peered through a window cut into the wall but could only make out dim shapes, though she could hear the occasional squawking of grown chickens, echoed by the peeping of small chicks. On the far side of the barn was a door that must lead to the bunkhouse Mercedes had mentioned. Liana was curious but not curious enough to intrude upon Austin’s space; she’d already stolen his room.
Liana emerged from the barn, blinking at the sudden brightness. Jellybean ran up to her, wagging his tail. Petting him, she gazed over the fertile land, bordered by the Rockies as though cradled in the hands of its Creator. In the distance, she saw Darrel waiting on the narrow paved road in front of the house with Jellybean’s parents. A school bus came to a stop, and the boy disappeared inside.
Back in the house, Mercedes was nowhere to be seen. Liana figured she was either bathing or taking care of her boys. “Nothing for it but to get to work,” she said. Jellybean wagged his tail. “I could get used to having you around,” she
told him, rubbing his ears.
In Austin’s room she pulled out several boxes and began to divide papers into current or ongoing projects, past projects, and future projects. She made more piles for different types of bills, employee records, and purchase orders. These she would need to put on the computer. When the first box was emptied, she used it to store ancient records they would not need to deal with again. The second empty box she filled with more current documents. At one point, she came to a box that had been neatly labeled and organized. Unfortunately, all of it was dated ten years before.
As she sorted, Liana was drawn into the story the records told of countless supplies passed on to children and adults in need: reading materials, pens, paper, clothing, toys, diapers, baby powder. Occasionally, she ran into letters between Austin’s grandmother and her employees or donors. These she saved in a separate pile but not before reading them. Her heart was gripped with individual stories of people who had directly benefited from the charity’s help. Lists of past donors came to light, and these Liana also put aside. A few might have dropped out of sight for some reason, but perhaps they would be able to donate again now. Austin would know what to do with them.
Hours into her work, the smell of fresh bread permeated the room. Liana breathed in deeply and checked her watch. Not even noon yet, and already she was hungry.
“Must be the air out here,” she said to Jellybean, who watched her with sad brown eyes from his place on her bed. He lowered his head on the blanket and sighed.
“Poor Jellybean,” Liana said. “Want to go out?” Jellybean wagged his tail once but didn’t move.
“Fine, have it your way. Be bored with me when you could be out chasing chickens and butterflies.” Liana looked out the window longingly before forcing herself back to work.
When Mercedes knocked on her door much later, Liana had gone through five boxes. She was sorting more rapidly now, as she had learned what to look for. “Come in,” she called.
Mercedes opened the door as far as the box near it would allow. “Some job, eh?”
“Yeah. Most of it’s past stuff, though.” Liana pointed to four of the boxes she’d already been through. “Those are old—some dating back fifty years. They aren’t needed for anything right now. May want to keep them to someday record the totals the charity did in that year, but other than that they could be thrown away. This other box is what we’ll need to put into the computer. Fortunately, it’s not nearly full yet. And then I have letters from your grandmother to others—seems she always wrote letters with carbons and kept a copy for herself. You’ll want those for your family history, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”
“I am. I’d like to know more about her. About why my mother—” Mercedes broke off, her thick brows gathered like thunder over her black eyes that were so like Austin’s.
“What happened to your mother?” Liana asked. Something about Mercedes invited the question.
Mercedes sighed. “To make a long story short, she married the wrong guy. She was unhappy, and she died of a broken heart.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need.” Mercedes squared her shoulders. “She could have been stronger. She could have left him. She could have lived. It was her choice. We can’t always avoid trouble in our lives, but we can decide what to do with it.”
“Given lemons, we make lemonade?”
Mercedes’ smile was back. “Yes. We make lemonade. But come on, it’s lunchtime. My husband’s here waiting to meet you.”
Liana stood, dusting her hands on her jeans. “I’d probably better wash up first.”
“We’ll be in the kitchen.”
When Liana walked into the kitchen a short time later, she was surprised by the man at the table. Liana had learned that Mercedes was thirty-eight, three years older than Austin, but her husband looked old enough to be their father. His skin was wrinkled by years of exposure to the sun, and his red hair had turned an orangey white. But his body was tall and strong and brown, reminding Liana of a thick, gnarled tree trunk that could withstand even the most forceful wind.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Wayne. Call me Wayne.” He broke into a smile that told of his easy nature, his gentleness. In that smile, Liana caught a glimpse of what Mercedes saw in him. His eyes also had a story to tell; the way they rested on Mercedes made it clear that he adored her.
They ate a warm lunch of chunky chicken stew with homemade noodles and the fresh-baked whole wheat bread Liana had smelled earlier, slathered in real butter. All the food they had grown or raised themselves. Wayne was a quiet man. He ate with silent gusto as Mercedes chattered on about the new chicks that had hatched the day before and how many months it would be before the pig and the half-grown calf would become the contents of their freezer. She spoke with a casualness that amazed Liana. How could you feed and care for something one moment and eat it the next? She decided she’d rather buy her food at the grocery store, never having to know it once had a name.
Liana admired Mercedes. She admired her enthusiasm, her friendliness, her hard work, the life she had created for herself. But she wondered at the fleeting glimpse of sadness in her eyes after she had kissed her husband good-bye and watched him disappear into the fields.
Something stirred in Liana’s heart. “What is it, Mercedes? Is something wrong?” For a moment, Liana entertained thoughts of a cancerous tumor or another fatal disease that would tear either Wayne or Mercedes from their family.
Mercedes’ sadness vanished. “Nothing. He’s such a good man, my Wayne. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve him at all.”
Liana gathered the dirty bowls together. “He loves you. Any fool could see that. And I think you’re . . . well, I really admire you, Mercedes.”
Mercedes plopped into a chair, a wistful expression on her face. “If you only knew, Liana. Maybe you wouldn’t admire me at all.”
Liana sat opposite the woman, feeling awkward. Obviously something was bothering her, but she had no experience in getting people to open up to her. Usually, she was too busy running in the other direction.
“Darrel isn’t his child,” Mercedes said after a long silence. Before Liana could recover from this revelation, she plunged on. “I was twenty-five and taking psychology classes. I met this guy who was studying to be a doctor.” She sighed and shook her head, a reflective smile on her lips. “We dated for a year. He was everything to me, but in the end he accepted a job in another state. He didn’t ask me to go along. I was barely pregnant when he left.”
“Did he know about the baby?”
She shook her head, her mouth drooping to a frown. “I thought about telling him, to make him stay or take me with him, but I didn’t want a man who didn’t want me. I’d seen how that had ruined my mother’s life. Later I realized I should have told him. He was very young at the time and far too ambitious for his own good, but maybe we would have had a chance. My pride wouldn’t let me, and now I’ll never know.”
Liana felt her sorrow, but before she could say anything, Mercedes continued. “It was the biggest mistake of my life—not having Darrel but having him that way. For a long time I was really lost. I thought I’d never be worthy of finding happiness again—or love. But I’ve discovered that God is forgiving.”
God. Austin had mentioned that his sister had embraced the religion of their grandmother, and she was glad it had helped Mercedes find peace. “How did you and Wayne get together?” Liana asked.
“He’d worked for years on the farm for my father, and it was right about this time that he took over completely. My mother had died, and my father was ill, so I used that as an excuse to come home and take care of Daddy. Actually, I was so sick and depressed that I couldn’t work or pay my rent. I thought I would die. I wanted to die. But God had other plans. One day Wayne found me crying in the barn—I’d just thrown up all over. When he learned what was wrong, he scattered fresh straw over the floor and cleaned up the mess. Th
en he asked me to marry him. No hesitation, no recriminations, just a proposal.” Mercedes’ eyes filled with tears that flowed down her cheeks. “He’s thirteen years older than I am, though I know he looks older. He’s worked really hard all his life—physical labor—and it shows. But any success we ever had here on the farm, we owed to Wayne. I knew that. In some ways he is the farm, and I always felt it should go to him one day. Back then, neither Austin nor I wanted any part of the place.”
Liana found that hard to believe. “But you seem so at home here.”
“I do love it. More each day. I’ve made peace with the past and that peace has preserved me.” Mercedes smiled through her tears. “But when you’re young, you only think about what you don’t have instead of what you do. You think of all the places you haven’t been, instead of the places you have. You think of all the things you want to learn instead of what you already know. Wayne showed me how to love the land, and he gave my son the best dad a boy could have. Except for the times when he has to work late, he spends every minute with the boys and me. My biggest regret is that he isn’t Darrel’s father. I cheated them both out of that—and that’s something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.”
“Does Darrel know?”
She shook her head. “No. And I don’t suppose I’ll ever tell him. The birth certificate lists Wayne as his father. We were married a few months before he was born. Wayne, Austin, and now you are the only ones who share my secret.”
Liana wasn’t sure how she felt about this deception. What if she had been younger when her parents had died? She only faintly remembered them at four. A year or so earlier and she might have had no recollection at all. Would that have been better? Would it have made her fit more smoothly into her adopted family? Or would the ache, the craving, inside her still go on and on?
Mercedes dabbed at her eyes with a dish towel. “Part of why I don’t want to tell Darrel the truth is because I don’t want him to wonder what might have been, like I do sometimes. I mean, if I hadn’t made the mistakes, my life would certainly have been different. And I don’t want him ever to question Wayne’s love for him.” Mercedes sighed and placed her hand on Liana’s. “I’m sorry for dumping it all on you like this, us having just met and all. But sometimes when I see how much Wayne loves me, I worry that I can never give him enough. I care about him deeply; he’s my best friend in the whole world, and I wouldn’t trade him for any other man, but sometimes I don’t think I love him as deeply as he loves me.”
Flying Home Page 12
