“Oh.” Polly nodded sagely, her braids bouncing. “That’s why there’s more spots on this one, right?”
He and Delilah shared grins over that astute observation as Polly waved the nine of clubs.
“Right. But see, here we have three fours. So we’ll take out the two with the same color,” he plunked two down on the table, “and keep this one until we get another four. Got it?”
“Got it.” Polly beamed at him. “We got rid of lots of cards, so”—she lowered her voice—“we’re gonna win, right? ’Cause we don’t have the one with the lady on it?”
“That’s where it gets tricky,” Paul warned. “See, Delilah should have the same number of cards we do, so we have to pick one from her to try and make another match. But if we pick the Old Maid, and we still have it by the end, we’ll lose. Are you ready?”
Polly stretched across the table toward Delilah’s hand, and the game began. The Old Maid traveled from team to team until finally, Polly sat with one card while Delilah held two.
“All right, Polly. You’ve got to pick one. We’re looking for a two, but if you get the Old Maid, Delilah might still win.”
Polly grasped a card and turned it around. “We won, Unca Paul! Look! Lilah’s an o–old ma–aid, Lilah’s the o–old ma–aid,” she singsonged, then stopped suddenly to tug on his sleeve. “Whatsa old maid?”
“Well…” Paul was at a loss for words.
“It’s a lady who’s not married even though she’s been old enough to be for a while, Polly.” Delilah’s tremulous smile twisted something inside him.
“So you really are an old maid!” Delighted, Polly scooted off the bench to go tell Miriam.
“No, you aren’t,” Paul stated firmly, holding Delilah’s gaze.
“Yes, I am. It’s all right,” she assured him as she picked up Ginny Mae and went after Polly.
Not for long, if the Lord’s will and mine are the same.
Chapter 7
Later that week, Delilah looked at the small plot of land she and Paul had been working on. Together, they’d watered the soil for three days before Logan and Bryce could hoe it up easily and turn the dirt to let in air. Her nose wrinkled at the memory of the fertilizer they’d used the previous morning.
Today would make it all worthwhile. Today they’d finally begin planting the seeds and bulbs.
I wonder whether I’ll be here long enough to see them bloom. I hope so. It will be beautiful next year with all those colors. And Polly and Ginny Mae want to help me water and weed. They may pull up the plants when they begin sprouting, so I’ll have to teach them which ones are flowers.
Delilah went to her cabin to fetch the flower seeds. She stepped around the cabin to find Paul playing patty-cake with the girls. Ginny Mae followed the pattern as Polly sat in Paul’s lap and tried to fill in for his left arm. As giggles floated through the air, Delilah’s breath caught at the homey scene.
“No, Unca Paul. You forgot this one!” Polly gestured in the air.
Delilah let loose a peal of laughter at Paul’s abashed expression, catching everyone’s attention. His handsome face broke into a grin.
“Looks like Delilah’s here just in time to save me from any more mistakes.” He stood up. “Are you ready to plant the flowers?”
“Yea!” Polly grabbed Ginny Mae’s hand, and they both raced toward the garden.
Paul fell in step beside Delilah. “Have you decided where you want everything?”
The humor in his tone almost made her blush. She’d written lists of every kind of flower they had, then sketched where she would plant each variety. She’d taken some jokes about how many times she’d changed her mind but knew they meant no harm by it. Honestly, there were so many things to consider! She didn’t want to clump all of the same color together but instead wanted to spread them out so it looked like a rainbow touched the earth. Also, some of the flowers would bloom in different months, and she couldn’t leave patches bare while others sprang in glorious blossoms.
Maybe she was going a bit overboard, but the Chances just couldn’t understand why she wanted this garden to be absolutely perfect. Even after she left, this garden should stay beautiful, a lasting testament that she’d made a difference somewhere.
“I think so.” Delilah smiled up at Paul, the only person who’d been patient enough to help her throughout her quest. Well, Miriam had helped her know when each plant would blossom, but Paul spent hours helping her remove all the rocks and prepare the land. He’d actually chosen the plot for having plenty of sunlight with adequate protection against winter winds. His smile and able advice helped make this project such a joy. Not that she knew how to tell him!
“Do you have the markers?” His deep voice broke into her thoughts.
“Right here.” She brandished the small pieces of wood on which she’d painstakingly written the name of each flower she would plant. The clever folding desk in her room had been much used lately.
“All right. I’ve numbered each stick, and here’s a little map for where each number goes, so the flowers will be planted there.” The morning whirled by as Paul helped Ginny Mae dig shallow holes while Polly practiced her numbers counting out seeds to drop inside. Delilah gently dusted them again with dirt.
“What will these look like?” Polly’s oft-repeated question let Delilah describe the pretty flowers.
“From March to May, we’ll see white evening primroses and blue wild hyacinths,” she described, pointing to the areas where they’d planted the seeds. “April will bring lavender godetias, spring beauties, and live-forever.”
“Like we’re going to in heaben?” Ginny Mae’s question sent pangs through Delilah’s heart. How could she explain now that a flower called “live-forever” didn’t really live forever—and neither could she.
“That’s right, ladybug.” Paul stepped in. “In a lot of ways, flowers are just like we are. They need food and water and sunshine and love and all the good things God made for us. But you won’t always be able to see the flowers. You have to know that they bloom and fade away, but they make seeds. See, that’s the really important part that makes it so this special flower can bloom again later.”
Polly frowned in concentration. “So how’s that like us? You can always see me.”
“Do you remember what we told you about heaven, Polly?”
“Yes, it’s a beautiful place where I’ll see Mommy again, and we’ll live forever with Jesus!” Her face brightened.
“Do you remember how you have to leave here first?” At the little girl’s nod, he continued. “It’s just the same as this flower. See, Mommy faded away and left here, but her soul, just like the seeds, is made of something stronger, and it’s that part that goes to heaven and makes it so we’ll see her again if we believe in Jesus.”
“ ’Cause she had Jesus in her heart,” Polly finished, taking her sister’s hand.
Tears pricked Delilah’s eyes as she watched the tender scene. If all that was true— and she was by no means certain it was—then Mama would be in heaven because she believed in Christ. But I won’t be there to see her because I can’t believe. The helplessness of it all washed over her in a suffocating wave. Paul’s words from the day before echoed in her mind. “The only way to gain eternal life is by giving Christ this one.”
Polly’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “We can’t ’member Mama, but she loves us, Ginny Mae.”
“Jesus gots Mama,” Ginny Mae stated firmly, then reached up to tug on the end of Polly’s braid. “Daddy gots us.”
Delilah’s heart ached. Jesus has my mama, too.
“Yep. And we’ve got lotsa people: Unca Paul, Unca Titus, Unca Logan, Unca Bryce, Auntie Miriam, Auntie Alisa—” Polly grabbed Paul’s hand.
“And Lilah, too.” Ginny Mae grabbed a handful of Delilah’s dress.
Touched at the little girl’s gesture, Delilah smiled. “We’ve all got each other,” she agreed.
“And now we’re gonna have flowers.” Polly brushed some
dirt over another batch of bulbs. “So what’ll these be?”
“Those will be mariposa lilies. They’ll be white, and we’ll see them in May with the daisies.”
“What color are daisies?”
“They’ll be white or yellow. I don’t know which!” Delilah confessed. “These’ll be wild roses. I don’t know what color they’ll be, either. The dog roses over here will be pink like the end of Ginny Mae’s nose when she’s cold.” Polly smiled at that, and Delilah pressed on. “The saxifrages are tiny white bunches of flowers that we’ll see around the same time. After those, in July or so, the larkspurs will come—they’re white and blue. The last flowers to stay will be the red farewell-to-springs, and then we’ll have to wait until the next year to plant them again.”
“That oughta do it.” Paul stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. The bell jangled from the kitchen. “And just in time for lunch, too.” He deftly swiped a wriggling worm from Ginny Mae’s pudgy grasp and scooped her into his arms.
“Let’s go get washed up.” Polly slipped her hand into Delilah’s and marched toward the house.
Delilah dipped a rag in the washbasin and bent down to wipe Polly’s hands and face.
“I can do it,” Polly protested, tugging the makeshift washcloth away from Delilah. “But you can help Unca Paul.” She gestured toward the washstand with the towel, flinging drops of water down the front of Delilah’s dress.
“All right.” Suppressing a smile at how quickly little Polly was growing up, Delilah turned to find Paul bouncing Ginny Mae with his good arm. Delilah grabbed another rag to clean Ginny Mae.
“Impressive amount of dirt for such a tiny thing, isn’t it?” Paul’s voice rumbled with good humor as Delilah grimaced at the dirty towel.
“I’ll say. If we covered the seeds with this much, they’d never make it to the surface!”
“Daddy!” Polly skipped to the door as Daniel walked in. Ginny Mae wiggled and held out her arms.
“Hello, sugar dumpling. Let me wash up a minute.” He affectionately rumpled her hair.
A few moments later, everyone was gathered at the table. Looking around, Delilah marveled at the fact she knew each and every name and face around her. A sense of contentment at the familiarity of joining hands to say grace washed away her discomfort at the religious practice. She almost felt like family. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Titus give Alisa’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. The obvious comfort they found in one another tugged at Delilah’s heart.
Will I ever share that closeness with someone?
“Of course.” Paul’s deep voice startled her.
Hope and horror warred within her as she stammered, “I—I beg your pardon?”
“Logan asked if you’d like some biscuits, and I said, ‘Of course.’ ” He smiled as he held the basket for her. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” She somehow managed a smile as she grabbed one of Miriam’s warm, flaky biscuits, her heart still thumping wildly. She was grateful when Alisa spoke, drawing Paul’s attention.
“Tomorrow morning before you men set off, we’d appreciate if you’d help move the furniture in Gideon and Miriam’s cabin so we can whitewash it.”
“Sure,” Bryce agreed immediately.
“If the weather’s fine,” Daniel conceded.
“Are you going to need an extra hand, Paul?” Logan offered.
“Delilah and I’ll manage just fine.” She liked the way he said her name. Paul had a way of making ordinary things seem more beautiful than they really were.
And that’s exactly why I have to be careful. A man like Paul could put a woman’s head in the clouds, thinking fluffy dreams made castles. But come the next strong wind, they’d blow away and she’d be left with nothing. Better to enjoy what was than to put stock in dreams.
The next day, the women bustled over to the cabin Miriam and Gideon shared. Working as quickly as possible, they removed all clothing from the pegs as well as the small mirror hung above the dresser, baring the walls and taking anything they could from the room. They stored it all in Delilah’s cabin, which she’d share with Miriam until the smell from the whitewash stopped lingering.
“There. That ought to do it.” Miriam’s pronouncement came just in time as the brothers filed in, effectively crowding what had seemed a generous space scant moments before.
“So you’re finished?” Gideon gestured to the now-bare walls.
“We’ve taken everything we possibly could,” Alisa confirmed.
“Would you look at that!” Bryce stood beside the small dresser. “They even took the drawers out!”
Titus let loose an amused guffaw. Perplexed, Delilah looked at Paul, only to see him exchange grins with Logan.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you women think that with all six of us, we could’ve moved it even with the drawers inside?” It was the first time Delilah saw Daniel smile without his daughters around.
“We knew you could handle it.” Miriam put a hand on Alisa’s back and steered her, spluttering, from the room. “It’s better for the furniture this way. We’ll just leave you to remove the heavy pieces.”
Delilah followed, glad to see that everyone was comfortable enough with her around to act like a real family—tiffs, teasing, and all. Next thing she knew, she stood in the empty room next to Paul.
“Ever whitewashed before, Delilah?”
“No, but I know my way around a paintbrush.” She thought of her precious paint set, safely tucked away in her cabin. Maybe she could start teaching Polly to sketch…if Daniel would let her and they had the time. But for now, there was work to be done.
“Have you?” She hoped he had. There were sure to be differences between watercolor strokes and wall painting.
“Long time ago. When I was a lad, Mama, my brothers, and I did the outside of our house.”
His wistful smile twisted her heart. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention your mother, aside from Sunday,” Delilah said softly.
“Yeah, well, she was a wonderful woman—godly and loving and generous. She passed on soon after we made Chance Ranch our home.” He visibly straightened as he changed the topic. “First you stir it to make sure the color’s blended.” Looking up to make sure she was watching, he caught her smile before she could hide it.
“What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking that’s probably about how I look when I’m tending the stew.” She needn’t have worried he’d be offended.
He gave a grin. “Just about, but I’m nowhere near as pretty, and I hope you never have to try my cooking. I’ll just leave it to you.”
Warmth filled her cheeks at the compliment, so she turned away to pick up the large paintbrushes. “So we’re just coating the walls, right?”
“Yep. No point in doing the floor white—it’d just get dirty faster. And we could do the ceiling, but it’d drip on the furniture.” He gestured to the middle of the room, where they’d piled everything.
“So where do we start?” Suddenly the room looked immense.
“We each take a wall. You’re going to want to paint along with the wood grain, side to side; otherwise it’ll drip down and not look as nice as we want it.”
“All right.” Delilah dipped her brush and went to a wall. “Like this?”
“Not quite. You want to have a longer stroke.” He held her elbow and guided her arm, sending tingles up and down her spine. She pulled away. “I see.” To cover the awkwardness of the movement, she pointed to the top of the wall. “But I don’t see how I’ll manage to reach all the way up there.”
“Don’t expect you to. I’ll get the highest parts. It’ll probably be best for me to take care of that first, and then you follow.” He grabbed a brush and got going.
Discomfited by his nearness, Delilah focused her entire concentration on the task at hand rather than on starting a conversation. What good would it do to learn more about him? He didn’t complain when he broke his arm, loved hi
s brothers, worked hard, spent time with his nieces, and spoke tenderly of his mother. He was a family man and obviously needed to find a wife who could give him as much as he gave to everyone else.
Why couldn’t you do that? her heart whispered. She shook the thought away. It would never work. Sure, he was a wonderful man, but he was still just that—a man. If she let herself fall for him and marry him, he’d have the right to make her go anywhere he liked. She just couldn’t take the risk.
Chapter 8
The hours passed in a deep silence Paul wasn’t about to break. No whitewashing ever inspired a furrowed brow, so he stayed convinced Delilah was doing some deep thinking. He sure needed to.
It had been a mistake to touch her arm. Despite the long sleeve on her dress, his fingertips still sizzled at the memory of that contact. She’d felt it, too, since she’d abruptly pulled away, skittish as a frightened colt. Maybe she was thinking about what it meant. The question certainly plagued him.
Lord, why do I feel so deeply for this woman if it isn’t Thy will? How can I help her see Thy hand in the beautiful things she loves? I understand why she’s afraid to trust others, but not all of it. Please, Lord, give me the strength not to hand her my heart until she gives hers to Thee. And give us both the time we need.
They finished the last bare patch, and Delilah stepped back to survey their handiwork. “That went faster than I thought it would.” She offered a tentative smile.
Grateful for the gesture, Paul grinned back. “Good company can conquer time.”
As her cheeks turned pink for the second time that day, he decided her inability to accept a compliment only added to her charm.
To his surprise, she didn’t busy herself with something.
“It’s not often you can be around another person without having to fill the time with words,” he observed.
“I know what you mean,” she said softly.
His heart thumped as she agreed. This meant she was becoming more comfortable around him.
They gathered their brushes and walked out to the pump. She held the brushes under the water while he pumped. The hot and dusty day alone couldn’t account for the dust cloud they spotted in the distance.
The Brides of Chance Collection Page 35
