The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  “Agreed.” Delilah couldn’t find it in her heart to argue with the determined woman. “What type of landscape would you like?”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Well, I can paint the barn, or a grove of trees, or the creek,” Delilah elaborated.

  “Oh, you should paint the fishing hole!” Alisa encouraged.

  “I think I’d like something with a bit of water in it,” Reba mused. “Well, I trust you. Just go ahead and surprise me.”

  Chapter 14

  Delilah,” Paul started to say as Polly and Ginny Mae peered down from the wagon. How can I tell her that even though she’s learning very quickly, I’d rather drive today? She’s only had three lessons, and I don’t want to risk Polly and Ginny Mae getting hurt.

  While he searched for words, Delilah spoke. “If you don’t mind, I think you should drive this afternoon. You’re a wonderful teacher, but…” She smiled at the girls. “Today we carry precious cargo.”

  Lord, we are alike in so many ways. Why can’t she see it? She values home and family, everything I want to give her. Please help me find the words to reach beyond the wall to her heart.

  “We certainly do.” He helped Delilah up into the back of the wagon and watched as Polly and Ginny Mae immediately scooted toward her. She wrapped an arm around each of them and listened attentively as Ginny Mae rattled off the beginning of the alphabet.

  She’ll be a wonderful mother. He let those pleasant thoughts run through his mind until they neared the fishing hole.

  “I don’t see any water.” Delilah gave a slight frown and craned her neck to get a better view. “Is it past that hill?”

  “Yep. Just past those trees and bushes.” He gestured toward the greenery. Spring always touched the pond first. “It’s best to leave the wagon right here and walk Speck up so he can have a drink.”

  Delilah lent a hand in unhitching the horse and held Speck’s reins while Paul hefted down the girls and supplies. He accepted the reins and led the way up the well-worn path. Glancing back, he saw Delilah holding the basket on one arm, with Ginny Mae clutching her hand and Polly’s in her chubby fists, completing the chain. He hastily tied Speck to a tree and met them at the bushes.

  “Before we get any closer, I need you dumplin’s to listen to the rules.” He knelt to be at eye level with Polly and Ginny Mae. “Neither of you can swim, so you’ll have to steer clear of the fishing hole—it’s far too deep. Do you understand?” The little heads bobbed in unison. “And you’re not to run off where Delilah and I can’t see you.” That way, the girls wouldn’t venture toward the creek, which ran a little ways off. “Got it?”

  “Yes, Unca Paul,” the girls chorused as he took the basket from Delilah.

  “All right, then. Let’s go!” He started back up the path, only to see two tiny blurs race ahead of him beyond the bushes.

  “Hey!” The girls froze at his roar. “What did I just say about running off?”

  “Sorry, Unca Paul.” Polly scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

  “We got ’cited.”

  “If you do that again,” Delilah said, shaking her finger, “we’ll go back home.” Her stern demeanor crumbled when Polly’s lower lip trembled and tears welled up in Ginny Mae’s eyes.

  She knelt down and gathered them in her arms. “We love you both very much, and it’s our job to make sure you’re safe. I’d rather take you home than see either of you get hurt.”

  “That’s why you have to follow the rules,” Paul finished for her.

  “We’ll be good.” Polly hugged her.

  “Pwomise,” Ginny Mae vowed solemnly after a particularly loud sniff.

  “Mind that you do,” Paul said.

  Two seconds later, all traces of crying evaporated.

  “It’s so pretty!” Polly stared around, awed at the lush vista.

  The trees lent cool shade to the newly green hills as rays of sunshine sparkled through the leaves. Wildflowers nestled in clumps of clover, leading to the tall rushes tickling the water’s edge. The tiny rivulets feeding the pond gurgled softly, underscoring the chirps of birds lining their nests. A calm breeze chased wispy white clouds across the sky and ruffled the grass along the small hills. Dragonflies skimmed the rippling water, where plump trout eyed them hungrily. Paul couldn’t imagine anything closer to paradise than being in this place with the people he loved.

  “It’s wonderful,” Delilah breathed, seeming to drink in her surroundings.

  “No, Ginny Mae!” Polly grabbed her younger sister’s hand as Ginny Mae toddled after a bright orange butterfly. “We ain’t s’posed to go by any of the water.” She cast a yearning glance at the cool pond.

  “Well now, that’s not exactly true.” Paul winked at Delilah. “There’s one place you can play in the water. See over there?” He strode over to where a bubbling stream of water sprayed over a small outcropping of rocks to form a shallow pool, rolled up his sleeve, and touched the sandy bottom. The cool water lapped halfway up his forearm, not even reaching his elbow, while the stones at the top of the hill would be too high for the girls to touch. Dappled sunlight warmed the water, so he knew the girls wouldn’t catch cold.

  Polly and Ginny Mae hovered eagerly by his shoulder, anxious to get closer but hesitant to break the rules. They were good little girls and deserved a treat.

  “I said you couldn’t go where Delilah and I couldn’t see you, and you couldn’t be near the fishing hole. But as long as you obey those rules, you can play here in your very own pond.”

  “Complete with a tiny waterfall. It’s perfect.” Delilah helped the girls strip off their shoes and stockings.

  Beaming, Polly scurried to the edge first, only to have her smile fade. “Unca Paul, what’re those?” She poked the water with a pink fingertip.

  “Hmmm? Oh, those are just tadpoles. They won’t hurt you.”

  “Whatsa tab-ole?” Ginny Mae toddled over.

  “They’re just baby frogs,” Paul explained, taking Polly’s hand.

  “They don’t look like frogs.” Doubt still shone in her eyes as Paul slowly, gently guided her hand toward the water.

  “They will later,” Delilah said, backing him up. “You know, some people call them pollywogs.”

  “Really?” Polly giggled as the tadpoles flicked around her fingers. “That tickles!”

  “Pollywog!” Ginny Mae shrieked in glee, pointing at her sister. “Pollywog!” Together they waded in, the water brushing just below Polly’s knees and just above Ginny Mae’s. In no time at all, they were laughing and splashing around, throwing handfuls of water in the air to watch the sun catch the droplets on the way back down.

  While Delilah began sketching, Paul kept an eye on the girls. When his stomach rumbled, she looked up and quirked a brow. “Hungry?”

  “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said no.” He grinned back at her.

  “Polly! Ginny Mae! Come on back here. It’s lunchtime!” She began pulling sandwiches and apples from the basket while the girls climbed out of the pool and raced each other to the blanket. Paul used the edges of the quilt to dry their legs. Soon they were all munching happily, enjoying the shady quiet.

  “I like it here,” Polly pronounced. “This is the bestest picnic ever.”

  “I think so, too.” Delilah mopped crumbs off of Ginny’s face. “But now I think it’s time for a little rest.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Polly protested, utterly sincere after a satisfying yawn.

  “Me, too.” Ginny Mae’s eyelids drooped as Delilah tucked them both in the quilt.

  “Then you’ll be awake and playing again before you know it,” Paul consoled. In a matter of minutes, the two children were fast asleep, light eyelashes dusting rosy cheeks.

  “They’re so sweet.” Delilah tenderly tucked a stray hair behind Polly’s ear.

  “Sure are. Best to let them sleep so they stay that way, though.” Paul tilted his hat over his eyes and leaned against the tree trunk, breathing in the fresh scent o
f the grass and the moist earth.

  Delilah propped up her sketchbook, and soon Paul heard the rasp of pencil on paper. Readjusting his hat, he watched her record every minute detail with tiny strokes and delicate shading. At last, she breathed a sigh of satisfaction and held the sketch at arm’s length for a final viewing.

  Paul could scarcely believe his eyes.

  “It’s perfect.” Paul spoke softly but startled Delilah nonetheless.

  “Thank you.” She made an expansive gesture. “But it doesn’t do this justice.”

  “I disagree. You have a God-given talent, Delilah.”

  Ugh. Why is it that every time we start to talk, just when I most enjoy his company, he starts going off about God again?

  “I get the impression you don’t agree with me.” Paul’s droll comment made Delilah realize she was being rude.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. What’re you thinking, Delilah?”

  “Mama always told me, ‘Delilah, if you don’t have anything nice to say—’ ”

  “Don’t say anything?” Paul finished. She looked at him in astonishment.

  “What kind of advice is that?” she asked incredulously. “If someone asks you a question, you can’t just ignore them!”

  “It’s an old proverb. If you only have unpleasant things to say, some people think it best not to voice them.” His forehead creased as he gazed back. “What were you taught? If you don’t have anything nice to say…”

  “Say something vague.” Delilah jumped when he burst into laughter. “Hush! You’ll wake the girls!”

  He cast a glance at the snoozing bundle and sobered up a bit—his wide grin still bearing witness to his mirth.

  “What’s so funny, anyway?”

  “Oh, I was just remembering how you dealt with the MacPherson brothers.” He peered at her curiously. “You really do live by that rule, don’t you?”

  “To each her own.” She shrugged.

  “Aha! See, you just did it again. Not giving a real answer but being vague. Look at me.” Paul waited until she stared into his blue eyes before speaking again. “You don’t ever have to be vague with me. I want to know exactly how you feel and why you feel it.”

  “Can’t I just try out your way and not say anything?” She gave a weak laugh.

  “I never said it’s my way—it’s an old saying. I tell you what’s on my mind, and I hope you feel comfortable enough with me to do the same.”

  His steady gaze told her he meant every word of it. She sighed and gave in. “I was thinking about how every time the two of us start talking, you always bring up God. Do you remember how I noticed it on our last picnic?”

  “Of course I do.” With anyone else, the words would have sounded defensive, but Paul remained utterly sincere. “Do you remember what I explained?”

  “You said that God made everything beautiful, so whenever you admire something, you think of Him,” she recited dully.

  “So what’s wrong?” He waited, obviously at a loss.

  “I’ve been thinking about that ever since you said it,” she began hesitantly, her words gathering strength as she finished. “And I think there’s something you left out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You say God created everything, right?” There was nothing she could do but walk him through it.

  “Unto the heavens and the earth,” he agreed.

  “Then what about everything hurtful and ugly and mean? Why did He make those things if He loves us as much as you say?” She blurted out the questions, half-hoping Paul would have an answer but knowing the miserable truth that she was right.

  He stayed silent for a long while.

  “I should’ve just let it be. I’m sorry, Paul.” She hated to have devastated something so much a part of who he was.

  “I’m not. I’m just trying to think of how to put it into words. I stand by what I said—God created everything—but at the same time, the ugly things that cause pain weren’t in His plan.”

  “How do you know? What other reason is there?”

  “This is why I was thinking.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate to make a mess of explaining, but here goes: Everything God made was beautiful in the beginning, but evil has a way of turning things sour, taking something good and using it for the bad.”

  “So you’re saying that God made the milk, but evil made it go sour?” She couldn’t keep the scorn from her tone. “There are worse things than spoiled milk, Paul.”

  “I know. And I never said anything about milk. Take this example: Knives are incredibly useful tools—they help us cut meat, slice bread, shape leather, skin fish, whittle wood, and more. You even use yours to great effect for protection. These are all noble purposes for the blade, but it can also be used for harm.

  “If you’ve ever read in the paper about someone being taken hostage, you know that a criminal can easily put that same knife to the throat of another human being to hurt or even kill. Either way, that’s not why the knife was made, and it doesn’t mean the blade itself is evil. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “So you mean that we can all be tools for good or evil?”

  “Exactly.” Paul beamed, looking very satisfied with himself for explaining his point.

  And I just don’t have the heart to ask him my next question. Some things shouldn’t be said, but I have to wonder, if we’re tools, then who’s using us?

  Chapter 15

  Delilah ignored the twinge in her arm and kept mixing flapjack batter. Miriam and Alisa deserved to sleep late for once. Besides, she wanted to do something, anything, for the Chance family to show how much she appreciated their hospitality and generosity, and the entire Chance family had voted her down when she’d insisted on transferring the store credit Reba had paid her for the painting.

  The twinge grew to a full-fledged ache, and Delilah realized she’d been taking her frustrations out on the batter. She set down the bowl and began ladling the goopy stuff onto the skillet, still somewhat amazed to see it become a soft, solid pancake.

  The truth of the matter was, she’d finally found a home complete with friends and even family, but it hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.

  I want a home and family of my own. She flipped a flapjack perfectly and smiled in satisfaction. I’ve learned so much here that I’d make a good wife and mother. As long as I stay here, I’ll just be kind of an extra without a say in family business. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Delilah wiped them away furiously and went after the last pancake.

  Spluchh. The source of the disheartening sound was one half-cooked flapjack now dangling from the ceiling. Delilah grabbed the mop, swiped the useless mess to the floor, and wiped up the sticky traces, then bent down to find the ornery little thing.

  “Oh! Shortstack!” Delilah couldn’t suppress a giggle as the kitten gave a mighty shake to dislodge the well-traveled pancake, then daintily trotted around it, sniffing and mewing plaintively.

  “I know, that’s not your breakfast.” Delilah set down a saucer of cream. “Don’t be so upset. You’re just lucky it didn’t land sticky side down on top of you. We’d never have gotten the batter out of your fur!”

  “How much time have you been spending with Bryce?” Logan queried, obviously biting back a grin.

  “As though you don’t talk to your horse,” Delilah shot back, knowing Logan shared Paul’s fondness for his mount.

  “All right, all right. You’ve got me.” Everyone else wandered in and took their seats.

  “Sure smells good.” Titus eyed the platter with interest.

  “Flapjacks, bacon, and coffee. Can’t think of anything better.” Paul slid onto the bench beside Delilah. Logan said grace, then began passing around the food.

  “Miriam, looks like you outdid yourself this morning,” Daniel praised, chopping Ginny Mae’s breakfast into tiny bites.

  “We didn’t help.” Alisa drizzled syrup on her plate. “Delilah made all this by he
rself.” She stabbed a forkful and brought it to her lips, chewed for a moment, and proclaimed, “And it’s absolutely wo—” Turning faintly green, she clapped her hands over her mouth and ran out of the room.

  Titus shot after her an instant later, followed by Miriam, who grabbed a damp towel. Everyone else stared suspiciously at their plates.

  “I don’t understand,” Delilah spluttered. “I know the recipe by heart.” She frowned at the table, puzzled.

  “I’m sure it’s something else.” Paul gallantly speared a bite and made as if to eat it when Delilah snatched it from his hand. Despite his bravado, even he seemed slightly relieved when Delilah swallowed with no apparent difficulty.

  “They taste just fine to me.” The door opened, and Miriam walked in, holding the damp towel to Alisa’s forehead.

  “Do you want to tell them?” Miriam tried to whisper, but her soft voice carried throughout the silent room. Alisa gave a faint shake of her head, apparently still not trusting herself to speak.

  “That’s just fine.” Miriam patted Alisa’s shoulder and looked around. “Titus didn’t get back before we did?”

  Just then, Titus banged the door and all but flew into the room. “I’m gonna be a daddy!” His smile could’ve lit the entire cabin, so brightly did his joy and pride shine.

  After a chorus of congratulations, Miriam and Titus took a still-green Alisa back to her cabin to lie down for a bit.

  “Hey! That means the food really is good!” At Bryce’s comment, the men grabbed their forks and dug in with gusto.

  “I can’t believe Reba’s friend saw my painting and commissioned another one,” Delilah exclaimed as they drove toward the fishing hole. “I’m so excited, I can scarcely contain myself.”

  “You’re a talented woman, Delilah. It doesn’t surprise me at all.” Paul watched with pleasure as Delilah expertly turned the horse around the last bend and brought them to a halt.