Trusting Grace

by Maggie Brendan

  “I certainly am. But you can always come visit her. I live a couple miles just up that path. You can’t miss it.” Grace smiled down at the little girl. “We’d welcome some company. I’m sure we could find some cookies for you,” she added.

  “I’d like that.” The little girl smiled up at her, and Grace was struck anew by her beauty.

  “I must go now. You children be careful around the creek now.” Grace scooped up Bluebelle and tucked her under her arm. “This creek is on my land and I would feel responsible if you fell in. The water is icy this time of year.”

  The boy shot his sister a look of surprise. “Uh, we’ll be going home too now.” He nodded at the two girls.

  Grace waved goodbye, reluctant to leave them. It surprised her that any parent would let their children explore this far from their house, she thought as she walked back to the farm. Now she wished she’d taken the time to ask more questions. What had happened to their mother? She should have asked. From their appearances, she’d have to say they were poor. If they were her children, she’d somehow see to it that they had adequate shoes and clothing. She sighed. Maybe that was all the children’s parents could afford. She made a mental note to ask around and find out about their parents.

  Turning her thoughts back to Bluebelle’s escapade, she fussed at her the rest of the way home. Still, she was grateful that she’d found her. “Bluebelle, what should I wear to Ginny’s supper party tonight?”

  Bluebelle fidgeted under her arms, so Grace decided to put her down and follow her the rest of the way home. “I know what you need—a companion.” Just like me.

  Grace was the last to arrive for dinner at Ginny’s when Nell greeted her and took her wrap. “They’re waiting for you in the parlor, Miss Grace,” she said while waiting for Grace’s bonnet.

  “Thank you, Nell.” Grace smoothed her hair into place, then walked into the parlor.

  Warren rose from his chair as she entered. Tall and dashingly handsome in his three-piece suit and clean-shaven face, he nodded and said, “Nice to see you, Miss Bidwell.”

  “And you as well,” she replied.

  Ginny came forward, taking Grace’s hands. “I’m so glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you’d come. I should have told you to bring your father.” Ginny’s face grew serious for a brief moment.

  “He sends his best to all of you, but he’s pretty comfortable by the fireplace with his books.”

  Frank walked over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Always a delight to have you, Grace. Won’t you have a seat?” He directed her to a chair.

  Grace felt Warren’s stare as she found a chair, so she tried to avert her eyes and focus on her friend’s sweet face.

  “We’ll be dining in a few moments. I believe Nell outdoes herself when we have company. We never eat as well when it’s only the two of us,” Frank teased.

  Ginny tapped him on the arm. “Pshaw! You know that’s not true, Frank.”

  “I have a hard time believing that you are starved for a good meal, Frank.” Grace laughed as Frank patted his stomach beneath his vest.

  “I’m sure you ladies are correct.”

  Nell stood at the doorway. “Supper’s ready now, Mrs. Virginia.”

  Ginny turned toward the doorway. “Thank you, Nell.” Turning to her guests she said, “Shall we?”

  Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed amicably about current events and the thriving but new community of Bozeman. Warren caught Grace’s eye once or twice and she wondered what he might be thinking. She struggled to find something sensible to add to the conversation, having little time for more than the farm and her father.

  Frank looked at his guests. “Did you hear we are going to have a church erected? The church will allow visiting ministers of other churches courtesies in the use of the building.”

  “It’ll be nice to not have to meet in the Masonic Lodge,” Ginny added.

  “I’m sure Pastor Alderson is very happy about that,” Grace commented, then took a bite of her food. There was a slight pause as everyone continued with their meal.

  “Changing the subject, what is it you like to do for enjoyment, Miss Bidwell?” Warren asked from across the table.

  Grace laid her fork down. “Well, to be honest with you, Mr. Sullivan, I have little time to engage with what’s happening around town. The closest I’ve come to having a bit of free time is a walk along the Gallatin River that runs through the valley.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. Perhaps we can change that. I’m new to this area, so perhaps you could ride with me sometime and we’ll both discover the points of interest.” He grinned at her and she swallowed.

  “I—I—don’t know. I haven’t much time to myself.” Is he asking to come courting?

  Ginny laughed softly. “I’ll bet you can find an hour out of your day now that you have hired help on the farm. It’d be good for you for a change.”

  Grace stared at her friend, whose eyes twinkled back. Just wait until I get her alone! She directed her gaze back to Warren. “I’ll have to let you know.”

  Frank cleared his throat. “Grace takes care of her father who’s been sick recently, and we are praying for his improvement. Aren’t we, dear?” He looked at Ginny.

  “Of course we are! But Grace could enjoy a break now and then.”

  “Then it’s settled! I can come to call for you tomorrow afternoon. What do you say?” Warren pleaded.

  “Well,” she said, finally giving in. “I suppose I could. But only for an hour.”

  “You have my promise.” He gazed at her from over the rim of his glass until she looked back at her plate, pretending interest in her peas. She wondered about his background. Did he have siblings? How did he decide to become an attorney? His eyes held something mysterious behind them . . . or was it just his way of flirting?

  Nell entered with a dessert of apple strudel and served it along with piping hot coffee. They sat around the table talking until much later than Grace had intended. She backed her chair out from the table. “I’ve so enjoyed the supper from my lovely hosts, but I must be going now.”

  Everyone else stood as well, commenting on the lateness of the hour, then made their way out of the dining room.

  Warren approached Grace. “May I please walk you to your carriage, Miss Bidwell?”

  More like a buggy. A nice carriage hadn’t been within her budget. “That won’t be necessary,” she answered, walking to the door to retrieve her bonnet and wrap. “I don’t live very far. Just on the outskirts of town.”

  “No harm in an escort, especially with a dashing young man offering,” Ginny teased.

  Grace almost rolled her eyes at her friend but knew that was not lady-like. “Well, if you insist,” she said, turning to Warren.

  “I do.” Warren took a step forward and settled her wrap across her shoulders. The dominance of his height and masculinity felt strangely pleasant beside her. No man had been in her life—other than her father—since Victor’s untimely passing. And she hadn’t given thought to anyone until now.

  After her father was asleep, Grace slipped out onto the front porch, took a seat on the steps, and wrapped her arms about her legs. The multitude of stars made a brilliant display against the dark night sky, making her catch her breath. It was one of the things that she loved about this land—the wide-open spaces with the never-ending sky. She was reminded of the Psalms, that God counted the stars and called them by name. How, Lord, with too many to count, can You do that? It was all too unfathomable for her to take in.

  Feeling small and insignificant—yet amazed that she was able to talk to the Creator of the universe—Grace bowed her head asking for His guidance in her life. She prayed for the children she’d encountered and for her father’s health. Afterward, she sat quietly, allowing the peace of the night sounds—a hoot owl, the gentle whisper of the quaking ash, and the flowing creek in the distance, to envelop her with its embrace.

  9

  The following Saturday afternoon, R
obert drove the children to town. “We’re going to have lunch after I get you all enrolled for what’s left of the school year.”

  Tom rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he hated school, while the girls chattered away about making new friends.

  Once they parked outside the general store, Robert told Tom to keep an eye on the girls in the mercantile while they all looked around. He found Eli and asked about school.

  “You’ll need to see Sam,” Eli responded. “Samuel Anderson. He’s the teacher. They meet in the back room of a log store on the edge of town. But you won’t find him there today.”

  “So where do I find him, then?”

  “I don’t rightly know, but if you show up Monday morning before eight o’clock, he’ll get them enrolled for certain.”

  Robert shook his hand and murmured, “Thanks. I need to go round up the kids.”

  “By the way, how’s the new job working out?” Eli’s bushy eyebrows knitted together with his question.

  “I think it’s going good. Grace and her father are nice folks to work for.”

  “Yes, they are. None better. What does Grace think about your children?”

  Robert shifted on his boot heels, staring back at the older man who seemed to be prying into his affairs. “What do you mean? She hasn’t met them.”

  “Oh, but she has. You haven’t told her you have a family then?” Eli looked shocked.

  “I didn’t see that there was any need to. What does that have to do with my working for them?”

  Eli removed his wire spectacles, wiping them on the edge of his apron. “I suppose it doesn’t, but news travels around here. I’m sure Grace would enjoy meeting their mother since she met the children right here in the mercantile one day.”

  Robert sighed. “My wife passed, unfortunately.”

  Eli glanced back to Robert with a frown. “I’m very sorry, I wasn’t meaning to sound nosy. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Robert answered in a low but steady tone, “Yes. You can stop prying.” He spun around, leaving Eli sputtering.

  She’s met the children! But she didn’t know whom they belonged to. Robert hadn’t wanted to let anyone know that they were homeless, fearing someone might take the kids away from him. Soon he’d have enough saved to reserve a place at the boardinghouse. He’d never been so strapped for cash in all his life, and he had too much pride to let on to anyone, especially Grace. But he knew he shouldn’t have spoken to Eli that way either. Come Monday, he’d apologize.

  “Let’s go, kids,” Robert called out, sounding gruffer than he meant to. “We are going to the Timberline to enjoy a home-cooked meal tonight. Not that Becky’s cooking isn’t good, but it’ll be a nice change.”

  “But what will we do about school? Don’t you want us to go to school?” Becky whined.

  “Oh stop being such a worrywart, Becky. You already know how to read and write,” Tom grumbled.

  Robert stopped on the sidewalk outside the café. “I’ll take you Monday, so quit your worrying, Becky.”

  Sarah smiled up sweetly at him through her enormous innocent eyes. “Will I be able to go too?”

  “Probably, but we’ll see. Now let’s go find something good to eat.”

  “That’ll be a welcome change from Becky’s tough rabbit stew,” Tom said.

  Becky shoved him hard, then followed Tom inside the Timberline Café, where delicious smells welcomed the hungry group.

  Once they were seated and ordered, Robert immediately saw Mrs. Harrison walking in their direction. He hoped she wouldn’t see him, but much to his dismay, she caught his eye with a broad smile, sashaying straight up to his table.

  He rose from his chair when she stopped. “Mr. Frasier. We meet again.” Her head bobbed and her enormous hat tilted to one side as she glanced at the children with a furrowed brow. “I didn’t know you had any children.”

  “Good evening, Mrs. Harrison,” he choked out. He hoped she wouldn’t mention the encounter to Grace but wasn’t sure how close their friendship was. He only knew she had suggested he apply to Bidwell Farms as hired help, and that she’d given Grace a duck. “Nice to see you again,” he responded, ignoring her question and avoiding eye contact. She leaned toward the children who sat quietly watching, and for once Robert was glad they had clammed up.

  ———

  Ginny smiled at the children. “You three have that hungry look written on your faces.” She laughed softly. “In case you’re wondering what to order, they make the best pot roast in these parts and their yeast rolls are simply divine!”

  “We’ve already ordered fried chicken,” the youngest said loudly, rubbing her small hands together. “It’s my favorite.”

  “I’m Mrs. Harrison, children. What are your names?” They were a grubby little band who looked as though they had just been outside playing and hadn’t washed up.

  The oldest glanced over at Robert, who nodded his head in approval, before speaking. “I’m Tom and these are my sisters, Sarah and Becky.”

  Becky was openly staring at her, and Ginny felt a twinge of sympathy, noting that the young girl wore a plain, faded dress with a stain or two. “I’m very happy to meet you all, and I hope you’ll be happy in our little town.” Ginny turned to Robert, still feeling the children’s eyes on her. “Do sit down, Mr. Frasier. Are you waiting for your wife?”

  He shifted on his feet, yet continued to stand like a gentleman would. But his face darkened with a scowl. “Uh, no. Sorry to say.”

  Nothing further was elicited from him, and Ginny instinctively knew he was uncomfortable. “Well, I’m meeting my husband, Frank, for lunch, so I must be going. I hope the job is working out for you?” This was only the second time they’d met, and while she waited for an answer, Ginny held his deep, slate eyes—eyes that displayed distrust. She wondered why. Something in his past?

  He nodded. “Yes, it’s good. Thank you again for the tip.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Well, I must be getting along before Frank comes after me.” Glancing at the children, she added, “If you need anything—anything at all—please let me know.”

  He nodded and Ginny waved to Frank, sitting near the back of the room. I’m pretty sure Grace didn’t mention that the hired help had a family. Come to think of it, he didn’t say they were his children.

  Owen watched his hardworking daughter weed the flower bed, taking time to straighten and stretch her back. She loved flowers and he wished he could be of more help to her. Maybe one day. Secretly, when he was alone, he tried walking without assistance, but he couldn’t walk for very long. Sometimes his legs tingled more than at other times and he felt stronger, but he still tired easily. He hated more than anything this feeling of being useless. It stripped him of his dignity, what was left of it. Without Margaret it was hard to go on living. She’d been his partner, friend, and lover. Now she walked with the angels. No sweeter woman ever walked the earth than his Margaret. Well, maybe Grace, but she wasn’t his wife.

  Since he didn’t know how long he’d live, Owen wanted Grace to get on with her life—before she regretted being a woman of “a certain age.” Since Victor died, Grace was a changed woman—more serious. He prayed every day for someone to steal her heart so she could have a real family with kids. He’d seen the longing in her eyes at church when she’d admired Luella’s newest baby. A pretty woman like his daughter should have more in life to anticipate on a Saturday afternoon than weeding a flower bed.

  Owen distinctly remembered the day he was mucking out the barn and suddenly felt an overwhelming tiredness sweep over him. Unsteady, he’d taken a step forward to sit on a bale of hay but fell over instead. Grace had found him, and somehow, after what seemed like hours, the two of them managed to get him up on his feet and inside the house. He hadn’t told Grace that his legs began feeling funny months before.

  That’d been four months ago. The doctor, when he was finally able to see one, wasn’t hopeful that he would recover the use of his legs bu
t also wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Possibly a stroke. Regardless, Owen wasn’t one to give up easily. He couldn’t, in fact—until he knew Grace would be all right.

  Grace waved to him, then wiped her hands on her apron, signaling the end of her weeding. As she took a seat next to him on the porch, she sighed with relief. “It looks better without the weeds, doesn’t it?” she asked, looking down at her dirty nails.

  Owen smiled. “Yes, dear, and the flowers thank you, I’m sure. I’ll try to help you rustle up some leftovers so you don’t have to wear yourself out cooking tonight.”

  She reached over and patted his hand. “Sounds good to me, Pop, but you don’t need to help. Just keep me company.”

  Owen saw weariness in her eyes and felt sorry for her. Trying to make her smile he said, “How about a game of checkers after supper? It’s your turn to try and beat me.” He chuckled.

  “Try? Have you forgotten that I beat you three other times before last night?” She laughed heartily.

  He chuckled. “I call it beginner’s luck. That’s all.” He winked at her and Grace just shook her head.

  10

  “It’s going to be a spectacular spring day, Pop.” Grace had just returned from gathering eggs. She removed her bonnet and shawl, hanging them on a peg by the back door before refreshing his cup of coffee.

  “Is that so? You’re in a great mood this morning.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? Spring always invigorates me. I think I’ll work on cleaning my wardrobe after we decide what Mr. Frasier needs to tackle this week.” She glanced down at the watch fob attached to her blouse with a frown. “It’s well past breakfast and he’s late this morning.”

  “Mmm . . . He could start by replacing some of the chicken wire on the coop. I heard a coyote last night, and it’ll only be a matter of time before one ventures closer to the chicken coop for his dinner.”