by Bonnie Leon
The minister paused, then looked up and scanned the faces. “Bertram was willing to take the blame for this, but we all share in it. We allowed him to tell us what to do—it was easier that way, requiring no faith of our own.”
He closed his Bible. “In addition, there was something Bertram wanted me to set straight. There have been rumors . . . about Rebecca Thornton.”
Rebecca’s heart beat hard, and she felt as if her breath were caught in her throat.
Willa’s hand clasped hers, and she felt stronger.
“When Bertram heard the rumors about his daughter-in-law’s misconduct, he knew they weren’t true, but he accepted them anyway. He was angry with her, so he used the gossip to hurt her.”
Eyes turned to Rebecca. She wanted to hide.
“He wants ya all to know that Rebecca would never do such a thing. He wants ya to know she’s moral and upstanding, a woman of faith. And he wants ya to know he admires her, even her spunk.” The minister’s eyes rested on Rebecca. “He loved ya. He asked me to tell ya that.”
Tears pooled in Rebecca’s eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them away.
“Bertram told me he knew who started the rumors, and he asked me to keep it a secret, saying there was no good purpose served in exposing that person. He figured the Holy Spirit would deal with them.”
Murmuring moved through the crowd. Then, one by one, people looked at Meghan. They knew who had started the lie. Her face reddened, and she backed away from the group, then finally turned and walked toward town.
“Mr. Thornton wanted me to tell ya he loves ya all. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard to help. He asks that ya love one another. He was ready and eager for eternity and the reunion he would have with his son Elton. It’s long overdue.” He smiled. “We have a Lord who has provided his Word and his Holy Spirit to guide and teach us. May we all find the joy of discovery, together.”
Willa, Daniel, and Rebecca clasped hands. Bertram had been a good man and would be sorely missed.
28
Rebecca set her Bible in the top of her trunk. It was the final thing to be packed. She straightened. “That’s it,” she said, glancing around the room with a heavy heart. This would be her last evening at Douloo. She’d thought returning home was the right thing to do, but now she wasn’t sure. It’s too late to change my mind, she told herself, looking over her belongings.
She had everything packed away except for her nightclothes and clothing for the next day’s travel. Woodman would collect her bags first thing in the morning. Sitting on the bed, she reflected on what lay ahead, and the gloom intensified.
“Mum,” Callie said from the doorway.
“Yes? Come in.”
The servant quietly stepped into the room. An awkward silence settled over the two women. Callie tucked tufts of curls inside her bandanna.
“I’ll miss you,” Rebecca finally said.
“I’m gonna miss ya too. Yer different from most whites. Yer like Willa.” Her brown eyes shimmered. She blinked hard, then said, “I don’t think ya should go. And I know it’s not me place ta say so, but I had ta.”
“I wish things had turned out differently. I really do.”
“Daniel, he’s a good bloke. Ya ought ta give ’im a chance.”
“I haven’t made up my mind completely yet. I’ll go home where I can think more clearly. I’ll have the baby . . . and I may return.”
“No, mum. If ya go back we won’t see ya again. Ya ’ave Boston in yer blood, just as I ’ave this place in mine.”
A fluttering at the window caught the women’s attention. A small brown bird stood on the window ledge. A breeze ruffled its feathers. A few moments later it darted away.
Callie looked at Rebecca. “It’s a sign, mum—that wild bird. It wanted in. Yer ta stay.”
“It was just a bird. There are a lot of them here at Douloo. It means nothing.”
“No, mum. It’s a sign, I know it is.” Her voice plaintive, Callie continued, “I ’ave never seen Daniel so sad. Not even when Elton died. Ya must pray ta yer God for help in loving ’im.”
“It’s not that I can’t love him . . .”
“Then what, mum?”
“Things will never be right. I can’t . . . forgive him.” Rebecca could barely say the words after all she’d said about God’s mercy and how she’d forgiven Bertram, plus all that had been forgiven her. She blinked back tears and told herself, This is different.
“I don’t understand yer God, then. Ya say he can do anything, but he can’t do this? He must be a small god.”
“No. It’s not him. It’s me.” Rebecca walked to the window. “I don’t understand my feelings just yet. When I do I’ll write and explain it,” Rebecca said, ashamed of her feeble faith. She turned and looked at Callie. “I’ll think of you often. I’m grateful for your friendship. I hope the miles separating us won’t change that. Maybe one day you can come to Boston.”
Callie’s eyes grew large. “Oh no, mum. I couldn’t do that. It’s too far away. I wouldn’t know how to live there.”
“I was just thinking you might visit. I know how it is to feel lost in a foreign place.”
“Don’t think I can visit neither.” Callie looked at Rebecca’s abdomen. “Ya take care of that bybie now, eh?”
“I will.”
“Wal, I ’ave work ta do.” Callie moved toward the door, “Oh, I was told yer ta come down for supper.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Callie waited a moment. “Do ya think the bird will come back, mum?”
Rebecca looked at the empty sill. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t belong here.”
With the setting of the sun, Rebecca’s uncertainty grew. Am I doing the right thing? She crossed to her trunk and lifted out her Bible. She’d keep it with her. Clasping it against her abdomen, she walked to the window and gazed out on the yard and barns. Resting her hand on the sill, she remembered the bird. She was like that bird. She couldn’t change who or what she was or where she belonged.
A wind blew off the flats, and Rebecca closed her eyes, relishing the smell of burnt grasses and eucalyptus. Opening her eyes, she gazed at the dusky rose-colored sky. It is beautiful here. A dingo yipped, and she was reminded of the many lessons she’d learned since arriving. Now it was over.
A knock sounded at the door. “Yes, who is it?”
“Daniel.”
Rebecca turned, then smoothed her skirt. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Daniel stood in the doorway, his shoulders back and his spine straight. His misery couldn’t be hidden. She remembered their first meeting in her father’s office in Boston. It seemed so long ago. He’d been full of life then.
He smiled, but there was no light in his eyes. And why should there be? He’d lost his brother, his father, and now his wife.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine, thank you.”
He glanced at her bags and two trunks. “Seems you’re all packed, then, eh?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take them down for you.”
“That’s not necessary. Woodman will do it.”
Daniel stood there, seemingly rooted to the floor. Silence fell over them.
“Right. Is there anything else I can do, then?”
“No. Really, everything’s been taken care of.”
Again, silence.
“Rebecca, please reconsider. I love you, and I believe you love me. That should be enough. It’s a start.”
“Too much has happened. I must leave. I need to be home . . . well, in Boston anyway. Maybe I can think more clearly there. Just as you love Queensland, I love New England; I long for the cool greenness and my aunt’s company. I don’t want to hurt you, but—”
“I was thinking that maybe we might go together. There are a few things I need to finish up here, but then I would be—”
“No, Daniel.” Rebecca walked to the bureau and pushed closed a dra
wer that was partially open. “I need time alone.”
“There must be something I can say or do that will change your mind. I know if you go you won’t come back. I’m sorry for all that’s happened, but things will be different now. I promise you.”
Rebecca looked at him. “I wish I could believe that. There might have been a chance for us, but . . . you believed Meghan’s lie. What will keep you from believing the next one? I’m not certain you’ll ever be completely sure of me again.” She slowly shook her head. “I just can’t do it. I don’t want to live like that, and I refuse to accept that kind of life for our child.”
She brushed a strand of hair off her face. “And then there’s this place. It’s wild and unpredictable. Much too dangerous a place for raising children. Plus, they’ll never know what it’s like to sail on the bay or attend a symphony or the opera. There’s so much more than this.”
With a spark of revolt in his voice, Daniel said, “And I want my children to know how good it feels to put in a day’s hard work, to look upon a bronze sky at sunset and the open canvas of stars at night. I want them to watch a group of roos leap across an open field. There’s so much here.”
“Not enough.”
Daniel squared his jaw. “I won’t see you off, then.” He turned and walked out.
Woodman loaded the last of Rebecca’s bags into the surrey, then waited alongside the carriage.
Willa stood quietly.
“It seems the time has come,” Rebecca said. She hugged her mother-in-law. “I shall miss you.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any changing your mind?”
“No. I must go, at least for a while.”
Willa was silent a moment, then said softly. “I’ve been praying diligently about this. And just this morning I was reading Matthew 18. I’m sure you know the story about the servant who owed a large debt to a king. The king had the right to have the servant sold, along with his family. But the man begged his master for patience, promising to repay the debt. The master was moved with compassion and forgave all the man’s debt.”
Rebecca knew the story. Her heart winced.
“The man who’d been forgiven his debt turned right around to one of his fellow servants who owed him money and demanded payment. And although the servant begged for patience and time, the man refused and had him thrown in prison. When the king discovered this, he delivered the servant over to the torturers.”
“I know the story, Willa,” Rebecca said softly, taking a ragged breath. “I’m not being cruel and unforgiving. I’m just being practical. There will always be a rift between Daniel and me. How can we ever find peace and love? The damage is too great.”
Willa retained her calm countenance. Quietly she said, “God is greater than our offenses and able to heal all wounds.” She reached out and gently laid her hands on Rebecca’s upper arms. “You will discover his true power and presence only if you offer up your needs with faith.” She smiled and stepped back. “I know you will find God’s path. May our Lord go with you, Rebecca dear. I pray you will return.”
Rebecca brushed aside fresh tears and nodded, then with Woodman’s assistance stepped into the surrey. He took his place on the front seat. Callie and Lily moved onto the veranda and watched the surrey pull away. Jim stood in the barn door and saluted her. Surprised to see him, Rebecca offered a small wave and asked Woodman, “Why is Jim here? I thought he’d been fired.”
“Roight, but Daniel thought better of it and hired ’im back.”
Rebecca settled into the seat. Maybe Daniel did believe her after all. She studied the house. Its white paint looked brilliant beneath the morning sun, just as it had the day she’d arrived. Daniel stood at a window on the second floor. Their eyes met and held, and Rebecca’s heart constricted. The horses headed for the road, and the house disappeared behind the rise.
Rebecca gazed at the open plains. They no longer seemed hostile or unfamiliar. I’ve grown accustomed to this place. Cattle grazed, flicking away flies with their tails. A calf bucked across the grassland. Rebecca smiled at his antics. Some things I will miss, she thought, but the vision of cool weather and the green forests of home played through her mind. Its allure was strong. Boston was home, not this place. It would be best to accept the truth of it and go on.
Willa’s words about forgiveness tickled the edges of her mind. What if this was all about forgiveness and she was walking away from God’s plan because she was unwilling to forgive Daniel? And unwilling to believe he’d accepted the truth without conditions?
The thought of life without him felt bleak. I do love him. But it’s not enough, not anymore.
The trip into town seemed shorter than usual. Before Rebecca knew it, they were pulling up in front of the Thornton Creek Hotel. Woodman gave her a hand down, then unloaded the trunks and bags.
Rebecca walked into the hotel to make certain everything was in order. She didn’t relish the long days of travel ahead. The journey had been difficult enough when she’d had Daniel at her side and the anticipation of a new life.
Her thoughts wandered to the nights when the sound of the didgeridoo echoed over the flats, its haunting tones resonating through the darkness. It had once frightened her, but now it seemed to offer peace and permanence.
“Everything is in order,” the clerk said, “and the stage should be on time.” He handed her the ticket. “We’ll miss ya, Mrs. Thornton. I’m right sorry ’bout what’s happened. And I know I speak for everyone. We’d like ya ta stay. Give it some thought, eh?”
“Thank you, Michael, but it’s time I went home.” Rebecca placed the ticket inside her purse.
“I was told that if ya showed up I was ta tell ya ta stop by Mr. Stacy’s office.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Do I have time before the stage?”
“Yais, I’d say.”
Rebecca couldn’t imagine what Bertram’s attorney would want with her. All the papers had been taken care of. She stepped out of the hotel. Woodman sat on the edge of the wooden sidewalk. “I’ll return shortly. I have an errand to run,” she said.
“Roight, then. Don’t be too long, mum.”
“I won’t.” Rebecca headed toward Mr. Stacy’s office, her curiosity growing with each step.
She walked into the small, tidy office. It smelled of cigar smoke. Mr. Stacy sat at a large oak desk and quickly stamped out his cigar and stood.
“G’day,” he said. “So you’re traveling, eh?”
“Yes. My coach is due any moment. I was told you wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” The small man crossed to an oak cabinet. Pulling open a drawer, he searched through the files and pulled out an envelope. Pushing the drawer closed, he returned to the desk. “Mr. Thornton instructed me to give this to you if you decided to leave Douloo. That is your intention?”
“Yes. At least for now.”
“Right, then. Well, this is yours.” He offered Rebecca the envelope.
Taking it, she asked, “What is this about?”
“I’m not allowed to divulge any information. You’ll have to read it.” He offered her a kindly smile.
“Thank you,” she said, puzzling over what Bertram could possibly have left to say to her.
“G’day.”
Rebecca sat on a bench just outside the door and opened the envelope. Bertram had written the letter himself. She recognized the writing, even with the shaky, uneven lettering. He’d been so weak in his last days.
“Dear Rebecca,” he began. “I write to you knowing that the moment of my passing is near. There is so much that must be said, yet I fear I will not have the vigor to write it all.”
He must have the last word, she thought. Had he carried his need to control even to the grave? A flicker of disappointment touched her.
She returned to the letter. Bertram spoke of his youth, the dreams he and Willa had shared for Douloo and for the family they would one day have. He talked about love and hate, as well as grie
f and the importance of mending relationships, and how he longed to go back and reclaim the day he had thrust Elton out of his life.
He went on to explain how much he admired Rebecca—her courage and stamina. He spoke of how her loyalty and her compassion had impacted him. He continued, explaining that these qualities were needed in the person who would help watch over Douloo.
“I know God chose you for Daniel,” Bertram wrote. “In the beginning I was certain he’d been foolish. But I know now that it is I who have been foolish. You possess the strength and courage needed by all those who live at Douloo, but especially my son. You can be part of carrying a greater awareness and understanding of who God is to our family and our community. Sadly, I interfered in God’s plans, spoiling so much. I am grateful for his mercy and know that, if you allow it, God will use you to help make a proper path for his work.”
Rebecca let the letter rest in her lap. She felt breathless, and the sting of tears burned. Even after all she’d heard at the funeral service, she could barely believe what she was reading. This is just a dying man’s desire; it’s not true, she told herself. Yet she felt the stirring of the Holy Spirit’s conviction. For so long I thought I didn’t belong, yet he’s saying this is precisely where I should be, precisely where I’m needed.
Rebecca turned back to the letter. “You and Daniel, together, will make the station better than it’s ever been. Together you will be strong, enduring hardships while also praising God for his blessings. And together you will bring harmony—a song, if you wish.” Rebecca smiled, wondering if his reference was to suggest that church solos might be all right?
“I ask that you forgive my son’s weaknesses. I’m responsible. Year upon year I tore him down, robbing him of his independence. Only now is he discovering who he is and how he is to live out his own destiny. He needs you beside him; I’m certain that is God’s will. I beg you to think again about the Lord’s greater plan and to see beyond your own pain to what you and Daniel can become.”
