She turned to pick up the saddle. Ughh! She lifted it, straightening her back, and wondered how she could hoist it up onto the horse’s back. She stood a moment, the weight of the saddle pulling on her arms.
“Well, are you just gonna stand there growing roots or—”
“It’s heavy!” She took a deep breath and heaved the saddle on the horse, arching it through the air until it fell on Ellie’s back. The horse staggered under the sudden weight. Sorry, Girl.
“Be careful!”
“I’m trying.” She glared over her shoulder. The man had no patience.
She maneuvered the saddle into place, relieved to have landed it there at all. Then she noticed the blanket was rumpled under the saddle from its awkward placing.
“You need to smooth out those—”
“I know!” She lifted the saddle and fixed the blanket and then noticed the saddle was out of place. Her arms, weak from the lifting, couldn’t seem to pick up the saddle again. She grunted with the effort, knowing she couldn’t slide it or she would muss up the blanket again. She stopped, breathing heavily, her head falling forward as she caught her breath.
“Here, let me—”
“Just let me rest a minute, and I’ll—”
He stepped close behind her, reaching around her shoulders. “You’re stubborn as a mule,” he said as he lifted the saddle easily and set it in place.
Exasperated at his remark, she spun around to let him know. Her mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come.
He was right behind her, his face a breath away from hers. She watched his expression change from anger, to surprise, then to something much warmer. She wondered if her expression underwent the same alterations. Shadows danced across his face as he clenched his jaw.
The anger drained from her. She’d hardly had time to catch her breath, but her lungs seemed unable to take in air. She could almost hear her heartbeat in the sudden stillness, and she smelled the soap Clay had cleaned up with before supper and his own musky scent.
His hands still rested on the saddle behind her. It was almost an embrace. If he would only slip his hands down to her shoulders. She longed for it. Her gaze caressed every line of his face, and she forgot how frustrated he sometimes made her. She remembered how gentle he was at the barn raising and how encouraging he was at the picnic. She remembered how protective he was with Beth and, yes, even her, when dealing with his ranch hands.
She saw the longing in his eyes, but something held him back. She saw his defenses go back up a moment before he turned away.
Keen disappointment filled her. Why? Why wouldn’t he kiss her? Why did he back away from each encounter? “Why?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken the word until he looked back at her.
❧
He weighed her question and his answer. Mercy, how he’d wanted to kiss her. Her eyes had begged for it, and it had taken every bit of resolve to turn away. But nothing had changed. She was still as lost as she’d been last week. Help me, Lord. I can’t tell her the truth. “You’d best finish up here if you’re going to leave while there’s any daylight left.”
“I’m not leaving until you answer.”
“It’s nothing. Now you’d better—”
“Something is making you turn away from me.”
He counted the planks in the ceiling. She couldn’t make him answer, no matter how stubborn she was about it.
“Don’t you find me—comely?” Her head lowered as if afraid to meet his gaze.
His stomach tightened at the vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes. Two months ago she wouldn’t have asked such a question. Now she was questioning everything, even her beauty. He longed to put her fears to rest—to quench the self-doubt that stirred in her heart. “Of course I do.” She still refused to meet his gaze. “It’s just—”
“I’m finished!” Beth scurried through the door and stopped, eyeing the two of them with curiosity. “Can you do it now, Miss Lawton?”
“I—” Mara’s voice was rough, and she cleared her throat.
“She can do it,” Clay said. “I’ll hitch up your buggy.” As he turned, he heard her retort.
“Don’t bother.” Her voice was laced with irritation.
Stubborn woman. He would do it anyway, whether she liked it or not.
Sixteen
Two days later, just as she finished with the breakfast dishes, Sara came by on her way to Ingrid’s house.
“Cade sent for me a bit ago,” she said from her wagon seat, her words rushed. “Ingrid’s time has come. Cade says she’s afraid. Would you pray for her?”
Sara was asking her to pray? “Why, yes, I’ll, uh—sure I will.”
“Thanks!” Sara snapped the reins, setting the horses in motion. “I’ll let you know when the little one arrives!” she called as she sped away.
“May I pray with you, Miss Lawton?”
She’d forgotten Beth was at her side. “Certainly.”
They sat on the porch steps, and Beth took her hand. They bowed their heads, and Mara waited for Beth to pray. Silence spread awkwardly around them, and Mara realized Beth was waiting for her to pray. She cleared her throat.
“Uh, God? Ingrid’s time has come, and well, I guess You know that already. She’s afraid, so please calm her down and—and help everything to go all right.” Her mind blanked, so she ended the prayer. “Amen.”
Mara peeked at Beth, but the girl’s eyes were still closed, and she began praying.
“Jesus, please keep Mrs. Manning and her baby safe. Help her know You’re with her all the time and not to be afraid. Help Mr. Manning not to faint the way Clay did when I was born—”
Mara stifled a giggle that rose in her throat.
“And help Doc Hathaway do everything right. Amen.”
Mara squeezed her hand, and they looked at one another.
“Did Clay really swoon when you were born?”
“Uh-huh.” Beth giggled. “Ma said he walked in when he wasn’t s’posed to and keeled over.”
“My! I hope Mr. Manning doesn’t do that.”
“He’s a grown-up. He knows he’s not allowed in the room.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” Mara stood and stretched. “Well, we’ve got a heap of work waiting, so we’d better start.”
The day dragged on. Would they ever hear how the birthing went? She wondered if it would be a boy the way Cade thought. What would it feel like to share such an experience with the one you loved? She couldn’t imagine anything more special than having a baby that was a blend of you and the one you loved. She wondered what a baby of hers and Clay’s would look like. Would he have dark hair and skin like his pa? Would he have Mara’s blue eyes?
She shook her head. She shouldn’t even be thinking like this. The man wouldn’t even kiss her, much less—
She heard a wagon approaching and looked up from the garden where she was pulling weeds. Dropping the straggly plant in her hand, she walked to the front of the house.
It was Sara. Mara could see even from where she stood that Sara’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
Dread ripped through Mara. “What—what is it?”
Sara pulled the reins as the horses drew to a halt. “It’s Ingrid.” Tears swelled in her eyes and tumbled down her pale face. “She—she’s gone.” Sara covered her face with her hands, her body quaking with sobs.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t mean Ingrid had—
“After she had—the baby—she just kept—bleeding.” The words were choked out between sobs. “We did everything we could, but she just kept—”
Her words stopped as realization sank into Mara’s heart. “The baby?”
Sara wiped her face. “The baby’s fine. It’s a sweet little boy.” Her lips turned up in a wobbly smile. “Ingrid got to hold him, before she—” Sara looked at her. “She knew. She knew she was dying. And she had such peace.” More tears spilled down her cheeks. “She kept saying to Cade, ‘You have to let me go. Jesus is calling me home.’ ” Sobs w
racked her body again.
Mara reached up and took Sara’s hand. “Do you want to come inside?”
Sara squeezed her hand. “Thanks, but I need to get home to Caroline.”
“I’m so sorry, Sara. I know you were close.” Mara felt her own eyes stinging with tears. “Ingrid was a special woman.”
Sara nodded. “Pray for Cade. He’s beside himself.”
“I will.”
Numbly Mara watched Sara ride away. She had hardly known Ingrid, but the woman had reached out to her, knowing the terrible things Mara had done. Ingrid was a godly woman. She didn’t deserve to die so young. And what about this baby that would grow up without a mother? Why, God? Didn’t we ask You to keep her safe? Why didn’t You answer? A lump lodged in Mara’s throat. How could Ingrid have such peace about dying? Why wasn’t she angry at being cheated out of life? That’s the way Mara would feel.
She looked up at the sky as if she might find God there. If You’re there, God, and if You care at all, please help Cade. He’s going to need it.
❧
The weather was exactly as it should be for a funeral. Gray overcast skies looked ominously dark beyond the bright fall foliage. The wind whipped angrily at the leafy branches and swept across the deadened grass, tugging at skirts.
Mara looked at the mourners gathered around the hollow spot in the ground that would soon house Ingrid’s body. It isn’t fair. What did Ingrid ever do wrong? She was a sweet, unassuming woman who cared for others. If anyone deserves to be lowered into that pit—she stopped the scary thought. If the thought of her body rotting in the ground didn’t terrify her, the thought of what lay beyond the grave did. The words Ingrid had spoken on her deathbed played over and over in her mind. “You have to let me go. Jesus is calling me home.” Mara knew she wouldn’t have been at peace if she had been dying. She would have been terrified.
Pastor Hill stepped forward, a somber expression on his weathered face. “Today we gather to mourn the loss of a dear friend, wife, and mother. Yet, in our faith, we also celebrate her home going.”
Folks around her nodded their heads in agreement. How could they be so secure, so sure there was a heaven? So sure they were going there when they died?
The words of the minister faded to a distant hum as Mara’s gaze settled on Ingrid’s husband. Cade stood beside his brother on the gently sloping hillside, a tiny bundle cradled in his arms. She could hear the baby’s fussing over the rustling of the leaves. Wind whipped Cade’s hair in front of his face, but he did nothing about it. Sara, at his side, whispered something and held out her hands, but Cade shook his head.
The minister was talking about heaven now and reading from the Scriptures. “But as it is written, ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’ ” He looked up at the people gathered. “Ingrid Manning loved the Lord—you know that. And God has already prepared a place for her, for all of His children. A place that is beyond our imaginings.”
He looked at Cade. “I know we have questions in our hearts. Why did our Father call Ingrid home so early in her life? Why has this child been left motherless? I don’t know the answers to these questions, but we can rest assured God has not made a mistake. He is not punishing us or Ingrid by taking her home. Indeed God has a plan in all this. In Romans 8:28 we read, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ”
Mara watched those around her carefully. “Amens” were sprinkled throughout the minister’s words, and heads nodded in agreement. Could it be as he said?
Pastor Hill continued. “Perhaps at some later date we will be able to look back and catch a glimpse of God’s plan in all this. Perhaps not.”
He opened his Bible and read, “ ‘Therefore, we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord: (For we walk by faith, not by sight:) We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.’ ” He closed his Bible and surveyed the crowd. “Let us mourn the absence of Ingrid Manning’s physical presence, and let us rejoice that she is now present with the Lord.”
Then he quoted the Twenty-third Psalm that she had heard at every funeral.
After that, Mara watched as Cade Manning stepped up to the burial spot and sprinkled dust on top of Ingrid’s casket. She saw tears on the faces of everyone there as Cade, with his newborn son, knelt by the grave. Then she and the others turned to leave, allowing a husband to grieve in private.
❧
Mara tossed and turned in bed that night. Her mind spun in every direction but always returned to the funeral. She couldn’t shake the reality that one day her body would lie stiffly in a box. Where would her soul go? The thought frightened her beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She believed in God, but was that enough? Pastor Hill had talked in church about the free gift of Jesus. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it?
She finally fell into an exhausted sleep long after midnight.
The next day, after serving breakfast and cleaning up, she and Beth started working on her dress again. As she made tiny stitches, Mara’s thoughts returned to Ingrid’s death. How could the church folk be so sure they were going to heaven? She didn’t understand what Jesus’ death on the cross had to do with going to heaven.
She glanced at Beth and wondered if an eight-year-old child could give her the answers she needed. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“May I ask you a question, Beth?”
Beth shrugged. “Sure.”
Mara pushed the needle through the fabric and pulled the thread. “I don’t understand all this about Jesus dying on the cross. What was the purpose in that? How does that get a person to heaven?”
When the words were out, Mara realized she was asking a question a child couldn’t possibly understand, much less explain.
“Oh, that’s easy. My ma ’splained it like this. If I did something bad, you know, told a fib or stole a licorice stick from the mercantile, I’d deserve a whuping, right?”
Mara nodded.
“Well, this is how it is. God is perfect, and He can’t stand sin, so He sent Jesus to take my place, my whuping.”
A glimmer of understanding brightened the corners of Mara’s heart. “But what about the free gift the minister always talks about?”
“It’s hard to ’splain.” Her brows crinkled low over her chocolate-colored eyes. “Getting to heaven is free, like a present. But you gotta accept it. If I handed you a box, wrapped all pretty-like, but you didn’t reach out and take it, well, you wouldn’t have it.”
“I see. So I have to accept God’s gift of heaven?”
“Sorta.” Beth played with her doll’s hair. “But God doesn’t like sin, so you gotta be clean, and the only way to be clean is to ask Jesus to forgive you.”
Everything suddenly seemed clear. She knew what Pastor Hill had been talking about all these weeks. Who would’ve thought that a child could make things clear?
“Do you wanna be a Christian? ’Cause I know how. Ma helped me do it when I was six.”
Yes, yes, she wanted that—very much. She wanted what Beth and Clay had. She wanted the peace Ingrid had. “What do I have to do?”
“If you believe Jesus died for your sins and res’rected, just pray and ask Jesus to forgive you and tell Him you want to live like He wants you to.”
“I’d like to do that.”
Beth smiled. “Oh, good, Miss Lawton! You can pray out loud or quiet-like—it doesn’t matter which way. God hears you.”
Mara bowed her head and closed her eyes. “God, I believe about Your sending Jesus to die on the cross. I believe He did it to pay for my sins and that He was resurrected. I want to accept Your free gift. Amen.” Mara opened her eyes to see Beth smiling at her. “That’s all?”
“Yep, told you it was easy.”
Mara couldn’t be
lieve how easy it was. She was one of God’s children now. A child of the King, as Beth had said weeks ago. The thought put a bounce in her step the whole day.
❧
Clay finished washing up at the pump and walked into the house. The wonderful aroma of pot roast reached him, and his stomach growled.
Before he could shut the door, Beth burst through the kitchen door. “Clay, guess what! You’ll never guess!”
Clay tousled her hair. He hadn’t seen Beth this excited in weeks. “Your doll grew wings and flew away!”
She giggled. “No, Silly!”
“Miss Lawton grew wings and flew away?”
“Clay—! It is about Miss Lawton, though.” Her eyes sparkled like the reflection of the sun shimmering on the creek. “She asked Jesus into her heart, and I got to show her how!”
As if summoned, Mara came through the kitchen door, the platter of roast beef in her hands. She stopped short when Beth made her announcement, and he saw a flush spread over her cheeks.
Could it be true? He glanced from Beth to Mara. “Mara?”
Her lids lowered, and she set the plate on the table as if to cover her embarrassment. “It’s true.”
She turned and looked at him. With her eyes she asked for his opinion and approval.
He was quick to respond. “That’s great, really great.” And it was for more reasons than she knew. Not only was she now a child of God, she was no longer off-limits to him. He felt like kicking up his heels and yelling, “Yeehahh!”
Whoa, Clay! Slow down. Just because she’s a Christian now doesn’t mean you can barge right in and claim her.
True, she’d been pretty open about her feelings. That in itself amazed him—that of all the men in Cedar Springs, she would want him.
Suddenly he noticed that Mara and Beth had taken their seats. He sat down quickly, and they joined hands.
With a contented smile relaxing his face he prayed, “Father, we thank You for this food, for the hands that prepared it.” He paused, wondering if he should say what was on his mind. “And, Lord, thank You for showing Yourself to Mara. May You use her for Your purposes, in Jesus’ name, amen.” He squeezed Mara’s hand.
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