by Janette Oke
She lifted her chin and straightened her back in resolve—but she couldn’t keep another tear from trickling down her cheek.
Chapter Twenty
Changing Plans
Charlie came in for coffee the next morning.
Angela sensed something was bothering him, but he made no comment. Instead, he talked with Thomas about the latest storm, wondered how Gus was getting along with his new boss, and promised Angela that come spring, he would help her with her garden.
“Is your cabin warm enough?” Thomas asked.
Charlie nodded, pride in his eyes.
“I helped the boss build thet little place. We made sure thet it was sound and solid,” he said, the gleam in his eyes again. “Got everything in there thet a man needs.”
So why aren’t you happy? Angela wanted to ask, but she held her tongue.
Thomas asked the question Angela was thinking, though in a roundabout way. He simply gave Charlie the opportunity to bring up what was bothering him. “What can we do for you, Charlie?”
Charlie sat and stirred the cream in his coffee. Round and round went his spoon, and Angela imagined his thoughts going round and round, too. It was a long time before he spoke.
“Been doin’ some thinkin’,” Charlie said at last. “It really weren’t right the way I handled young Mr. Stratton. I mean—well, he is the boss’s boy—an’ I reckon iffen it had been me—I woulda wanted all of my pa’s land myself. I coulda jest given him back his land—not made a public show of it like I did.”
There was silence again. Charlie raised his head, his eyes troubled.
“Reckon yer pa would’ve done it different,” he said with conviction. Thomas nodded. “Reckon,” he agreed.
“Well, I been thinkin’ as to how I owe the young feller an apology,” said Charlie.
Angela stiffened. At one point she would have agreed, but after the events of the previous evening she had little compassion for Carter Stratton.
“Well, I figure as how I best hike myself on over there and speak my little piece. Don’t know if he’ll accept my words or not—but I gotta be a sayin’ ’em—iffen I want to live with myself, that is.”
Thomas nodded.
They sat in silence again. Angela wished to speak—wished to stir—wished to flee—but she did none of those things. Her own thoughts went round and round in her head.
“I watched yer folks fer a good number of years,” Charlie went on slowly. “I don’t think they would have taken things on—jest fer spite, like I done. Now, mind you—I don’t claim to be religious like yer folks were—but they was good folks. Funny—” Charlie hesitated and then chuckled softly, “I find myself thinkin’ about yer pa and askin’ myself, ‘What would Karl have done?’ An’ yer ma. Well, she was kindness itself. Never done a thing in her life fer spite, yer ma. One time she says to me, ‘Charlie, the Lord says we are to forgive seventy times seven,’ she says. ‘I figure as how I never get much past ten.’ She says thet to me, and she smiles an’ I think within myself thet I never get much past two. Fact is, I most often never even get started.”
Angela felt her face warming. She was harboring a little resentment of her own. Charlie was right. Her mama would want her to forgive—if indeed she had any reason to be angry at all. Other suitors had changed their minds about the person they had asked to marry. Certainly Carter had a right to a wife without—without a whole family to tend.
Angela went for more coffee. She would spend some time with the Lord in prayer just as soon as Charlie left on his little errand.
———
“Thomas…” Angela spoke slowly, hesitantly. She wasn’t sure just where or how to start. She could feel tears forming and willed herself not to cry like a silly child.
Thomas lifted his head and waited.
Angela turned her attention back to her dinner plate. She had determined that Thomas would be told of the change of plans before the children arrived home from school.
Angela lifted her head, took a deep breath and said, “There won’t be a wedding, after all.” Her voice was matter-of-fact and straightforward.
Her brother’s eyes clouded. Angela read anger in them, and Thomas seldom got angry.
“He backed out?” he said through clenched teeth.
“Let’s just say we changed our minds,” Angela hurried on. “There were some things we had not discussed—before. And when we got to them, we couldn’t work out a compromise,” she said simply.
The eyes before her remained dark. Angela hurried on.
“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know that it means—means—” but she could not go on.
The darkness began to fade from her brother’s eyes. Thomas gave a little sigh. Was it one of relief? Angela wondered. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Are you terribly disappointed?” he asked.
Angela shook her head, tears coming now. “I—I honestly don’t know,” she managed to say. “In some ways—yes—I—I guess any girl is disappointed when—when things don’t work out—as planned.” Angela stopped to sniff and wipe at the tears with her handkerchief. “But I—I’ve done some praying and I think—I think that—well, I think it’s best this way. I don’t think Carter and I—that we were—well—right for each other. But I’m awfully sorry about you. I mean—”
“About me?” cut in Thomas. “What do you mean ‘about me’?”
“Well, you could have left the farm. Gone to do your work with seed like you’ve always dreamed—”
Thomas stood. “You mean you thought—”
“I know how much it means to you,” she rushed on, “and as long as you need to be here—for the children and me—I know you won’t just leave us and go,” said Angela with a little shrug.
Thomas sat down again and leaned toward his sister. “Angela,” he said softly but firmly, “don’t you ever marry anyone—anyone, you hear?—to try to make things better for the rest of the family.”
“But it wasn’t—wasn’t just that,” Angela fumbled. “I mean—I mean I—I liked Carter. He was—was—”
“Arrogant, conceited, and totally uncaring of another’s feelings,” Thomas said, his voice hard.
It was Angela’s turn to stand to her feet. Her eyes were wide with shock and her lower lip trembled in spite of her attempts to still it with her teeth.
“You thought that?”
Thomas was already repentant. He lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Thomas,” said Angela reaching out a hand to her brother. “Why? Why didn’t you say so?”
For a moment Thomas could not respond, but at last he looked directly at Angela. “Because I thought you loved him.”
Angela dropped to her chair again. “So did I,” she whispered. “For a short time—so did I.”
“And now?” asked Thomas.
“I spent a good part of the morning in prayer. Oh, Thomas. I don’t think it would have been right at all. Mama would have—Mama would have known right from the start. I know she would have. I could have been saved the heartbreak if only Mama—”
“Don’t,” said Thomas. “Don’t berate yourself. You got it worked out. That’s all that matters now. We’ll just—we’ll just go on as though it never happened.”
Angela shook her head. She knew she would always be aware of the fact that she had been engaged—then jilted. But she lifted her chin and looked at Thomas. Then her eyes began to twinkle and her lips formed a wobbly smile.
“I’ll live,” she said. “I’ve been wooed and—and forsaken—but the worst is already over. Life will go on.” She blinked back an insistent tear.
Thomas stood and pulled her into his arms. For a moment Angela leaned against his broad chest, comforted by the strength of the arms that held her. She would have missed Thomas. But she was so sorry—so sorry that he couldn’t pursue his dream.
“Good girl,” Thomas said.
His voice sounded so much like their fa
ther’s that Angela felt like a little girl again, held safe in her pa’s strong arms.
“Good girl,” Thomas said again; then he released her and went for his cap and heavy coat.
———
Life did go on for Angela. Nothing further was said about the broken engagement. Angela was thankful that Thomas wisely had asked her not to tell anyone of her wedding plans. There were no questions from friends and neighbors to answer. But in her heart, Angela still felt moments of pain.
Fortunately there were few occasions for her to see Carter. Word had it that he was much too busy on the ranch to make it to Sunday church. He did manage the Easter Sunday service, but he sat near the back and Angela did not have to greet him. Occasionally they met on the streets of the little town and Angela managed a stiff smile and a “good morning.” Carter responded in a manner to indicate that Angela had never been anyone special in his life. Angela heard that he was calling at the home of Trudie Sommers, but she did not make any effort to verify or discredit those rumors.
Winter turned to spring and Charlie kept good his word about helping Angela plant her garden. She was surprised how much time it freed when Charlie manned the hoe.
Thomas planted a large plot of his special seed even before he did the regular planting. He could hardly wait for the new grain to appear so he could judge its success.
School ended and the children were home again. Angela always looked forward to that time of year. It wasn’t hard to keep them busy as there were many jobs around the farmhouse. Derek spent his time helping Thomas in the fields. He was filling out, and even though Angela still thought of him as a young boy, she knew he was quickly becoming a young man.
His attitude about himself and about life seemed to improve—but very slowly. Angela knew the pain in his past would likely always haunt him. They still played the memory game, and Derek shared along with the rest. Some stories were poignant, some funny, others joyous. Angela hoped their game helped healing to occur.
Louise had far more interest in socializing than in fulfilling household chores. She begged and pestered until Angela was tempted to tell her to just be gone and leave the household in peace. But Angela knew her mother would not have handled it in that manner.
“You may have one outing a week,” she told her young sister. “You must decide whether it is to be an evening, an afternoon, or a Sunday.”
Louise sulked for a time but at last accepted the arrangement.
Sara had grown so much over the winter months that Angela had to let down every inch of her sister’s skirts. She would soon be passing on to Louise’s hand-me-down dresses. Angela sensed that Sara would be the tall one—tall and slim like their father. But the growth of the young girl made Angela uneasy. Did it mean that she was about to lose the joyful, teasing, carefree little bundle of energy called Sara and gain another changing, pouting, testing adolescent? Angela wasn’t sure she would be able to cope with two moody teenagers.
Thane was back. He spent every available minute in the fields with Thomas and Derek. He challenged Thomas to checker games and teased Louise about young men of the community. He brought Sara her lemon drops and licorice sticks and helped Derek fashion a bridle for his new saddle horse. He brought groceries from the store for Charlie and recommended medication for his arthritis. He lounged on the front veranda, talking and laughing, while the long hours of dusk wrapped a soft, dark cloak about the farm. He admired Angela’s garden, asked for her company on summer evening walks, brought her books from his own bookshelves, and listened to her plans for sewing new curtains.
And it was true. He did watch her carefully—just like Sara had said. But Angela hardly noticed. She felt at ease with Thane. He was as close as one of the family. There was a security—a fellowship—a feeling of belonging. Angela sensed it, though she could not have defined it. But she, like the others, was very glad that Thane was back.
Chapter Twenty-one
The Picnic
The day was warm with just the hint of a breeze. Angela spent the morning in her kitchen preparing potato salad and deviled eggs. From the oven the chicken sent out the most inviting aroma. Angela had browned it in the big frying pan, then covered it with herbs and rich cream and put it into the oven to simmer. Louise cut thick slices of homemade bread, and Sara spread them generously with farm butter, making sure that even the corners and crusts were given a portion.
“Thomas hates dry edges,” she observed as she worked.
Louise looked at the cake on the table. It was her first baking for the community picnic and she appeared proud of her work. With a toss of her pinned-up hair, she went back to slicing the bread.
“What time is dinner?” she asked.
Angela answered without looking up from her task. “One o’clock.”
Louise glanced toward the mantel clock. “I hope the boys hurry or we’ll be late.”
Angela looked at the clock as well. “There’s lots of time,” she assured the younger girl.
“Does Trudie still like Thomas?” asked Sara without any preamble.
Angela shifted her gaze to Sara. Her dress, even though let down to the limit, was still a bit too short. She sighed. How would she ever keep up with the growing child?
“I—I hear that”—Angela almost said Carter, then changed it quickly to Mr. Stratton—“that Mr. Stratton has been calling on Trudie.”
“Good!” said Sara with emphasis but made no explanation.
The back door slammed and Derek entered the kitchen, his eyes shining. “Ready?” he called in an excited tone.
Angela felt her pulse quicken. It was the first time she had seen the boy so enthusiastic.
“We just need to bundle things up,” she told him. “Bring those boxes from the shed and we’ll wrap the chicken so it won’t cool.”
Derek hastened to obey, and Angela began to gather the picnic foods for packing. With the help of the girls, she soon had things ready to go, and Thomas and Derek carried the boxes to the waiting wagon. Charlie was already standing by, looking pleased.
“Been ages since I found myself at a picnic,” he observed. “And with a real live family too,” he added, smiling around on them all.
Angela noticed that he looked pleased at the prospect.
They all climbed aboard and found places to sit; then Thomas clucked to the team and they were off.
Angela lifted her eyes to the cloudless sky. “Well, it looks like we won’t be rained out,” she observed. “Though it could get a mite hot before the day is over.”
“Just right,” said Derek, slapping a well-worn baseball into the mitt on his hand.
Angela knew why Derek was excited about the day. He loved sports, and he lost no opportunity to take part in a game.
“Well, if you want to play ball,” Thomas counseled goodnaturedly, “remember not to eat too much. Hard to play ball on a full stomach.”
“Why don’t we play ball first?” asked Derek.
“Because the food wouldn’t stay hot—or cold—whatever it is supposed to be,” explained Angela.
“Still think they have it backwards,” mused Derek, showing little concern as to whether hot dishes became cool or cold dishes became warm.
“You’d get sick,” said Louise with a familiar toss of her head. “Food spoils real fast in the summer heat.”
The occupants of the wagon fell silent then, each sorting out personal thoughts. Angela wondered if she would need to face Carter and Trudie as a twosome. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it would have a few months previously, but still it would be a less-than-pleasant experience. She marveled, though, that she had returned to emotional health so quickly.
A number of teams had already gathered by the time Thomas hitched his team to the rail fence. Sara had jumped out to join her friends before the wagon even rolled to a stop. Angela was about to call after her to walk like a lady, but she shook her head and turned back to the dinner items.
Long tables had been constructed for the food
, and Angela directed Thomas and Derek to carry the pans and boxes. Charlie lent a hand and soon the task was complete and Derek was free to find other young men with whom to discuss the ball game. Thomas drifted to where young fellows his own age had gathered. Louise tossed her head slightly and displayed her cake, obviously wishing someone would ask her who had made it.
The meal was first on the agenda. Long lines of chattering, laughing neighbors queued up, and impatient children crowded to the front of the line to get “first pick.” Angela found herself in line beside Thane.
“Sara tells me that Louise baked a cake,” he whispered in her ear. “Which one is it so I can make an announcement?”
Angela laughed as she pointed out Louise’s cake. Thane nodded, and Angela was sure then that Louise would receive all of the recognition she desired.
Sure enough, when they reached the spot, Thane declared in a loud voice, “Look at that cake! It looks delicious. I wonder who made it. Do you know?” he asked Mrs. Blackwell, who was on the other side of the table.
She shook her head.
“Do you know?” he asked Mrs. Sommers.
She gave the same response.
“It looks delicious,” he repeated and went on helping himself to a generous portion. “Must be a good cook. Louise, do you know?” he called to her just ahead of them in the line.
Louise’s face reddened, but she admitted ownership. “I did,” she said with a self-conscious tilt of her blond head.
“By yourself?” asked Thane in astounded tones.
Louise nodded. Angela could see the pleased look in her sister’s eyes as heads turned to look.
Thane, who had already dipped his fork into the piece on his plate as though he couldn’t wait another second, was smacking his lips. “Yum. It tastes even better than it looks. Delicious!”
