Nolan walked toward Corinne’s cabin, a bowl of stew and a canister of water in hand. He was tired of limping, but his leg hurt from a long day’s work. None of which he’d had to do. But considering Corinne would be out here until nightfall again, busily rethinking designs and coming up with new ones, he hadn’t wanted to sit in the house alone any more than necessary.
Matthias was due back on Sunday, and he’d hardly seen his wife since his uncle left.
She hadn’t told him yet whether she’d decided to go with Uncle to Denver, but since she’d done nothing but work on her inventions this past week, he couldn’t help but resign himself to her going.
Their night together hadn’t brought them closer—or if it could have, sending off her drawings weeks before had messed everything up.
So why was she having such a hard time forgiving him for that? He’d explained his intentions, and he’d won her an opportunity she would never have gotten without him. Plus, he’d taken over her chores so she could spend her every waking moment in her cabin.
He was proud of her.
If he’d told her once, he’d told her thrice—but only thrice, because each time he mentioned it, she got quieter.
With each compliment, wink, and encouraging squeeze he gave her, she turned further into herself.
He stopped midstride and sighed. She was leaving him.
He’d hoped her lack of enthusiasm since the day Matthias had proposed the plan meant otherwise, but she’d also not once kissed him goodnight again.
Why wouldn’t she tell him of her plans? Was she contemplating staying in Denver forever? Did she not want him to talk her out of it? Would he only ever see her again if he visited Colorado?
No, he was being too pessimistic, but then, why wasn’t she talking to him? Hopefully she’d answer his questions tonight. He couldn’t sit and worry about it any longer.
The sound of feminine laughter sounded from Corinne’s cabin, and Nolan shook his head. Apparently he’d been too lost in thought to have noticed the Hendrixes’ wagon.
He paused just short of the cabin. Should he bring out another bowl of stew? Though if Annie wanted some, he could go back for more. It was unusual for her to drop by around supper time, but it was nice to hear Corinne laughing.
A strange slapping sound seemed to make the women laugh again.
Nolan stopped in the open doorway. His wife and her friend were crouched beside a wooden duck toy, their backs to him.
Annie tugged the string attached to the duck’s breast, and its wooden wheels, with what appeared to be embedded leather feet, smacked against the planks, making the duck’s head bobble on its spring.
Annie laughed again, picked up the duck, and sat down on the floor. “This is great. My kids never had such a toy.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Corinne tapped the duck’s head, making it nod wildly. “It’s one of the better things I’ve come up with this week, and I had the material to make it. Too bad your baby’s not born yet. I could’ve tested it out so I had some feedback for Nolan’s uncle on how well it might sell.”
“You don’t need a baby to tell you if this toy will sell. It’s the parents who’ll buy it, and I certainly would.”
Corinne slumped to sit on the floor beside Annie, staring toward the back wall.
Annie put a hand to Corinne’s shoulder. “You don’t seem excited to be going to Denver.”
Nolan fidgeted in the doorway. He likely ought to announce himself, but would Corinne tell Annie what was wrong? She certainly wasn’t telling him.
“I am excited.” But Corinne’s voice sounded flat.
“I don’t think I believe you.”
“It’s just … some things, though you expect them to make you happy … can’t.”
Annie put her arm around Corinne. “True, you can’t expect any thing to make you happy. Joy comes from within. If you’re missing that, you should pray—”
Corinne harrumphed. “I can’t ask God for help with this.”
“Why not?” Annie’s voice sounded as confused as he felt. “God knows everything and―”
“God wouldn’t―I mean, He hasn’t before. It’s just that I thought…”
Nolan turned back to lean against the outside of the cabin, his heart sinking with how his wife seemed so sad and resigned. Had he known the light would’ve gone out of her by getting his uncle involved, he’d have never sent that letter.
“You see…”
He closed his eyes, as if that might help him hear her softly spoken words better.
“Nolan and I, we were…”
He couldn’t help but lean closer.
“Well, we were … together, for the first time last week. And I shouldn’t have let it happen. It didn’t go at all like I’d hoped.”
If his heart hadn’t already sank earlier, it wouldn’t have survived the fall.
A rush of cold swept over him. His wife was talking to someone else about how disappointing he’d been. His best friend’s wife, at that.
“Oh, honey.” Annie’s voice held sympathy, but also a touch of amusement―as if what Corinne had said was cute.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. With a quick shake of his head, he pushed off the wall.
Abandoning the stew and water jug on a nearby stump, he marched off, but only made it to the next tree. He stopped to lean against it and stared blankly at the house up ahead.
So she’d kept her distance not just because he’d betrayed her trust, but because he’d disappointed her in every way a woman could be disappointed.
He’d tried. Really tried. He’d known her history, and Jacob had told him patience was key. So he’d been careful to pay attention to her while trying to show her how he felt. It wasn’t like he knew what he was doing.
But to be worse than expected?
He’d not bother to ask her to stay. He didn’t want to hear whatever half truth she’d tell him to spare his feelings.
Annie gave Corinne’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Now that she’d spilled her entire history, she couldn’t look up at her friend.
The older woman nudged her chin up. Annie’s eyes were still bright, but the twinkle Corinne had assumed was amusement earlier now looked more like understanding.
“Thank you for entrusting me with that.” Annie took hold of Corinne’s hands, letting them lie between them, where their knees met on the floor. “But honey, what you experienced is not God punishing you for your past choices. You’ve asked His forgiveness, and because He’s promised He will completely forgive, He’s done so. If we can’t trust Him to forgive, then there’s no reason to trust Him to do anything else He’s promised.”
“Well, yes, but there are consequences.”
“You’ve been forgiven, you’ve chosen never to sin that way again, and now you’ve entered into a God-ordained marriage. God wants marriages to flourish. Trials aren’t punishment.”
“But…”
“Think of my daughter. She’s apologized to Leah for her part in the accident that left her permanently scarred, has finished her court-appointed service to the community, and is showing by her actions that she intends to stay on the straight and narrow. What would you think of me if I kept punishing Celia?”
Corinne wilted. “That you were vindictive.”
“Does the Bible paint God as vindictive?”
“No, but I understand why He didn’t bless my relationship with Kurt, but with Nolan … I thought things would go better. I’m sure at some point, like Kurt, he’ll―”
“Now, hold up. I’m not sure you can say your less-than-wonderful experience with Kurt was a sign God was withholding a blessing. He wasn’t withholding pleasure from Kurt now, was He?”
“Well, no.”
“Do you think Kurt deserved pleasure and you didn’t? That you were the only one sinning against God?”
She looked down and shook her head. It would be unfair to only punish her for the moral offense they committed together, but the
n why? “I guess I’m broken, then.”
“I doubt you’re broken.” Annie squeezed her hands.
Stealing a hand back to swipe at the tears spilling down her cheeks, Corinne refused to look at Annie again. Why had she told her anything? Talking with her friend only confirmed what she’d already known. She shouldn’t have gotten involved with any man.
She knew being with Nolan wasn’t wrong, and yet, if intimacy would be no different than with Kurt, how could their marriage avoid the bitterness and resentment that had shattered that relationship?
As much as she should be ecstatic right now about the opportunity to have an entire catalog page of her own inventions for sale next year, the thought of living apart from Nolan made her depressed. Yet, it was probably for the best. How could she survive his discontent when Kurt’s had devastated her?
She had to keep her heart shuttered.
But she’d caved, she’d fallen, and now she’d trapped a good man into a lifetime of disappointment.
“Corinne.” Annie’s whisper was too pointed to ignore.
She glanced up.
A rosy glow colored her friend’s cheeks. “I know this isn’t something polite ladies talk about, and I won’t go into detail unless you ask, but years ago, Leah gave me advice about enjoying intimacy, and I can share if you’d like. You see…”
It was now Annie’s turn to stare at her lap. “My first husband and I had problems like yours. He never laid the burden of pleasure solely on me, but we’d become frustrated. First Corinthians seven says husbands and wives should not deprive one another and the key is ‘one another.’ God doesn’t just say don’t deprive your husband. He also says don’t deprive your wife, and if a wife isn’t supposed to enjoy marital relations, well then, what is a husband depriving you of? Marital intimacy should not be one-sided. He created wonderful things about women that demonstrates He never intended for you to feel as you do.”
Corinne closed her eyes and her heart lifted a little. Could she really believe that?
“Sometimes there’s a problem He never designed us to have to deal with. Other times it just takes time and advice. There’s a reason some older couples are happier than newlyweds.” She winked. “They’ve learned a thing or two.”
Corinne tried to smile, but what if Annie was wrong? Or what if she was indeed a woman who had a problem that could never be fixed?
Annie jiggled Corinne’s hands. “First thing to do is pray.”
“Pray?” She couldn’t stop herself from widening her eyes. “About this?”
“Certainly. God created sex and called it good. Therefore, it is. Second, you need to stop thinking negatively. God wants you to experience the lovely things of this world within the boundaries He set up, otherwise, why do they exist? He saved you so you could not only have life eternally, but abundantly.”
“I’m tempted to hope so, but you can’t tell me every child of God gets everything they want.”
Annie looked to the ceiling, her mouth scrunched in thought. “I can’t promise you’ll get what you want, no, but there’s joy. James says, ‘Count it all joy’ when you face trials. You can’t find the joy if you’re focused on the negative. We’re to set our minds on whatever’s lovely and pure and praiseworthy. If you’re not hoping for the good God wants for you, how can you pursue it?”
“And if you don’t find it?”
“He doesn’t promise the journey won’t be frustrating, and sadly, sometimes what we find at the end of the journey is not what we hoped for. But when your focus is on believing God has good things in store for you, if you follow Him―seeking His kingdom first―He can bless you with joy.”
“Nolan’s a blessing I already don’t deserve.”
“He’s a good man. I doubt he’d be unwilling to seek God’s blessing with you.”
“No, I can’t imagine he’d not want to try.” Though could she find joy if things didn’t turn out as well as Annie thought?
It was easier to believe God was still punishing her over how badly she’d once failed than hope for joy where she’d only ever felt disappointment.
In order to believe God wanted the best for her, to believe she deserved His goodness―she’d have to change her frame of mind.
No matter how awkward she might feel praying about this, she’d do so. For what other hope did she have?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Plumping his pillow for probably the seventy-eighth time, Nolan flipped over in bed and stared at the shadowy shapes outside his window. The downstairs clock chimed three. If only the bells were louder and rang every quarter hour. Then maybe the constant noise would drown out the conversation his mind wouldn’t stop playing over and over…
“We were together for the first time last week. And I shouldn’t have let it happen. It didn’t go at all like I’d hoped.”
“Oh, honey.”
Nolan wrapped his pillow around his head, as if covering his ears would muffle the words ringing in his brain.
“We were together for the first time last week…”
Ugh! He threw his pillow across the room and flopped back onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to listen for the branches scratching against the house. He’d count each and every time they scraped. That should bore him to sleep.
But something was off about the scratching. It sounded more like crackling.
The vegetation must be drier than he thought. They’d been through droughts before, but things must be going downhill quickly if―
Smoke.
He sat up and sniffed the air.
Tossing his blankets onto the floor, he hopped to the window. With the cloud cover, the moon wasn’t bright, but to the right was a faint glow.
Was the old barn on fire? A flit of a shadow passed the bunkhouse as he threw up the sash.
If one of his men was already running around, they likely all were racing to get out there, but without knowing what was burning―
“Corinne!” he hollered as he hopped to the closet. Grabbing his leg, he scowled. Putting this on would eat up precious minutes, but crutches would do him no good fighting a fire.
“Corinne!”
Hopefully it was the dilapidated barn―nothing in it but junk―though Corinne probably could’ve repurposed the stuff. If it wasn’t the old barn, what could it be?
As he started unclasping his leg’s straps, Corinne staggered sleepy-eyed into his bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
“Fire.”
Her eyes widened and her posture lost its slack. “Where?”
“I’m guessing the old barn. The building with the broken plows. The glow’s coming from that direction.”
“Oh, no.” She shook herself and stumbled backward, her footsteps heavy but fast down the hallway. “I’ll get the wagon and the ramp for water.”
After he finished making himself ready, he hobble-ran down the stairs and out the back door, the night air thick with smoke. Arriving at the garden shed, he grabbed buckets and threw burlap sacks over his shoulder.
Lord, bless us with enough water and no wind.
He returned to the front of the house, meeting Corinne as she pulled the wagon up. After tossing the buckets on top of the ramp in the back, he launched himself onto the bed. “Go!”
She drove to the rain barrels and they both quickly hammered lids on. Working together―though awkwardly―they rolled the barrels up the ramp and onto the wagon.
After the third barrel settled alongside the others, his heart was beating double time. Without his wife’s ramp, the two of them never would’ve gotten them up there. He turned to give her a thankful smile, but she was already climbing up to the driver’s seat. He launched himself into the back to hold the barrels in place while she raced toward the glow, definitely coming from the old barn. The flames weren’t terribly high, but every second felt like an eternity.
Corinne stopped the wagon so hastily the barrels nearly knocked him out of the back. He tossed the ramp to the ground and slid off the wagon,
scanning the area around the barn.
Where were his men? Hadn’t he seen―
“Move.” Corinne pushed him aside.
“Sorry.” He helped her put the ramp into the notches she’d cut into the wagon bed. “Did you knock on the bunkhouse door before you came for me?”
“I didn’t.” She huffed as she forced the last board into place. “You should’ve told me to.”
“I thought I’d seen one of them running out here.” He held in his groan. It had been hard enough for the two of them to roll these barrels in. Now they had to get them out without losing water. “Do you think you can get the barrel moving enough on your own to get it onto the ramp?”
“You’re going to catch it? By yourself?”
Though he wanted to snarl at her for believing him incapable, he was just as uncertain. “We don’t have much choice.”
She hesitated, looking into his eyes as if she could see him despite being backlit by fire. But before he could insist, she hopped up into the back.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they got the barrels onto the ramp and rolled them down. He ignored every stitch of pain as they set three full barrels of water onto the ground.
With his lungs short on air, he assessed the increasing flames. Should they get the men or start fighting the fire?
With the crowbar, Corinne opened the first barrel and had a bucket filled within seconds.
“Go hit the biggest flame with that. I’ll wet the sacks.” He dunked the burlap, surveying the barn. It should be easy to contain the fire to the structure considering they’d let the cattle graze down the grass here last week.
“What next?” She raced back, her breath short.
He frowned at the swirl of her nightgown. What had he been thinking to send her off wearing loose clothing? “What shoes do you have on?”
She skidded to a stop, a crease in her brow, but lifted her gown and stuck out a foot. “Your father’s boots.”
He puffed out a breath. “Good.” The soles were wider than lady’s boots’. “See where the fire is crawling slowly against the wind to the north?” He pointed to the curved line of flames, no taller than three inches. “Go rub it out with your boots, but gather your nightdress as high and tight as you can, and here.”
Pretending to Wed Page 26
