by Dawn Kinzer
What Ben most desired now was to put the past behind and forgive himself for the wrong he’d done. Maybe by finding that kind of peace, he could once again embrace the joy he felt when using his God-given gift, instead of feeling guilty because of it.
Jake guided the horses to the front of the house, then pulled on the reins for them to stop. Both men hopped out of the wagon, and Jake helped Annie down from her perch, leaving Ben to assist Hope.
“We’ll unload and carry everything in.” Ben walked to the back of the wagon and released the drop-gate. He climbed up and shoved a large wooden crate toward the end, then hopped back out. He and Jake each grabbed hold and lifted the container from the wagon bed.
“Careful!” Hope rushed toward them and drew a clenched hand to her mouth. “Please be careful.”
Ben groaned inside. Was she really afraid they’d drop the cargo? You’d think there was priceless crystal or an ancient artifact inside. Doesn’t matter. Whatever the crate contains, it’s important to her. He’d handle the load with care.
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I truly appreciate your help. Annie and I would have struggled for hours trying to move that piece ourselves.”
“Right this way, gentlemen.” Annie led the way up the steps to the porch. Hope held the screen door back while Annie kept the main door propped open and gave directions as Ben and Jake hauled in the precious crate and an additional box, then labored up the stairs with several heavy trunks.
“You should be able to get settled in now.” Ben wiped his damp forehead with a handkerchief. “Annie, could I trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Of course. I should have thought to offer it myself. If you prefer, I have fresh lemonade chilling in the ice box.”
“Thanks. That sounds even better.” Ben tucked his handkerchief back into his back pocket.
Jake grinned at Annie. “I wouldn’t mind some myself.”
“I’ll pour everyone a glass,” Annie said as she headed toward the kitchen. “We’re all parched from the dusty ride.”
“I’ll help.” Hope started to follow, but Jake raced ahead and stopped her.
“Let me. You’ve been traveling for hours.”
Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Jake.”
Ben stifled a frustrated sigh. He would have shown he could be considerate and offered to help with the drinks if Jake hadn’t beaten him to it. Ben had a feeling his brother’s willingness had more to do with wanting a little time alone with Annie than it had to do with being polite to the redhead’s cousin.
“I am a bit tired.” Hope slipped into the rocking chair next to the fireplace after removing several books stacked on the seat. Annie had a habit of leaving novels in almost every room of the house.
After being cooped up on the train for thousands of miles, then thrown around in the wagon like a sack of potatoes, Hope must feel exhausted. “Did you travel the entire way by yourself?” Ben shoved several books aside, then dropped onto the settee across from her.
“Pardon?”
Was she so tired she’d forgotten he was even there? Or had she hoped he’d just disappear if she avoided him? “I asked if you’d made the trip from New York alone.”
“Yes. I’m a grown woman, quite capable.” A wave of sadness crossed her face. “I apologize for sounding a bit defensive. My parents are out of the country. I won’t see them again for some time.”
How long did it take to fill four glasses? A mix of deep and light laughter filtered into the room from the kitchen. Annie would be good for Jake, but he wasn’t close to settling down, and Ben feared his brother would break the sweet girl’s heart.
“Your parents are touring Europe?” Probably along with a group of other rich people. It turned Ben’s stomach to see people abuse their wealth when they could use it for good. “What did you do that was so bad they didn’t invite you?” Ben almost winced. He’d done it again. Why couldn’t he think before blurting out his thoughts? Better yet, keep them to himself?
Color crept up her neck and filled her face as though she were about to bloom like the peonies outside. “Is that what you think? That I’m here only because they’re off spending an extravagant holiday without me?” Her voice was tinged with anger.
“I assumed—”
“You assumed wrong.” Hope took a deep breath, then seemed to give thought to her words before continuing. “Mr. Greene, I won’t see my parents for two years, possibly longer. And that’s only if they survive.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“My father is working with the United States Army Corp of Engineers on the Panama Canal. My mother couldn’t bear to be separated from him. Along with other engineers, they set sail from New York on the Allianca.”
He couldn’t go back and undo what he’d said, and by the disgust on her face he deduced she wouldn’t accept his apology. But he could attempt more kindness. He purposely gentled his tone. “You said if they survive...”
Her expression softened after his words. “The work is dangerous—living conditions are horrendous. Families also risk exposure to diseases like yellow fever and malaria.”
“Surely your parents won’t be subjected to those same conditions.”
“Their living quarters will be—more pleasant. But like anyone there, they risk serious illness.”
How could Ben have been so wrong about her family? He’d always prided himself on being perceptive and having the ability to see things others missed. “Your mother willingly placed herself in such a position?”
“If you’re judging her decision, you don’t understand, Mr. Greene.” Hope tilted her head and gazed deep into his eyes, as though she searched for an answer to a question she hadn’t yet raised. “Though it hurt to say good-bye to them both, it gives me comfort to know they have each other to lean on. But my mother isn’t traveling to Panama because she’s afraid of being without my father. She’s going with a loving heart and desire to serve God and the people there who are suffering.” Hope’s eyes glistened. “No matter how hard I strive, I will never be as good and courageous.”
“Sorry it took so long.” A blushing Annie strolled into the room with two glasses of lemonade, and Jake following closely behind with two more. “Jake told the funniest story about the trick he played on Ben when they were boys.”
“I’m sure he did.” Ben accepted a glass from his brother, took several sips, then emptied it. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the refreshment. “Thanks, Annie.” He clasped Jake’s shoulder. “Little brother, you and I should head home. The cows need milking. Or did you forget you’re still a farmer?”
“Right. Chores are waiting.” Jake gave a slight bow in Hope’s direction. “I’m glad you’re here, Hope.” He turned toward Annie. “And thanks for the invite for Sunday. That’s nice of you to have us.”
A look of horror flashed across Hope’s face. Though it lasted only a second, Ben didn’t miss it. He perched an arm on his brother’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Jake’s grin swallowed his whole face. “To thank us, Annie invited us for dinner after church tomorrow.”
Warmth flowed through Ben, and he struggled to hold back a smile. Surprise. He was actually looking forward to spending more time with the beautiful Hope Andrews.
chapter three
Ben opened the door to what looked like a regular tool shed from the outside and gave himself a moment to inhale the familiar smells of paint and turpentine—his haven.
The hideaway, private because he’d sworn his brother to secrecy as to its actual purpose, was built after they’d taken over the land. A pact between the two of them when Ben agreed to help Jake rebuild the hundred-acre rundown farm their uncle had left to him in his will.
Farming didn’t stir Ben to get up in the morning. It didn’t excite him or cause him to think about the future like it did his brother. Jake loved everything about growing crops and raising animals, and Ben loved his bro
ther, so what else could Ben do but agree to help rebuild the inheritance? Jake couldn’t manage the farm on his own, at least not yet. In return, his brother honored Ben’s need to continue painting.
Benches lined two walls, a small table and a chair gave him a place to think and sketch, an easel stood nearby, and a small woodstove sat in one corner. Two smaller windows were added on the north and south to let in sunlight. He’d light a lantern before shadows cloaked the room, but right now the view from the large window facing west couldn’t be missed.
As though brushed with watercolors, the evening sky was washed with brilliant shades of pink, purple, and orange. A glimpse of heaven that reminded him God was a master artist in how he created the earth, seas, and sky. God understood Ben and the delight he felt with each brush stroke put to canvas. Because of that, Ben felt the closest to his heavenly Father while painting.
The Lord also knew why Ben could never share this part of himself outside of this room. Turmoil still lingered inside for the pain he’d caused another man. God had forgiven him, and even after all these years, his family continued to remind him of that truth. More than anything he wanted to find a way to forgive himself, but until then, keeping this place and his work unknown seemed like a necessary sacrifice.
He set the box containing the new oil paints he’d picked up in Martindale on a bench, then removed the cover from the tube he carried and pulled out several large pieces of canvas. The empty wooden frames waited to be covered. He stared at the larger one, mentally choosing a color palette that would capture Hope’s striking blue eyes, honey-colored hair, and the blush that bloomed with her emotions.
Not that he intended to paint her—he just couldn’t get her out of his mind. The conversation they’d had earlier that day replayed in his thoughts. It was clear she loved her parents, and they were good people. Hope didn’t believe she could live up to the example her parents set, and that belief—however true or false—also seemed to burden her.
He respected the sacrifice Hope’s mother was making to stay with her husband, regardless of the danger. What would it be like to have a woman love you so much she’d willingly risk her life for you?
Don’t think about it, Benjamin. He’d never know that kind of devotion. No woman would understand the difficult decisions he’d made or the life he led. His obsession with painting, the reason he kept his work hidden.
Without realizing it, Hattie had convinced him of that before he’d even come to Riverton. He’d been attracted to his sister’s vivacious friend, but the night he planned to ask if he could court her, they’d gotten into a lively discussion about men and women’s relationships with several other friends visiting his parents’ home. Hattie hadn’t grown up in the area, so she was unaware of what had happened between Ben and Percy years before—she had no knowledge that Ben was an artist. As far as she knew, like his brothers, farming claimed his heart.
That evening, Ben had thrown out hypothetical questions, and Hattie had made it clear she could never be interested in anyone who spent time on frivolous pursuits that didn’t provide well. Her family had struggled financially her entire life, and she’d had enough of barely getting by. She needed financial security, and she saw herself married to a successful man who leaned toward serious work and leadership in the community.
If someone as sweet and gentle as Hattie felt that way about a husband’s attributes, a simple painter who didn’t even share his work, let alone sell anything, would never find someone who would accept a proposal.
Life sure would be easier if he could just be like his father and brothers, content taking care of animals and raising crops. Farming was an honorable way to make a living and a rewarding life for his family. But God hadn’t made him that way, and he often questioned why.
The door to the shed creaked open, and Jake stepped inside. “The last of the chores are done. You coming up to the house soon?”
“Not yet. I want to get these canvases stretched and primed.” Ben placed the largest frame on a bench and laid canvas over it.
“Sorry about tomorrow. I should’ve talked to you first.” Jake stuck his hands in his front pockets. “But who turns down a decent home-cooked meal? Half the time I burn food, and you can’t tell the difference between fully cooked and meat that’s almost raw.”
“It’s fine, Jake.” Ben flashed him a grin. “It was nice of her to ask. I appreciate the offer—I do. Annie’s cooking beats mine any day.” Besides, there was her interesting cousin to consider. “But from now on, try to answer for yourself. With all the work that needs to get done around here, Sunday is the best time for me to paint.”
If his father knew, he’d encourage Ben to set creative projects aside on the Sabbath too. With the exception of necessary chores, like milking cows, Sundays were for worship and rest. But painting wasn’t work, it was his life. Art connected Ben to God in the most intimate way.
“Come on, brother. When was the last time you spent an afternoon with friends? One Sunday out of a year isn’t going to hurt you.” Jake wiped his forehead. “Besides, no matter how many canvases you finish, no one will ever see them anyway.”
“Jake, don’t start on me again.” Ben’s fingers tunneled through his hair. “You know why.”
“Just seems like a waste of talent, that’s all.”
Would his brother ever give up?
Jake stepped over to the larger window. “Sure is pretty, isn’t it?”
“The sunset or the cornfield?” Ben joined him and nudged his shoulder.
Jake shoved him back. “Both.”
“You’ve done a good job at making this a working farm again.”
“We’ve done a good job, the two of us. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, Ben. You know that.” Jake laid his hand on Ben’s back. “But we have a long way to go.”
They stood gazing at what had become their livelihood after two years of backbreaking labor. To the left and farther down their stretch of land stood the barn and the milk shed. The wagon shed sat not far from the other side of the barn, which made hitching up the horses more convenient. But the ice house needed replacing before winter, and fences always seemed to require mending. The small amount of money that Uncle Marcus had left to help get them started on repairs depleted within those first few weeks. If all went well the coming year, maybe they could stop taking odd jobs to fund supplies for the farm and what Ben needed to paint.
The sun’s few remaining rays shone through trees that edged the far side of the field up ahead. First one, then two more graceful animals stepped from the woods and onto the field where the cornstalks weren’t yet high enough to hide them.
“Deer.” As soon as Ben spoke, the whitetail took off, bounding over the rows of corn.
“Won’t be long and they’ll be dining every night on that corn, fattening up so we can enjoy venison this fall.”
Ben sighed. “I don’t know how you can kill those beautiful creatures.”
“I hunt to eat.” Jake turned from the window. “I’m going up to the house. Might read a bit before going to bed. I’ve almost finished The Last of the Mohicans.”
Ben laughed. “Haven’t you read that book three times already?”
“Five.” He reached for the door handle.
“Wait.” Ben leaned against the window frame. He’d just asked Jake to stop making decisions for him. It might seem unfair to bring up his concerns about Annie now, but it couldn’t be avoided, especially since they’d be spending part of tomorrow together. “About Annie...”
Jake dropped his head back. “Ben, we’re back to that again?”
“I think she may have some feelings for you, Jake.”
“It’s just one meal. There’s nothing more to it.”
“You could be right.” Ben massaged the back of his neck. “I just don’t want her to get hurt if she’s hoping for something you’re not ready to give. Ever since we moved to Riverton, Annie and her mother have been good to us, cooking some meals for us in exchang
e for fixing things around their house. Annie’s been like a little sister, and we agreed to look after her while her mother’s gone. Don’t take advantage of her, or you’ll have me to deal with, brother.”
“Annie’s a wonderful girl. She’s pretty, smart, and fun to be around. But don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to give her the wrong impression. I’ve got a farm to run, and there’s a lot more that needs to be done here before I can settle down with anyone.” Jake opened the door. “But one day a woman is going to come along who will turn your world upside down, and I plan to be around to see it.”
***
Freshened up from her long journey and dressed in a clean nightgown, Hope cradled her teacup between her hands and climbed on top of the bed. She nestled back against the pillow and wooden headboard and gazed out the window at the setting sun, now almost hidden behind the trees. A light breeze fluffed the white curtains on either side of the open window to her right, and crickets in the yard and frogs in a nearby pond began tuning for their evening concert. The quiet was both comforting and disconcerting. In time, she’d get used to sounds so different from what she’d grown accustomed to in the city.
Annie dropped Treasure Island on a nightstand, then crawled next to Hope on the bed with her own cup of tea.
Hope moved over to make room. “Annie, my bedroom is lovely.”
Delicate pink rosebuds with tiny green leaves adorned the wallpaper of the second-story bedroom. Her clothes filled the small closet and mirrored dresser opposite the bed. To the left, next to the door stood a washstand. A desk and chair placed beneath the window provided a perfect spot where she’d not only write her parents and keep them abreast of her life there, but also appreciate the view of the flower gardens and large apple tree below.
“Is there anything else you need to get settled in?”
“No, you’ve already done so much for me.” Hope wrapped one of her nightgown’s ribbons around her finger and smiled. “Thank you. For sharing your home, and for getting me a position at the store.”
