by Linda Ford
“What a wonderful heritage she’s given you.”
He agreed completely. “Tell me how you became a Christian.”
Her gentle smile widened her lips and filled her eyes. And settled into his heart like a homing pigeon returned from a long journey. “My father led all of us to the Lord. I knelt at his knees when I was eight and prayed the sinner’s prayer. I don’t remember the words, but I know what I meant and felt. It was a special time.”
“Your father was a special man.”
“He was indeed, and I miss him.” A break came in her speech, and then she continued. “I think of him so much, but most of all at bedtime. He made each of us promise to read a chapter from the Bible every night before we go to bed. I’ve missed very few evenings. I’ve found such strength and comfort in my daily reading.”
Her words created a hunger in his heart.
“Do you read the Bible daily?”
“I haven’t made it a habit, but maybe I need to.”
“Now were you going to tell me what you’ve done, where you’ve been since you left here?”
“Nothing very exciting, I’m afraid. I went with Pa and Harris for the first few years, but they never stayed long in one place. They hunted gold in the mountains, worked on the railroad, drove freight for a few months, then they started working in the coal mines in the Crowsnest Pass. For some reason they seemed to enjoy that. I hated it. I didn’t even make it through a full shift before I staggered out to the light and vowed I’d never go into the pit again.”
She sent him a look so full of sympathy he had to stop and draw in air to clear his thoughts.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the Frank Slide?”
She shook her head.
“Boulders the size of houses came crashing down on the town. Seventy-six people were buried alive.” Words poured from him, words stored up for so many years, things he’d never been able to openly say to his father and brother. “The rocks became their grave markers. The Indians called the mountain the mountain that walks. They knew it was unstable, but no one listened because there was a rich vein of coal beneath the mountain, and coal is worth a lot of money. It isn’t worth a man’s life, or the life of his wife and children though.” He slowed his words and then went on. “I decided I preferred sky and grass to coal, and from then on I worked on a ranch.”
“And then you lost your brother in a mine accident. How terrible.”
“At least he didn’t suffer.”
“Unlike your pa. I’m sorry. How is he?”
“Not getting any stronger.” He told how he had started reading Pilgrim’s Progress to him. “I pray it will speak to my father and he will become a Christian before he dies.”
“I will pray for it, as well.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” So this is what it felt like to have a good friend? Except he wanted more. He wanted to be free to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, finding comfort in that. He ached to offer her what she needed.
Security and safety.
“This is where I turn off.” They had come to a long driveway. He saw a solid two-story house and a small but adequate barn.
“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”
She stepped back, shock filling her wide eyes, darkening them to deepest green. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
He didn’t need a blaring announcement to understand she didn’t want him to. “Of course not.” His voice cracked with disappointment. Up until this moment, he thought they were enjoying each other’s company. Being friends. Isn’t that what she wanted?
She shook her head and her gaze darted away to his left, to his right, always avoiding meeting his eyes. “Mother wouldn’t understand.”
Her words struck him so hard he stepped backward and bumped into patient Red.
Red. Escape.
Exactly what he needed. He flipped the reins over the horse’s head and swung into the saddle. “I understand.” He nudged Red and trotted toward town.
He understood all right. Way too well. He could be her friend, but not in public. Being seen with a McCoy—even by her mother—threatened the very things she needed—the things he allowed himself to briefly think he could offer. Safety and security.
The sky had darkened. He glanced upward. The sun still shone as brightly. It had simply lost its warmth. He was a McCoy. Not for the first time, he thought of changing his name to Smith or Jones or even Black. Yes, Black would suit just fine. But he didn’t want to be someone else. He wanted to be seen as a good man with the name McCoy. Was that too much to ask? Seems it was.
Well, he had gotten along without friends most of his life. That was nothing new. But all his excuse-making and reason-seeking did not ease the darkness in his soul.
He valued Sally’s friendship. Obviously more than she valued his.
He reached the yard and took Red to the barn and cared for him.
As he stepped into the kitchen, the aroma of stew and pudding greeted him, as did his grandmother’s smile, and he pushed his disappointment to the background.
Supper was good. He ate a good-size portion and hoped his grandmother wouldn’t notice a certain lack of enthusiasm. Afterward, he dried the dishes for her then went to Pa’s bedside.
“Where you been, boy?” His father sounded lonesome, not demanding.
“I went for a ride. You remember, I work at Mr. Finley’s during the day.”
“What’d you do today?”
“I painted the front fence. Mr. Finley likes things to look nice.” Abe cared what people thought. He’d hired Linc because Abe did what was right and noble—out of duty. He stood for safety. Security. Just what Sally wanted. Thought she needed. But it sounded false, shallow and rigid at the same time.
“This man live alone?”
Linc told him of the two motherless children. “They have a housekeeper now who will likely become their stepmother.” Saying the words out loud felt like bringing up bitter acid.
“She nice to them?”
He could gladly say she was. “She’ll make a fine mother to them.” But the idea of her living according to Abe’s expectation of duty twisted his insides. She needed to know life was to enjoy. God’s world was to enjoy, His salvation was to enjoy.
But if he took a good look at himself, did he really believe that? If he did, he wouldn’t let gossip and spitefulness, nor even rejection from a friend rob him of enjoying all God had given. Lord, help me see beyond these hurts to Your everlasting love. He let peace fill him. “Would you like me to read to you again?”
He read another hour to his father, then slipped away and went to his room.
Sally read the scriptures every night because of a promise to her father. She asked if he read the Bible. He had never made a practice of it before, but now he found his copy of the Good Book and opened it at the beginning of the New Testament and began to read. As he did, all but a remnant of his bitterness disappeared. Somehow reading in his room and knowing Sally read in hers made him feel close to her and restored the feeling of companionship.
Perhaps it was all he could expect. Could it be enough?
It had to be.
Chapter Eight
Next morning at the Finley house, Sally glanced around the table. Carol waited for her father to say grace. Robbie had a hand on either side of his bowl, and eyed the steaming porridge hungrily. Sally slowly brought her gaze to Abe. As usual, he wore his dark blond hair slicked back. His black suit was immaculate. He was a good, decent man; handsome in a gentle way.
He bowed his head and prayed, catching her off guard. By the time she bowed her head, he was done.
“Robbie will be six in two weeks’ time,” Abe said after he’d tasted his coffee and enjoyed a few spoonfuls of his porridge.
Robbie didn’t stop eating, but he slid a look at his father—a rather hopeful look, Sally thought.
“Their mother thought the children should have a special party when they turned six and were gro
wn up enough to start school. Do you suppose you could plan something?”
“What do you have in mind?” What did your wife do? Can I do, as well?
“Whatever you think Robbie would enjoy. Within reason.”
She nodded, hoping he would give a clue as to what he meant by “within reason.” But he didn’t offer any details.
“I’ve prepared a list of guests.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to Sally.
She glanced over it. Six little boys from either business or church connections. Four little girls from Carol’s class. At least he’d thought to include Carol in the celebration.
“Can you manage that?”
“I’m certain I can.” She had no idea what he wanted, but she’d make sure it exceeded any expectations. She’d prove to everyone she was worthy of this job…even more, the role of Abe’s wife.
Carol and Robbie watched her guardedly, perhaps afraid to get their hopes up for fear of being disappointed. Right then and there Sally decided she wanted to bring them pleasure, even more than she wanted to please Abe. Hopefully she could do both.
Abe finished and pushed back from the table. “And get rid of that pile of junk at the end of the garden before the party.”
An instant pall covered the table. Robbie dropped his spoon and bunched his hands into fists. Sally stared at Abe. How could he order the destruction of Robbie’s fort? Didn’t he realize how important it was to the boy? Perhaps he didn’t. After all, he only saw the boy in the evening. How was he to know Robbie spent most of his waking time playing there? She must explain its importance.
She rose. “I’ll be right back,” she said to the children and followed Abe through the dining room to the front door, where he prepared to leave for the day.
“Abe, may I speak to you a moment?”
“Of course. I hope you feel free to talk to me whenever you want.”
She paused. Was he inviting her to share confidences? But this wasn’t the time. Not that she could think of anything she wanted to tell him, apart from this one thing. “About Robbie’s fort—”
He raised his eyebrows. “His fort?”
“Yes. That pile of junk in the garden. It’s his fort. He spends a great deal of time playing there. It seems to give him a lot of pleasure. Would you reconsider having it destroyed?”
He looked at her so intently she wanted to squirm. “Do you think it’s important?”
“I do.”
“You feel I should leave it be?”
“It’s important to Robbie.”
“Very well. If you think it’s best, I’ll bow to your wishes.” He headed back to the kitchen, Sally at his heels.
“Robbie, Sally says that—” he made a vague wave toward the fort visible from the window “—your fort is important to you. Is that right?”
Robbie nodded, his lips set in an angry frown.
“If it’s important to you, then it may stay.” Abe waited.
At first, Sally wasn’t sure what he expected. Then it seemed plain. “Robbie,” she whispered. “Thank your father.”
Robbie looked ready to explode, unable to shed his anger so quickly. But he managed a muttered, “Thank you.”
Satisfied, Abe left.
Sally and the children didn’t move, even after they heard the front door close. Time was slipping away, and she read the children their Bible story then sent Carol off to school.
She turned her attention to cleaning up the meal as Robbie headed out to his fort. Smiling her satisfaction that she had succeeded in saving it for him, she watched out the window as he got a spade from the shed.
He carried it to the tangle of dirt and twigs that kept him happily amused for so many days. Perhaps he meant to make the walls higher but—
She gasped.
He banged away on the walls, destroying them inch by inch.
Sally threw aside the cloth and rushed outside. “Robbie, what on earth are you doing?” She grabbed the shovel. “You don’t have to destroy it.”
“He only let me keep it ’cause you said something. Give me the shovel.” He lunged for it, but she jerked away.
“Does it matter why he let you keep it? After all your hard work you deserve to enjoy it.”
But all Robbie seemed to care about was getting his hands on the shovel, and it took all Sally’s concentrated dodging away to keep it from him.
“Hey, hey. What’s going on?” Linc vaulted the fence and swept Robbie into his arms. “What are you trying to do?”
Breathless, Sally leaned on the handle of the shovel.
Linc lowered Robbie to the ground, but kept a firm grip on him. He squatted to eye level. “Care to tell me what this is all about?”
“It isn’t a pile of junk.”
Linc gave Sally a look of confusion.
“His father called his fort junk. Said it had to go.” She turned to the boy struggling to escape Linc’s hold. “He didn’t know. Once I told him how important it was to you, he understood. He said you could keep it. Remember?”
Linc turned back to the boy. “I don’t see why you were fighting with Sally. Seems she spoke up for you. Don’t you think that calls for a little gratitude?”
The fight slowly drained from Robbie, and he sank to the ground. Linc released him, but stood ready to intervene if the boy exploded again. Robbie hung his head.
Linc glanced toward Sally, his eyes asking for an explanation, but she was at a loss as to what to do or say and indicated it with a shrug. Linc stared into the distance for two beats then sat down beside Robbie. “I guess you were pretty upset when you thought you were going to lose your fort. After all, a man likes to hang on to the things he’s worked hard for. I understand that. But a man also has to learn to aim his anger and frustration in the right direction so he doesn’t hurt the ones who care about him. Or destroy the things he wants to protect. Do you understand?”
Robbie gave no indication one way or the other, except to scuff his heels in the dirt.
Sally waited, not knowing what to expect and realizing how inept she was at dealing with the crises in Robbie’s life—of which there seemed to be many.
“Sometimes I don’t know who I’m mad at,” Robbie said.
Linc sat beside Robbie. “That happens to me, too.” He sounded as morose as the boy, and Sally almost smiled at the disconsolate pair sitting side by side in the dirt. They both wore such similar expressions. Except it wasn’t a laughing matter. No one’s pain was amusing, no matter how big or small. Being the youngest, she’d often wondered if anyone cared about her concerns. After all, it was old news to her older sisters and likely her parents. Everything that happened to her had previously been experienced and dealt with. Once her father had asked what bothered her. It was something small—so small she couldn’t even remember what it had been. But she still remembered his words.
She spoke them aloud now, hoping they would encourage Robbie and Linc as much as they had her. “My father once told me anger only fuels pain. It misdirects our energies.”
Two pairs of eyes turned to her, waiting for more, perhaps hoping she had an answer to how to deal with frustrating anger and disappointment. “He said the best way to deal with anger was to do something positive like help someone, make something, go somewhere. I guess that’s why I like to help people. It makes me feel like life isn’t out of control. I suppose that’s why Linc rides his horse. It’s a way to direct his feelings into action.”
Robbie sighed. “I can’t do anything.”
She studied his fort. “Maybe you can.”
Linc got to his feet and stood beside her, also studying the fort. “I think you could.”
Robbie sprang to his feet. “What? What can I do?”
“Well, if your father thinks this looks like junk, maybe you need to make it look better. Finish the fence. Tidy up the dirt around it.” Sally could see how doing so would improve the view from the window.
“There was a bit of paint left in the can. I could thin
it, and you could paint these boards.” Linc tilted his head from side to side. “How would it be if I showed you how to build a gate for your fence? Then it would look really great.”
Robbie grabbed a twig and drove it into the ground next to the others forming the fence. “I’m going to finish the fence first.”
Linc smiled at Sally and gave a subtle thumbs up. She grinned back. They had averted a crisis with the boy and given him a way to sidetrack his anger. Maybe it would help him in the future.
Her smile faltered when she remembered how she’d hurt Linc yesterday, when she refused to let him accompany her to the house. She hadn’t meant to, but how would she explain to Mother, who feared any friendship between Sally and Linc would ruin her chances of marriage to Abe? Mother would never understand the friendship Sally had with Linc. In her room last night, she had worked it all through. She and Linc were forced to spend time together as coworkers. She admired his way with the children and the way he cared about his family. But she knew where her duty lay. She’d fought the word duty. What kind of relationship was based on duty? There was more to it than that. There was—she’d plumbed her heart for what she felt toward Abe… Safety, security—the very things she’d told Linc she needed. Yet she appreciated Linc’s company. She felt comfortable opening her heart to him and talking about her faith, her family, her fears.
They turned and headed for their own tasks—he to the barn and she to the house. They reached the place where their paths must diverge.
“You’re good with him,” Sally said, wanting to express how much she appreciated him, even though she wouldn’t let him walk her to the door.
“So are you.”
They nodded mutual respect.
Linc adjusted his hat and seemed to want to say more. She hoped he didn’t want to discuss last night. It took him a moment to form his words. “I wish I could say it was because I’m all grown up and speak from wisdom, but honestly, I feel like Robbie and I are on equal footing. I look at my pa and want to be mad at someone, but I don’t know who it would be. It’s a helpless, frustrated feeling.”
