by Linda Ford
Linc roared with laughter. “Poor bird,” he managed to say.
“Poor Macat. She almost had him. Now the bird will make her life even more miserable.”
He patted her shoulder. “The bird has the advantage. He can fly.”
Fly. The word reminded her of her thoughts of last night. “Being able to fly is good.” One foot seemed poised to leave the ground.
He patted her shoulder again. “For the most part, I prefer to have my feet solidly on the ground.”
“Me, too.” She pulled her thoughts back from the edge.
Four more delightful evenings Sally worked at Linc’s side. The dollhouse was coming together well, with the dolls and trucks progressing nicely.
Her conscience was at ease about spending time with him. She was doing good work, and they had plenty of supervision, though Judd and Madge only wandered out to offer a few words then disappeared to tend to their own concerns. Most of all, she had made it clear she wanted only friendship from him, and he seemed content with her decision.
But more and more, the word friendship sounded and felt empty.
Not that she could contemplate the idea of losing his friendship. Seeing him, working with him and talking to him strengthened her for each day’s work. The idea didn’t seem quite right, but she didn’t bother to examine it more closely. Doing so made her uneasy. Her plan to marry Abe was sound. He offered what she needed. Unbidden, not really welcome, Linc’s words flashed through her mind. Friends who trust God to take care of them.
What did he mean? Did he refer to his own situation?
She reached the door to her home. Tonight, as every night, Mother waited for Sally as she returned from Madge’s, but this time her displeasure could not be ignored. “If you weren’t with Madge and Judd I would forbid this.” When Sally started to protest she was doing the work for the children, Mother raised a hand to stop her. “I know you think it’s only a good deed, but Sally, you need to bear in mind the dangers of spending so much time with Lincoln McCoy.”
“Dangers? Do you think he would harm me?”
Mother grew very serious and insisted Sally sit down. “He could very well harm your reputation. Abe is a church leader. He is an upright man. A good man, but don’t presume to take advantage of his good nature. I doubt he would overlook indiscretion on the part of the woman he is considering for his wife and the mother of his children.”
Sally drew up tall and straight. “I assure you I am not being indiscreet, nor do I intend to be.” She’d made it clear to Linc they could only be friends. What more could she do?
Mother sighed deeply. “I’m sure you are sincere, but sometimes, my dear, your emotions cloud your judgment.”
Guilt stung her cheeks. Yes, her thoughts were not as innocent as they should be. But what could she do? She couldn’t back out of this commitment to the orphans. But the truth was, she couldn’t imagine walking away from what she and Linc were doing. Silently she informed her brain that what they were doing was planning a party for the children.
She would guard her thoughts and actions. She had tried her best to do so.
From now on she would strive even harder.
Every day Sally continued to work at Abe’s house, caring for his children and his home and doing her best to live up to his expectations. And her own.
The afternoon after Mother had spoken to her, while she finished cleaning the kitchen she watched out the window as Robbie played in the yard. He spent less time at his fort since the birthday party, when he’d become the owner of a horse made from a wooden sawhorse with a blanket pad for a saddle and the make-believe cow he tried constantly to rope. Linc had given the boy a few lessons on roping, and Robbie could almost get a loop over the wooden cow head.
She laughed as he gave up swinging the lariat and sauntered over to drop the loop over the cow, and then backed away holding the rope and acting as proud as if he’d successfully lassoed it.
The children at the orphanage would enjoy the games and pony rides as much as Robbie. When the party was over, the children would be the proud owners of the same games Robbie now enjoyed, plus a fairly large dollhouse, various-size wooden dolls and enough cars and trucks for each boy to own one. She and Linc managed to spend an hour or two most evenings working on the project. The matron suggested they have the party the last weekend in May, lending a sense of urgency to get everything ready.
At the same time, Sally often found herself taking far longer to paint on a face, or smooth out the edges of a piece of wood than it required. The hours spent working with Linc held a special sweetness.
Perhaps Mother was right. She walked a dangerously thin line between right and wrong. However, she was determined to stay on the right side of that line. Even while allowing herself to enjoy preparations for the party.
As Sally watched Robbie play, she told herself she was doing nothing wrong. It wasn’t as if Abe had asked her to marry him, even though the understanding had been clear when she started working for him. He had told Mother what he had in mind. Sally knew and had agreed in principle. In fact, she promised herself she’d prove she could pass inspection, be a good mother, run the home efficiently. She and Linc were working together on a project, one Abe approved of, one that was good for the community and one that displayed Christian virtues. After all, didn’t the scriptures command them to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction? That’s exactly what they were doing. No one could fault her on that issue.
Carol would be home from school soon, and they had begun taking the after-school snack outside. From the first, Abe had instructed her to give Linc coffee, so she did.
Not that it was a hardship. It was, if she were honest, another highlight of the day. She liked the way Linc talked with the children and told them stories about ranching in the west country.
She put the cups of sweet iced tea on a tray along with a plate of cookies as Carol clattered into the house and raced upstairs to change her clothes.
Sally waited for the girl to join her, then they went outside. Linc had built a crude bench on the north side of the house, out of the blazing sun and somewhat sheltered from the wind.
Robbie saw them and dropped his lariat to run over.
“Go call Linc,” Sally said.
“I’m on my way.” Linc strode from the barn, his head bare, his hair frosted with dust and wood shavings. “The barn will soon be a garage.”
Then he’d be done. Abe had no more jobs for him. What would he do? Would he stay? Leave? Doubtlessly it depended on his father. Was he improving as Linc hoped and prayed he might, or fulfilling the doctor’s dire prediction?
She waited to ask until they lounged against the wall of the house, indolent in the heat. “How’s your father?”
Linc dangled his hands between his knees, the glass of tea empty in his grasp. “He’s noticeably weaker.”
“Is he going to die?” Carol asked.
Linc turned the glass round and round. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You’ll be an orphan if he does.”
“Hadn’t thought about it, but I guess so.”
“Did your mama die a long time ago?” Both children seemed keenly interested in Linc’s situation.
He put his glass on the bench beside him and grasped each child by a shoulder. “My mama is in Heaven. I miss her, but I know I will see her again. If I knew the same about my pa, it wouldn’t be so hard.”
Robbie pressed to Linc’s knee. “Mama made me promise to never forget about Heaven. She said Daddy would tell me how I could go there when I was big enough. Do you think I’m big enough now?”
Linc shared a happy smile with Sally. “Indeed I do. You talk to your father tonight.”
“Do you want my father to talk to your pa, too? Tell him how to be ready to go to Heaven?”
Linc looked across the yard toward the place where his father lay. “I wish that would do it.”
Carol leaned her head against Linc’s shoulder. “I miss my mama. Some
times I wish I could forget her so I wouldn’t miss her so much.”
Linc bent his head to rest it on Carol’s forehead. “You don’t ever want to forget her, even though remembering sometimes makes you ache inside. After all, she gave you life. She’d want you to be okay. To enjoy your life.”
Carol nodded. “I guess so.” She sprang to her feet. “I’ll try my best. Come on, Robbie. I’ll play cowboy with you.” Robbie always wanted his sister to join him, but normally she chose to play by herself.
The pair scampered away.
Sally pressed her lips together to hold back the rush of emotion. She missed her father but would never forget him. “You’re so good with them.”
“I suppose it’s because I know how they feel. But then, so do you.” He pushed to his feet. “I better get back to my task. Will you come to work on the toys tonight?”
“I’ll be there.” And if she intended to be an efficient homemaker, she needed to finish supper preparations.
She spared no effort in creating a particularly nice supper. She’d purchased a roast on Abe’s credit. Rich aroma wafted from the oven where it cooked. Because of the heat she’d even forced herself to use the gas stove. Abe would no doubt be impressed. She mashed potatoes to creamy perfection. The succulent gravy was without a single lump. She’d resorted to tinned vegetables, but made a white sauce for the peas and added a few tiny white onions from another can. For dessert she’d made a raisin pie. Pie baking wasn’t one of her best skills, but this one turned out rather well. A white cloth covered the kitchen table and the better dishes sparkled in the late summer light.
Abe stepped into the house. “It smells great in here.” He looked at the table. “Is this a special occasion?”
“No.” Suddenly her efforts felt like a child trying too hard to get attention. “I just wanted to do this.” Did he appreciate it? Had she done a good job, or would his wife have done better?
Why did she feel like she was on trial? Probably because she knew she was. He’d said to Mother, “If Sally proves to be adequate…” Sally had listened shamelessly beyond the door as the two of them talked. Mother had said, “She will be more than adequate.” Yet she was never certain she measured up to Abe’s invisible mark. A contrast to the way she felt as she painted dolls and trucks in Judd’s barn. She didn’t have to measure up for Linc.
Perhaps it was guilt over such thinking that compelled her to make this meal better than ordinary.
“It looks very nice. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” The children had washed until they shone, and at their father’s signal sat at the table, Abe at one end, Sally at the other. She watched for him to bow his head. This time she wouldn’t be caught off guard.
Without so much as a glance at the others, Abe lowered his head and said grace.
The meal was well received, the pie tasty and the children well behaved. Sally silently congratulated herself on a job well done.
Abe pushed his dessert plate away and leaned back. “Very nice, Sally. Children, you may be excused.”
They pushed their chairs back and glanced longingly out the window. Sally understood they wanted to go out and play in the warm evening, but their father preferred they play indoors after supper so they went to the front room to find inside toys.
Sally rose, gathered up dishes and carried them to the sink.
Abe, for some reason, did not immediately leave the table. “Sally, sit down please. I’d like to talk to you.”
Her fingers gripped the stack of plates so firmly she couldn’t release them. Was he about to fire her? Or—her fingers tightened even more—ask her to marry him? She forced her hands to relax, set the dishes on the counter and returned to her chair, schooling her face to reveal nothing. “Yes?”
His smile seemed stiff. “You’ve worked hard. I want to show my appreciation by taking you out for dinner.”
A myriad of emotions rushed to her mind—embarrassment at his praise, pleasure that he cared to show appreciation, hope his approval meant something more, fear it did. The thoughts tangled and twisted like autumn leaves caught in a tiny whirlwind. “That…that would be nice,” she managed to stammer.
“Can we make it tomorrow—Friday? I’ve asked Mrs. Anthony to watch the children.”
It would be just the two of them? Her heart banged against her ribs. She’d never been alone with him. What would they talk about? She realized he waited for her to speak. Had he asked a question? Oh, yes, tomorrow. “That would be fine.”
“I’ll pick you up at your place about seven. That should give you enough time to clean up before we go out.”
She looked down at what she wore. If she removed her apron would it not be good enough? Or was he referring to her hair? Only by squeezing her fingers together did she stop herself from running her hands over her mop. No doubt it was as untidy and unruly as ever. Somehow she must find a way to control it before they went out. “That will be fine.” She squeezed her words from a tight throat.
“Good.” He rose and left the room.
She stared at the table. Her insides felt empty, swept clean by a harsh wind. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t push to her feet. Suddenly a flood of urgency swept through her, sending nervous energy to her limbs. She must hurry home and find suitable clothes. Experiment with combs to tame her hair. She sprang into action, cleaned up the kitchen in record time, called a breathless goodbye to the Finleys in the other room and rushed out the back door.
By the time she drew abreast of the turnoff to Madge and Judd’s place, her heart raced from her haste and she stopped to stare. She’d promised to help Linc tonight. Her gaze shifted to her home in the distance. She needed to prepare. Her eyes returned to the nearby barn. The party was planned for Saturday, and the toys needed to be finished. Linc needed her assistance.
The moments ticked past as she studied the situation, feeling as if her heart was being torn in two directions. In the end, wisdom won over emotion and she decided to hurry home. But first she needed to explain her absence to Linc. She turned her feet toward Madge’s house, determined she would not change her mind.
Linc didn’t go to Judd’s place Friday evening. The toys were finished—the last coat of paint drying. The party was to be on Saturday. Sure, there was last-minute stuff to do, but last night Sally had said she wouldn’t be there.
“Something else to do,” she’d murmured, avoiding his gaze. She offered no explanation but left shortly afterward. Usually they worked at least two hours. Sometimes they joined Madge and Judd for tea and cookies. Often they set aside the work to sit in the shelter of the barn, watching the sunset. He meant to make the most of their “friendship.” Every night he prayed Sally would allow more. Last night she had rushed away before he could enjoy any of those pleasures.
“Are you done reading?” Pa asked, his voice weak.
“No, Pa.” He brought his thoughts back to the present and read more of the story.
After a few moments, Pa touched Linc’s knee. Linc lowered the book to see what he wanted. “Why aren’t you making toys tonight?”
“We’re finished.” Every day he’d given Pa a description of what they’d done. “The games and toys are ready to take over. We just have to wrap the smaller things and load them for transport.”
“Is Sally wrapping the presents alone?”
“No. Sally had other plans tonight. Madge will look after doing it.”
“Oh. That explains it.”
It explained nothing. He could have gone out to Judd’s if he wanted. He returned to reading so Pa couldn’t ask any more questions or voice any more assumptions.
After a bit Pa grew tired and Linc closed the book. “I’m going to check on the ponies.” He had brought them in that morning.
Pa nodded. “I’d like to meet Sally. Do you think she’d be willing to visit me?”
“I’ll ask her.” Linc could no longer deny that his father grew steadily weaker. His face had a pasty color. He ate nothing and drank very litt
le. He’d be pleased if Pa met Sally while he was well enough to appreciate her fine qualities. Oh, but how he hated to admit his father was dying. Needing to find release in physical work, he hurried outside. He had completed one pen to hold the ponies, but an old section near the corner of the barn still needed to be rebuilt.
As he lifted heavy posts and nailed salvaged planks, he prayed for his pa. Lord, please don’t let him die before he chooses to prepare for Heaven. Give him enough days. Please.
He’d taken down most of the old corrals, allowing a clear view from Grandmama’s kitchen window into the Finley backyard. Soon that was all he’d have—a view. He’d about finished converting the barn for Abe. He was grateful for the work the man had provided. But what next?
He didn’t know. He felt as if his life had stopped. Except for the time he spent in Sally’s company, when he felt more alive than he could remember. He stopped hammering nails and stared at the Finley yard. He’d tried to tell her how he felt, but she’d stopped him. Did Sally consider herself duty-bound to proceed with the agreement with Abe? Was it really what she wanted? Would she consider something else? Maybe something not as solid as what Abe offered, not as secure, but safe in that his love would never be conditional.
The way his smile stretched his mouth, he was glad no one could see him standing there grinning up into the sky. He loved her and freely admitted it. Seemed until she and Abe made formal promises to each other, it was fair to let her know. But every time he came close to saying something, she shied away as if knowing the words on his tongue and not wanting to hear them. Yet he couldn’t miss the way her eyes sought his, her expression tentative until he gave her a smile as full of assurance as he could manage. He let himself believe she needed his approval, his acceptance…his love…although she wasn’t ready to admit it.
