“Not really. At least, Mike isn’t. I mean, compared to last year, this year hasn’t been dry at all.”
“I hadn’t heard about the drought last year until Adam told me. It was really bad?”
“Oh, it was horrible. All that work and those plants just shriveled up and died. The harvest was the worst one farmers had seen around here in several years.”
“I know I have no idea what I’m looking at, but these plants don’t look like they’re drying up. They look green and healthy. To me, at least.”
“Yep. That’s how last year was, too, at this point. It’s amazing how fast they can turn from that to dead twigs.”
* * *
Adam would never say he was particularly good with women. To the contrary, his first marriage strongly suggested that he was downright useless with them. But last night was the first time, to his knowledge, that he’d ever made one cry for hours and then run and lock herself in her room to get away from him. It wasn’t an experience he ever wanted to repeat.
He needed to figure out what to do and actually do it. No. Adam just needed to do something. Last night, he had let her go without protest. This morning, he had left an hour earlier than normal just to avoid her. It needed to end.
And yet, Adam was not at home talking to his wife. He had gone to the fields, worked for several hours and eaten his lunch. Now he was sitting beside the creek, watching the water go by. Trickle by, actually. As summer progressed, the ground became drier and the water level went lower. Adam felt like he was reliving last summer. He closed his eyes and leaned back. Oh, Lord, we need water. Two years of drought in a row is almost too much to ask us to bear.
Adam had faith, though. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt called to farming. The ranching was practical Adam. The Adam who understood that his family needed a reliable source of income. The Adam who saved for rainy days. Or, not rainy in this situation.
But, the Adam who farmed wasn’t practical Adam. The Adam who farmed was a man who didn’t care if farming was easy or profitable or even logical. No, that Adam was a man who walked out into the fields and felt as though he was pleasing his Creator. Who felt like God had created him, specifically him, to work this specific piece of land.
Even when it was hard. Even when he failed.
Adam moved his hat to shade his face as he remembered last year. That had been the first time his high hopes for his crops had been unfulfilled. He had been hurt. Upset. Confused. But, he had never considered quitting. Adam’s belief that he was a farmer in the being of his soul had not wavered for a second. So, he was a farmer. Then. Today. Tomorrow.
Not all farmers felt the same. He’d met more than one who had quit. Urged him to do the same. Told him he was being foolish.
Thank You for Mike. Thank You so much, Lord. I cannot imagine how lonely I would be right now if you had not sent him to buy the farm next to ours. Mike and Adam had spent hours talking about their calling to work the land. It was one of the great blessings in his life that Adam had a friend who understood.
Mike also had a wife who understood. A wife who trusted him. Who had faith that Mike could both honor his calling and provide for his family.
Adam did not.
Lord, tell me what to do. Please.
“Well now, I was going to see if you wanted to go goof off with me, but I see you’re already there.”
Adam’s hat fell to the ground as he sat up. Mike was sitting atop his horse, openly laughing at him in a way that made Adam actually blush. He hadn’t even heard Mike approach, though that horse had surely made some noise.
Adam picked up his hat and put it back on his head. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his bent knees, trying to look like he was not currently flushed with embarrassment. From the way Mike smirked as he got off his horse and joined him on the ground, Adam knew he wasn’t doing a very good job.
“How many hours a day do you spend lounging around daydreaming?” Oh yes, he was smug.
“I wasn’t daydreaming.” Adam sounded like Caty when she was pouting about getting caught doing something naughty.
“Uh-huh.” Mike clearly didn’t believe him.
“I wasn’t.” Adam winced after the words came out of his mouth. Now he sounded angry, and Mike was just teasing him. He sighed, long and deep. “I’m sorry, Mike. I’m just having a rough week.”
All the teasing left Mike’s voice. “I’m sorry, Adam. Can I help?”
That was Mike. He cared. He showed it. And, he always offered to help.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
And like that, they sat in peace there on the bank, watching what was left of the creek. Why was it so hard with Millie and so easy with Mike?
“I’m messing it up, Mike.”
Mike just sat there, silent. Supportive. Looking off in the horizon and putting absolutely no pressure on Adam to talk.
“Or maybe I already messed it up when I married Millie. I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, because I did marry her.”
“Yes. You did.” There wasn’t any judgment in his tone, but Mike would never soften the truth. Not even to make a friend feel better. “So, I guess you have a couple of choices. You can either do what it takes to make it work. Or not.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Mike.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You can’t judge another man’s marriage.”
“Yeah, well, Edith trusts you to take care of her, and you’re not afraid that your wife is going to leave you.” Again. Adam wanted to say again. But, Mike didn’t know about his first wife. Everything had happened so quickly after Sarah left, and he’d never told the other man. It certainly wouldn’t have changed the outcome.
Mike just sat there, picking long blades of grass and twirling them between his fingers. His body language was hard to read, which was unusual because Mike was about the most open and straightforward man Adam had ever met. Finally Mike dropped the grass and brushed his hands off on the legs of his pants.
“I’m not going to go into specifics, because they are between me and my wife. But you know you’re family to us. And I get that things have been really hard. You never talked about it, but I know you and Sarah were not in a good place for a long time before she died. And then she was gone. After that happened, I felt so guilty that I had not done more to help you. That I had let you suffer without ever reaching out to you. I kept quiet because it would have been hard to talk about. And I regret it. So, I’m not doing that again.”
Adam couldn’t look at Mike. He wasn’t saying anything mean or untrue, but it stung to hear that he had not hidden his disastrous first marriage as well as he had thought.
“What I am willing to say is that Edith and I have problems. Real problems.” His voice got thicker. “We can’t have children. Or, at least, we haven’t been able to yet. And I worry about the toll that is taking on her. You were wrong. I do have to worry about my wife leaving. About her just quitting. But that worry doesn’t help either one of us.”
Adam breathed out hard, not able to come up with any words.
“And sometimes our frustration with the things we can’t control bleeds out all over our marriage. We fight. We don’t know why things are happening to us. But here is what I do know, Adam. I love my wife. The fear we have is not from God, but our love is. And it doesn’t make me less of a man to talk about my feelings or say sorry to her. If it helps her, then it helps my marriage.” Adam heard Mike swallow. “That’s all I know. The manly thing is supporting my wife and giving her what she needs.”
There was no way to brush off those words lightly. No way to murmur platitudes. The only thing Adam could do to truly honor what Mike had done by sharing this with him was to honestly think about it. Consider it.
So, he did. And he suspected
he would for a good long while.
They sat there for another hour, talking about nothing important. It was a nice break. Adam loved his daily life, but he admitted it felt good to just relax and talk with a friend. Especially a good friend.
When they both stood, Adam groaned as he stretched, his body cramped from sitting on the hard ground.
“You okay there, old man?” Mike’s voice was distorted by his own stretching.
“I’m not the one who had to go see a neighbor and take a break from work.”
“Ha. Well, I didn’t exactly find you hard at work, now did I? Besides, I thought we deserved a break. Both of our wives are in town, probably eating cake if I know Edith at all. And shopping.”
Adam had forgotten about that. Millie wasn’t at home. She was in town. Or, she had been. Adam looked at the sky and guessed that they were probably on their way home by now. When she got home, he needed to be there, too. He needed to talk to his wife.
Mike headed home, and Adam finished up his work for the day. It wasn’t his hardest day, but Adam felt as though he had labored for five days straight. His body was suddenly very, very tired. The past days had taken more than his physical energy. Mentally and emotionally, he was exhausted.
When he got to the house, Adam could smell something delicious coming from inside the cabin. He listened for a second. Silence. No giggling or screaming or the ever-present sound of things being crashed together. Millie and the kids were not back from town yet.
Adam put away his tools and horse. He walked inside the house, missing the sight of Millie at the table with her notebook. His kids running and greeting him.
Adam checked on the roast and was debating trying to sneak some of the delicious-smelling food when he heard Edith’s wagon return. He went out to meet them, helped Millie unload her purchases, helped get the children washed up. They ate and went through their normal routine. The interactions between him and Millie weren’t earmarked by easy companionship, but they also weren’t horrible. It seemed that both of them had decided to pretend that this entire week had never happened. That was good enough to get through the evening with the children. It wasn’t going to be enough to get through a lifetime.
For the third night in a row, Adam waited in the family room for Millie to come out of the children’s room. For the third night in a row, Adam debated just going to his room. And, for the third night in a row, Adam decided that staying and trying to talk to Millie was what he needed to do. For all of them.
Millie came out and shut the children’s door behind her. She stood there, looking at him, and Adam could tell she was as tired of this new nightly routine of drama as he was. Time to break that pattern.
“Will you please sit at the table with me?” Adam wasn’t about to ask her to sit in the rocking chair. Not again. Besides, he needed a flat surface for what he was about to do.
“I don’t know that I can do all of this again tonight. I don’t want to.” Her voice was soft, but Adam heard the determination in it.
“Please.” He almost broke into a long explanation about how he didn’t want to fight with her. But, Adam did not think another emotionally charged conversation would lead to the kind of peaceful evening he was craving. And while he was going to try, truly, there was a limit to the degree to which Adam was going to cut himself open and invite Millie inside.
Millie blew out a breath, an audible long and slow puff that sounded tired and reluctant. But, she came and sat at her usual seat at the table. Instead of sitting in his standard position across from her, Adam moved a chair and sat right next to her. She became very still, but did not get up and leave.
Adam had prepared while Millie was still in with the children. He reached for the paper and pencil he had set on the table, pulling it between the two of them. A blank sheet of paper. Clean. Fresh. New.
He wasn’t a big writer, did not do it on a daily basis. And, he was self-conscious writing in front of Millie who obviously read and wrote better than he did. Adam pushed that feeling aside, and concentrated on what he wanted to do.
He wrote The Beale Family Savings on the top of the paper. Millie sucked in a quick breath as she read his words, but he kept writing, narrating as he did so.
“So, we have a savings account at the bank in town. Your name is on it, and you have full rights to go in and withdraw as much money as you want.” Adam thought about his first wife and almost told Millie not to take money without getting his permission first. But he didn’t. They were married as one. She would never trust him if he did not trust her. Trust wasn’t something that could be forced, but Adam could act like he trusted Millie and hopefully she would do the same and then one day those actions might be followed by genuine feeling.
He hoped.
Adam made himself keep going. “Here is the amount of money we have in there.” He moved the pencil down to the next line. “I also have some cash here in the house. It is in my bedroom, in a box under a loose floorboard under my bed. Here is how much is in the box.”
Millie was sitting so still. Was she listening or was she so shocked that none of his words were registering? Adam risked a quick glance at her face. She was staring at the numbers and words he had written. Her voice was a whisper. “Adam. Thank you.”
So she was listening. He went on to a third row. “We also have things of value that we could sell if we needed to. Here is how many head of cattle we have.” He made a list of the last five years. “Here is how much we have made each year when we sold them.” He made another column. “Here is how much profit we made each year, after paying for ranch hands and other supplies.”
The paper was only half full. The fruit of all of Adam’s labor, there in a few roughly scratched letters and numbers. He kept going.
“Here is how much money we lost last year farming.” He then made another list of years. “And here is how much we made farming for the years before. This is the profit after deducting the cost of seeds and other supplies.”
Almost done. Adam wasn’t a write-it-down kind of man, but that didn’t mean he was ignorant of his finances. He farmed because he loved it, but he also understood the financial and business realities. These numbers were always in his head, were always there for him to reference.
That was something he had understood this afternoon. He’d been sitting on the hard ground, looking at the trickle of water that was not going to be near enough for the crops, and he’d thought about these figures. Worked it through.
And that was what Millie had been asking for. She wanted to do the same thing he did to reassure himself that all was well. Only, she didn’t have the numbers in her head to do that with. So, Adam had realized he needed to give them to her.
He drew a line under the last numbers, big and bold to separate the numbers and figures from what he was going to write next.
“Here is a list of people who would help you if you ever needed it. Not out of obligation. Not because they want something in return. Just because we are a community out here, and we all help each other.” He then filled the paper with names, some of them people she had met, like the Potters. Some of the names were currently strangers to her. It didn’t matter. They would still help.
There. He was done. He set down the pencil and slid the piece of paper over to sit on the table in front of Millie. Adam’s heart was racing as though he’d just run the length of his land. He didn’t even know what he hoped Millie’s reaction would be. He just knew that he wanted her to believe he was a man who could and would take care of his family. But, he also wanted her to feel safe. To not live in that fear she had shown him last night. Adam never wanted Millie to think she was going to have to give her baby away just so they could both survive.
Millie stared at the paper, and Adam stared at her. She reached out and stroked the paper with her hand. Stroked it. Like it was some kind of precious, amazing thing. Her h
ands were shaking.
She didn’t make a sound.
Chapter Seven
To Do:
Morning routine
Make butter
Knit more things to sell—maybe shawls?
Read farming book
Try to understand my husband
Millie left her notebook on the table and walked back to her bedroom. It was barely daylight, and both children were still sleeping. This morning had felt more like the first weeks of her marriage. Unfamiliar. Uncertain. But infinitely better than the last couple of days when things had been so tense and awkward between her and Adam.
She’d made Adam breakfast and lunch. Wished him a good day as he went out the door. Opened her Bible and spent time trying to find peace and understanding. Closed her Bible with her questions still unanswered. Opened her Bible again and read about others who did not understand, but believed anyway. Closed her Bible and resolved to try.
Then, Millie sat down with her notebook. Usually, she liked to list out every small task she needed to do during the day. Liked to cross them off one by one. Liked to have written proof that she was doing what she had planned. That she was productive.
Today, though, she simply wrote down morning routine. She’d been doing that more and more as she became comfortable with all the tasks that made up the first part of her day. She could look at those two words and know what they meant, all the many small tasks that comprised the phrase. The mere fact that Millie had a routine was proof that she was here and trying and succeeding.
Millie’s morning sickness had finally ceased. She was spending consistent time with the Lord. She was crossing off more and more items each day. She loved the children, and Millie was certain they loved her, too. Edith was proving to be a good friend and a valuable resource. And she was married to a man who was kind. Who worked hard. Who was trying.
Family of Convenience Page 8
