Adam exhaled a loud breath that did not quite rise to the level of a sigh.
Millie was done waiting. “Adam?”
“I don’t know.”
She was supposed to be making breakfast, cracking eggs and melting butter in a skillet. Thinking about what she could make for her husband that he would enjoy. Possibly adding a side of pie. Instead, she was ready to throttle him for his evasive answers and loud breathing.
“What does that mean? You have to know something. You were gone for over an hour.”
Adam ran a hand over his face. “The rain didn’t last long enough. Didn’t go deep enough. But, it was rain. It was water. Not the soaker of my dreams, but maybe just enough of a sip?”
Millie put her hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “What. Does. That. Mean?”
Adam looked at her, his face scrunched in some kind of expression that Millie had never seen before. “I’m not trying to be vague. I promise. Farming is not exact. And it can all change quickly.”
“What is your best guess? I won’t hold you to it. I just want to know what you think is going to happen.”
“I had accepted that the crops were going to die. I’d done my best and was moving on to minimizing the loss. But that rain did change things. It was enough to keep the crops alive. At least for another couple of weeks. But, I don’t know what happens after that. I mean, if it doesn’t rain again, the crops will die. And even if we keep getting these little sprinkles, any crop we manage to grow will be small. Probably won’t fetch much at market.”
Millie sat back, considering his words. She’d asked, and he had answered. Okay then.
Millie stood up and put her skillet on the hot stove. She put a spoonful of butter in there, spreading it to coat the pan. The pies from yesterday were sitting on the side table. They had planned on eating them all day today. Being together all day because Adam was done with his work and waiting was the next step.
They had plans for dead crops and pie, and Millie had been okay with that because she would be with her family. Now there was going to be more work to do. Adam would probably be gone all day today. And tomorrow. The pie would sit uneaten until he staggered in covered in dirt. And the crops might still die. Probably would still die if the rain continued as it had for the last months.
Filled with sudden fury, Millie picked up a pie and began to walk without a word to Adam. She strode out the front door, not bothering to close it behind her. She stalked down the porch steps and across the yard toward the barn. Millie managed to open the barn door while still holding the pie, hearing it slam open with a thud that satisfied a grimness in her soul. She was aware of Adam following her, but Millie did not pause to explain herself. Once inside the barn, safely out of earshot of the two sweet children who were sleeping inside blissfully unaware that life was horrible, Millie used her bare fingers to scoop out a chunk of pie.
And she threw it against the barn wall as hard as she possibly could.
It splattered and began to drip down the wood, chunks falling. The strawberry filling looked a little bit like blood.
It felt good.
Millie scooped out and hurled another handful of pie. Then a third. She was breathing heavily and tears made the mess look like a red blur. Millie was getting ready to launch a fourth throw when strong arms wrapped around her from behind and stopped her.
“Millie. Stop, honey. Stop.” He didn’t sound angry or horrified that his wife had lost her mind. Instead, he sounded sad. Desperate even.
Millie was gasping, covered in sticky fruit and crust. “It’s not fair, Adam. It’s not fair.” Her voice sounded as raw as her throat felt. Adam managed to turn her around, taking the pan of pie from her hand. She had been gripping it so tightly that her fingers were numb. Adam set the pan down carefully, and the sight of him trying to not make a mess after she had literally coated his barn in pie made her sob even harder.
Hands free, Adam pulled her to him, somehow walking them over to a big pile of straw. He used one hand to kind of shake out a saddle blanket and then he pulled her to sit on the straw next to him. Millie couldn’t understand what he was saying over her gasps and the hitches in her crying.
“I don’t understand. What is the point? It feels like God is teasing us. If the crops are going to die, why doesn’t He just let them die? Why does He keep dragging this out, giving us hope, and then taking it all away? It’s mean, and I’m mad.” Millie’s voice went from despair to fury, and she yelled the last part. Millie wanted to hit someone. She wanted to curl in a ball and never stop crying.
She didn’t know what she wanted, she just knew that this needed to end because she could not take any more.
* * *
Adam had not cried when his first wife had left him. He hadn’t cried when his first wife had died. But he was crying now.
How had he missed this? How had he let Millie reach this level of despair without seeing it? Without helping her? Millie had exploded right in front of his eyes. No. Not exploded. She had disintegrated. Turned herself inside out, losing hope.
Adam’s eyes and throat were burning. His skin felt raw where Millie’s tears landed. She had quieted down, leaning heavily against him. The only sound was the occasional hiccup in her breathing. Her face was covered in tears, and her hands were covered in pie. She didn’t move to wipe away the mess. She didn’t move at all.
Adam shifted, moving out from under her. She just leaned against the wall like he had never been there. The concern Adam had felt when she was throwing pie grew in his chest at the sight of her being so still.
He moved quickly, almost running into the house. He walked in to the smell of fire. The pan of butter Millie had left on the stove had burned dry. Adam moved the pan off the heat, thankful that Caty and Genie were still asleep. Leave it to Millie to make sure she broke down in such a way to not alarm her children.
Adam went and got a bowl of water and a clean cloth and walked back to the barn as fast as he could without spilling the water. She was exactly as he had left her.
Adam kneeled down in front of her. “Here, honey, lean forward for me?” She did without a word, and Adam reached around to untie her apron. He took the stained garment off her, leaving her in her shirt and skirt that were thankfully clean underneath. Adam dipped the cloth into the bowl and wrung it out, wishing he had taken the time to warm up the water. He wiped Millie’s face, gently moving the cloth over her skin. Once that was clean, he moved on to her hands, holding them one at a time and making sure to get every bit of sticky pie from her skin.
When he was satisfied that she was clean, Adam set the bowl and cloth to the side. She still wasn’t moving. Still wasn’t talking. “I’ll be right back, honey.” He murmured the reassurance, realizing he’d left the first time without a word. Had she noticed? Cared?
Adam went to the well and filled the cup with water. He drank it, trying to appease the fire in his throat so he could better help Millie. Then, he filled the cup again and took the water back in the barn to Millie. She was still sitting. Still quiet and motionless. Still sad. Being around her, Adam felt like sadness permeated the air.
He sat back down, moving Millie to lean back against him. She didn’t protest. Adam moved the cup up against Millie’s lips. “Please take a drink for me, Millie. Please?”
She did. He set the cup down and just held her. Adam rubbed her back and breathed in her hair. It smelled of the flowers in her soap and pie. Adam would never think about pie the same way again.
All Adam knew to do was to hold Millie. Murmur in her ear that she was okay, that everything would be okay. So, he did.
Finally, Millie spoke, her voice rough. “I’m so sorry. That was unforgivable.”
He moved slightly, using his hand on her chin to have her face him. “No. You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
> She made a distressed noise and moved her face away from him. He let her go. “I stormed out and threw pie all over your barn. I yelled. I—I—I—”
“You got mad at God. You can say it. You still don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I threw a giant fit and acted like a child.”
Adam considered his words, wanting to give validation to how Millie felt, but also wanting to comfort her. “God understands. He can take you being angry at Him. He loves you no matter what.”
She didn’t answer.
“And, to be honest, I’m a little angry, too. This drought feels personal. It feels like we are being punished for something, and it is bitterly unfair.”
Still no answer, but she was looking at him now and that was progress. “I’ve yelled at God before, Millie. I’ve doubted. I’ve thought He was mean. That’s okay. It’s allowed. Faith doesn’t mean you have to like whatever happens in your life. It doesn’t even mean you have to accept every hardship without strong emotions. Faith is feeling angry and scared and disappointed and believing anyway.”
Millie turned to lean against him, her head against his chest. He missed being able to see her face, but this felt almost like she was cuddling against him. And he found that he really liked the thought of Millie leaning against him for comfort.
“Adam, why are we doing this to ourselves?”
“What, Millie? What are we doing?”
“Farming. I know you said you feel called to it, but it hurts. Have you ever tried to do something else? How do you know you wouldn’t like something safer if you don’t try it?”
If Millie had said those words to him a few months ago, he would have been insulted. Furious. Adam would have thought that Millie was exactly like his first wife. That he had married yet another woman who cared about herself more than anything else.
Thankfully, they were not in the same place they had been a few months ago. Her words left him feeling raw and vulnerable. But they weren’t a betrayal. Millie was struggling, and she was asking her husband to help her.
He would.
Adam increased the pressure of his arms wrapped around her, using one hand to hold her head firmly against his chest. Her cheek was resting over his heart, and Adam hoped that she could hear it. That it might soothe her.
“I want to talk for a bit, and I want you to just listen. Can you do that for me, please?”
She gave him the barest nod, pushing against him as though she wanted to burrow into his chest. Adam kissed the top of her head.
“Nothing is safe in life. I’ll admit, farming is hard. We can’t control the weather or insects or disease.”
She didn’t say anything, but Adam felt like she was listening. Her breathing had slowed down, and Adam felt it against his body in a steady rhythm.
“But nothing is completely safe. No matter what I chose to do, something bad could happen to take it all away. The job could go wrong. Or one of us could get sick or hurt. Something bad could happen to one of the children. Life is nothing but one really, really scary risk.”
Millie moved her hands to grip his shirt, fisting the fabric.
“So that is the world we live in. And, we have to figure out how to cope. I don’t know for sure what the answer is, but I think we should find as much joy as we can while still honoring God. And, as long as we keep our faith that there is a plan, even if we can’t possibly fathom what it is, then we will be okay.”
Millie’s voice was soft, her words a vibration against him. “You’re right.”
“It’s not a matter of being right. It’s a matter of us both being happy and doing the best we can. If you told me you were bitterly unhappy living on the farm, I would listen. If you truly thought you could only find happiness somewhere else, I would listen.” That was a lesson he had finally learned in the months after his first wife had died. “But I don’t hear you saying that. I hear you saying you want to be somewhere that is perfectly safe. Millie, that place simply does not exist.”
Millie didn’t speak again, and Adam told himself to be patient. To let her process what he’d said. Think about it. Decide how she felt about it.
What would he do if she spoke up and said that she really did not want to be a farmer’s wife because it made her bitterly unhappy?
He would listen. Or, at least, he would try. Adam had tasted life with he and Millie as a team—more than two strangers trying to live in the same house. That was the life Adam wanted for his children. That was the life Adam wanted for himself.
He felt Millie take a deep breath and knew she was getting ready to speak.
Please, God, open my ears so I can listen.
Chapter Twelve
Millie wanted to ask for another drink of water, but that would have felt too much like stalling. Her husband had spoken to her so honestly—he deserved her honesty in return.
“I don’t want to agree with what you said. I want to argue the point with you. But I can’t. Not right now.”
Millie felt Adam relax underneath her. “I’m not saying that I would worry the same amount if you were a banker,” she continued. “I really think I would worry less, but I don’t know.” She thought about it for another second, trying to give Adam’s opinions the same consideration she had given her own. “Maybe not. Maybe I would worry about bank robbers. Or the bank closing. I’m pretty good at finding things to worry about, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She smiled as she felt Adam laugh underneath her cheek.
“But you asked me what was motivating my desire for you not to farm. And you were right. My sole motivation is fear that the crops will fail and all your work will have been for nothing. If there wasn’t that risk, I would not ever want to move. I love our farm. I love working in the garden and having so much room for the kids to play. I even like the chickens and cows and riding the horses, but don’t tell them that. I’m just scared.”
Adam’s hand was rubbing her back, and Millie closed her eyes. She was done for now. Millie had seen Genie collapse into deep sleep after throwing a fit. She’d laugh and shake her head and say the child had worn himself out. Millie now understood how he felt. She wanted to sleep, right here where she was warm and comfortable and protected.
“Thank you for telling me that. I know you don’t see it, but we are going to be okay. I really hope the crops live, and I’m going to work hard to make that happen, but even if they die we are still going to be okay.”
Millie didn’t really know what to say. She was going to be here, with him and the children, no matter what. So, she would hang on and hope he was right.
“Mama?” Caty’s voice came from outside the barn, and she sounded panicked.
Millie scrambled to her feet, grateful when Adam helped her. He nodded toward the barn door. “Go on. I’ll clean up in here and be there shortly.”
She wanted to argue with him. Millie had made the mess; it wasn’t fair that Adam had to clean it up.
“Mama? Daddy?” Caty’s voice was closer.
Millie ran out the barn door. “We’re here, Caty.” The girl ran to her and squeezed her tight around her stomach, laying her head down on the bump. “Oh, Caty, it’s okay. It’s okay.” She sounded like Adam now. Caty let go and looked up at her, tears coming down her cheek.
“Where were you? I woke up and the house smelled bad and you weren’t there.”
Millie leaned down. “Jump on three, all right?” Caty nodded and did just as Millie asked. Even at five, Caty was a small girl. It was a bit awkward for Millie to pick her up and hold her, but Millie did it anyway. Caty put her head down on Millie’s shoulder and started to shake with the tears that escaped. Millie made her way to one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. She sat down, Caty in her lap.
Millie just rocked for a while, not in any hurry to make this sweet child get up. Millie rubbed Cat
y’s back and whispered how much she loved Caty into the girl’s ear. It seemed to be a day for the Beale women to get upset and need to be consoled.
When she was ready, Caty sat up and looked at Millie. “I got scared.”
Millie nodded, the solemnity she felt in her heart keeping her face somber. “I know. I’m sorry. I’d guess that not being able to find me was really, really scary.”
Caty bit her lower lip. “I thought maybe you lefted me.”
Millie could not stop her gasp. “Caty, no. Never. Look at me. Are you looking?”
Caty nodded.
“I will never leave you. Never, ever.”
Caty’s eyes were thoughtful again. “What about if you die?”
Millie jumped as Adam sat down in the rocking chair next to hers. She hadn’t realized Caty had cried long enough for Adam to clean up Millie’s mess and join them. Hadn’t realized Adam could hear what Caty was saying.
But she was grateful.
“Why are you thinking about Millie dying, Caty-girl?” Adam was leaning forward in his chair, one large hand stroking down Caty’s wild unbrushed hair.
Caty shrugged, not making eye contact with either one of them. “Sometimes mamas die.”
Millie’s eyes met Adam’s.
Adam continued smoothing her hair. “Yes, Caty. Sometimes mamas die.”
“What if Mama dies?”
Before Adam could answer, Millie held up a hand, silently asking him to let her answer this question.
“Caty, will you look at me again, please? I want you to see my face, so you know I’m telling you the truth.”
Caty looked.
“I get scared a lot, Caty. I get scared about things I can’t control. And I worry and worry and worry even though worry doesn’t make it better.” Caty was still watching her with solemn eyes. “But those worries are just bad thoughts. They’re not real. I am here, and I will never, ever leave you on purpose. And if I die, you can be sad. That’s okay, too. But then I will be in heaven and I will be watching you and loving you and I will always be there for you. All that matters is that I love you and you love me. That’s it.”
Family of Convenience Page 14
