“The evidence proved manslaughter, not murder.” Caleb flattened his mouth into a hard, grim line. “The judge should have given him a lighter sentence. Seven years was too harsh.”
Yet Everett had accepted his punishment without complaint. “Do you know what he said to me right before he was taken away?”
Caleb shook his head.
Ellie could hear her brother’s voice in her head even now, two years later. “Don’t cry, Ellie-bug. I have to pay for my crime. It’s the right thing to do.”
As she repeated Everett’s words, Ellie added a few of her own. “He doesn’t blame you. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
She saw Caleb processing her words. It would take him time, but he was a smart man. He would eventually release his guilt.
But she wouldn’t be around to witness it. Another woman would soon be living in Caleb’s home, acting as a mother to his children and a wife to him. The thought made her heartsick. For all Ellie knew, his mail-order bride was already on her way to Thunder Ridge.
She must face the truth of her situation or risk a lifetime of hurt and regret. Caleb would never be hers. She couldn’t keep building up hope that he would one day change his mind about her, about them.
When his future bride arrived in Thunder Ridge, Ellie would have to say goodbye to Caleb and his daughters.
It would be the toughest thing she’d ever done.
Chapter Eleven
Sheltered with his daughters beneath the church overhang, Caleb watched Brody take Ellie’s arm and then guide her into the swirling snow. The boy kept his pace slow, making sure Ellie didn’t slip on the slick mud. Watching the two disappear around the corner of the parsonage, Caleb felt a lump rise in his throat.
No denying the boy was strong-willed, with a penchant for pranks, but Brody didn’t have the heart for true disobedience. His troublemaking was directly related to his mother’s illness, something Ellie seemed to understand. Her treatment of the boy showed the depths of her compassion.
Something hopeful worked through Caleb, warming him in a way he didn’t know he needed warming. A crack had opened in his heart sometime in the past week and Ellie had slipped through, taking up residence without even trying.
How would he find the fortitude to let her go when she took a teaching job in another town?
“Papa?” Grace tugged on his sleeve. “Are we going home now?”
Caleb registered his daughter’s question, winced at his inattention, then guided both girls across the street with the same care Brody had shown Ellie.
Once they were safely inside the house, the girls unbuttoned their coats themselves and hung them on their respective hooks. Ellie’s doing, no doubt. She wasn’t just taking care of the twins. She was also teaching them how to manage everyday tasks.
“Miss Ellie left supper for us,” Hannah announced when he simply stood there watching in mild surprise as she neatly put away her hat, scarf and gloves in the proper bin.
“She said since it was cold meats and cheeses we could fix our own plates,” Grace added. “You want us to fix one for you, too?”
“I’d like that.”
His little girls were growing up, he realized with a start. Hannah and Grace weren’t babies anymore. Come next September they would be old enough to attend school.
They needed a mother to guide them from precious little girls to capable young women.
He prayed Sadie Taylor proved worthy. But what if she didn’t? What if she brought chaos instead of calm?
Desperation gripped hold of his chest and squeezed all the breath out of his lungs.
He shoved aside the sensation and told himself to live one day at a time, one moment at a time, starting with this one right now. “I have a surprise for you.”
“You do?” Grace asked, eyes wide. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to come and see.”
Both girls bounced and twirled around him. At the threshold of the living room, he swept his arm toward the blue spruce he’d cut down while they’d been at play practice. “Well? What do you think of our Christmas tree?”
Their delighted squeals answered his question.
“Oh, Papa, it’s wonderful,” Grace said between laughs.
“Will you help us decorate it?” Hannah asked.
“Try to stop me.”
For nearly a half hour the girls admired their new tree and made detailed plans for decorating the branches.
Caleb was happy to simply listen to their excited chatter. Lord, I want to do right by my daughters. Lead me to the woman You want in their lives…and mine.
This was the first time he’d added himself in the prayer. The significance barely had time to sink in when a loud knocking yanked his attention to the front door.
“Sheriff Voss, you in there? Come quick, I need your help.”
Recognizing the panic in Brody’s voice, Caleb strode across the room and swung open the door. “What’s happened?”
One look at the boy’s face and he knew.
“It’s Mama. She’s real bad. Aunt Betsy sent me to get Doc, but he’s not at his home or the clinic.” Tears streamed down Brody’s cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. You gotta help me.”
“Take a breath, Brody. That’s it. Now another.” Caleb set his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “We’ll find Doc, but first I want you to go to the parsonage and tell Miss Ellie I need her to come watch the girls.”
“Be right back.” Brody bolted across the street.
Caleb explained the situation to his daughters in calm, even tones. “I’ll probably be gone most of the evening.”
“That’s all right, Papa,” Hannah said, her eyes swimming with little-girl concern. “Brody and his mama need you.”
“Yes, they do.”
Grace moved in closer and patted his cheek with her palm. “Don’t worry about us, Papa. We’re big girls.”
He’d barely had time to kiss each forehead before Ellie burst into the room, Brody hard on her heels.
“I’m here,” she said between breaths, her voice packed with worry. “You can go now, Caleb. Go find Doc.”
He rose. “I have no idea how long I’ll be gone.”
“Take all the time you need.” She all but pushed him into the tiny room off the kitchen. Eyes locked with his, she took his coat off the hook and handed it to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
With her promise ringing in his ears, Caleb guided Brody out the back door and headed toward the center of town to find the missing doctor.
*
Twenty minutes later, Ellie watched the girls pick at their food. Their concern for Brody and his mother was evident in their unnatural silence and restless movements.
After supper, in an effort to distract them—and herself—Ellie read from A Christmas Carol. Whenever she turned the page she sneaked a glance at the front door, which remained fully shut. No Caleb. No news. She thought she might crawl out of her own skin.
By ten o’clock, her plan to divert the girls’ attention found success. Neither Hannah nor Grace could keep their eyes open longer than seconds at a time. Abandoning the book, Ellie herded them off to bed. They each said a prayer for Brody and his mother.
Ellie tucked the covers up to their chins, added a kiss to each of their cheeks, then returned to the living room with nothing to do but worry.
She padded around the room, ran her finger along a bookshelf, a table, the edge of a chair. She noted the addition of the Christmas tree. But, at the moment, couldn’t find any real joy in what lay ahead for her and the girls as they decorated it for the season.
Detesting idle hands, she folded and refolded a blanket, found another one and repeated the process twice over.
Caleb’s continued absence didn’t bode well for Brody’s mother.
Lord, be with Clara Driscoll tonight. Bring her Your comfort and peace in her hour of need.
She lifted up another prayer for Brody. Give him the courage to face the loss of his mother, if that be Y
our will this night.
At least Caleb was with the boy. If anyone in town understood what Brody was going through, it was him.
The clock on the mantel chimed eleven.
Frustrated with her own company, Ellie paced into the kitchen. She puttered around, cleaned dishes that weren’t dirty until, finally, the back door swung open.
She rushed through the house to meet Caleb. Something in the way he held his shoulders made her heart hitch with dread. “You’re home.”
When he lifted his head Ellie’s breath backed up in her throat.
“Is Brody’s mother…? Is she…?” She couldn’t make herself finish the question.
“Clara Driscoll passed several hours ago.”
“No! Oh, Caleb, no.”
His gaze fastened on a spot somewhere far off in the distance. He looked so lost, so full of torment.
Ellie briefly touched his sleeve. “I’m so sorry. Poor Brody.”
Nodding, Caleb choked out a breath. “When it became evident his mother wasn’t going to make it through the night, the boy presented her the Christmas gift he’d picked out at the mercantile this afternoon.”
He paused, clearly struggling to speak.
Ellie held silent in an effort to give him the time he needed to gather his control.
“Clara was too weak to remove the wrapping, so Brody did it for her. Eyes shining with love, she gripped the blue bottle to her heart and told him he was the best son a mother could ever ask for and then…”
Caleb covered his eyes with his hand, blew out a slow, tortured hiss. “She patted his hand, settled back on the pillow and…” He dropped his hand, saying, “Breathed her last.”
“Oh, Caleb.” Ellie felt tears forming. She did nothing to stop them from falling freely down her cheeks.
“Brody was inconsolable in those early moments after she died. Betsy tried to ease his pain, but she was too stricken with her own grief to be of much help.”
Able to picture the heart-wrenching scene, Ellie’s tears flowed faster.
“That’s why I was gone so long.” Caleb’s eyes were hot with anguish. “The boy needed someone who understood his agony.”
“He needed you.”
Caleb lifted a shoulder. “I would have stayed longer, but your father arrived, assessed the situation and immediately stepped in with Brody.”
He didn’t have to say more. “Pa will take care of him.”
“I have no doubt.” Caleb rolled his gaze to hers. His eyes were deep, fathomless pools of raw emotion. “He’ll ease Brody through his sorrow, just as he did for me the night my mother died.”
Ellie felt Caleb’s sadness deep in her marrow. Her heart ached for Brody, and for Caleb, for the little boy he’d been.
Needing to give him comfort, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
For several heartbeats, he remained motionless in her embrace, as if frozen inside his own grief. Gradually, his arms came around her.
“Ellie,” he said in a low, tortured voice. “Now that I know Brody is in good hands, it’s as if a floodgate has opened. I can’t stop the memories of my own mother’s passing.”
She put her hand on his snow-dampened hair, stroked gently. She was contending with her own memories and needed to receive Caleb’s comfort as much as she needed to give it to him. “I understand, you know.”
“I know.” He sucked in a deep, audible breath, then pulled her just a bit closer, just a bit tighter.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she loved him, to assure him he would never be alone in this world as long as she was in it, too. But she feared if she revealed the contents of her heart right now, he would pull away from her.
He stepped back and stared into her eyes. She was acutely aware of several things: his handsome face, his tormented expression, her yearning to soothe away his pain.
“What will happen to Brody now?”
“Betsy and your father have plans to take him in and raise him as their own.”
Ellie mulled this over, thinking the idea made perfect sense.
Betsy was the boy’s aunt, the only family he had left. She was about to marry a man who would love and guide the boy into a capable adult.
As if his mind had traveled along the same route as Ellie’s, Caleb said, “Your father will be a good influence on Brody. Look how he changed my life.”
Yes, Ellie thought, her father had made a difference in Caleb’s life. He’d grown from a troubled boy into a man of uncompromising integrity. He was a wonderful, loving father now, a man who would make an extraordinary husband. If only he would allow a woman into his heart.
If only he would allow Ellie into his heart, she would spend the rest of her life being the wife he deserved.
Chapter Twelve
As Caleb predicted, Thunder Ridge rallied around Brody. In the week following his mother’s death, the townspeople treated the boy with the compassion and love he needed to help him manage his grief. Sorrow clung to him like a second skin, but he was growing stronger by the day.
He remained living in his home, with his aunt. However, once Betsy married Reverend Wainwright the two of them would move into the parsonage. According to Ellie, Brody was shining in his role as Joseph in the children’s Christmas play and hadn’t brought a single rodent into the church since that first time.
The Sunday before Christmas Eve, Caleb escorted his daughters out the back door of their home. He paused and eyed the dark wall of clouds coming in from the west. Another snowstorm brewed, the second in so many days.
Caleb hustled his daughters across the street. Sunday dinner at the Wainwrights’ would follow morning service, their third this month. Caleb wondered if they would continue the tradition after Ellie left town.
Depressing thought. Nothing would be the same without her.
“Hi, Miss Ellie!” Grace waved at the lone figure standing on the porch of the parsonage. Hannah followed suit.
Caleb could only stare at the beautiful picture she made. With the snow-covered mountains behind her, dressed in her blue cloak and matching hat, she looked like a winter princess.
Waving back at the children, Ellie started down the steps.
The girls ran to meet her at the edge of the walkway.
Caleb made the trek at a slower pace. His breath caught at the sight of Ellie with his daughters. She was so natural, so unconsciously affectionate.
He wasn’t supposed to feel this sense of wonder over a simple interaction he’d seen a dozen times in the weeks since she’d entered his home. He wasn’t supposed to feel this connected to a woman who could never be his.
It would be foolish of him to forget that Ellie was leaving town one day soon and that he’d made a tentative agreement with a mail-order bride. Anything between him and Ellie was already doomed. Yet something about her called to him. She pulled at places inside his soul no other woman had touched.
Caleb cared for Ellie. He cared so much it scared him.
But if he let himself love her, he could very well destroy her, as he had Lizzie.
When she glanced toward him, he saw the faintest sign of nerves. “Hi,” she said on a rush of air.
Mouth dry as dust, he tipped his hat in response.
Hannah tugged on her sleeve, forcing Ellie to look down.
“You’re sitting with us, aren’t you, Miss Ellie?”
“Of course I’m sitting with you.”
Hand in hand, the four of them entered the church and found their usual seats. Only after they were settled—Caleb on one end of the pew, Ellie on the other, with the girls in between—did he realize they were sitting in the same order as the past three Sundays. They’d fallen into a pattern.
As if they were a family.
He swallowed back the well of emotion rising in his throat.
The pianist took her place. With her trademark smile, Ellie handed him a hymnal.
Voice rough as gravel, he thanked her.
Three songs later, the reverend to
ok his place at the pulpit. He looked out over the congregation, smiled kindly, then began his sermon with a bang.
“Love.” He paused, caught several eyes, then added, “A simple word. A simple sentiment. Or is it?”
Caleb shifted in his seat, glanced down at his lap, back up again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ellie sit up straighter, her lips pressed tightly together. Apparently she was as uncomfortable as he was with the topic of her father’s sermon.
“The Lord commands us to love one another as we would ourselves. But what is love?”
As he spoke, the reverend ran his gaze over his flock, stopped for a second on his daughter, then moved on to Caleb. Caleb quickly looked away, tugged on his collar, cleared his throat. It was as if the man was trying to make his point directly to him.
“Many of us confuse love with something it is not.”
The entire congregation leaned forward. Caleb remained unmoving. What did he know of love? His father’s love had destroyed him. Caleb had loved Lizzie, but that had ended just as tragically.
“Paul’s words to the Corinthians tell us that love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, does not behave rudely, is not provoked.”
Caleb understood that kind of unselfish love—when it came to his daughters. Not when he considered his relationship with Lizzie. Their time together had been full of strife and provocation, with not nearly enough patience and certainly not enough kindness.
“Love endures all things. It never ceases, never wavers, not even when times get hard or disappointments arise.”
Caleb heard a rustle of material as Ellie shifted in her seat. He caught her gaze over the children’s heads. She gave him a sweet, shaky smile.
Everything her father claimed was love also defined Ellie. She was kind. She was patient. She never behaved rudely, never provoked.
“Love is constant.”
Ellie was constant.
“Love does not seek its own will, but that of others.”
Ellie always put others first.
The rest of the sermon was lost on Caleb. His mind was in a whirl. All this time, he’d been defining love in relation to his experience with Lizzie.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 55
