Gift of Faith

by Shanna Hatfield

  Chapter Six

  A shaft of sunlight cut through the frost decorating the edges of the window in an intricate, lacy pattern. Absently, Amy considered how pretty the delicate design would look on her sister’s blue silk blouse.

  The clang of pans downstairs assured Amy her parents were busy in the bakery while the scents of coffee, cinnamon, and yeasty bread drifted up to her, causing her stomach to growl with hunger.

  In the background, she could hear the toe-tapping tune of “Jersey Bounce” playing on the radio.

  The whole world went right on functioning as though nothing had changed, nothing was amiss. Yet, for her, nothing would ever be the same, would ever be right. Not if Marc was truly gone.

  Part of her refused to believe it. Surely, if he’d been killed, she would have felt something.

  Amy sat up in bed and pushed limp locks of hair from her eyes. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d read the awful news in that horrid telegram. Was it yesterday? A week ago? Her thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled, leaving her feeling disoriented.

  She remembered her mother and Helen helping her to bed, but was that last night? Last month?

  Time had suddenly lost all meaning.

  With a sigh, Amy rose from the bed then headed to the bathroom where she took a quick bath, washed her hair, and stood studying her reflection the mirror. She felt so different, so aged. If her golden waves had turned completely white or furrows of wrinkles creased her brow, it wouldn’t have surprised her at all.

  When she’d rolled her hair back and pinned it in place and dressed for the day, she returned to her room. By habit, she made her bed, then sat on the window seat for a few minutes, watching the breeze blow flurries of leaves along the sidewalk.

  A sound at the door made her turn and watch as her best friend strode into the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea and plate of fresh pastries.

  “What are you doing here, Delaney?” Amy asked, although she didn’t rise from her spot. Instead she scooted over, making room for the woman to join her. “Where’s Hope?”

  “I left the baby downstairs with her daddy. Klayne is more than capable of watching her for a while. In fact, he’s better than I am at changing her diapers.” Delaney gave her a sad smile as she poured two cups of steaming, fragrant tea and handed one to Amy. “Your mom sweetened it with sugar, so we better enjoy every drop.”

  Amy took a long sip of the tea, a strong black blend that tasted of apples, citrus, and Christmas. Usually her mother only made it on Christmas Eve, but it was Amy’s favorite drink. She’d have to thank her mom later for making the special treat, especially when she’d used some of their precious sugar rations to sweeten it.

  Delaney talked about the baby and her nephew, Ryatt, who had come to live with them in late summer. He lost his father to injuries sustained in the Battle of Midway and his mother to an automobile accident not long after. Ryatt had struggled when he first came to live with the Danvers family at Sage Hills Ranch, but he seemed to be adjusting well now that he and Klayne were as thick as thieves.

  But this morning, Amy wasn’t interested in talk about Ryatt’s perfect score on his spelling test or the fact that Delaney had finally figured out how to crochet something without tying the thread in knots.

  “Amy, you’ve been up here for days. I know what you’re going through. I really do.” Delaney set aside her teacup then reached out and squeezed her hand. “But you can’t stop living just because…”

  Amy held up a hand to cut her off. “Don’t say it. Please, don’t say because he’s gone.” A sigh seeped out of her and she glanced out the window before looking back at her friend. “How long have I been up here, in my room?”

  “The telegram came on Thursday. Today is Tuesday.”

  “Oh,” Amy said, trying to grasp the notion that she’d lost nearly a week. Night and day hadn’t really meant anything to her. Everything seemed so dark and bleak, she hadn’t been able to differentiate between the two.

  This morning, though, the sunlight streaming in the window had stirred her awareness that a new day had arrived. And with it came new possibilities.

  She held Delaney’s gaze. “I don’t know where the days went. I guess I just…”

  Delaney patted the hand she still held. “It’s okay, Amy. I really do understand that kind of mind-numbing grief.”

  And Delaney did. She’d experienced it, lived through it more than once in the past months.

  “When I woke up this morning, I saw the sunlight coming through the window and it gave me… hope.” The word fluttered up, like a fragile butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Just saying it gave the word more power, more substance, before the wings spread and it took flight. “Hope,” Amy repeated.

  Delaney gave her a long look, sat back, and picked up her tea again. “You don’t think he’s really gone, do you?”

  “No, I don’t, Dee. Wouldn’t I know? Wouldn’t I feel something in here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “I refuse to believe he’s gone. I just refuse to do it.”

  “Well, then, that’s that.” Delaney picked up a berry-filled pastry and took a bite. “I should take some of these back to Dad. He did ask me to bring home one of your mother’s coffee cakes. You know how much he loves to eat it for breakfast.”

  Amy glared at her friend, too caught off guard to speak for the length of several moments before she leaned forward slightly. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Of course, I do,” Delaney said with a smirk. “But not about Marc. Listen to me, Amy. Regardless of what anyone else says, or whatever telegrams and letters arrive, if you think he’s alive, believe what you feel. When everyone told me Klayne was never coming home, I refused to believe them and now look at us.”

  “You’re perfectly, ridiculously happy,” Amy said with the first smile she’d shared since last week. “Honest-to-goodness, Dee, I just know Marc is out there somewhere. Maybe he’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

  “Good. You stick to that, hold onto your faith even if you have to use both hands and your teeth, too. Don’t let anyone dissuade you from what you know in your heart to be true.”

  Amy gave Delaney a hug, nearly spilling their tea, then the two of them settled into the easy conversation of friendship they’d known since they were old enough to talk.

  The sound of a baby crying greeted them as they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen. Klayne sat at the round table holding Hope while Jeff leaned over him making silly faces at the baby. Hope flailed her tiny hands and her face was turning redder by the second as she voiced her displeasure at not being fed immediately.

  “I think this girl is hungry,” Klayne said, standing and handing the baby to her mother.

  “If it’s okay to use your room, Amy, I’ll take care of that.” Delaney hurried upstairs with the baby.

  As she left the room Klayne, Myrtle, and Jeff all stared at Amy, as though they expected her to fall apart and burst into tears.

  Instead, she gave them one of her brightest smiles, reached for an apron, and yanked it on over her head.

  “What do you need help with first?” she asked, looking over the various partially completed baking projects spread across the worktable.

  “Amy, honey, are you sure you feel up to helping?” Myrtle asked, hurrying over and settling an arm around her shoulders. “Perhaps you should take it easy today.”

  “No, Mom. I feel fine and I’m ready to help. Honest.” Amy smiled at her mother then her father and Klayne. “Have you spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings or seen the twins or Ruby?”

  “Yes. We’ve checked on them every day. They are doing the best they can, all things considered,” Jeff said, yanking a pan of muffins from the oven and setting them on a rack to cool. “The boys went back to school yesterday. Ruby is planning to go back to work tomorrow. They’re still waiting on a letter to arrive with more details before they plan a memorial service.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Amy said, as she began knea
ding a mound of dough.

  Her parents exchanged a concerned glance then stared at her.

  “What do you mean, sweetheart?” Jeff asked.

  “Marc isn’t dead. He’ll be home when he can get here, just like he promised.”

  “Oh, honey,” Myrtle’s eyes swelled with tears as she pulled Amy into an embrace.

  Amy held her dough-coated hands out to her sides and laughed. “Mom, I’m fine and I’m not crazy. I just know deep in my heart that Marc is alive. No one can say or do anything to change my mind.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, ignoring the look of panic and worry on the woman’s face as she returned to kneading the dough.

  Her father turned and walked into the front of the bakery when the bell jangled, letting them know a customer had arrived.

  Amy turned her gaze to Klayne. Instead of looking at her like he was afraid she’d lost her grasp on reality, he offered her a ghost of a smile and nodded his head approvingly.

  Pleased by his reaction to her declaration, she grinned and asked him if he thought it would be okay for her to bring Rory and Rogan out to the ranch for a visit one day soon.

  By the time he and Delaney left with the baby, Myrtle was hovering around Amy as though she thought she might fly to pieces at any moment. When their family doctor arrived at the bakery shortly before lunch, Amy knew he wasn’t there for a cider-glazed doughnut, even if he ordered two and a cup of coffee.

  When Amy carried the coffee and doughnuts over to the table in the corner where he’d taken a seat, he motioned to the chair across from him. “Will you join me, Amy?”

  “Sure, Doctor Nash.” Daintily, she took a seat and smiled at the man who’d delivered both her and Helen. “How is Mrs. Nash? Did I hear she was working with a new horse?”

  The doctor grinned. “She sure is. Gideon McBride sold it to her. I think that beast is half devil, but Dally is determined to tame him. She usually accomplishes what she sets out to do.” He took a sip of the coffee and broke a piece off a doughnut and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm. That’s delicious.”

  “Mom makes the best doughnuts.” Amy hopped up and grabbed a paper napkin, then set it on the table beside the doctor. Nik Nash had been treating patients in Pendleton since he returned home from medical college back in 1910. She’d never known him to beat around the bush, though. “I’m fairly certain you aren’t here because you had a craving for something sweet, Doc. If Mom asked you to come because she thinks I’ve lost my marbles, I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  The doctor studied her as he ate a doughnut and took a drawn-out sip of the coffee before he leaned back and tapped his long fingers on the table. “Why don’t you tell me what you shared with your mother to make her so distressed.”

  Amy had known the moment he arrived her mother was behind the doctor’s visit. She had half a mind to march into the kitchen and lambast her mother for… being a mother? Worrying about her? She sighed and turned her attention back to the doctor.

  “I woke up this morning and saw the sunlight streaming through the frost on the window. I couldn’t recall how long I’d been in my room, even when I’d gotten the news about Marc. But I just had this feeling that even though the telegram said he’s gone, he’s alive, Doc. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it and I believe it. Then Delaney came and said I’d been in my room since Thursday evening. How can that be? How could I lose that much time and not even realize it passed? Is it the shock of hearing the news?”

  A look that almost could have passed as guilt crossed the doctor’s features and he cleared his throat. “Well, you were quite upset, reasonably so, Thursday evening. Your mother thought it would be good to give you a little something to help you sleep. I left several additional doses in case you needed them, for getting your rest, but I think your mother kept you sedated all weekend. I checked on you yesterday and took the remaining medication with me when I left.”

  Amy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “My mother drugged me?”

  Doctor Nash didn’t answer her question, but his gaze flicked to the doorway of the kitchen where Amy’s parents stood, watching her.

  “How could you, Mom?” Amy rose to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. “You had no right to do that. What were you thinking?”

  Myrtle took a step forward, her chin thrust defiantly upward. “I was thinking that my baby girl had just received the most crushing, dreadful news of her life and wanted to help her through it. That’s all. I was trying to help, honey.”

  “You might as well have held me prisoner, Mother! Even if your heart was in the right place, it was a terrible thing for you to do to me.” Amy shook with anger as she pinned her mother with an unwavering glower. “And you just let her do it, Dad?”

  “No. I didn’t. It was Sunday before I realized she was giving you something to make you sleep. When I found out, I told her to leave you be.” Jeff tossed his wife a warning look. “Amy is tougher than we often give her credit for being. And if she’s convinced Marc is alive, then I believe her.”

  “Oh, you both are crazy!” Myrtle threw her hands in the air and stormed into the kitchen. Her footsteps echoed into the front of the bakery as she thudded up the stairs and slammed the door to the apartment.

  The doctor blew out a long breath and rose from the table. He gulped the last of his coffee, wrapped the remaining doughnut in a napkin, and nodded at Amy. “I should have checked on you over the weekend, Amy. It’s my fault for failing to realize what Myrtle intended to do with the medication.”

  “No. You had no idea what she had planned. The fault’s mine,” Jeff said, running a hand through his hair. “When I discovered what she’d done, she argued with me it was better for Amy to rest instead of grieve. That’s when I telephoned and asked you to stop by yesterday morning. I started to worry Amy would never come out of the stupor Myrtle created. I know it’s a hard thing to get through, but numbing the pain with a sedative isn’t the answer to dealing with life’s problems.”

  “It certainly isn’t. And I do feel as though I owe you an apology, young lady. You were quite distraught Thursday evening when I arrived, but I assumed your mother knew what was best.” Nik offered Amy another apologetic look.

  “Well, we won’t repeat that mistake,” Jeff said, glancing up the ceiling where stomping footsteps made it clear Myrtle was mad.

  The doctor shrugged into his coat, picked up his hat and the doctor’s bag he always seemed to carry, then tipped his head to Amy. “As for you believing Marc is still alive, I’ve seen enough miracles in my time to know they happen. If you don’t think he’s gone, then don’t give up hope that he’ll return.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Nash.” Amy gave the man an impulsive hug then watched as he shook hands with her father and left.

  Her dad draped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head as they made their way back to the kitchen. “I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. Your mom means well, she really does. She just wanted to keep you from feeling the pain of losing someone you love. Ask her to tell you about a boy named Clarence sometime if you want more answers to the questions I know you’d like answered.”

  With that, her father went out front to help a customer, leaving Amy alone in the kitchen to bake and ponder who Clarence was and what he’d meant to her mother.

  Chapter Seven

  A chilly breeze caught the edge of her skirt, blowing it around her knees as Amy strolled along a leaf-strewn sidewalk toward the Rawlings home. Lightly swinging a basket of freshly-baked cookies loaded with nuts and bits of chocolate in her hand, she glanced up at the blue sky overhead.

  Since Doctor Nash’s visit Tuesday, she’d barely spoken to her mother. Eventually, she would forgive Myrtle for her meddling, but she needed time to work through her irritation and anger. Helen had been nearly as appalled as Amy over the news of what their mother had done when Amy had gone to see her that evening. Helen invited her to come stay with her, but Amy knew running away from her mother wouldn’t fix the problem, although it
was tempting. As long as she lived under the same roof with her parents, she was sure her mother would never see her as a woman grown, capable of taking care of herself and dealing with whatever blessings and burdens came her way.

  For now, she’d just muddle through as best she could and continue praying for Marc’s safe return.

  The afternoon was too lovely to dwell on things that made her frustrated, so Amy instead studied the houses she walked past. Most of the trees still held their jewel-toned leaves, although piles in yards attested to the fact they were beginning to fall.

  Before long, there would be snow on the sidewalks and icicles hanging from the eaves. She thought of Christmas and all the traditions she loved so much. Before Marc had enlisted, she’d planned on sharing her favorite parts of the holiday with him this year. Once he was home, they would have a lifetime together to exchange traditions and create new ones.

  The day before he left, he’d driven her to an old empty house on the edge of town that needed a great deal of repair. He’d taken her hand and led her up the sidewalk to the porch that was missing the top two steps. “What would you think of living here someday,” he’d asked.

  “Anywhere with you, Marc. I don’t care where. Being together is the important part. Well, and a place with a door that actually closes might be good,” she’d said, pointing to the door hanging by one hinge.

  He’d laughed and swung her around then kissed her in the way that made her stomach feel weightless. “We can fix it up, Bella. The foundation is still solid. I had Uncle Garrett and Gramps take a look at it. They both think it would make a fine home, with a little work. When I get back, maybe we can turn this into the showplace it once was.”

  Amy had no idea if Marc had actually purchased the place or not, but it had made her so happy to know he was thinking about their future together, too. She’d walked out to the house several times since Marc left in May. She stood at the broken picket fence and stared up at the two-story house, imagining what it must have once looked like, dreaming of the home it could be.