by Lois Richer
“Something like what?” He couldn’t hold her gaze. He had to look away.
“You tell me.”
“Nothing to tell.” He plunked his empty cocoa mug on the table and stood. “That was a fantastic lunch. Thank you. But I gotta go. I promised Gabe I’d help him with chores this afternoon.”
He’d just grabbed his Stetson when she asked, “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you, Mac? You wouldn’t keep me in the dark?”
“Hey!” He whirled around and stared at her. “I’m fine. I just need time to adjust to losing my hand, that’s all.”
“That’s all.” Her disgust was obvious as she smacked the cups into the dishwasher. “As if all that happened was that a little leech fell on your arm and someone had to pry it off.” She glared at him, bright spots of color on her porcelain cheeks. “Stop pretending, Mac. If you won’t tell me the truth, don’t say anything.”
“Adele.” Heaving a silent sigh of frustration, Mac walked to her and pushed her chin up so that she had to look at him. “I’m fine. Everything is an adjustment for me, including being back on the ranch. But I’m managing, especially with you providing such amazing food.”
Her eyes glittered like hard topaz chips and he knew he had to do better than mere flattery.
“Give me some time to adjust, Delly. If things aren’t exactly the way they were between us, it doesn’t mean something’s wrong,” he chided gently, feeling like a liar. “Everybody changes. Look at you, becoming a mom. It’s been a long time since I was here and now I’m in charge of the entire ranch. It’s a bit daunting. I’ll be fine—soon.”
Mac felt like a jerk for playing on her sympathy like this, but the last thing he wanted was Adele’s constant questions or pressing him about his past. She, with her big, generous heart, wouldn’t understand his actions and that would put their friendship at risk.
Right now, Mac couldn’t contemplate his world without Adele there to encourage and support him.
“I’m sorry, pal.” She hugged him tightly, then suddenly let him go. Some silly part of him wished that embrace hadn’t ended. “I know it can’t be easy for you. I guess I’m reading things into what’s happened. It’s just that I want things to be perfect between us, like they were before.”
“They weren’t always perfect,” he reminded quietly. “Anyway, we can’t go back. We’re not kids anymore.”
“I know.” Adele shook her head in self-reproof. “Go, do your work. Come back for supper. The twins would love to see you and we can talk some more.”
“Thanks. We’ll see how work goes.” Mac left as quickly as he could, his guilt growing.
As he struggled through the afternoon’s sloppy wet snow, as he herded cattle, prepared a new course for The Haven’s riders tomorrow and fed his miniatures, he kept imagining Adele’s voice, visualizing her face, feeling her disgust if she ever found out that he’d caused the accident that injured his friend.
Mac didn’t return to The Haven for supper, didn’t visit the twins, though he sorely missed their cheery smiles. Instead he opened a can of beans and heated it. He ate, fed the mother dog who now resided in front of the fireplace with her puppies, straightened up the house and started a load of laundry.
But his mind was with Adele and the twins, going through their story-time ritual, picturing Francie’s endless questions before toothbrushing and bedtime kisses took over. Kids had always been part of his imagined future.
He was never going to be a father. The fact suddenly hit home like blunt-force trauma.
“What is my future, God?” he cried out. “You said You had plans for me, to prosper me and not to harm me. What are those plans?”
Mac hated the empty silence. He turned on the television hoping to cut off his melancholy thoughts. It didn’t help so he shut it off. His gaze strayed to the shiny medal sitting proudly on the mantel, mocking him.
Meritorious Service Cross. As if his actions merited anything but shame. He’d messed up so badly someone else got hurt. Sure, his hunch had been proven right when the crash had revealed a flaw in the engine that could have proven catastrophic to troops in the field. But now Mac figured they’d have found it eventually. Anyway, he sure didn’t deserve this medal. The cost had been far too great. Could he give it back?
Mac got out his computer to see if there was precedent for returning medals and instead saw a note flashing. His inbox was full. He checked his email but when he noted the sender of most of them was Dave, he ignored them, though he felt like dirt for doing it. He couldn’t face the man. Couldn’t take his deserved condemnation. Not yet. Maybe never?
But how could he move ahead? The questions built until Mac thought he’d explode.
Is this Your plan? I’m supposed to run the Double M on my own, by myself, with no one to share the good and bad? Sure, Adele’s right next door and if she adopts Francie and Franklyn they’ll be there, too. My friend will be nearby. I can still see her, talk to her, but it’s not the same.
She’ll have the twins to love and mother and be a family with, but who will I have? Who will I share my Christmas Eves and Valentines and all the other special occasions with?
Mac had refused to allow himself to think too deeply about the future, but now he couldn’t stop the questions. And with every question he asked, Adele’s face filled his brain. He couldn’t ask her for help, not without telling her the truth. But he desperately needed to talk to someone.
The Spenser sisters. He’d broken two appointments with them. Twice he could have sought their advice but had backed out because he was afraid they’d suggest the very thing he most feared—seeing Dave. But he had no one else to talk to.
Mac grabbed his phone and texted the sisters, asking when he could meet them. The response was swift.
Tomorrow morning, 6 a.m. at the church.
He texted back his agreement, threw the wet laundry into the dryer and switched off the lights. Tomorrow was going to be a very full day. Might as well get some shut-eye.
But as Mac lay in bed, watching fat fluffy snowflakes flutter past his window, he wondered if Tillie and Margaret would have any answers for him, or if he would simply continue to exist in this kind of limbo that now gripped him.
Don’t be such a cowboy, Mac. Trust God.
Delly’s chiding childhood voice echoed inside his head. He smiled as he let memories fill his head. She was such a sweetheart. If he told her the truth, would she still want him as her best friend?
Chapter Six
“Where are you two going so early?” Adele paused on the bottom step, surprised to see her aunts, wrapped in scarves and their heaviest coats, preparing to leave via the front door. “I don’t know if Jake has the road plowed yet,” she warned.
“He has.” Did Tilly’s smile look just the tiniest bit secretive?
“We asked him last night if he’d do it early this morning,” Margaret explained with a glance at the grandfather clock. “We must leave now, sister. As it is we’ll barely make it there on time.”
“Who are you meeting at ten to six in the morning?”
Adele’s questions went unanswered. Her foster aunts simply waved and walked out, quietly closing the door behind them. Adele moved to the window, watched their car pull out of the garage then head down the hill toward Chokecherry Hollow. Puzzled, she entered the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, they have four-wheel drive. They’ll be fine.” Victoria stood by the window, holding her daughter, Grace. “Did you make coffee yet? I need several cups. This one kept me up all hours.”
“I started brewing it half an hour ago when I heard the little sweetheart crying.” Adele took the little girl from her sister and jiggled a smile out of her. “Drink your coffee, Mama. I’ll take over for a bit.”
“Thank you.” Victoria poured two mugs and then sat down at the table, smiling when Adele also sat then quickly m
oved her coffee out of Grace’s reach. “I think the aunts are meeting Mac.”
“Mac?” Adele frowned. “Why? And why this early?”
“No clue.” Victoria shrugged. “But a while ago I overheard him ask if he could talk to them privately.”
Victoria finished her coffee and left to give Grace her bath, and Adele got busy preparing a hearty breakfast for their visitors who would venture on a longer ride at the Double M this morning. But the entire time she cooked, served and cleaned up, her mind was busy posing questions about Mac. The feeling that something was wrong with him strengthened with every passing moment until she began to seriously consider climbing on Victoria’s bus and riding over to see him with the rest of the group.
Pray instead of worrying.
So Adele did that while she opened the cooler and removed the rolls she’d started last night. She set them to rise by the stove, then began assembling ingredients for the hearty stew she’d serve for lunch. But she couldn’t stop wondering about Mac. When her helper appeared, so did an idea.
“I have everything on the go,” she told Stella. “Once you’ve baked the rolls, you can put those pans of peach cobbler in the oven. No later than eleven o’clock,” she warned. “And we’ll also need a veggie tray and dips.”
“You’re leaving?” Stella’s eyes stretched wide. “But you never—” She cut off the comment, but Adele knew what she’d been about to say.
“I don’t usually leave so much up to you, and I won’t go now if you think it will be too much.” Please don’t say it’s too much, she prayed silently.
“I’ll be fine. You go ahead.” To Adele’s relief, steady, reliable Stella quickly recovered her unflappable demeanor. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen this woman as her assistant. “Most everything’s prepared. It’s just a matter of setting the tables and stirring the stew.”
“You’re a peach.” Adele hugged her, sending up a word of praise that God had blessed her with such a great helper. “I’m going to check my email first and then I’ll head over to the Double M, just in case they need help.”
“Mac McDowell—need help?” Stella huffed her disbelief. “That’s new. Well, go on. I’ll text you if something comes up.”
“Thank you.” Adele grabbed another mug of coffee, creamed it to perfection, then sat down in the study, iPad in hand, and clicked on her email. Her heart thrummed with excitement at the first one. A response from the neighbor woman who’d befriended her and Gina before foster care.
I so wish I could help you, Adele. I’d love to reconnect with Gina. But unfortunately, I have no idea of her whereabouts. I asked around the neighborhood for you but without success. Don’t give up, honey. You’ll find her. That’s what I’m praying for.
“Me, too,” Adele murmured as she closed her computer. The same old yearning and rush of sadness filled her. “Why can’t I find her, God? Don’t You want us to be together? Is it wrong for me to want my sister, my own flesh and blood? How can I be happy without knowing if she’s okay, if she needs me, if I can help her?”
“For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” The memory verse from a long-ago girls’ club quiz reverberated inside her head.
“How do I learn to be content when I’m all alone?” she mused aloud.
“You’re not ’lone, Delly.” Franklyn padded over to her chair and wrapped his arms around her. “Me ’n’ Francie love you. We’re a fam’ly. Right?”
“Right you are.” She lifted the little boy onto her knee and hugged him, relishing the just-awakened scent of him and the feel of his thin, bony arms. “I love you, too, kiddo.”
Was that what God was telling her, that she needed to be content with having the precious twins in her life? Well, she was thankful for that, but somehow Adele wanted more.
“That your joy may be full.” Another verse from the past. But it said what she craved. More. More family. More love. A certain special someone who would value her above all else.
Was that wrong?
“Too tight,” Franklyn said, wiggling out of her arms. “I gotta wake up Francie,” he announced. “We gotta get dressed.”
Adele tried to remember what was significant about today.
“We’re goin’ to the school. ’Member, Delly? Francie’s gonna tell ’bout our horse ride.” He raced off, his feet thumping up the stairs as he bellowed for his sister.
Adele winced as she rose. Hopefully Victoria wasn’t trying to get Grace to sleep.
She moved to the window, stared out at the snowy landscape and immediately felt guilty. She lived in this wonderful home, with fantastic people who cared about her. She was looking forward to adopting the twins, to a joyous happy Christmas. Mac was home, safe and sound. She was blessed beyond measure. What more could she ask for?
“I am thankful, God. Truly. But...”
With a sigh she thrust back that oft-suppressed yearning for someone of her own and went to prepare breakfast for the twins. Stella gave her an odd look but said nothing, smiling as the twins chattered between bites. Adele prepared their lunches then hurried them into the car.
But by the time she’d warned Francie about exaggerating, delivered the twins to their preschool in Chokecherry Hollow and picked up items Stella asked for via text, it was almost lunchtime. Adele returned to The Haven frustrated that she’d missed out on talking to Mac.
As if to add insult to injury, the handsome cowboy didn’t join them for lunch. Apparently one of Mac’s beloved minis had gone lame and he was waiting for the local vet to arrive. Denied the opportunity to talk to her best friend and with supper under control, Adele left Stella in charge, then went for a long cross-country ski hike, determined to sort out this sense of nagging discontent.
* * *
Mac deliberately didn’t go to The Haven for lunch or for supper, though his stomach told him he was a fool. It wasn’t only the lame horse that stopped him. Gabe could have seen to that. But Gabe couldn’t help him accept Tillie and Margaret’s early-morning advice.
“God’s will isn’t something you can dial into when you’re ready to hear it, Mac.” Margaret had given him a severe look. “You can’t simply decide you need to figure out what He’s planned and then expect Him to send you a vision laying it all out.”
“I’d settle for a burning bush,” he’d muttered in frustration and then regretted it a moment later when Tillie’s tanned forehead had pleated in a frown of disapproval. “I know, I’m not leading the children of Israel to the promised land,” he’d quickly added. “But I want to do something with my life and right now I feel like I’m just marking time at the ranch. Mom and Dad will come back expecting an answer and right now I’m no clearer on whether I’m supposed to stay here than I was when I first came home.”
“So, you go on running the ranch, praying, making the best decisions you can and watching how they turn out.” Margaret had sounded as if that was a cakewalk.
“And?” Frustration chewed at him. He far preferred doing than being.
“If God wants you to stay on the Double M, He’ll show you. Or He’ll close that door and open another,” Tillie had said.
“Meaning I’m supposed to keep working at the ranch on the off chance I’m in the right place?” he’d asked sourly.
“There’s no ‘off chance,’ Mac. If you’re trusting God and doing your best in the situation you’re in, you’re in the right place.” As Margaret read his expression her eyebrows lifted. “You expect God to check in with you?”
“Can’t you just hear how that would go?” Tillie chuckled before dropping her voice to a low drawling tone. “‘Say, Mac, here’s my idea for your life.’” Her deep, mannish tone echoed around the sanctuary of the old church. “And then after God lays out His master plan for you, He asks, ‘Is that okay with you, Mac, or do you have a better idea?’”
The sisters looked at
each other and giggled at the absurdity of it, which added to Mac’s disgruntled feelings.
“We’re talking about God, the one who made you and the universe and keeps it all running together. He doesn’t need your opinion. He’s the creator.” Margaret had patted his shoulder, her eyes sympathetic. “You see, that’s the thing about faith, son. Faith is trusting even though you can’t see the end result.”
“But—”
“It may seem as if nothing’s happening, as if you’re operating in the dark. But you’re not.” Margaret’s voice grew kindlier, more like the gentle voice in his memories of Adele’s foster aunt. “You can rest assured that if you trust God, He’ll work things together for His good, and yours.”
“In fact, He’s already doing that,” Tillie had added. “Look how the children enjoy riding your horses. They were so excited at supper last night. Your ranch is such a blessing to those troubled souls who come to The Haven. Hang in there, Mac. You’re doing fine.”
As Mac wandered among his miniature horses in the darkness, hours after that conversation, he still struggled to accept it. No assurance, no guarantee. Just—keep on.
“But keep on with what?” he murmured.
“With what you’re doing, I’m guessing.” Adele smiled as he whirled around to face her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s pretty late, Delly. What are you doing here?” She looked otherworldly, with the moonlight gleaming off her white ski suit and blond hair.
“Checking up on you.” Her gloved fingers smoothed over Calliope’s back. “Hello, sweet thing,” she murmured in a tender voice. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any sugar lumps for you.”
“I don’t need checking on, Adele,” Mac said more gruffly than he’d intended. Maybe that was due to a surge of jealousy from the gentle cooing of her voice as she petted the animal. “I’m fine.”
“Again with the fine.” She stared at him with those see-everything amber eyes.
“Yep. Just sorting through some stuff.” He shrugged and turned aside to avoid her scrutiny. “Gabe and I have decided to change the trail ride route slightly. Make it a little easier.”