Her brow rose. “You know I will, but perhaps if I knew why I could help you in some way.” She jerked her chin toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit?”
Obedient again, Kees did as she suggested, perching on one end of the worn cushions. Reverend Harris took a place within arm’s reach, her hands in her lap. She appeared willing to wait on him to speak first, so he drew in a breath and chose his words carefully.
“I plan to ask Malcolm Stratton for his daughter’s hand.”
The words left his lips and landed square on Reverend Harris’ face. She didn’t move, though the seriousness of his statement clearly rested on her. “I didn’t know you and she ...”
“After what we went through, I reevaluated myself.” Kees took her break in thought as encouragement to continue. “I know what I was, and I know I treated her unkindly in the past. I also know Malcolm will be against it.”
“So why not take it slow?”
Kees squirmed some in his seat. “I don’t need to ‘get to know’ her like some couples would. I’ve known her my entire life.”
“It’s still a big step.”
Yes, it was, and he’d thought hard on this.
“One I’m ready to make. We spent seven days together, most of them closed up in four walls. We talked, a lot, and she’s everything I need.”
Not want. Need. He needed her, and that made the difference. He could continue to go it alone, him and a horse with a bunch of cows. Or him and a rifle on some mountainside somewhere. But she made who he was make sense.
Reverend Harris’s lips tipped. “Spoken like a man in love.”
“I’m afraid.”
Her expression sobered. She sat forward, cupping her hands together.
“Not of Malcolm’s response. As I said, he’s going to refuse.”
Not of Brenna’s answer either. She’d accept. She’d waited too many years for him to see her for what she was.
“I’m afraid of myself. I can aim straight and pull the trigger. I can clean a hide and put it on display. I can’t handle ‘me’ anymore.” And who was to say he’d not make some mistake and justify her dad’s distrust of him.
Kees fell quiet, and Reverend Harris appeared to think. Upon time, she took a deep breath.
“‘It is, remember, by grace and not by achievement that you are saved.’ That’s from the book of Ephesians in one of my many Bible translations.” She waved one hand. “Point is, doesn’t matter how good you are at hunting, or sailing or anything else man tries to excel at, the end of that verse says, ‘It was nothing you could or did achieve—it was God’s gift to you,’ and a gift needs only to be received to be effective.”
Brenna was a gift, one he felt he had to earn. Maybe that was the trouble. In Malcolm’s eyes, he couldn’t work enough to deserve her. What about in God’s eyes? It could be if he’d let God handle Malcolm and he concentrated, instead, on himself, that all his fears would be unfounded.
“The strongest person is one who takes the humblest stance,” she said. “What you don’t think you deserve is more easily achieved when you aren’t scrambling for it.”
Hope stirred in him, and peace he hadn’t had. Placing his hat at his side, he bowed his head, and warmed at Reverend Harris’s palm alighting on his shoulder. He left, strengthened. But not as much by what she prayed as by the fact he understood it.
Kees aimed his horse toward town. He needed a new shirt. A man didn’t show up at a meeting this important smelling like his job. He wore his best. Inside and out.
Strangely, her dad stayed closeted in his room the next day, coming out only to greet them at suppertime. It worried her, yet Brenna couldn’t afford to spend too much time thinking on it. Someone had to make her mom and Sierra feel at home.
She and Sierra seemed to get along, though her mom was right, she did act much older than she was. She also spent considerable time on the porch or in the dining room, between meals, working on her book.
This left her and her mom to talk for hours, and so the subject of her parents’ divorce had to come up.
“Why’d you leave?”
A simple question that begged an answer. Not until she’d gotten older had she begun to question why any mother would take off and leave her daughter behind. She hadn’t been unhappy about it, necessarily. Mostly because she didn’t want to go live with her, at that point. Still, this many years later, she needed to know.
“You mean, why didn’t I drag you off with me?” Her mom leaned back in the armchair. “What kind of mom would I be to do that? I didn’t have a fixed address, no job or way to support myself, much less a child.”
“You didn’t want to see me once you did?”
Her mom sighed. “Of course, I did, and your dad made the point to keep me informed. He sent pictures and notes. I know they were impersonal, but there was a Christmas when we met halfway.”
Brenna remembered that. It’d been odd from start to finish, her parents dancing around each other as if a bomb might explode, her pleading to go home.
“He’d made you into a copy of himself,” her mom said. “You were Montana, and I couldn’t take you away from that. I missed your growing up. I thought about it every day, but forcing you to change from the earthy creature he’d created was wrong.”
Yet, he’d tried to do so anyway. She didn’t say it. What was the point?
“I’m told we’re having dinner with the Butlers tomorrow.”
Brenna’s heartrate doubled.
A teasing smile formed on her mom’s lips. “I hope the young man will speak his mind.”
She wasn’t sure exactly what her mom meant, but the day ending and the next rolling around, she grew more and more nervous about it. She was in love with Kees Butler, and everyone that’d be there knew it. How was she supposed to act?
“You look confused.” Sierra peered in Brenna’s bedroom, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “I never had a sibling, so I’m up for my first try at sisterly advice.”
Dumping on her wasn’t in Brenna’s nature, yet, she found, she could use a listening ear. One that wasn’t her mom or dad.
“It’s like being handed the TV remote and told to pick a program, only the others in the room are a preacher, a bartender, and fifteen-year-old boy.”
Sierra’s giggles eased the tension, and Brenna fell back on her bed.
“I’d stick to a nature program then,” Sierra said. “But nothing with animal reproduction.”
Brenna twisted her head to see her. “Why not? It might scare the preacher? Doesn’t he know babies don’t come from under rocks?”
Again, Sierra laughed. She straightened and strolled further into the room. Her fingers poked in her pockets, she scanned the walls, halting on the view out the window.
“I like it here. It’s peaceful. I think I’d even like the cold.” She turned on her heel. “I like Beverly, too. She’s good for my dad, and they love each other, don’t get me wrong. But she’s never really stopped loving yours.”
Was that surprising? Not really. In a way, she’d always known.
“There’s you, for one thing. They both adore you, and that keeps them together. There’s the fact your mom left over lifestyle choices, not lack of love.” Sierra crossed her arms. “Next, you’re going to ask how you can love two men at once. I’m sure I don’t know, except to say it’s possible because I’ve seen it in your mom.”
That gave her hope for her dad. But then again, this place was so remote, and the chances of a beautiful woman appearing on his doorstep were nil. Brenna sighed and redirected her thoughts.
“I’m nervous about dinner. I guess I need to act mature, except that’s never been my best thing where Kees was concerned.”
Sierra seemed to think about that. She straightened. “I think it’d help if we dressed you up a bit. Let’s see what’s in your closet that will impress your friend and yet please all those boring adults.”
Brenna smiled. “I could get used to this sister thing.”
&nbs
p; Sierra’s smile stretched to match hers. “Me too.” She glanced toward the window again. “I could get used to Montana.”
No truer words had ever been said. You either visited Montana and left, or it became an indelible part of you, its mountains and valleys, the sky stretching down to earth, as real inside as breathing. That was what her dad had never fully understood, and why she loved Kees so much. He knew the land, he drank life from it, in some sense.
He was also going to be there tonight, and her thoughts having circled back around to that, her nervousness returned. Sierra worked to ease it, helping her choose a floral dress she rarely wore and, when the time approached, styling her hair up off her neck. Brenna exited her room, keyed up over her parents’ reaction. Breath held, she entered the living room.
Her dad spotted her and smiled, his eyes moistening. Reflected there was also fear and uncertainty. Over Kees? Over the fact she’d dressed up for him.
“My goodness, you look grown.” Her mom approached. “Sierra said she helped you out.”
Brenna looked across the room at her, and Sierra smiled.
“She showed me how to look less like I just got off a horse.”
“I like you that way,” her dad said.
Brenna gazed in his direction. He looked handsome. He’d put on black slacks and a clean western shirt, the collar open. A dusting of gray in his hair made him look distinguished. She glanced at her mom. She had on a lovely red dress, very feminine, embracing her curves.
How much of what they wore was to impress each other? She could see their feelings for each other much more clearly now.
“Tomorrow, I promise,” she replied. “I have to exercise Buckley.” Her horse. She waved him silent. “In the corral. I’m going to be careful.”
“Well, are we ready?” her mom asked.
Her dad’s expression changed. No, clearly, he wasn’t, but he didn’t protest, and they filed outside.
“The car will hold all of us,” Sierra said. “I can drive or ...” She extended Malcolm the keys. “You can if you prefer.”
He held still, gazing at her, then accepted the keys. Sierra was perceptive to see his need for some sort of control. She also relieved her mom of feeling pressured into the front seat, taking the passenger side and allowing her mom to sit in the back.
Her dad cranked and shifted into reverse. Her mom stretched across the car for her hand, curling it into her palm. Somehow, the gesture said so much more than words could have – that she supported her in this; that she loved her unconditionally; that everything would be okay, although she couldn’t see it.
CHAPTER 7
Kees embraced his sister, or rather, she embraced him. Her arms stretched around his waist, her cheek against his chest. “I’ve missed you.” Her voice emerged muffled by the placement of her mouth.
He squeezed her tighter. “I’m sorry I haven’t come around.”
She pulled back and gazed up. Though she wasn’t his natural sister and they weren’t raised together, she’d accepted him as her brother from the start. And truth was, he liked being a “big brother”. For once, not out of ego. Knowing what he was good at – tracking and hunting – those were ego. Being Mallory’s brother wasn’t.
“Just don’t tell me you’ve been working,” Mallory replied. “I know that. Still, you could have visited.”
“I will more often. I promise,” he said.
His dad’s approaching footsteps raised his gaze, and he released her. “Dad.”
His dad paused at the end of the hall. “Son. Your mother is in the kitchen.”
And he should go see her. He heard the admonition and stepped away from Mallory. He angled his path toward the kitchen. The scent of tonight’s dinner filled his nostrils and his stomach growled. As much as he liked hunting and enjoyed certain aspects of wild game, there was nothing as good as eating with his mom at home.
“I hope you made plenty,” he said to her back.
His mom whirled. “Kees! You scared me.”
He smiled and came up to her, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Goodness, what did I do to deserve that.”
He shrugged and reversed. “Be yourself. I get tired of being lonely.”
She seemed to drink that in. Dropping a potholder on the counter, she pressed her hand to his cheek. “Then come visit more often.” She held in place a moment, then looked back the way he’d came. She lowered her voice. “I hope I do not have to run interference tonight.”
Between him and his dad? Or between him and Malcolm? It didn’t matter. Whatever she meant, he was on his best behavior. He’d found his burden about the meeting lifted somewhat after praying with Reverend Harris. That didn’t stop the doubts from echoing through his brain.
Doubts that weren’t from God. Having decided to let God handle Malcolm, there’d be no reason for God to speak with him about it. When Mrs. Chapman had turned the herd over to him in Harlowe’s absence, she hadn’t questioned him on what needed to be done, but trusted him to get out there and do it. This wasn’t any different in his mind. God could handle Malcolm.
“We’re good,” he said.
She bit her lip, as if in thought, then picked up the potholder again and turned aside. She peered through the oven door at a casserole dish, bubbling behind the glass. “I’m glad. Now, if I can get your father on his best behavior.”
But it seemed like his dad already had control of that. He greeted the Strattons, shaking hands with Malcolm and Beverly in turn. Sierra, a flaming redhead, stood directly behind them.
“My stepdaughter,” Beverly said. “She’s writing a book, wants to put Montana in it, and so is here for an extended stay.”
“A book?” his dad asked. “You should talk to Pastor Harris. She has quite a collection of books.”
Sierra smiled and tilted her head. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
She stepped aside.
Kees lost his breath at the sight of Brenna. She’d dressed up. He’d seen her dressed up before, of course, at church or for school functions, but he wasn’t in love with her then. Nor was an entire room watching his reaction to her. He couldn’t not react and saw on Malcolm the same distaste he’d always had.
He ignored it and walked past him, until they stood only a foot apart. He’d memorized every detail of her face, the upturn of her nose, the freckles on her cheeks, even the way her lashes curled. He’d seen her so sick she’d almost died, watched her cry when she’d sliced open her hand. He’d quoted poetry to her and listened to hers in return.
Yet, their first exchange tonight was simple.
“Hey,” she said. “I’m still here.”
Kees stuffed one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Good.”
Brenna tried her best to not look at Kees too often during the meal, and to compliment Mrs. Butler for the food, and make intelligent conversation. Her mom and dad were, surprisingly, less awkward than they’d been so far, the conversation circling around cattle farming with the men, and ladies’ fashion in Georgia with her mom and Mrs. Butler.
Sierra primarily talked to Mallory and didn’t seem uncomfortable at it. Kees said little, to nothing, at all, yet the few times she darted a glance his way, he said a lot in his expression.
He made her heart beat faster, her pulse thump harder. She felt her girlishness around him worse because of how she was dressed. If he liked it, she’d do so more often, though. Not to change who she was. She’d worked too hard to prove she belonged here. But to be less belligerent and willing to adapt.
“We can retire to the living room,” Jack Butler said. “We’ll leave the ladies to follow when they can.”
This separated her from Kees for a good half hour. Mrs. Butler insisted on cleaning the table herself, though Sierra jumped in to help. But finally, the leftovers put away and dishes in the sink the four of them made their way into the Butler’s cavernous living room.
Kees looked up from where he sat, and the conversation paused.
“Young m
an, I want to thank you,” her mom began.
She approached him, and he stood.
Worry formed on her dad’s brow.
“I trust Malcolm where Brenna is concerned, but it’s hard, living so far south and not always knowing what’s going on up here. When he called me to say she was missing, that was, by far, the most awful moment of my life. Then he told me he’d sent out the best tracker in the area and you’d bring her home safe.”
Kees glanced toward her dad.
“I’m not a fool,” her mom said, drawing Kees’s gaze again. “I know my Brenna ... headstrong, fierce. Sometimes foolish.” She flashed her a smile. “She’s Malcolm and I all rolled into one, and the world without her in it is that much sadder. So, from a mother’s heart, thank you.”
Kees stared at her, silent, then cleared his throat. “Truthfully, I wasn’t going to go after her.”
Her dad sat up taller.
“She’s been a ... pest.”
“Kees.” Jack Butler spoke.
Kees held up one hand. “No, let me finish. She has, and she’ll admit it. She’s trailed after me for years now. But Malcolm isn’t stupid. He knew I could find her. What I wanted, though, was to get it over and done with.”
Looking at her, Kees took a few steps in her direction. Heat swept up her spine, tingling in her limbs.
“Give me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling,” he said. “Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard; Give me a field where the unmow'd grass grows; Give me an arbor, give me the trellis'd grape; Give me fresh corn and wheat give me serene-moving animals, teaching content; Give me nights perfectly quiet, as on high plateaus west of the Mississippi, and I looking up at the stars; Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can walk undisturb'd.”
Kees paused and closed the distance between them further. “Give me for marriage a sweet-breath'd woman, of whom I should never tire; Give me a perfect child, give me, away, aside from the noise of the world, a rural, domestic life.”
He never blinked while he spoke, nor did he make any attempt to touch her. Yet with his words, he had.
Poetry & Life Page 6