Chapter 19
Two days after her abrupt departure, Ashley had called Ben to apologize for it. But she hadn’t seen him in person since then and blamed that for the nervous tumble in her stomach as she drove toward the Henning farm on Saturday afternoon, towing the horse trailer behind her truck. Ben being Ben, he welcomed her with his usual easy smile, not even a hint of condemnation in his eyes. Nor pity either, she realized, and the tension in her stomach eased.
“I’ve got the paddock ready for your latest rescues,” he said as the two of them walked to the back of the trailer. “And the new stables should be finished before bad weather hits.”
“I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished since the open house.”
“Motivation lit a fire under me.”
She returned his smile, thankful that he hadn’t brought up her brother or asked how she and her mother were doing. She sensed he would take her lead in that regard, and she was content to leave it be for now.
She lifted the latch and opened the trailer door. “The store scheduled me every day next week. It kind of surprised me. I’ve known other people who were pretty much ignored after they gave notice, but that’s not true for me.”
“Proves they value you.”
“I suppose.” She led the first horse out of the trailer.
Ben followed with the second. “Only these two? I thought you’d bring the other one as well. The one you got the day we first met. Scooter?”
“I left Scooter at home. I didn’t want to rob Remington of all her company.”
“Softie.”
“I know.” She felt her mood lighten with each passing moment. Was it Ben or his farm that worked that particular magic upon her?
He stepped back and took a good look at the gelding at the end of the lead. “These guys are nothing like those two.” He glanced toward the paddock holding the rescues that had been so severely malnourished.
“I know.” Ashley stroked the gelding’s neck. “They were unwanted and planned for slaughter, but at least they weren’t abused.”
“Have you named them?”
“Not yet.”
Ben and Ashley turned at the same time and fell into step, leading the horses to the designated pasture. Once the gate was open, they removed halters and leads and set the animals free. The first one, a bay with a large blaze on his face, felt good enough to crow-hop, toss his head, and kick up his heels before running along the fence line for about ten yards or so.
Watching the horse, Ashley laughed, the last of her worries chased away by the sight.
“Come with me to the barn.” Ben motioned with his head in that direction. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“Okay.”
For the second time within minutes, she fell into step beside him. Neither spoke, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, when Ashley glanced in his direction, she saw that he wore a smile, as if he knew a secret. What was he up to?
She didn’t have long to wait for the answer to her silent question. Ben stopped a couple of steps inside the barn and waved with his arm to the right. “What do you think?”
Her gaze followed his motion to the tack room. Only the open door revealed that it was no longer the tack room. The once open studs had been hidden behind finished, painted walls. Curtains framed the small window that let in natural light. A desk, chair, and two file cabinets filled a good portion of the space, yet it wasn’t too crowded.
“What’s this?” she asked, moving to the doorway.
“The barn manager’s office, of course.”
“The barn manager’s—” She faced him. “You mean, my office?”
“In another nine days, yes. By then I should have the baseboard heat installed so you won’t freeze this winter and a ceiling fan so you won’t cook in the summer.” His grin returned as he repeated, “So, what do you think?”
I think you’re the nicest man I ever met. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his amazing blue eyes.
His expression changed suddenly. Turned serious.
Unsettled by it, she faced the office again. “It’s wonderful. Really wonderful. I didn’t expect anything like it.”
“Did you think I’d make you work outside eight hours a day? In the cold and rain or whatever?” He chuckled. “I realize you love the horses and are willing to do whatever they need, but I’m not heartless.”
“I know you’re not, Ben,” she said softly.
* * *
His heart quickened. She usually called him by his last name. He liked that she’d called him Ben this time, and it caused Grandpa Grant’s words of advice to whisper in his memory: “She’s a nice girl . . . The two of you have a lot in common . . . You enjoy her company . . . You’re at ease with her.”
It was true. It was all true. She was nice. They had lots in common. He always enjoyed being with her.
“I don’t want you believing you don’t deserve more, that you don’t deserve love and a family.”
What did Ben think he deserved? Had he closed himself off from love at the same time he was guarding his sobriety and strengthening his faith?
“Remember, we can become so busy doing good things for God that we miss the best things He intends for us.”
It hit him in a flash. He would like something more than friendship with Ashley. Or at least a shot at it. But would she want the same? He’d shared parts of his past with her, but he’d never given her the full picture. He’d never told her about the accident, about Craig. He’d never told her that his experience with equine therapy had been part of a recovery program. He’d never told her about the years he’d been lost in an alcohol haze far more often than he’d been sober. How would she feel about him once she knew? Especially given her experiences with her brother.
I don’t want to lose her friendship. Did that make him a coward? Maybe. For now, he would have to take it one day at a time.
“How about something cool to drink?” he suggested.
Her shoulders rose and fell on a breath before she turned toward him. A tentative smile curved her mouth. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
As the two of them left the barn and walked toward the house, questions whirled in Ben’s head. Questions about how Ashley was feeling, really feeling, about her brother. Questions about how her mother was dealing with her son’s legal predicament. But he didn’t want to rush anything. Eventually they would have to talk about it—about everything. Even if they were destined to be nothing more than friends, she still deserved the truth, the whole truth. But the moment wasn’t right yet.
He got them each a soda, and they sat on the porch. Dusty joined them, lying near Ben’s feet, muzzle flat on the floor but eyes watchful. Occasionally his tail thwapped against the wood slats.
Ben grinned, thankful for something to say that had nothing to do with himself or Ashley’s family. “I think Dusty’s asking why you didn’t bring his friends.”
“Sorry, boy.” Ashley bent over and gave the dog’s hindquarters a pat. “Next time.”
“You’re planning to bring them to work with you, right?”
She looked up, eyes widening slightly. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“They’re obedient. I see no reason why not.”
“You’re sure? You’re already doing so much more than I expected.”
“It’s a farm. Dogs are part of the mix.” He turned his gaze toward the barn, enjoying the golden haze that had settled over the scene as afternoon waned. “We’ll lock them all up once we’ve got clients here, if we need to.”
She laughed softly. “You’re quite the boss, Henning. I’m going to like working for you.”
“Working with me,” he said softly, averting his eyes lest she see more than he was ready for her to see.
Monday, March 5, 1944
It took more than a week for Andrew to track down the whereabouts of Petty Officer Third Class Samuel Valentine. Andrew even made a call to his congressman before he managed to get the answers
he needed.
The remaining question was what he did next.
“You aren’t seriously thinking of taking Louisa to California.” Helen stood near the kitchen sink, hands on her hips, eyes wide with disbelief.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Actually, I think I might.”
“Andrew . . .”
“I’ve prayed about it, Helen, and I think this is the right thing to do. The young man has no family to go to see him. Both of his parents are dead, and he has no siblings. That’s one of the reasons he needed someone to write to him.”
“But you know Louisa’s nature. She already thinks she’s in love with him. Meeting him in person, while he’s wounded and vulnerable and weak, will only stir up more of those romantic notions in her head.”
It was tempting to remind Helen that she’d once been seventeen with a head full of romantic notions. She hadn’t wanted to wait for him to graduate from the university. She’d even suggested that they elope.
His wife drew a deep breath and released it. “You’ve made up your mind.”
He nodded.
“How soon?”
“We’ll leave on Saturday.”
“Well, then, you’ll go knowing I think you’re wrong.”
“If I must.” He took a couple of steps toward her. “But you’ll forgive me. Right?”
She sighed. “I suppose I have no other option.”
He took her in his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head.
“But it might take me awhile,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Silence filled the kitchen. For a short while the two remained where they were, locked in an embrace, two against the world, united even while disagreeing on the matter of their daughter. But eventually Helen took a step back and lifted her head to meet Andrew’s gaze. “You’d better go and tell Louisa. She’ll want to start packing immediately.”
“I’ll have to find where I put the suitcases.”
“Under the bed in our room.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I move them every time I dust mop.”
He gave her a nod before turning on his heel and walking down the hall to the girls’ bedroom. He rapped softly. “Louisa.”
Silence.
“May I come in?”
“Yes.”
He opened the door. His eldest daughter was on her bed, a pile of letters on the bedspread in front of her. She cast him a sullen glance before lowering her gaze to the letters again. For a second or two he wondered if he should have listened to Helen. Was he making the wrong decision? But the doubts passed quickly. He still believed this was the right thing to do, for the boy as well as his daughter.
“I have located Samuel Valentine,” he said.
Louisa’s countenance changed at once. “How is he?” She hopped to her feet at the side of the bed.
“His wounds are not life threatening, but it is doubtful he’ll be sent back into service, despite what he told you in his letter.”
“Where is he?”
“In a hospital in San Francisco.”
“Can I . . . Can I go to see him?”
Andrew remembered when Louisa had asked, if it were Ben who was injured, wouldn’t Andrew want him to be able to see his sweetheart? Thankfully, as of Ben’s most recent letter, his eldest son was well and uninjured. And if Ben’s silence regarding the opposite sex was any indication, there was no sweetheart either.
“Dad? Can I see him?”
He nodded. “We’ll go on Saturday. I bought the train tickets this morning.”
“Dad!” She let out a squeal such as only a teenaged girl could manage and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. “Thank you!”
Please, God. Don’t let this be a mistake.
She released her hold on him. “I wish I could buy a new dress. I’d so like Samuel to see me for the first time in something new instead of one of my old school dresses. Could I buy something new?”
“Don’t press your luck, Louisa. This trip is going to cost enough.”
“Oh, all right. Maybe Grandma Greyson can help me make something. There should be time.”
Andrew knew many things about farming, a fair amount about raising daughters, but next to nothing about sewing. Better to withdraw now, before he put his foot in it. “You’ll have to talk to your mother and grandmother about that.”
“Okay. I will.”
He gave her a parting smile before leaving the bedroom, praying as he went for the days ahead.
Chapter 20
Ben strolled beside his grandfather on a path that wound through the retirement community. For the past week, since realizing he would like something more than simple friendship with Ashley, he’d kept silent about his feelings. But finally, he’d known he needed some wise counsel, the type his grandfather never failed to give him.
While they walked, Ben told Grandpa Grant everything—about Ashley and her reaction to her brother, about what Ben felt for her and what he feared, about everything. Then silence ensued until they settled onto a park bench to watch a couple of swans paddling in the pond.
“You will have to share your story, my boy, as you said. I know there’s a risk that your history might frighten her away, but I don’t see how you can put it off. It wouldn’t be honest. Especially not now. This must be her decision.”
“I know.” Ben leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs. He watched the midday light play across the water. The trees at the far side of the pond had turned to gold and red, the change of seasons painted across the landscape.
“She’s quit her job to come to work for you. Am I correct about that?”
“Yes. Today’s her last day at the store.”
“That complicates things even more.”
He nodded. Would she hold that against him? She’d quit her job. She’d risked her financial stability. Would she feel betrayed by his revelation? Would it end any chance he had of seeing if their friendship might become something more?
“Don’t waste time on what-ifs and if-onlys, Ben. They don’t change a thing.”
“I know, Grandpa. But it’s hard to tune them out sometimes.”
His grandfather draped an arm over Ben’s shoulders, and the two returned to silently watching the pair of swans.
* * *
It was after ten on Friday evening, Ashley’s last day of work in the store. She felt mixed emotions as she pushed open the door and exited the building for the last time as an employee. All day, coworkers had been telling her they were going to miss her. It had surprised her how much their words meant. After all, it wasn’t like she’d ever hung out with them. She wasn’t the type to go out for a beer after a shift ended, although she’d been invited plenty of times to join them, especially early on in her employment.
“Don’t be a stranger!” a woman named Maria called to her from several parking spaces away.
“I won’t.” Ashley waved, then unlocked her truck and slid onto the seat behind the wheel. But she didn’t start the engine right away. She took a moment to let her body relax.
It had been a rough week, as expected. Long hours at the store would be good for her checking account, but she’d fallen behind on life itself. Her dogs and horses had been fed and watered but not much else. Her sink had more than one meal’s worth of dirty dishes in it, waiting to be washed. She’d only spoken to her mom once, and that conversation hadn’t gone well. The strain of wondering about Dylan—where he was, how he was surviving—was wearing on them both. And whether or not she cared to admit it, she’d missed seeing Ben. She hadn’t even talked to him on the phone. Her own fault. She’d told him she was scheduled to work every day this week. In fact, when she’d told him goodbye last Saturday, she’d added, “See you on the fourteenth.” Why would he call when she’d sounded like she didn’t want him to?
“Did I want him to?” she asked into the silence of the cab.
Yes, she supposed she had wanted it. But it d
idn’t matter now. She would see him on Monday. That was the day she would settle into her new job as a barn manager. Barn manager. The two words sounded great together. She would work with horses every day—and get paid to do it. Her uniform would be jeans and boots. Life didn’t get much better than that. In fact, she should pinch herself to see if it was true. How’d she get this blessed?
“Thank You, God,” she said, recognizing that He was the reason for her blessings.
With a smile, she turned the key in the ignition and drove her truck out of the parking lot, headed for home and a good night’s sleep once her chores were done.
* * *
Pastor Trent opened the side door of the church before Ben reached it. “Thanks for coming. Sorry for calling you this time of night.”
“It’s all right. Sounded serious.”
Trent motioned with his head. “He’s in my office. Passed out.” He turned.
Ben followed him. “What happened?”
“I was working late and heard breaking glass. I found him trying to get into the coffee bar. Looking for money, I guess.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Should have been your first call.”
“I know.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“No. I’ve never seen him before. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps learn his name and the reason for his circumstances.”
“Depends how drunk he is. It’s a waste of time to try to glean information if the alcohol is in control. He won’t understand what I say if he’s high.”
Trent opened the door to his office. The man in question—it was hard to tell his age from where Ben stood, especially given his unkempt appearance—lay on the leather sofa, baseball cap pulled low on his forehead, one foot on the floor, the other draped over the arm of the couch. He snored softly. Trent moved toward the sofa and nudged the man’s foot with the toe of his shoe. No response. “I suppose you’re right about calling the police.” He sat on a nearby chair. “I shouldn’t have bothered you at this time of night. I know you work with these men, and I thought . . . Well, I don’t know what I thought.”
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