“Mr. Henning, are you all right?” She sat beside him.
“I’m not sure, Ashley. I’m really not sure.”
* * *
Ben grinned when he saw his grandfather’s car parked near the house. What a nice surprise. He drove his truck to the carport and got out. Before he could walk far, Ashley came to meet him.
“Ben, somebody came by awhile ago. Something about an appraisal that your mom’s attorney ordered on the farm. Whatever, it seemed to really upset your grandfather.”
Ben’s stomach clenched, sickening him. He didn’t wait for her to say anything more. “Thanks.” He strode quickly toward the front porch. “Grandpa?”
Grandpa Grant looked up. “We were wrong to think it was an idle threat. It seems she was serious.”
“Grandpa, she won’t succeed. And how’d she even come up with the money to hire an attorney? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“You know your mother. She seems to always find a way. I gave her six hundred dollars over a month ago myself.”
Ben’s gut churned. If hiring an attorney or trying to get an appraisal was what she used that money for . . .
“I wish I knew what I did to make her want to hurt me this way.”
Ben sank onto the chair next to his grandfather. “It’s about the money, Grandpa. Not hurting you.”
A humorless smile crossed his grandfather’s lips. There and gone.
“I’ll call my attorney in the morning. I’ll find out what we can do to nip this in the bud.”
“Your grandmother and I spent many an evening analyzing your mom’s growing-up years and second-guessing all of our parenting decisions. We asked her so many times to tell us what hurt her, what made her so angry. But trying to talk only seemed to make her more angry.” He looked at Ben, pain in his eyes.
Ben reached to take hold of his grandfather’s hand, knowing that nothing he said would help what the older man felt. He settled for a simple, “Love you, Grandpa.”
“Love you, too, son.”
Hours later, his grandfather and Ashley both having returned to their own homes, Ben sat at the kitchen table with Andrew Henning’s Bible before him. He’d tried praying, but his thoughts were scattered and his heart heavy. Forming words in his head had been next to impossible. And so he opened the Bible, looking for something—anything—that might provide answers or comfort or, better yet, both.
He wasn’t aware how long he’d read before he came across Andrew’s penciled scrawl on the back of the 1 Samuel title page.
Father, for these sons I have prayed. They are dedicated to You. I leave them in Your care, and like Hannah, my heart delights in the Lord. No matter what lies ahead, I will bow in worship. (1 Samuel 1:27–2:1) December 1, 1944
His eyes moved to the designated verses, then back to Andrew’s declaration of trust. It was as if he heard God whisper to him, “Dedicate it to Me. Leave it in My care, and then worship Me.” In response, he felt his grip loosen. His grip on this farm and its future. His grip on anger toward his mom. His grip on his growing feelings for Ashley. Even his grip on the guilt he held on to about Craig.
“For these things I have prayed,” he said into the silent room. “They are dedicated to You, Lord, and I leave them in Your care. Amen.”
When he opened his eyes, he knew he was different, even if the circumstances weren’t. Even if they never were.
Saturday, April 8, 1944
Dear Ben,
I pray this letter finds you well wherever you are. It has been weeks since we received your last letter. It takes them so long to reach us, and often they arrive in bunches. The delay always makes us impatient for news.
We suppose that you have been involved in the bombing raids over Berlin, and we pray that you have come back unharmed every time. Time and again, your mother and I have placed you into the hands of your Heavenly Father, trusting you to His gracious care.
Everyone stateside seems to believe that Italy will soon be ours, and France not long after. There is hope that the end of the war is in sight. Many say Germany has already lost, only they haven’t the good sense to admit it. Your mother and I try to take heart from that belief.
Oscar remains anxious to join the fight. I worry about the anger that has settled into his heart. He seems so set on getting revenge. I try to tell him the war isn’t about revenge. Or at least it shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t hear me.
Louisa’s young sailor, Samuel Valentine, is here in Kuna. He was released from the hospital earlier this week and is staying across the road with the Finkels. Samuel and Hirsch have formed a strong bond in only a few days. I like the fellow too. As for your sister, if things continue as they are now, I expect she and Samuel will soon be engaged. I will have no objection, as I feared I might when their romance first began. Because of his injuries (as I told you in another letter, he lost two of his fingers, but his hand was saved), Samuel won’t be returning to the navy. His parents are deceased, and he has no other immediate family. Only some distant cousins. Perhaps he will seek employment here rather than return to the East. Perhaps he will even choose to become a farmer. Whatever might keep him in Idaho would make me glad. I cannot bear to think of Louisa moving too far away. It is hard enough having you gone from our midst.
Write soon, Ben. Your mother and I are always anxious to hear from you.
Your beloved father
Chapter 25
Papers and bills were strewn across the kitchen table, and Ben was determined this would be the last time the table served as his desk and his laptop as his only computer. He’d been putting it off for too long. Later today he would buy a desk and filing cabinet and convert one of the bedrooms into the official office for the Harmony Barn. Ashley had her barn-manager office. He should have one of his own.
He pulled an invoice toward him. With a grunt, he began to write in the checkbook ledger. Of all of the expenses for this fledgling nonprofit, the insurance was among the worst. At least when he bought hay, he knew it would be put to good use. Insurance was necessary but not tangible. Or at least that’s how it seemed to him.
Half an hour later, the last check had been written. He picked up the file box from the floor and put the various papers and invoices away. Thankful that chore was finished, he headed outdoors for a breath of fresh air.
Ben and Emily had concluded their first training session with a group of Harmony Barn volunteers earlier that morning. Now everyone was gone and the barnyard was quiet. Ashley hadn’t been able to make the session because of something to do with her mom. Ben hadn’t pressed for details lest it bring up something unpleasant.
Dusty ran off the porch, looking for something to chase. The dog had grown used to having company during the week when Ashley was there with Speed and Jack. On the weekends, the yellow Lab seemed lost without the other dogs. Ben felt kind of the same way when Ashley wasn’t on the property.
“Come on, boy. Let’s walk.”
He headed first toward the new stables and indoor arena. It wasn’t finished yet but would be soon. The outdoor arena, however, was ready for use. In fact, that’s where he and Emily had met with the volunteers that morning, despite the cold November air that had required most of them to bundle up in coats, hats, and gloves.
Ben marveled at how much the farm had changed in a few months’ time. Surely God was in the details, for he couldn’t see any other way all this could have happened so fast. The therapy sessions would soon be a reality. Yet there was still a lot to be done before the Harmony Barn was fully operational.
Dusty ran off, but Ben was too deep in thought to pay much attention. He didn’t have to worry. The dog seemed to know the exact boundaries of the forty acres and never strayed beyond them—perhaps because he’d walked the fence line with his master many times.
Ben headed toward the paddocks next, pausing at the first fence. Inside the pasture, Paisley and Sundowner grazed on the short clumps of grass. The dun noticed Ben first. With a snort, he walked over, hoping for
a treat. Ben rubbed the gelding’s head. “Sorry, boy. My pockets are empty.”
Between the two of them, Ben and Ashley had managed the feeding and care for the horses, but it had occurred to him this morning that they couldn’t count on it always being that way. Horses could get sick or injured. For that matter, he or Ashley could get sick. They needed more than volunteers to help during sessions. They needed volunteers willing and able to step in with daily chores. And as they increased the number of horses they kept at the Harmony Barn, the need for volunteers would increase as well.
Sundowner gave Ben’s shoulder an impatient nudge. He laughed softly and moved on to the next paddock, Dreamer’s and Thunder’s current home. The two had become quite the friends over the past weeks. Seeing them together made him grin—Dreamer so diminutive and Thunder so tall and stately. The pair paid him no mind as they stood together, braced against the chilly wind.
The next paddock held three of Ashley’s rescue horses. Scooter stood at the far end of the pasture near a long row of poplars that served as a windbreak. Penny and JoJo were near the hay box, perhaps as hopeful for their evening feeding as Sundowner had been for a treat. “Sorry,” he called to them. “It isn’t time yet.”
Dusty’s persistent barking penetrated Ben’s thoughts. He looked for the dog, finally discovering him not too far from Scooter. By the sound of him, Dusty had something up one of the trees. But then Ben saw something larger than a squirrel move from behind one tree to another. Perhaps it was someone from the irrigation district, walking along the easement. Nonetheless, Ben decided to check it out. He slipped through the paddock rails and headed across the pasture. He’d almost reached the dog when a head covered in a dark knitted cap peeked out from between a couple of tree trunks. The kid’s eyes widened a second before he disappeared again.
“Dusty, quiet. Sit.”
The dog obeyed.
Raising his voice slightly, he said, “It’s okay. Dusty won’t hurt you. It’s safe to come out.”
Nothing happened right away. No movement at all. But finally the same head leaned out from behind the tree.
“It’s okay,” Ben repeated, his voice lowered again.
The boy who stepped into full view was maybe eight or nine years old, judging by his size. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.”
“Of course not. You’re not on private property over there.”
“I just wanted to see your old horse.” His gaze flicked in Scooter’s direction.
“Scooter’s not so old. Probably not even as old as you are.”
The boy stood a little straighter. “I’m ten.”
That surprised Ben. He looked younger. “My name’s Ben. What’s yours?”
Again there was a lengthy wait before he answered, “Kurt.”
“Where do you live, Kurt?”
The boy hung his head. “No place.”
Ben took a few strides toward the fence line. “No place?”
“We’re stayin’ with friends of my mom.”
“Oh.” Something in Kurt’s manner told Ben not to press for names. “Well, do you think it’d be all right with your mom if I introduced you to Scooter? She wouldn’t mind you getting close to the horse if I was here. Right?”
“She wouldn’t care. She doesn’t care about nothin’.”
He heard anger and pain in the boy’s voice and felt compassion well in his chest. “Come on, then.” He motioned for the boy to slip through the fence and join him.
Kurt’s expression revealed the battle going on inside his head—the desire to get closer to the horse, the reluctance to accept Ben’s invitation. Whether that was because Ben was a stranger or for another reason, Ben wasn’t sure.
“Maybe another time, then.” He reached for Dusty’s collar.
“No. Wait. I’m coming.”
Ben motioned for Dusty to stay, then watched as Kurt made his way into the pasture. “You stay here with my dog,” he said when the boy reached him. “His name’s Dusty. I’ll go get Scooter.” He was thankful it was the palomino who was nearby. The mare loved attention whenever she could get it. He pulled baling twine from his pocket as he approached the horse and looped it around her neck to use as a lead. “Come over here, girl. You need to meet somebody.”
Kurt’s eyes widened as man and horse approached him, but he didn’t back away. However, he did put a hand on Dusty’s neck, as if to draw courage from the dog.
Ben stopped Scooter with better than a yard to go. “She’s a nice, quiet horse. She loves to have her head scratched, especially right here behind her ears. My friend Ashley got her this summer. Scooter’s owners didn’t want her anymore, and I guess they were going to—” He stopped himself before he said the word slaughterhouse. “They were going to send her away.”
“Like my dad sent us away.” Kurt’s expression turned inward. “He didn’t want us either.”
Ben felt another catch in his chest. He knew what it was like to be unwanted by a parent. For an instant, he felt no older than Kurt, felt the sting of rejection in a personal way once again. He cleared his throat, then said, “Come over here. Move slowly but with confidence. Right here beside me. That’s it. Now reach your hand like this. Palm up. Nice and flat. Let her give you a good sniff.”
As if she’d practiced this action on command, Scooter brought her mouth down against the boy’s open hand, bumping it gently and wiggling her lips against his skin. Then she huffed.
Kurt grinned.
Ben did too. Way to go, Scooter.
“That was cool.”
“I agree. Cool.”
This was how it was meant to be at the Harmony Barn. A boy and a horse. An easing of tension or anger or hurt or fear. A blossoming of hope.
This was their future.
* * *
Ashley stood at the paddock fence, watching Ben with the little boy, certain they were unaware of her presence. They remained totally focused on the horse. She couldn’t hear the exchange between them, but something about the scene stirred her heart.
As he turned toward the gate where she stood, Ben lifted his gaze. Even from a distance, she saw a look of surprise, followed quickly by a smile and a wave. She remembered what his grandfather had told her about the young man he’d been compared to the man he was today. Did she have to be afraid of the feelings he’d stirred to life with his kiss? The question made her heart skip. Unable to help it, she lifted her hand to wave back, continuing to watch as they walked across the pasture.
“Hey, Ashley,” Ben said when he and the boy got closer to the gate. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I didn’t expect to be here. I left something in the office yesterday that I needed.”
He didn’t ask what. Instead, he glanced down to his right. “This is Kurt. He and his mom are staying down the road with friends. We’re about to go talk to her about him helping us with the horses sometimes. Want to join us?”
Something in his eyes told her much more than he’d said aloud. It seemed important that she agree. “Okay.”
Ben opened the gate, pausing a moment to show the boy what he was doing and stressing the importance that all gates on the property be fastened so the horses wouldn’t get loose. He was such a natural with people. Both adults and children. Everybody felt comfortable with him, Ashley included. Despite all of the reasons she didn’t want to be.
“Lead the way, Kurt,” Ben said.
The boy set off, and Ben fell into step beside him. Ashley followed right behind.
After they’d left the driveway and were walking beside the road, Ben said, “You didn’t tell me your last name.”
“Jackson.”
“What’s the name of the family where you’re staying? Your mom’s friends. Maybe I know them.”
Kurt sent him a sour glance.
Ben shrugged. “Okay.” He turned his gaze down the road again.
“Wallace. His name’s Ron. You know him?”
“You know, maybe I met him at the open house we
had here last month. The name sounds a little familiar.”
“I don’t like him much. He’s kinda grumpy.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“His wife’s okay. Her name’s Julie. She tries to keep Mom from cryin’ so much.”
Listening to them, Ashley’s thoughts flashed back to the weeks after her father had died. Her mother had been inconsolable, and Ashley had often felt in the way. So she’d poured out her pain to their neighbor’s pony, and the stodgy little horse had seemed to understand and give comfort back in return.
Kurt pointed. “That’s their place.”
Unlike most other houses on this country road, the Wallace home was fairly new. It didn’t look to be part of a working farm either. No barn. No chicken coop or pasture. Ashley suspected the section of land the home was built on had been sold off by one of the neighbors, probably to raise needed cash. Sadly, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.
Kurt took them to a side door.
“We’ll wait here.” Ben stopped at the bottom of the steps. “You get your mom.”
“Okay.” The boy’s expression was grim once again as he opened the door and disappeared into the house.
“He’s an unhappy little guy,” Ashley said softly.
“Yeah. I’m hoping we can help change that.”
The door opened again, and a young woman, somewhere close to Ashley’s age, appeared on the stoop. “May I help you?” Her face was wan, her brown hair caught with a tie at the nape. Kurt stood right behind her.
Ben put a foot on the bottom step. “Mrs. Jackson, I’m Ben Henning. I’ve got a place down the road a bit. It’s called the Harmony Barn. Maybe you’ve seen the sign. I met Kurt this morning while he was out exploring, and he took a liking to one of our horses.”
She glanced behind her. “What did you do?”
“No, wait,” Ben interrupted. “He’s not in any trouble. He didn’t do anything wrong. I asked him to bring me to meet you because I was hoping he might be able to help around the barn on occasion. You know. After school or weekends. Whenever it was okay with you. He’d always be with an adult.”
Cross My Heart Page 19