by Lori Wick
As always the two were plagued by the identity of their employer, or rather the lack thereof. When at first their services had been employed, the jobs were nondescript and, even though the margin was narrow, within the confines of the law. But all this had changed a number of weeks back when they were asked to rob a farmhouse. The amount taken was very small, but it became obvious that they were being tested when the next farm robbery had yielded a substantially larger amount.
Even as the men climbed stairs at the back of the largest saloon in town and entered their room, each harbored a small hope within his breast that this note would give some clue as to the identity of the mysterious, darkly cloaked figure with whom they were doing business.
14
The letter began “Dear Silas” and it was from his grandmother. She wrote of herself and the family, along with asking many questions as to the welfare of the Nolan household. Silas had had precious few moments with his Grandma Em in the last month, what with his trip to Chicago and then leaving almost immediately for Neillsville. He missed her more than he thought possible. The letter was the next best thing to talking with her, but it made him feel the void of her missing presence all the more.
Unbidden, the fact came to Silas’ mind that his grandmother was not getting any younger. He couldn’t imagine life without her, and he immediately pushed the thought aside. She was with them now and he could see no reason to torture himself with images of a future without her.
An unfamiliar man’s voice drifted up through Silas’ open bedroom door to interrupt his musing. He listened for a moment from his place on the bed and caught sounds of Amy’s voice before setting his letter aside and descending the stairs to appease his curiosity.
“Oh Silas, I’m glad you came down,” Amy spoke the minute she spotted him. “This is Doc Schaefer. He’s here to check on Dad.”
The men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Both Silas and Amy watched as the doctor moved into Grant’s bedroom with easy familiarity, shutting the door behind him. Amy headed back into the kitchen and Silas went outside.
The weather was warm, surprisingly so for this early in the year, but the ground was still too wet to even start thinking about the crops. Silas’ mind turned to the painting of the house.
Grant must have worked quickly because the front and sides of the house were done, leaving just the back and the trim. Standing at the back of the house, Silas could see where Grant had started to paint at the apex of the gabled roof. His eye measured the distance from the spot near the roof to the ground. No wonder Grant was in pain. Silas winced at the thought of Grant’s fall.
“When do you plan to start?” Amy spoke as she came around the corner of the house.
“Monday morning, pending the weather.”
Amy nodded and looked to the small section her father had already painted, far above the ground. She didn’t say anything to Silas but she was determined: Come Monday she would be out here holding the ladder when he climbed it.
The couple began moving toward the front of the house. “I’ve asked Doc to stay for supper, it’s nearly ready.”
“I thought I smelled pie,” Silas said with a pleased grin.
“That you did—last year’s peaches.” Silas held the door for Amy and, as they entered the house, the aromas that assailed Silas told him Amy had been hard at work.
Doc Schaefer was an easy man to talk with or rather to listen to. He knew everyone within miles and loved to give the latest news to any willing ear. Silas learned that Carrie Nelson had just given birth to a large, healthy girl and that he suspected Maria Southern was carrying twins.
The doctor’s diagnosis on Grant had been a little less than encouraging. The healing process was slow and Grant would be off his feet for an indefinite period of time. Grant had not joined them at the supper table this night, and Silas strongly suspected his spirits were low. Both he and Amy had been in to check on him before retiring for the night and, even though Grant was talkative, Silas knew he was discouraged over his bedridden state.
Amy went to bed with much the same thought as Silas. She reached for the Bible she kept on the table by her bed and turned to the Book of Isaiah. In the fifty-fifth chapter, verses eight and nine she read, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Reading these words helped restore some of Amy’s peace and calm her questions about why so many painful things had entered their lives.
Suddenly Amy remembered something. She jumped out of bed to look for a poem she had written after her mother died. It was in the bottom of the chest which sat at the foot of her bed. After reading it over again, Amy thought of how good it would sound put to music.
Amy got back into bed with a purpose in her heart. She would try not to dwell on her dad’s accident or on the answer she must give to her uncle and she would give special attention to putting some notes to the words of her poem.
When Amy finally did drift off to sleep, it was with a more peaceful heart and with joy that tomorrow was Sunday, a day set aside for fellowship and learning about her Lord.
15
Silas stood fingering his beard before the mirror that hung over his washstand. The words ending his grandmother’s letter came back to him: “You are such a peaceful, consistent part of our lives, Silas. You never seem to change as the years go on, and sometimes I think this is what makes you so special.”
He knew very well that his grandmother had meant this in only the kindest terms, but somehow the words bothered him. Silas did not believe for a moment that a man’s physical appearance altered his personality—to which he was sure his Grandma Em was referring, but somehow he had this tremendous urge to change something about his looks.
He glanced down at the razor near his hand, still a little bemused at what might have compelled him to bring it along. It had been years since he’d used it. Once more he looked up into the mirror. “I’ll do it,” he thought. And having made up his mind, it was as good as done.
Amy was just turning away from the stove when Silas entered the kitchen. At least she thought it was Silas. The bowl of oatmeal dropped from her hands and landed hard on the table.
Silas stood completely still and watched Amy move toward him as though she were in a trance. Her beautiful blue eyes were wide as she surveyed his new face. His beard was gone. His upper lip still sported a full, dark mustache, but his beard was completely gone. Amy had always thought Silas nice-looking, but suddenly those words were a gross understatement. His jaw was strong and his chin had a tiny cleft in it. His cheeks were leaner than you would have expected to find under all that hair. Somehow the absence of his beard made his eyes stand out, and Amy noticed for the first time how blue they were. The skin of his lower face was several shades lighter than his upper cheeks and forehead, but it didn’t detract from his looks. One word came quickly to mind: beautiful.
Amy was unaware that she had spoken the word aloud until Silas smiled so wide the cleft in his chin disappeared. Amy blushed to her hairline. Silas, on the other hand, was pleased beyond words.
Amy turned away in confusion, realizing that until that moment she had never looked at Silas as being anything more than a big brother. Seeing him like this, as a woman sees an attractive man, was a bit disconcerting. Suddenly she felt rather childish and wondered if maybe this was the way Thomas had perceived her, as a little girl.
“Do I really look okay, Amy?”
Amy immediately picked up the hesitancy in his voice and turned to find she was right. This big, self-assured man was in need of a little encouragement. Amy doubted that Silas knew his insecurity was written all over his face. Suddenly he was her big brother again, and Amy answered with sincerity. “You look great, Silas. I’ve just never noticed what pretty eyes you have.” She grinned mischievously before she went on. “The girls at church will be begging for introductions. And Mrs. Anderso
n, before she recognizes you, will be sure I’ve got another suitor for her girls.”
Silas touched his bare face. “I wonder if I could stick the hair back on.”
Amy laughed at his chagrined tone and gave him no mercy. “Come now, Silas, you might find one of the Anderson girls very nice.”
“It isn’t the girls I object to. It’s the idea of Mrs. Anderson as a mother-in-law that has me doubting.”
Amy laughed again, but it sounded hollow to her own ears. She couldn’t understand the funny feeling coming over her at the thought of Silas interested in one of the girls at church. It was still on her mind when they pulled out of the yard in the buggy.
Amy would have been surprised to know that Silas’ thoughts were along the same vein. What was it that caused a man to become more attracted to one woman than an other? His brother Luke had known the women at church for years, and yet by his own admission he had had to fight his attraction for Christine almost from the moment he laid eyes on her. Had she been a Christian when they’d first met, Luke would no doubt have carried her off and married her within the first week. Silas missed them terribly, especially little Josh, but it was almost a relief to be away for a spell. Luke and Christine’s marriage was a warm and loving one, and even though they never made Silas uncomfortable with their shows of affection, they did make him long for a wife and child of his own.
Suddenly Silas’ thoughts turned to Amy. How was it for her after planning to be married, expecting a home of her own, with a husband at her side, only to have those plans dashed in an instant?
April Nolan, Amy’s aunt who lived in Baxter, knew Silas cared deeply for Grant and Amy. After Amy had written to her about the change in her wedding plans, April had talked with Silas. He was sure Amy was unaware that her aunt had shared with him.
Maybe it was because Silas had met Amy as a vulnerable 14-year-old girl who had just lost her mother, but he knew he was more than a little protective of her. The idea of seeing her hurt caused him deep pain. He worried a bit over what his reaction would be if he were to meet Thomas Blane.
Silas was so deep in his own thoughts and prayer he did not notice Amy’s own silence. In fact, he was still praying as they pulled into the churchyard.
16
Silas and Amy spent the first few minutes at the church reacquainting Silas with members of the church family. Many of the faces were familiar, giving Silas a warm-sense of belonging.
Amy’s prediction had been correct. Mrs. Anderson bore down upon them with surprising speed, dragging two very shy-looking daughters in her wake. Even though Silas must have been a lost cause in Mrs. Anderson’s eyes, he was introduced to Brenda and Clare. They were indeed shy, and Silas felt a little sorry for the awkward situation in which their mother had put them.
With the introduction over, Silas turned to see if Amy was ready to go only to find her studying him intently.
“Did you change your mind about my looks without a beard?” Amy didn’t answer his teasing question, but continued to stare at him for a few moments, completely unaware of her scrutiny. “Amy, is something wrong?”
“Silas, why aren’t you married?”
“What?” Silas bent low over Amy to lessen the difference in their heights; he was sure he had misunderstood her. “What did you say?”
“I asked why you have never married, but I’m sorry I did. It’s none of my business.” Amy could feel the warmth in her cheeks as Silas looked at her in confusion. What was the matter with her? She was never uncomfortable with Silas and not at all used to making a fool of herself. Amy watched as Silas opened his mouth to speak, but the church bell began to ring and Amy was sure the relief she saw on Silas’ face was just as evident on her own.
Silas sat in the second bench as Amy moved a few feet up to the piano. Her movements were sure and graceful, but to Silas she looked preoccupied. Whatever had prompted her question to him regarding his marital status? Silas wanted to mull the thought over, but the service was starting and he tried to shift his mind to the present.
Silas watched as Pastor Johnson stepped behind the small pulpit at the front of the church. The man was small, petite in height and frame. But he had an air of authority about him, and his sermons were doctrinally sound. As much as Silas enjoyed his preaching, he had a feeling that today his mind would be elsewhere. With effort he pulled his mind away from Amy as the pastor led the small congregation in a few songs. The pastor then directed everyone to turn to Psalm 121 and to follow along as he read.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.
They sang two more songs and then were launched into the sermon. Snatches of the message from 1 John came through to Silas, but for the most part he was miles away. He glanced at Amy often and noticed she didn’t even have her Bible open. When Amy rose from his side to play the closing hymn, Silas was appalled. What was the matter with him that he could not even take time from his own thoughts to hear God’s Word preached?
For the most part, Silas and Amy were quiet on the ride back to the farm. Amy’s mind kept returning to the few words she had with Silas before going into the church. Her embarrassment kept her quiet not only for the ride home but for most of the day.
Sunday was usually spent relaxing, so when Grant was settled back in his bed after the noon meal Amy went off to her room for the rest of the afternoon.
Silas spent the day in his room also. He prayed and read his Bible for over two hours. For some reason his prayers were very concentrated on Amy, and by the time supper rolled around he couldn’t even think of her without feeling tears at the back of his eyes.
The day passed so quietly that Silas couldn’t help wondering what Monday and the new week would bring.
17
“Amy, you don’t have to do this.” Silas spoke the words for the third time, but the girl on the ground stood mute, holding the ladder in firm determination. Silas tried one more time, but she wouldn’t even look up at him.
He sighed in exasperation. They had argued over breakfast, they had argued while milking, and then again as Silas climbed the ladder. Or rather, Silas had argued—Amy had just listened in stubborn silence after announcing that morning that she planned to hold the ladder while he painted.
Silas started back down the ladder. Amy moved aside as he neared the bottom. He stood frowning at her, and Amy returned his look without apology. Silas was tempted to order her into the house, but he knew she wouldn’t go. It would also hurt her feelings, and that was something he would not do. With this thought in mind, his words to her were kind.
“Amy, I’m not going to fall.”
“That’s right, you’re not.” The firmness of her statement would have been more believable if her lower lip had not trembled.
Something inside of Silas melted as he witnessed her fear and vulnerability. He grabbed her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug. When he set her from him, the hands holding her upper arms were tight. “Amy, I understand your fear, but I don’t believe God is going to let me fall from the ladder. Your dad and I have talked. Even if you had been out here that day, you could not have stopped his fall. In fact, from what Grant described, he would have fallen on top of you had you been standing here.”
Amy followed his finger as he pointed to the foot of the ladder. “Amy, you’re going to have to trust God in this even though it frightens you. If it makes you feel better to hold the ladder, that’s fine. But God alone has control over this.”
Silas’ arms dropped to his side, and Amy turned to look out over the s
urrounding landscape. With the way she was chewing on her lower lip, Silas was sure she wasn’t seeing the land at all.
Silas figured Amy must have come to some peace because she turned to Silas after a few minutes and said, “I’ll be out to check on how you’re coming a little later.”
Once in the kitchen, Amy stood and tried to calm the pounding of her heart. Silas was right—she could do nothing outside. It did feel better to hold the ladder, but Amy knew if she did that she would be trusting in herself and not God to keep Silas safe.
Almost of their own volition, Amy’s feet moved toward her father’s bedroom.
Grant was awake and looking almost as though he had been waiting for her. The curtain moved slightly against the window, and Amy instantly knew he had been. With the window open slightly, he had heard her entire conversation with Silas.
Grant patted the edge of the bed and Amy settled herself next to him. “Silas is right,” he said without preamble. “God sent him to us in our time of need and I trust that God will take care of him. When he first asked me about finishing the painting I was against it, but I realized this was pride. I’ve had to face the fact that right now I can’t climb that ladder and may never be able to again. Well, I wasn’t about to let you finish the painting, so you can see I didn’t have many options. Amy, your fear is understandable, but everything is going to be fine. God will take care of Silas.”