Waiting Out the Storm

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “I had help.” He smiled, leading her forward. He saw no sense admitting that left to his own devices he might not have purchased the land if he’d known Sarah was his closest neighbor.

  But God knew. As sure as Craig was that he’d come home to the future God planned for him, he couldn’t say he’d have understood the possibilities six months previous. “The credit goes to divine intervention,” he continued, drawing her into the living room.

  The soft carpet invited repose. Bending, Sarah stirred her fingers through the thick fibers. “Great density.”

  “I used to play on the floor with Rocket,” he told her, smiling. “Now Lady chases my socks.”

  “I’ll bet she loves that. What’s this?” She crossed the room and lifted a wooden carving from the mantel. Her expression waxed from appreciative to puzzled. She turned Craig’s way, the piece raised up. “A white fawn.”

  He nodded, holding her gaze. “Yes.”

  The pale baby nuzzled the underside of the taupe-toned deer, rooting for food while the mother gave licks of attention to the fawn’s neck. It was an intimate look at mother and child, accepted regardless of their obvious differences.

  “I ordered it for you. From Hy Everts.”

  Sarah studied the exquisite detail. From the muscle definition of the doe’s withers to the almost visible quiver of the fawn’s tail, the piece was nature, captured in wood. “It’s wonderful.”

  Craig stepped forward. “I wanted something different. Something special for you, so you’d know that none of the controversy mattered anymore. Once I got to know you, I realized how stupid I’d been. I wanted to make it up to you.”

  Her lip trembled. She held the carved figure lightly, studying the mother-child configuration, her fingers caressing the doe’s smooth head. Craig’s hands closed over hers. Looking up, she met his gaze. “It’s beautiful, Craig. It reminds me of my mother.” He smiled.

  “Do I get to take it home?”

  “Not yet. Come see the rest.”

  Sarah set the statue back in place and reached for his hand. “I’m all yours.”

  Grasping her fingers, he prayed the expression was more than just a casual phrase and led her up the open stairs. “There’s a bedroom downstairs,” he waved to the left, “in front of the laundry room/bathroom combo. This is the loft.” He watched her eyes wander the open area. “I thought it would make a great alternative sleeping area. Maybe a futon or sleep sofa that can be used as a bed when necessary. What do you think?”

  She smiled up at him. “I think you’re right. Something in earth tones, to pull up that shade of brick red from downstairs. I love that you kept the wood light. Dark, heavy woods can be overbearing in the winter.”

  He nodded, pulling her forward once again. “Bedrooms here and here. Bath. Master bedroom.” Stepping in, he hit a switch. Soft light infused the space, illuminating the furnishings. A massive Adirondack log bed centered the room, its rugged qualities a focal point. To the left were closets, large and roomy. To the right, a dresser and chest of drawers. Then a master bath. Eyeing the double fixtures, she turned back to him. “It’s gorgeous, Craig. Perfect.”

  He made a face. “Not quite. Something’s missing.”

  “Oh?” She turned, eyeing the room. The near windows overlooked the pond site below. The far windows embraced forestland. She turned, her forehead furrowed. “Well, it needs curtains. And bedding. Touches of color here and there. But it’s wonderful.”

  “It’s got potential,” he agreed, drawing her back. He slipped his arms around her from behind, surveying the room. Touched his lips to her hair before he shifted them to her ear. “But I’m no good with that color stuff,” he said softly. “What would you suggest?”

  She leaned against the strength of his chest, his arms, as if she belonged there, feeling too right, too natural not to belong there. “The bed’s rugged, so I’d soften it with light colors. A little red to continue that thread, but I’d pick a comforter that brings spring into the room year-round. Maybe yellows and greens with sprigs of red.” Tilting her head she glanced up at him. “I’d use a soft window covering. Curtains, not drapes. Probably swagged to open the view but diffuse the light.”

  “When can we shop?”

  She turned, surprised. “You want me to shop with you?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He dropped his mouth to hers and languished in the kiss he’d longed for, feeling her melt into the embrace, the beat of his heart against hers. “And then I want you to share it with me. Marry me. Thread all the red you want to, honey, as long as I come home to find you waiting for me every night.”

  “Craig…” Her gaze shot up, mouth open, surprised.

  “I love you, Sarah. Marry me. Please.”

  She stepped back, hands to her cheeks. Craig watched her, waiting.

  “You’re sure?” Her voice wasn’t the strong, self-assured Abenaki tone she’d mastered over the years. It was soft, hesitant, but filled with hope.

  “Real sure.” He stepped forward, smiling. “How about you?”

  “I—”

  “Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” Grabbing her hand, he led her back through the loft, down the stairs, around the corner, through the kitchen and service areas to the garage beyond. “Come here.”

  Still tugging, he guided her through the second garage bay to the back door, then made her close her eyes before she stepped through. “Okay,” he told her. “Open your eyes.”

  “Craig.” Kenneled beyond the garage was Lady, the fast-growing Border Collie she’d offered him in trade. Alongside were two Shetland ewes, soft and round. One was moorittoned, a blend of browns and blacks. The other was red, her wavy hair glinting copper in the angled rays of the morning sun. “Craig.”

  Sarah turned, her eyes wet with unshed tears. He gathered her in, feeling her chest heave with emotion. “Hey. Hey. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just thought it would be a good time to start that side flock. Give you spinning wool. You like them?” Nudging her away, he leaned down to catch her eye. “Pretty colors, huh?”

  “Beautiful.” She reached up for his kiss, then burrowed her head into his chest once more. “Yes.”

  He frowned. “Yes?”

  She raised her face to his, then looped her hands around his neck. “You asked me a question upstairs. The answer is yes.”

  Craig laughed. “Honey, I knew that.”

  “Really?” She angled her head, eyeing him.

  “I figured if the kitchen didn’t do it, the bedroom would,” he teased, letting his eyes twinkle in amusement. “The sheep were just frosting on the cake.”

  “You’re still cocky.” She watched him a long moment, then launched herself into his arms, laughing. “I love it.”

  “And me?” Kissing her once more, he set her down with care and studied her face, his hand caressing the side that had been damaged. “Do you love me, Sarah?”

  “Oh, Craig.” She drew a deep breath and put a hand up over his. “How could you possibly not know? With all my heart.”

  A load he hadn’t known he carried eased away. “I asked your father for your hand.”

  Surprise and dismay vied for her features. “Ouch. How did that go?”

  “Like you’d expect,” Craig told her, his hands cradling her face. He narrowed his eyes and angled his head, wanting her to understand why he’d approached Tom Sr. at all, but unwilling to give her the details of a conversation best left unspoken. “I didn’t want anything to stand in our way. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  He grinned at the prophetic words. “Music to my ears, Wise Woman. Let’s set a date.”

  “Aren’t you tired?” She traced her fingers along the curve of his jaw, his neck. “You haven’t slept.”

  “I’ll sleep,” he promised, drawing her back inside. He grabbed a calendar from the wall near the phone. “Pick.”

  She pointed to the first Saturday of October. “The leaves will be beautiful then.”

  She surprise
d him, but he wasn’t about to argue. “Five weeks. Can we do it?”

  She nodded. “Small. Cozy. I’m not a big wedding kind of girl, Doc.”

  “You’re sure? You only get to do this once.”

  She nodded, smiling. “I’m sure.” Taking his hands into hers, she threw him a curve. “But before we go any farther, we need to talk about family.”

  “We just did. My parents are ecstatic and your father is informed. About the best we can hope for at this point.”

  She shook her head. “I mean our family.” She gazed up at him, her look intent. “I want children.”

  He read the future in her eyes. His heart swelled. “Me, too. As soon as possible and as many as you’re willing to have,” he answered immediately.

  “I wouldn’t mind a little time alone with you first,” she confessed, flushing.

  “I see potential in that,” he agreed, grinning. The hand around her waist tugged her closer. “Great potential, in fact.”

  “But then I want a noisy house,” she warned, teaing. “Babies, puppies and the occasional lamb that needs warming.”

  “It’s a good thing I built big,” he answered, dropping his mouth to hers once more. “And that the lowest level is meant to be finished and useful. I’m ready to fill it whenever you are, honey.”

  She met his kiss with one in return. “We’ll discuss it on the honeymoon.”

  His face creased. “Now, that’s a problem. There’s no way I’ll get time off next month. I’ve used up my vacation working on the house and fishing.” He gestured to the home around them with a wave of his hand. “Is that okay?”

  Sarah’s gaze wandered the home. “Can’t we just honeymoon here?” She raised big brown eyes to his. “Play house?”

  The thought of playing house with Sarah had him wishing time away in fast forward. “I’d love to play house with you, Mrs. Macklin.” He smiled at her reaction to the name, then fished in his pocket. From a small brown velvet case he removed a ring. “This was my grandmother’s,” he told her, holding it out. “She left it to me. If you don’t like it, we can shop for another. Or have it reset.”

  The faceted diamond flashed in a deep gold setting, surrounded by pierced openwork. Tiny diamonds channeled thin gold lines, a sparkling metallic lacework. The antique ring offered old world beauty. Sarah held out her hand. “We won’t change a thing,” she declared, smiling as he slipped the ring into place. “It’s perfect, Craig.”

  Craig slipped his arms around her, catching her mouth in a kiss of betrothal. “My sentiments exactly.”

  Dear Reader,

  Adult choices are often inspired by childhood dreams.

  My favorite childhood book was Understand Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield Fisher, a poignant story of a pampered girl’s coming of age on a working farm. Cousin Ann’s child-raising concepts inspired my own mothering techniques.

  Years ago my mother related a story of three small children who lost their parents. Despite having a big family, these children ended up in foster care.

  As a mother and former foster care provider, the idea that no one stepped forward to take these children broke my heart. How I wish there had been an Aunt Sarah to help, or a Cousin Ann, a family member to embrace these children, make them their own.

  More than ever families need to support one another in our busy, disjointed, technologically advanced society. Simple things like sharing a meal, a story, a walk or a chore mean so much to a yearning child. In this story Sarah recognizes a need and fills it, determined to do the right thing despite her dysfunctional family history.

  I’d love to hear your stories, thoughts and opinions. Feel free to visit me at ruthloganherne.com or e-mail me at loganherne@gmail.com. If you prefer snail mail, drop me a line care of Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Ruthy

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  Sarah returns to the North Country to help Rita and the kids after her brother’s death. Given her family dynamics, it’s a huge sacrifice that shows little initial promise. Have you ever experienced that kind of reluctant change, only to have wonderful things happen as a result?

  Craig’s affinity for pretty girls nicks Sarah’s self-confidence. Her self-image is warped by her brothers’ emotional abuse. How can we help young people maintain a good self-image in spite of their surroundings?

  Skeeter presents a challenge to Sarah when her pouty behavior belies her cuteness. What are some of the pitfalls that loom when you take on someone else’s children for the long or short term?

  Living in the country presents opportunities and obstacles. Brett learns to embrace the opportunity of the farm and Sarah’s way of life. Liv yearns for town, for people, for things to do. Which do you prefer, city or country? Why?

  As Craig recognizes his growing affection for Sarah, he sees their families as roadblocks instead of seeing their romantic relationship as a building block to bridge family problems. How often do we see the glass as half-empty rather than half-full?

  Craig’s initial perception of Sarah is of someone mono-toned and reserved, with little affect. When he glimpses a hint of her inner turmoil after the roadside encounter with Brett and Liv, his opinion begins to change. How does clinging to our perceptions impede our spiritual and emotional growth?

  Sarah’s attempt to gain help from her father and half brother is unsuccessful. With no mother and a father who spurns her, Sarah chooses to draw strength from her Heavenly Father. How do our choices and behaviors affect the young people watching us daily? Do we give them the best example to emulate?

  Sarah works hard to maintain a stoic nature despite difficult times, a trait she learned from her mother. When Craig goes out of his way to be nice to her, she doesn’t know how to react. Can you think of times when a gentle demeanor offset anger or defused a volatile situation?

  When Brett finds Craig at the Water Flow, Craig realizes the boy needs the influence of a good man and he steps into that role. Is it reasonable to expect a gentle hand of leadership can turn a life around, make a difference in this day and age?

  Craig faces his Rubicon when he must leave an injured Sarah to fend for herself and wrestle her own insecurities. As a take-charge man and a healer, this goes against his grain. How difficult is it to trust those we love to God, to walk away when we’re convinced we know better?

  Craig admits to himself that if he’d known Sarah’s farm lay across the road from his building lot, he probably wouldn’t have bought it. He gives God the credit for seeing down a road Craig couldn’t discern. Has God ever opened doors for you without you recognizing it at the time?

  When Craig asks Brett to join him at a widely attended town function, he knows he must inform his grandmother. To his surprise, his step forward opens doors for Rita’s return to town life. How often do our actions spur a ripple effect among others, where good inspires more good?

  Proximity thrusts Craig and Sarah together although they’ve never actually dated. How important is proximity to a relationship and what can couples do to promote proximity during today’s busy lifestyles?

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6077-5

  WAITING OUT THE STORM

  Copyright © 2010 by Ruth M. Blodgett

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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