“Dr. Logan, I’ll tell you what chores are yours. The one thing you must remember is that the chickens are my responsibility.”
“Then I suppose it’s quite fine with you that I’ve mucked the stalls and fed the animals in the barn this morning.”
She scrunched her face as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him. One of her eyebrows dipped. Was she frustrated because she couldn’t see if he’d done them? Then she sniffed.
“Yep, it’s fine. Doesn’t smell as bad in here as when Heaven does it. You can go with me to the chicken coop, but don’t forget …”
“It’s your responsibility.”
She turned her face his way, and he saw her toothy grin. “Good. You learn quick.”
At the chicken coop, she allowed Travis to open the door that seemed to be hanging from a loose hinge. He would fix that soon. He put one foot inside the door.
“Stop. You can’t come in here, remember.” She had one hand perched on her hip. “Stand in the doorway and wait for me.”
“Yes Little Miss, I’ll mind what you say.” He watched her work, her lower lip rolled between her teeth as she’d slide her hand under a hen and scoop out the egg. Soon she had a basketful.
“We don’t usually get this many. Maybe they knew you’d be here for breakfast.” She cocked her head and fell silent for a moment. “I should cook breakfast this morning, because Heaven won’t be able to stand without hurting herself.”
He could see hope in her face, so he said he’d like that. Now he wondered if she knew how to cook eggs.
As Heaven smoothed the covers on her parents’ bed, her sight landed on the small miniature of them. Her heart crumbled. She remembered Ma setting it on the chest of drawers and saying, “This is our home now, Heaven. Always remember, where we are as a family is our home. It’s not four walls that make a home. It’s family. So no matter where you end up, make those four walls look and feel like your home.”
Ma commented on how sad it was Uncle Neal’s marriage plans fell through, but if he hadn’t made those plans, there probably wouldn’t be the nice wood floor and kitchen stove for them to use now.
Heaven had shot back with some stinging retort about the floors not being quality and what good was a stove if there wasn’t someone to cook for them? Her head dipped to her chest, and the tears flowed as she remembered how she’d acted. What she’d said to her ma. She covered her lips with her hands, but that couldn’t undo words already spoken.
Not long after that, Ma had fallen ill, and she didn’t get a chance to make this cabin feel like their home. Before she died, she’d extracted a promise from Heaven to make the cabin into a home for her sister and Pa.
She hadn’t kept it. The cabin looked almost the same as when they moved in. Except for the branch Ma had found for them to use to hang their mittens and hats, nothing had been changed. The windows were bare. Great-Uncle Neal’s old broken chair still sat in the corner. The few pieces of furniture they’d brought along hugged the walls where Pa had shoved them when they arrived. A happy thought flitted through her sorrow. She could almost hear Pa promising Ma to move them later as soon as she knew where she wanted them and the playful interchange between them.
Now she and Angel were currently without a home of their own. Unless she could convince Travis to give the farm back to her. Maybe they could come to some sort of arrangement where he could live somewhere else and raise his horses here. She’d be willing to let him do that. She never thought about staying here and making it her home, but now that she was about to lose it, she knew it was too late. The farm had become their home. They had memories here, not all good, but some of them were. She would fulfill her promise, find a way to keep this place, and let it blossom into a proper home.
Proper home? Right now it wouldn’t qualify as much more than a shack. She would reread that chapter in Ma’s book about what it took to make a proper home. Then she would start doing it right away, because somehow she must convince Dr. Logan to move on and find another farm for his horses.
She’d stuck the book in her sewing basket by the rocker. Eyeing the distance between the bed and the fireplace, it seemed possible to get there without too much trouble. She hopped on one leg and leaned against the wall for support. Winded, she collapsed into the rocker as the door opened.
Angel bustled through and slammed the door behind her. “Got a bunch of eggs this morning for a change. Dr. Logan says if we had more chickens, we could eat some of the hens that aren’t laying.”
Now why hadn’t she thought of that? Ma would kill a chicken and make a nice dinner for them. Heaven hadn’t ever even tried to do that. After watching her mother pluck feathers, she had no interest. Chicken with green beans would be a nice change from green beans and biscuits and green beans and potatoes.
“I’m going to make the eggs this morning, Heaven. Dr. Logan says you have to stay off of your ankle.” Angel’s voice was puffed with importance.
The mouse-ate-the-cat smile on her face took Heaven by surprise. She didn’t even know Angel wanted to learn to cook. Maybe she did, know—a little. It was dangerous though, and she hadn’t been willing to help her learn. It was much safer to have her roll out the biscuits.
“Think you can manage to roll out the dough while I cook?” Angel’s words issued a challenge as she set the egg basket on the table. “I think we’ll have to use all of these eggs, because Dr. Logan said he was hungry enough to eat the sides of the barn.” She giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Heaven, that’s probably not a proper thing to say.”
Angel held her breath and picked up the still-warm egg. She ran her thumb over a few tiny bumps on the larger end of the oval. She concentrated, not wanting to mess up and have Heaven take over, scolding her and making her feel like she’d never be able to make her own breakfast. She had placed the bowl on the table, and she found it now, tracing the edge closest to her with a finger. Keeping her finger on the bowl, she brought the egg in the other hand to rest next to it. It was time. All she needed to do was smack it against the side and move her hand forward an inch or two. Fast. She let out her breath and took another one.
She smacked it and reached forward. The egg left a satisfying slurp against the bottom of the bowl. She’d done it. Secure in her method, she continued cracking the rest of them in her basket.
“I’m doing it, Heaven. I’m making scrambled eggs. I’m sorry you hurt your ankle, but I’m happy, too, because now I get to make breakfast.”
Her sister sat quietly. Then she heard her start patting out the biscuits. “Yes Angel, I do believe you can make your own breakfast. I think I’m going to make a few extra biscuits, just in case there aren’t enough eggs to satisfy Dr. Logan.”
Angel didn’t comment. She was already planning dinner.
Travis’s teeth grated against a bit of shell. He looked at Heaven. She seemed to be experiencing the same problem with her breakfast. Their eyes met, and the corners of Heaven’s lips began to turn up.
He shook his head, trying to discourage her from smiling. A laugh welled in his stomach, aching for release. He gnawed on his tongue to keep the mirth from bellowing into the room.
“Do you like my yellers?” Angel asked, popping a heaping forkful into her mouth.
Travis waited to see if she would say anything about the shells that had to be in her breakfast.
She chewed and swallowed. “So do you or don’t you like them, Dr. Logan?”
He’d try diplomacy. “For your first try, they aren’t bad. I could use a bit more salt on them.”
“It’s hard to hear salt, and I didn’t want to put in too much.” Angel pushed the saltcellar toward him.
“Thank you.” He salted his eggs and began to pick through them, looking for the offending crunchy pieces. “Heaven, what are you and Angel doing today?”
“I thought you could teach me how to shoot that Spencer so I don’t get knocked back into the cabin when I use it.” Heaven took a long drink of her
coffee.
“Seems to me you didn’t have any problems when you aimed at me.”
“Heaven can’t hit anything with that rifle—except for you. You’re the first thing she’s shot, and we can’t eat you, and even I know that wouldn’t be proper.” Angel took another bite of eggs. “I think I cooked the eggs too long. They’re crunchy.”
Heaven set down her cup. “It’s the shells, Angel. When you cracked the eggs, a few bits of shell fell in. You’ll get the hang of breaking those eggs before long. It took me awhile to learn how to break them cleanly, too.”
“I’ll try it again tomorrow morning, then.” Angel’s feet banged against the bottom rung of her chair. “So, are you going to teach her how to shoot or not, Dr. Logan?”
“I’m not sure how I can do that, Angel. You need to stay off of that sprained ankle, Heaven, so it will heal faster.” He flicked another piece of shell with his fork to the side of his plate.
“Or you could show me while I’m sitting down. Lots of things we could eat are on the ground anyway, like rabbits.”
“It isn’t necessary for you to be shooting game.” Did she think it possible to sit on the ground and shoot? No wonder she hadn’t been able to hit anything.
“Why not? I have to provide for my sister, and I figured while you’re here you could teach me some things.” Her fork clanked against the plate. Her stare intensified, as if daring him to say that this wasn’t where she would be living.
“Because I’m going to do the hunting. You’re either going to marry me or move out. Either way, you won’t be needing to shoot at anything.”
Heaven’s chair grated against the wood floor as she pushed back from the table. “I’ll not marry you—you arrogant—arrogant doctor!”
“Even though it’s what your father wanted?”
She stood, rested her hands on table’s edge, and leaned toward him. “He didn’t know what he wanted. You said yourself he was delirious with a fever. In fact, I don’t think anything written on that paper is real.”
“Are you challenging me?” His stomach curdled, and not from the breakfast. What if she was right? Caleb did have a fever, and she might be able to convince the law he didn’t have ownership of the farm. Now he was concerned. If he didn’t have this place, what would he do with the mare he’d bought to breed?
“I think I’ll see about going to the judge with Pa’s will and ask him what he thinks.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll take one look at you and see you’re a woman and not capable of running a farm and tell you the best thing would be to marry me.” He stood up and leaned across the table and met her halfway. “I’ll be happy to hook Charlie up to the wagon and drive you there.”
Heaven’s knitting needles flew as she fumed. She wanted to stomp around the back pasture and work off her anger, but instead she was stuck inside with this ankle hampering her every move. Her emotions bubbled. Not the pretty kind of bubbles you got from fancy milled soap—more like the kind you get in your stomach before you lose your lunch. Marry him? Indeed. After the way he spoke to her at breakfast? As if being a woman wasn’t worth spit? The most he could do is offer to court her and then ask her to marry him, not assume it would happen because it was written on a piece of paper. Not even if it was signed and legal. She’d take Dr. Logan up on his offer to drive her to the courthouse and fight for this place. Being hitched to him until “death do you part,” despite what her father had wanted, wasn’t going to happen.
She checked her work and noticed she’d dropped a few stitches. Undoing them, she realized her anger wasn’t helping her progress on Angel’s Christmas gift.
It was just like Pa to try and fix a mess that never would have happened if he’d been responsible just once. Pa lived by that verse about the birds of the air and fields of flowers never worrying about what to wear. He said God took care of everything, so he didn’t need to. Heaven thought that was purely bad Bible reading. It wasn’t using your common sense to live like that, if you tried you went hungry and your family had no home to live in.
The rocker under her moved faster. If that verse was true, she wouldn’t be sitting here with a sprained ankle, a root cellar full of nothing but green beans, and a man trying to marry her.
It didn’t matter how good-looking he was or how nice he was to her and Angel. She didn’t love him. But could she? Could she grow to love him? The rocker slowed. Could she marry him? Had God provided for her and Angel? If she wasn’t so prideful, she’d march out to the barn where he was probably measuring for expansion and winning over Angel and tell him she would marry him.
But that wasn’t right. Ma always said it’s best to marry for love. And she didn’t love Dr. Travis Logan.
Angel opened the door. Fresh cool air blew through the room, making the flames in the fireplace dance. “Are you still mad? ‘Cause if you’re not, Dr. Logan wants to know if you still want to learn how to shoot. He said if you’re mad though, you shouldn’t come out ‘cause he doesn’t want to hand you a loaded gun in his—his presents.”
“Presence.”
“That’s what I said, but I didn’t see any presents.”
“Presence means being around somebody, not gifts.”
Angel frowned. “That’s not interesting. I thought we were going to get presents from him. He oughta give us something since he’s getting our farm. Don’t you think, Heaven? Why did Pa do that? Give us away like that?”
“I’m not sure.” She set her knitting in the basket next to the rocker. “Come sit here with me for a bit.”
Angel climbed into her lap and leaned her head against Heaven’s shoulder.
Heaven wrapped her sister in a hug and began to rock. “Pa was sick. Remember how Ma was when she had the fever? She would ask us to do strange things like chase fireflies in her room.”
“She asked me to bring my pony around so she could feed him a carrot, too. I didn’t have a pony.”
“That’s right, she did. The fever made her see things that weren’t real and made her say things she didn’t mean.”
“Did I do that, too?”
A lump formed in Heaven’s throat as she remembered her fight to keep her sister from following her ma to the grave. She didn’t want to think about that week.
“Did I?”
“Yes, you asked me to get your pet rabbit and put him in bed with you.”
“I didn’t have a pet rabbit.”
“No, you didn’t, but you had a name for him.”
“I did?”
“You called him Knocksbury.”
Angel giggled. “That’s a funny name. Why did I call him that?”
Heaven ached at the memory of the frantic feelings of not being able to bring her sister’s fever down and Angel crying out for Knocksbury to help her. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 10
Travis cracked open the door and peeked inside. “Can I come in? Angel, you didn’t come back. Are you both mad at me now?” Travis stepped inside. He’d had a long listen to what God had to say about his behavior. Not that he heard God’s voice like Abraham and Moses. If a bush ever started speaking to him, he wouldn’t be as brave as Moses. He’d hightail it so fast his feet would melt on the path. He had come to the realization that he had been unkind to Heaven. The verse about taking care of widows and orphans sat heavy on his heart. He was here to eat humble pie and ask for forgiveness.
“Still mad, but not angry enough to shoot you. Angel said you would teach me if I came outside.” “But you’re still inside.” “Angel and I had to do some talking.” “About me?” He wouldn’t blame them if they’d been tearing him apart, but when he walked up to the door, he’d heard giggles. Maybe they were making fun of him. His heart tore a bit.
“You and Pa.” Heaven leveled her gaze at him. “We were wondering exactly what he said to you while he was feverish.”
“Did he say funny things like me when I was sick?” Angel smiled in his direction.
“He did say one odd thing over and
over. I never could figure out what he was trying to tell me.” He pulled a kitchen chair over by them and straddled it. “Tell us, please.”
His eyes followed Heaven’s hand as she brushed a piece of that tantalizing blond hair back behind her ear. Why did he want to touch it so much?
He weighed his words before saying them. He imagined they were hoping for words of love about them. He decided to give them the puzzling statements, hoping they wouldn’t ask for more, especially Angel.
“Your Pa kept saying something about green beans—to eat enough and I would be sustained.” “Green beans?” Heaven sputtered. “Those nasty green beans?” Angel laughed. They broke into gales of laughter. Travis didn’t understand the humor, but the sound delighted him.
Once they’d quieted, Travis decided to teach Heaven how to shoot. She was too beautiful and Angel too precious, and he wanted to see to it that Heaven could protect them both if needed. “Get out of the chair. I’ll teach you how to shoot.” Angel hopped off her sister’s lap, and Heaven rose. “Angel, get the door please. Heaven, I think if you sit in a chair, we can work out the fundamentals. Stay there, Heaven, and I’ll come back for you.” He picked up the rocker and held it in front of him. The way her eyes narrowed when he brought the idea up suggested she didn’t think it would work. He carried the chair to the yard and turned around to go get Heaven.
She stood on the porch with the front of that ugly black skirt in one hand hoisted just enough to make it easier to walk down the stairs without tripping. The other hand gripped the porch post.
“Heaven, I told you I would carry you out here.” The woman was stubborn and independent. Those could be seen as good qualities, but right now he couldn’t come up with when that might be.
“I’m able to walk well enough on my own.” She took a step, and pain flashed like lightning across her face.
“Stay put, will you?” In a few steps, before she had time to argue, he scooped her up in his arms.
Bride's Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee Page 10