by Linda Ford
Her mother’s gaze drifted past Kate to something in the distance. “As a child I lived in a little yellow house with fancy gingerbread trim where the roof peaked. There was a low little attic room under the eaves. It was cold in the winter, sweltering in the summer but it was my favorite place. I would play among the castaway things and pretend I lived in a different place, a different time.”
With a huge sigh, Kate lay on her back. “Why did you leave?”
“I grew up. Met your father. He was so excited about moving west. I’d always wanted to see the West so it was easy to agree to go with him. Course I loved him lots.” She smiled at Kate. “Still do.”
Kate thought she must love him an awful lot to follow him around the country, year after year having no place to call her own.
“If I ever had a place of my own, I’d never leave it.”
“You would if you had enough reason.”
“No reason would be good enough.”
Kate tried to remember what her mother’s reply had been. Seems she hadn’t wanted to hear. Now she knew there might be a reason strong enough to make her leave her home and security.
Hatcher. If he sent her a message asking her to join him, would she go?
If not for her children, she’d follow him on the road as her mother had but her children needed and deserved a home.
She needed more, too. Or was it less?
But what?
Security. They all needed safety and security.
Suddenly she remembered how her mother had answered. “I have an eternal home that will be better than any house ever built.”
“Better than a palace?”
“Much. It will be beautiful and it will be mine to share with those I love. Best of all, my Lord and Savior will be there.”
Kate remembered how she’d thrilled to her mother’s assurance.
“Katie, girl, it doesn’t matter what we have here on earth because wherever we go, whether we live in a house or under a tarp, God is with us. In the Psalms it says, ‘Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.... He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God: in him will I trust.... he shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust.’ Child, what could be better than that?”
The words had comforted her—until it rained and she was cold and miserable.
But now her mother’s words echoed in her mind.
It never seemed to matter that they left a perfectly good house to camp at the side of the road, or huddle cold and hungry as her father searched for a better place for them. Through it all her mother remained calm and accepting.
Kate wanted the kind of peace and assurance her mother had. She’d thought she’d find it by having a house she would never have to leave, a place of her own. Security.
An anchor for her soul.
But it wasn’t a house and farm she needed. It was trust—trust in God’s love and care.
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.
She rested her tea cup on her knee and stared out at the wheat field. The plants had emerged sporadically. Some had since been cut off by the driving winds. Others had withered and died under the relentless sun. A few stubbornly held their own, but showed little growth. Her crop wouldn’t be worth cutting for anything but feed, unless they got a good soaking rain soon. She considered the barn, the lean-to where the old beast was parked, the garden that struggled to survive the heat and wind.
Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to day in the field, and to morrow cast into the over; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?
“Oh, Lord,” she groaned. “I know You will always take care of me. Help me trust You for all my needs.”
She wanted to trust God. Years of stubbornly providing her own security were hard to lay aside.
Over the next few days she struggled with her feelings often crying, “Lord, help my unbelief.”
Today she headed for the garden to check and see if there were any potatoes big enough to steal from under the plant.
As she knelt and searched in the dirt for the small hard lumps that would be baby potatoes, she heard the words. “Let not your heart be troubled. Neither let it be afraid.”
She jerked around to see who spoke. She was alone. She sat in the dirt between rows of green potato plants.
“Let not your heart be troubled. Neither let it be afraid.”
She knew the words came from her own thoughts, recognized them as scripture. But as surely as if God had sent an angel to stand in the middle of the garden and deliver the message, she knew the words came straight from God’s heart to hers. With gulping sobs, she surrendered her needs to Him, trusting Him to provide the security she craved and wanted to provide her children.
Like a flash she saw and understood several things. She couldn’t manage the farm on her own but there was a way she could keep the house, provide a warm safe place for herself and the children. The solution seemed so obvious it amazed her she hadn’t done it in the first place.
She’d rent out the land to a neighbor on the understanding she be allowed to keep the house and barn. The only way anyone would take it under the drought conditions was if the rent were based on crop share. The more the renter got, the more Kate got. Of course, the reverse also applied—less crop, less rent. But without the costs and work of trying to farm, she could manage with the garden and by keeping a couple of cows and the chickens.
She slowed her thoughts to remind herself: Whatever they needed, God would provide.
“Lord,” she prayed as she dug out enough potatoes for supper. “I give you also my love for Hatcher. I want him to come back but I leave it in Your hands.”
It was probably the hardest decision she’d ever made. She would never stop loving him and hoping for his return. No doubt she’d have to remind herself over and over that what mattered most was that God would heal his heart. Until then...
She felt considerably more at peace in the following days. She would wait until after the meager harvest or even toward spring to approach her neighbors about renting her land.
Today as she waved the children off to school, she noticed a thread of smoke twisting above the trees across the road. Her heart squeezed hard. Hatcher had once camped there.
She shook away the thought. Other hobos used the spot. She returned to the house to finish separating the milk, then grabbed a hat and headed for the garden. Even knowing how futile it was to hope, she glanced toward the trees.
A man stood in the shadows.
Kate blinked. The way he stood...the way he touched the brim of his hat...
“Hatcher?” she whispered, and stared hard trying to see more clearly.
The man stepped from the shadows. The sun flashed across his face. He started across the field.
“Hatcher,” she screamed, her feet racing down the lane. She didn’t slow until she was within arm’s reach then she skidded to a stop, restrained herself from fleeing into his embrace. Why had he come?
“You’ve come back.” Her words came out breathless more from the crash of emotions through her than the effort of the short run.
He didn’t speak, his gaze warm and searching as he considered her chin, her mouth, her eyes.
She smiled. “I’ve been waiting and hoping and praying you’d come back.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I hate to think of anyone out in the cold. I can offer you a warm place.”
“I’ve already found one.”
She ducked her head to hide her disappointment.
; He tipped her chin up. “Right here.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “You showed me how to feel again. How to trust. Myself, God and others. I used to fear my emotions. I thought...”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Shh. You were wrong. Your emotions are a gift from God. They enable to you to care. To feel. To—”
“Live and love. I want to do both right here.”
“I could always use a good man.” What did he mean—live and love right here?
“Could you use a husband?” His words were so soft she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.
He pulled her close. “Kate, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and enjoying you and the children. Did you mean it when you said you loved me? Do you still feel the same?”
Her heart burst from its moors and raced wildly for her throat so her words sounded airy. “Hatcher, I love you. I will marry you and spend the rest of my life loving you and enjoying you.” She snorted then laughed at his wide-eyed expression. “You are asking me to marry you?”
He bent his head and his mouth touched her lips so gently tears filled her eyes. And her heart rejoiced.
She drew him into the house. “Tell me where you’ve been and what made you change your mind.”
“I went home.”
She nodded. “Mary said you were. What did you find?”
He gave a slow, easy smile that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. “I found my beginnings.”
She sighed. “I hope you have more explanation than that.”
He did. He told her about the welcome of his brother and his wife, and the open arms of his father. “And they persuaded me to go to church. There’s a new, young preacher there. When I first saw him I thought he looked like a weakling. But as soon as I heard him, I knew he had a fiery spirit. His words shot straight to my heart. He talked about Jesus being the Prince of Peace. You know the verse in Isaiah fifty-three, verse five?”
Kate shook her head.
Hatcher took her hand and held it between his.
She sensed he had to tell her, needed her to understand how he’d made the journey from guilt to this quiet joy she saw in his eyes. And she ached to understand.
“It says, ‘He was wounded for our transgression, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.’ Peace is God’s gift to us. There is nothing we need to do but accept it. The preacher said, if any of us carried a burden of guilt, God’s word assured us we could be free. Free indeed.”
Hatcher shook his head. “It seemed too easy to me. I sought absolution for ten years but that man stood up there and declared on the authority of God’s word that peace was mine for the taking. I just couldn’t get my head around it.”
“You didn’t want to believe maybe.”
“I think I didn’t know how. So I went to see Gilead, the preacher. I went with a mixture of desperation and frustration and asked him how he could say we don’t need to feel guilty when we are guilty.”
Hatcher chuckled. “I think I wanted to see the man cower and agree with me but he said, ‘Hatcher, all of us are guilty. That’s what’s so amazing about God’s love.’”
Kate couldn’t tear her gaze from the wonder and peace she saw in Hatcher’s face. He’d found healing. Thank you, God.
“We had a sword fight.”
Kate blinked. “You dueled? What kind of preacher is he?”
“His weapon was the word of God. He quoted scriptures refuting every verse I gave to prove my belief in my guilt. God knew it was the one thing I couldn’t argue against. He began with Romans five, verse eight, ‘While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’ And went on to John eight, verse thirty-six, ‘If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.’
“He said Jesus was the perfect sacrifice. Did I think I could add anything to what Jesus had done? Did punishing myself serve as a better sacrifice?”
Hatcher grinned. “He left me with nothing to do but face the truth about the last ten years. I’d been refusing God’s forgiveness for this one thing because I didn’t think I deserved forgiveness. I believe Jesus died for my sins. Just not my anger.”
Kate waited as he found the words to explain.
“I thought because it was something I used to hurt people, God couldn’t forgive it. Gilead made me see the truth. My reason said he was right. My heart wasn’t so easily convinced.”
Kate’s heart tightened as she thought of his struggle to accept forgiveness. “But you’re here. I can tell by looking at you that you found a way to prove it to your heart. What happened?”
“I remembered a time I had displeased my mother. I ran off to play with Lowell without watering the baby chicks and several of them died. She scolded me. I knew I deserved it but I felt as if I’d lost her love. She came to me after I’d gone to bed and told me how much she loved me and how she knew I’d grow into a good and honorable man. I realized that her love forgave my disobiedience. Just as God’s love does. I knew God’s love was more perfect than even a mother’s love. I finally believed and accepted it.”
Kate laughed from pure joy. “God is so good.”
“Amen.” He trailed his fingers along her cheek. “I look forward to spending the rest of my life enjoying God’s goodness with you at my side.”
Kate knew joy as she’d never before known as she leaned forward and received his gentle, promising kiss.
* * *
Kate wanted no fuss. She and Hatcher planned to go to the preacher and be pronounced man and wife. That’s all they needed.
But Sally would have none of it. “At least let me serve tea. After all, it’s a special occasion. How often do you plan to get married?”
“This will be twice but God willing, the last time.” She knew if Jeremiah watched from somewhere above, he’d be cheering her on.
“Then let me show my joy. Let me do this.”
Kate reluctantly agreed. “Just you and Frank and Tommy.”
“The preacher and his wife, too, of course.”
“Of course.” Sally and her husband were standing up with them, so Kate knew her friend would be forced to keep things simple.
The children also stood up with them. It had been Hatcher’s idea. “I’m declaring my love for them, too,” he explained.
Kate helped Mary adjust the new pink dress. Hatcher insisted he would look after Dougie. He said he’d meet her at the church. Kate was pleased and surprised to discover he was a romantic traditionalist.
She smoothed her own dress, a soft dove-gray with gentle lines. Sally said it made her look serene. She hugged her secret. She felt serene. More settled than ever before in her life.
Kate studied her reflection in the mirror and admitted she looked extremely happy. Thank you, God.
“Come on, Mary. Hatcher and Dougie will be waiting.”
They got into the old truck and Kate covered their dresses with a sheet to keep them spotless.
Mary couldn’t stop wriggling with excitement. Kate smiled, barely able to restrain her own body.
“Momma, can I call him Daddy?”
Kate pressed her lips together and held back tears. It wouldn’t do to show up at her own wedding with her face streaked.
“I know he’d be pleased.”
Mary nodded. “Poppa won’t mind, will he?”
Kate realized Mary had the same feeling of Jeremiah’s closeness as she. “I think he’d like it. All he would want is for you to be happy.”
Mary bounced then clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m very happy. I love Hatcher.”
“Me, too.”
Mary giggled. “Suppose that’s why you’re marrying him.”
Kate chuckled. “You’re beginning to sound like Hatcher—Daddy.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s very very good.”
They pulled into the church parking area. Sally rushed toward them. “Hurry, everyone’s waiting.”
“We’re ready.” Kate took Mary’s hand and squeezed it. Mary squeezed back.
At the church door, Sally stopped. “Mary and I will go first and then you follow. We’re going to do this right.”
She and Sally hugged.
Sally had wanted so much for Kate to have a big wedding with the whole community in attendance. Kate explained Hatcher wasn’t comfortable with meeting the whole community yet. He’d attended church with her, gone to the store, but he’d spent ten years avoiding people. It would take time.
She pushed open the door and gasped.
Every pew was filled. The church was decorated with wildflowers and greenery. The organist played the wedding march as Kate stared. Someone stuck a bouquet in her hands. Hatcher stood at the front waiting for her.
Their eyes locked and suddenly she didn’t care if the President attended. She saw no one but Hatcher and slowly followed Sally and Mary down the aisle.
She reached his side, drank in his look of love and took his arm as they faced the preacher.
A few minutes later they were pronounced man and wife. “You may kiss your bride.”
Hatcher’s smile sent fire into his eyes before he lowered his head and kissed her.
The congregation clapped. People reached for them, shaking hands and brushing their cheeks with quick kisses, as they marched down the aisle.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said as they rushed through the door. “Sally must have done this.”
“I’m not sorry. It’s just what I needed. To see everyone glad for us.”
“Then I’m glad she did it.”
Sally leaned over Kate’s shoulder and whispered. “It’s just the beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
“The community decided they wanted to do it right. See for yourself.”
Kate turned to see men setting up tables, women putting out food. To one side stood a smaller table piled with gifts.
“I can’t believe it. I said small,” she scolded Sally.