She finally moved over to the window. Her father and Mark were walking out to the combine together. It didn’t look like they were talking, though. She figured the next two days would be quiet ones around here.
She reached over to pick up the receiver on the black wall phone next to the kitchen cabinet.
“Mrs. Hargrove?” Hannah said after she’d dialed the number and gotten an answer. She recognized the older woman’s voice immediately.
“I’m wondering if you can bring Jeremy over to my dad’s house?” Hannah asked, figuring Mrs. Hargrove wouldn’t be surprised by the state of the living room walls. “My dad has a concussion and I’m watching him for the doctor or I’d drive back and get Jeremy.”
“Oh, dear,” the older woman said. “What happened?”
“He had a car accident,” Hannah said, realizing she never had gotten all of the details. “He cracked some ribs and hit his head.”
“I’ll be right there,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I’ll bring some of my herbal teas, too. One of them is good for headaches.”
“And stay for lunch if you’d like,” Hannah said.
The older woman sounded delighted and offered to bring the salad she’d planned to make for herself. “I doubt your dad has much food at his place,” she added. “I know how ranchers are at harvest time.”
“I better check,” Hannah said as she stretched the phone cord so she could step over to the refrigerator and open it.
“You’re right,” Hannah said after she surveyed the few items it held. “But I see a big block of cheese and I know he has some kind of pasta. There’s milk and some spices, too. I already planned to make macaroni and cheese. Jeremy’s favorite. With the salad, it’ll be perfect.”
“I’ll stop by the café and get a few of their dinner rolls,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I haven’t done my usual baking this week or I’d have some of my own to bring.”
“Tell Lois I’ll pay for them when I come in tomorrow,” Hannah said. “Although I have to say that, from what I remember, your rolls are better. The café buys its bread.”
Mrs. Hargrove gave a pleased laugh. “Jeremy and I will be there as soon as we can. Charley is up visiting one of his cousins today so we’re free as can be.”
Mrs. Hargrove had married her good friend, Charley Nelson, when Hannah was a freshman in high school. Charley was Mark’s father’s cousin. The bride and groom had both been in their late sixties when they walked down the aisle, but Hannah loved the story of their courtship. She had wondered back then if she and Mark would ever be as much in love as the two of them. She was especially touched because Mrs. Hargrove announced she would be keeping the name she’d gone by for decades because she didn’t want to confuse the children of the town.
As Hannah hung up the phone, she wondered if she would ever have a romance like the one Mrs. Hargrove had. The older woman assured her it was possible if Hannah didn’t give up on love. At the time she had promised Mrs. Hargrove that she wouldn’t. Of course, neither one of them knew what was going to happen. Mark’s coma had changed so many of Hannah’s hopes.
Chapter Four
The sun was directly overhead when Mark decided he was ready for a break. It was noon and time to eat. He’d been working for a couple of hours and the clouds had gradually scattered so it was no longer likely to rain. Hopefully that would help Mr. Stelling relax a little. The odds were improving that the rancher would get his crop harvested without any weather damage.
Mark climbed down from the combine, carrying his water jug, and saw dry wheat chaff rise around him like a fine dust storm. He sneezed. It was blazing hot and his legs were cramped from being in the same position with his foot on the gas pedal.
Mark paused a long moment and stretched as he stood on the ground. Then he pulled his work gloves off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His hands were red from the heat. If it was like this for him, the job was too hot for someone of Mr. Stelling’s age, even if the man didn’t have a concussion to complicate things.
This combine was an older model than the one Mark’s family used and there was no cab on it, so nothing shaded the driver from the sun. Besides, there was a rattle in the motor. This old piece of equipment wasn’t going to hold together for another season.
He wondered if Mr. Stelling lacked the money to hire one of the harvesting crews that serviced other small ranches or if he was the kind of man who was just determined to do everything himself. Mark suspected the latter.
Then he glanced up at the mound of golden wheat settling into the back of the combine bin. He couldn’t fault any man for wanting to feel the satisfaction of seeing his own crop harvested by his own efforts. Mark decided he’d probably never know the answer to why Mr. Stelling did anything. With that thought in his mind, Mark started walking across the field, heading to the ranch house. The older man wasn’t apt to confide in him anyway.
Still, Mark made a mental note to volunteer for the next round of harvesting in the spring, as well. He walked along and stopped when he came next to the small dwelling where Hannah and Jeremy were staying. It had been a long time since Mark had given any thought to the place where the ranch hands stayed when they worked at the Stelling ranch, but it was clear the building had not been used for several years. Weeds were growing right up to the cement step that led to the front door. The white paint on the outside had turned gray and was chipped. One of the windows had been boarded over for some reason. If he wasn’t mistaken, the roof had a few leaks where the shingles were curled up near the tin stovepipe that connected with the old fireplace inside.
Someone—he guessed it must have been Hannah—had stretched a red striped blanket over the window in the living room area. She had probably done it for privacy, but he wondered if the house was safe. He walked over to see if the door was locked. There was a time when no one around here worried about security, but he was no longer sure that was wise. The knob turned easily and there was no apparent keyhole, so it wouldn’t be as simple as finding a new key for a lock that was already installed.
Mark walked away shaking his head. He didn’t like the thought of Hannah and Jeremy staying out there. The sun baked the ground during the day and the heat hung in the air at night, so Hannah might be tempted to leave a side window open and the door ajar. There wasn’t much crime around, but Mark didn’t want to take any chances. He’d heard from his sister that Jeremy had a calico cat, but what this place needed was a large dog of some kind—one that would growl and bark like he meant to attack any intruders.
Mark decided that, after he finished the combining, he’d see about fixing the place up some. If there was any hardware at the ranch, he’d put a lock on that outside door before he left today. He wanted to take care of Hannah and their son. When Mark came around the corner of the main house, he noticed Mrs. Hargrove’s red car was parked at the side of the driveway. That meant Jeremy was here, Mark told himself with a grin. He stepped faster and then hesitated when he got to the steps. He sat down on the top one. After opening the lid on his jar of water, he poured the liquid over his hands. Then he ran his wet fingers through his hair. He doubted any four-year-old boy would worry overmuch about farm dust, but he didn’t want to get the boy’s clothes dirty when he hugged him.
He stopped to consider. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure a boy that age would want to be hugged. He knew all boys went through that stage when they thought they were too old for things like that. He didn’t want to push any boundaries—especially because Jeremy wouldn’t know who Mark was. As far as the boy knew, Mark was just another ranch hand he didn’t know.
Mark took the gunny sack off the jar and beat it against the side of the porch until the dust was gone. He’d had a glimmer of an idea about how to please Jeremy and now he thought it might be just the thing. He twisted the burlap into the shape of a coonskin cap before he started walking up the steps. Even a stranger could tickle the fancy of a ch
ild.
Mark hesitated at the door and then knocked.
“Come on in.” Someone—he thought it was Hannah—called from inside the house.
Mark turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The living room was empty, and even though it was midday, shadows filled the room. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen. There was the sound of a young boy talking amid the words of the two women.
He didn’t know where Mr. Stelling was, but Mark stood for a moment in the doorway to the kitchen and enjoyed the sight of Hannah stirring something in a pot at the stove. Her auburn hair was a bit mussed as though she’d stood in a steam room. Red strands of her hair sparkled in the sun coming through the window. As Hannah did her stirring, she was talking to Mrs. Hargrove. The older woman was clad in her usual checked housedress and had her hair pulled back in a serviceable bun. Over the years, her face never seemed to change. The lines in her face were from smiles and not worry. She never hesitated to speak her mind, but she was the kindest person he knew. At the moment, she was setting a plate of rolls in the middle of a table that was set for five.
His eyes went to the boy. Jeremy had a good-sized calico cat in one hand and was holding a comic book in the other. Between turning the page on the comic book and keeping the cat in place, the boy was having a time of it. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, and his lips were pressed together in concentration. Mark was content to just watch his son, but then Jeremy turned and saw him.
The boy’s eyes widened and he relaxed his grip on both the comic book and the cat. The comic book fell to the linoleum. The feline turned out to be a scrapper, though, and stood squarely in front of Jeremy. When Mark didn’t retreat, the cat arched its back, preparing for an attack.
Mark wondered if his son’s cat couldn’t do a dog’s job after all.
“Easy now,” Mark whispered, not sure whether he was directing his remark to Jeremy or his fierce furry defender.
Neither of the women seemed to hear Mark and they kept talking.
Jeremy didn’t seem inclined to say anything. He just looked at Mark suspiciously. Finally, Mark decided he’d tip the scales, so he put on the hat he’d just fashioned.
That only seemed to puzzle Jeremy.
“You’re not Davy Crockett,” the boy said, his voice clear. His thin face was serious. “I know you.”
For a moment, Mark’s heart soared. Maybe Hannah had already told Jeremy that he had a father. Mark was going to reach out his arms to the boy when several things happened.
The cat hissed. Hannah turned around. And Mrs. Hargrove looked up from the tomato she was dicing.
Jeremy was continuing to speak, though. “You’re the man who can’t wake up. I saw you in the hospital.”
Mark’s hopes fell. “When?”
Jeremy nodded and reached out to his cat. The feline went over and rubbed itself against the boy’s legs. The cat might be fierce to others, but it was purring for Jeremy.
“I took him to see you once,” Hannah said to Mark, almost apologetically. Then she stepped away from the stove with a pot holder in her hand. “I had no idea he’d remember. He was only two years old at the time.”
“You came to see me?” Mark was stunned. His sister and father hadn’t said anything about Hannah going to the hospital nursing home to see him. Maybe they hadn’t known. He knew she’d taken Jeremy out to his family’s ranch to spend time with his sister and father, but he’d never questioned if she had come to sit by his bedside.
“Just a few times,” Hannah said, looking down. “And I only took Jeremy once. I couldn’t find anyone to sit with him and I didn’t think he would even notice where he was. I took in a few of his comic books so he’d have something to look at. Back then he couldn’t read. Now he knows simple words like bang and run. You know, superhero words.”
Mark wasn’t used to seeing Hannah so rattled.
“It’s not a problem,” he assured her. “I’m pleased that you came.”
He wished someone had thought to tell him something this important. Surely the nurses had known. Of course, the staff who had been there when he finally came out of his coma might have been different ones than those who had been there the first years. They might not have known how special Hannah was to him.
“I felt I should do something,” she said, looking uncomfortable.
Mark suddenly realized how difficult it had been for her. It hadn’t just been the pregnancy and Jeremy. All of the feelings she’d had for him had been left hanging. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. For us.”
For Jeremy, he added silently.
Hannah nodded, but she still didn’t meet his eyes.
“I often wished I could call you and talk or something.” She raised her eyes and he saw they were damp. “Half of the time I didn’t know what to do. Growing up, you always seemed to know the answer to everything.”
Mark swallowed. “I wish you could have called me, too.”
They were both silent for a minute.
“I thought I smelled your mother’s perfume a few times,” Mark finally said. Even in his coma, he could recognize scents. Hannah had taken to wearing the cologne her mother had left. “I never thought it was real—I figured I imagined the smells—but maybe part of me knew you’d been there.”
He liked to think he hadn’t left Hannah completely alone, although he certainly had been no comfort to her.
Hannah didn’t seem to know what to say, but she did smile.
Mark felt his nerves relax as he stood there. Rays of sunshine came in through the kitchen window. Mrs. Hargrove had been standing still, but with the tension broken, she reached up into the cupboard and brought down a serving bowl.
Jeremy made a small noise and Mark looked down at the boy, who had scooted closer to his mother and leaned against her right leg. He was staring at Mark, wide-eyed. The cat stood guard at the boy’s side.
“Did you smell me, too?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet. “When you were asleep and I visited with Mommy.”
Mark squatted down so he could be level with his son. “You know, I did smell a cowboy a time or two. Kind of a horse scent. That must have been you.”
Jeremy grinned and Mark noticed he was missing one of his front teeth. The boy’s hair was a rich brown and he had a sprinkling of freckles along a round nose. His hair was nicely cut and Mark wondered if Hannah took him to a barber. After her experiences in foster homes, it was something she would do to make the boy feel self-confident.
“My grandpa has horses,” Jeremy confided as he stepped away from his mother and came closer to Mark. He realized his son meant Mark’s father. Mr. Stelling had Angus cattle when he had any farm animals at all. “Someday he’s going to give me a ride on one of his horses. A big one, too. Not a little pony.”
Mark nodded.
“’Cause I’m a big boy,” Jeremy added proudly.
“You sure are,” Mark said, pleased to hear his son’s dream.
Mark had heard the same plans from his father’s mouth. But Hannah hadn’t brought Jeremy to visit the Nelson horse ranch for months—not since Mark had gotten out of the nursing home.
“Maybe I can ride with you,” Mark offered tentatively. He didn’t figure he would get his first hug on this visit. Although the cat hadn’t advanced upon him recently and he supposed that was some progress.
Jeremy thought a moment and then his hair bounced up and down as he gave a vigorous nod. “You can put my saddle on. I’m not big enough to reach.”
“It’s a deal,” Mark said and then he offered his hand to his son. “That’s what cowboys do when they make a promise.”
Jeremy beamed, shaking hands with satisfaction.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Mark said and then looked up at Hannah. She was still standing there, watching him and Jeremy, and looking worried.
�
�Is it all right?” Mark asked softly. He didn’t want to add to any unhappiness she might already feel. “I won’t say anything I shouldn’t.”
He tried not to feel disappointed that Hannah wasn’t rushing to tell Jeremy that he’d just met his father. When Mark looked at her side of things, he supposed she’d thought it would be better to wait and let the boy get to know him some first.
Mark looked over and saw the compassion in Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes. The older woman had seen it all. Just looking at his first Sunday school teacher reminded Mark that she always told her students prayers worked. She’d made them memorize James 5:16.
“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much,” he softly quoted the last portion of the Scripture verse. He’d quoted that verse to her many times as a boy before he had lost his way and didn’t think of prayer or God.
Mrs. Hargrove gave a slight smile as she nodded. “Sometimes the answer takes a bit of time, though.”
Mark could see she was pleased. He’d had several conversations with her about prayer over the last few months. She’d been one of the church members who had organized the prayer chain when he’d been in the coma. He could never thank her enough for that. Every day for four long years, someone in Dry Creek had prayed for him. It still humbled him to remember that fact.
* * *
Hannah had learned the James verse in Mrs. Hargrove’s class, as well. She recognized the spiritual moment she’d just witnessed between Mark and their teacher.
“I wish I’d taken all of your words to heart sooner in my life,” Hannah said to Mrs. Hargrove. “It would have made things easier.”
The older woman beamed at Hannah and she wanted to think of something more to say about her growing comfort with God. But before she found any words, she smelled something burning and instead quickly turned back to the stove. She grabbed the pan of macaroni and cheese and set it on a burner that was cool.
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