by Caryl McAdoo
Indeed, what more could a lady want? She didn’t have to ask herself twice. His salvation, that’s what. She could never yoke herself to any man who wasn’t a believer. Rebecca patted his hand.
How many times had some galoot vowed that he loved her? That she shone brighter than the sun or sweeter than honey.
But Marcus was different.
And truth was, she’d thought about not much other than the man the whole time they’d been apart...until she met her boys. They’d helped divert her attentions. And that’s exactly what she needed to do now. Distract him, change the subject.
“So do you have a room? Anywhere to stay?”
He shook his head.
“We figured as much. Gwen says you can bunk in the barn and help with the milking in the morning.”
“Great. I can do that.”
Standing, she stretched her back. “Well, they start around four. We best be turning in.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“That was quite intentional. Besides, you really didn’t ask the question. You only made a suggestion. I need time, Marcus. Right now, I need to focus on those two boys. They’ve got to be who’s most important to me.”
“I understand.” But his expression did not appear as though he did. “Walk me out?”
She glanced at the open door. “Best not.”
He grinned. “I understand.”
“You said that already. But I’m not so sure of it.”
That night, she dreamed of a life as Mis’ess Marcus Ford, but in the dawn of the new day, it all came back to the fact that he did not have a relationship with God. He’d already be up, and she trembled with the thought of seeing him again.
How crazy was that? As if she could just walk blissfully to an altar and say, ‘I do.’ He had come all that way. Said he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth.
Still, just as her mother before her, she couldn’t. Not with a non-believer. How true that the generations repeated. Her dear sister had paid a high price for disobedience. Mary Rachel had suffered for her bad choice...though God redeemed her in the end.
It’s a wise woman who can learn from another’s mistakes. That’s what Mama always said. Rebecca should not, would not unequally yoke herself—no matter that the whole of her being wanted the handsome major. What the heart wanted indeed!
What she knew in her heart of hearts mattered.
Marrying him could only lead to disaster—for her and her sons—if she succumbed.
Brushing her hair, she smiled in the mirror. Her sons. She loved the sound of that. How natural it sounded, and she loved being a mother. The position suited her.
Then a thought struck. One that certainly would suit Marcus so much better than tending to livestock. And, it’d keep him near. Perhaps she’d discover a debilitating flaw or… Who was she joshing?
Her heart conspired with her thoughts to bring that idea to mind. She wanted to be around the man. Period.
As fast as possible, she dressed then headed straight out to the barn even before going to see her sons who probably—she hoped—were not even up yet. Found him mucking the stalls, as though just another field hand.
Hanging back, she enjoyed watching him work. Not a drip of slack in the man she could see.
Spiking his shovel into the full pushcart, he spotted her and grinned. “Good morning.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? You about through?”
After pushing the cart to the manure hole, he grabbed its pull rope, emptied it, then tugged it into the next stall. “Almost.” He went back to work.
She drew close, but not too. The dirty hay, soaked with urine and manure smell, didn’t sting her nose too bad, but who wanted any part of it on their shoes or dress?
“Is there someone else who can finish that? I’d like to speak with you before the boys start their day.”
Leaving the latest scoopful in the cart along with the shovel, he shrugged, then headed back into the stall. “Told ’em I’d do it; everyone else is busy somewhere else, but I can take a breather. What’s on your mind, pretty lady?”
She should tell him her idea then, but since he’d given his word… Why make an issue of it? Besides, perhaps she should talk with Gwen first, though her sister surely wouldn’t object. “No…go ahead. It can wait. Have you eaten?”
“A couple of hours ago.” He picked up the shovel again, grinning. “Some of us have been up a while. What about you?”
“No, I haven’t even had any coffee yet. This idea hit me, and I wanted to discuss with you, but go ahead and finish what you’re doing there. Will you come find me once you’re through?”
“Be my pleasure.”
She turned and hurried back toward the big house. Until that very moment, it hadn’t occurred to her there’d been no chaperone in the barn. Not that she needed one.
Still.
Heaven forbid, it getting back to Daddy that she and Marcus had been alone. A big smile spread across her face. Henry Buckmeyer wouldn’t like it, no matter how old she got.
Standing in the barn’s hallway, knowing full well that he gawked until she strolled out of sight, he experienced no shame. Ford loved the way she walked. Everything about the lady stirred him.
She’d obviously awakened with him on her mind, for her to hunt him down so early of a morning. Even before coffee.
But…he’d given his word, so instead of washing up and running after her, he got back to his mucking.
Soon enough, he sipped coffee across the kitchen table from the object of his affection as she eased tiny spoons full of mashed oats into the baby’s mouth.
The bigger brother held a fork over his three-quarter-eaten plate of eggs and biscuits covered with milk gravy. The kid seemed too busy eyeing Ford to finish his own breakfast.
“Come on, Gabriel. One more bite.” Rebecca tapped the baby’s bottom lip with a spoonful of the mush. “Are you getting full?”
“Him don’t want no more of that stuff, Mama.” He looked to Ford. “Gots any candy?”
His mama pulled the spoon back and looked to the boy. “Michael. You should not ask our friend or anyone for candy. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy glanced back at him as if seeking relief from her chastisement.
“You haven’t been giving your baby brother sweets, have you?”
“No, ma’am.” The little big guy shrugged then smiled rather sheepishly. “Ain’t got no candy to give anyone, but if him does….”
She glared at the boy with pursed lips until he looked away. With a quick glance at Ford, she let one corner of her mouth slip up the slightest bit. She set the baby’s spoon back into the bowl then stood.
“What about you, Michael? Are you through eating?”
He put his fork down rather hard with too loud of a bang. “Yep, unless him gots candy.”
“Yep?”
“I mean, ‘yes ma’am.”
“That’s better, but no sweets now. Maybe later. We’ll see.”
He jumped up, neared his brother, and held his miniature hands out. “Want me to burp him?”
“No, sir, but thank you for offering. I was going to feed him a bottle first. How about you go see what Miss Bonnie is doing? I need to talk with the Major.”
For a few heartbeats, Michael glared at him then turned and ran into the other room.
Rebecca lifted the baby from his highchair then carried him to the sink and daubed at his mouth with a damp dishcloth. She retrieved a glass bottle from the sterilizing pot, filled it half full of milk from a smaller pan on the stove, retook her seat, then cradled the baby until he latched contentedly to the nipple.
“So. Get all of your stalls cleaned out?”
“Yes, ma’am, and ready to hear all about this idea of yours.”
“Well, I was thinking this morning that while you’re here… Perhaps we could put your talents to better use than tending livestock.”
“Glad to do whatever I can to help. What do you have in mind?”
“Bible stories.”
With no intent, his face screwed up, and he straightened it as quickly as he could, cleared his throat, and shrugged. “What of them?”
The next few minutes, the lady laid out her idea. The only thing he liked about it proved to be the prospect of her presence being nearer than possible with him in the barn.
“So what do you think?” She rocked with a satisfied expression, so clearly pleased with herself.
“Will you help me?”
Her eyes widened as if his request surprised her. “Of course. But how?”
He had her then. “You’ll see.”
The playroom’s door swung open, and she marched in, raised her chin a bit, and stared at him. Ford couldn’t believe how cute Rebecca looked with her blond curls trussed up in a bandana and a man’s work shirt over her dress.
If he thought he could get away with it, he’d daub a splash of paint on her nose just to complete the picture she painted on his heart.
Oh, how he loved the beautiful creature. Her expression looked so serious and concerned over the project he roped her into.
His endeavor included brightening the room with a big tree in the corner for a rendition of the first Bible story. Maybe a few animals scattered around the room. His sweetheart insisted she couldn’t draw her way out of a paper bag, but admitted to being a semi-talented colorer.
“Fine. You got me here, now what?”
With the piece of charcoal in his hand, he pointed to her right. “See that tree I’ve sketched there? Fill in the trunk and branches with the brown paint in that jar.” He nodded toward a cluster of pots in the corner, each filled with the colors he’d freshly mixed.
Stepping closer, she studied his outline for a bit then glanced back. “What if I mess it up? It’s looking so good already.”
“If you do, I can fix it. But you won’t. Trust me. You’ll do fine, just stay in the lines. You said you could do that, right?”
Hard to believe that she stuck out her tongue. Right at him. “Yes, smarty britches. I can stay in the lines.” Her words carried such mirth.
They made him a little giddy. He loved so many things about her, especially this little girl side he hadn’t seen before. And it wouldn’t be necessary at all to paint Eve from memory, not when he had Rebecca right there with him. She didn’t realize what he was doing until the day was almost done.
Returning with a handful of freshly cleaned brushes, she joined him in the middle of the room where he stood studying the mural.
“Oh, Marcus.”
He bumped his shoulder against hers. “You just now noticing?”
“Yes. Why did you make me Eve?”
“Had to.” He tilted his chin toward a clump of greenery. “I mean, if I was Adam….”
In awe of the man’s talent, Rebecca stood beside him, speechless. Only a few hours’ time, and he’d created a scene right out of Genesis. His interpretation of the sweet lamb practically kissing the magnificent lion took her breath.
The shades he’d used. She bumped his shoulder back, wanting to do so much more, but that was all polite decorum would allow.
“How long do you think it will take to finish this one?”
“Two more days. Three at the most.”
“Good. I love it. I truly do. I was thinking Noah and the Ark for the nursery, and what do you think about David as a boy sitting on a rock in the pasture—sheep all around—playing a harp for the music room?”
“Isn’t he the guy that killed the giant?”
“Yes, indeed. But he cut off Goliath’s head. Let’s not do that one. They have enough trouble with some of older boys as it is.”
“Whatever you want, so long as you help.”
“Good.” She nodded toward the door. “Let’s get washed up. Supper should be about ready.”
The next ten days proved exhilarating. Akin to the time she’d spent helping her parents build the big house. Except that took so much longer, and the work way harder.
Then word came that the board of directors would meet with her in two days, and the joy of helping Marcus turned to apprehension.
Late the night before the dreaded day, she found Gwendolyn in the kitchen, having a cup of tea with Clay. She liked her brother-in-law well enough, but didn’t particularly want to have a three-way conversation with the young man.
It took two kicks to her sister’s foot and a toss of her eyebrows toward the door before her sister got the message.
As soon as he disappeared, Gwen faced her. “What is it?”
“I’m in knots.”
“Why? What’s got you upset? Marcus?”
“No! Not at all. It’s…tomorrow.”
“The board meeting? Don’t be silly.”
“What if they turn me down? Those boys are already mine no matter what they say.”
“Quit your worrying.” She smiled. “They won’t.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“Well, no, not exactly. But how could they possibly not approve you? It’s clear to anyone who’s been around that you’ll make those two a wonderful mother. It’s so obvious that you love them.”
“I do, I truly do. It’s even amazed me how much.”
“And there’s been such an improvement in little Michael. He’s a different child since you came. Before, all he wanted to do was sit the corner and watch over his brother. Now he spends most of his time playing with the other boys.”
Tracing a cut in the tabletop with her nail, she considered how her precious boy had changed. “But he’s still wetting the bed…and having nightmares.”
“Relax. You know what Mama said about worrying.”
“I do, and I hate being so anxious.”
“There’s no reason to. Besides, you do have a man on the inside.”
“But I’ve only been around Jethro Risen a couple of times. Him being my brother-in-law might….” She filled her lungs then blew it all out. “I’ll tell you right now and tell you true. I cannot stand the thought of not taking Michael and Gabriel home with me.”
Gwen patted her hand. “Well, every man sitting on that board only wants the very best for our children, and you, my dear, are the best thing that’s ever happened to those two boys. Go on to bed and get a good night’s sleep. Let tomorrow take care of itself.”
She stood. “Easy for you to say.”
The next morning dragged so that she thought dinner might never come. She’d painstakingly dressed, only changing three times.
Even being with Marcus didn’t help pass the time. He’d been so understanding about her begging off helping that day, but he even set her free from her promise to sit in there with him.
Spending time with her sons proved the only thing that made a difference, but she didn’t want to disrupt their day with any of her anxiety. Of course, they knew nothing about the meeting that could change their lives. She’d tell them the good news once it had been finally decided.
And if the decision that she hoped for didn’t come back…well…then…they would simply have to reconsider. That’s all.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t go back to Texas without her sons.
Prayer helped, too. She took a walk along the whitewashed fence, talking to the Lord as she went. Then it struck her. It made no difference what those men said. Those boys were hers. Period.
No matter what the board of directors said. If she couldn’t take Michael and Gabriel to Texas, then she’d stay there in California. The only thing they had control over was which state she’d live in.
Then, just as much as that realization eased her mind, another thought attacked her senses and froze her heart with fear. What if they gave the boys—her boys—to someone else? A family.
A real one with a husband and a wife. Could her not having a husband cause them to do such a ghastly, unforgivable thing?
Marcus! He would marry her. Surely, he would.
Suddenly, a dark shadow encompassed her. She looked toward the sky. A cloud passe
d overhead between her and the sun. “I know, Lord. I won’t.”
The sun’s brilliance returned, and she took it as a sign. Marrying him could not be an option, not so long as he remained a heathen. Who else could she marry? One of her sisters must know a nice Christian man in San Francisco.
Another cloud passed overhead. What was she thinking? A loveless marriage would never do for her sons.
Her insides tumbled and tossed and twisted and told her she had only one choice.
If she didn’t turn it over to God and trust Him to do what was right to keep her in His will, then she’d certainly go crazy.
“Father, God. You know how very much I love You, and that I do trust You. In my heart of hearts, I know You sit on Your throne in Heaven and are in complete control of every detail in my life. You wouldn’t have brought me all the way here with the idea of giving an orphan a home, then let me fall in love with my little Michael and sweet Gabriel….”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she knew. Inside, she knew. She had to choose Him and His will over everything in her that screamed she couldn’t live without those two little boys.
“Daddy God, You know how much I love them, need them, and how much they need me, but…I leave it all to You.” She could hardly form the words she must pray.
“Father, not my will but Yours be done.” There. She’d done it. “You know what’s best, and I trust you with my heart, my sons, and all that I am.”
A peace settled over it that the decision was in the hands of a source much higher than Mercy House’s Board.
Dinner came and went, and she managed to get a few bites down before finding herself in Gwendolyn’s office, facing five men. She sat on one side, her inquisitors in a semicircle across from her.
Each man in turn introduced himself, wearing a pleasant enough expression, but none of them seemed really friendly—not even Jethro.
The gentleman in the middle, the one who called himself Brother Paul, spoke first. “Mis’ess Rusk, I apologize that it’s taken us so long to get to this point. I’m sure you know that we’ve never had a widow apply before, so….”
“Yes, sir. I’d asked my sister.”
The preacher glanced to the men on either side then back to her. “We’re in new territory here. Please bear with us while we try to find our way to the best outcome possible for those two boys.”