by Sally John
Gina sensed lengthening shadows and glanced at her watch. She jumped up. “Oh, no! I’m going to be late. Aunt Lottie is having everyone over tonight, and I promised to help.”
Brady winked as he stood. “Guess we better hurry back as quick as we can on the three-wheeler.”
She frowned at him, but he knew she was only teasing. The thought of ending the afternoon with her arms wrapped around Brady Olafsson felt…well, reassuring. As if everything was right with the world.
Brady parked near the car and cut the engine.
“Thank you, Brady.” Gina braced her hands against his shoulders and swung her leg over the three-wheeler. “It was such a relaxing afternoon.”
“I’m glad you came.” He tried not to notice how pretty she looked with flushed cheeks and wind-blown hair. He tried to act reasonably average rather than expressive and risk revealing his infatuation with her.
She smiled and opened the car door. “We are making progress, Mr. Olafsson.”
“Progress?”
“In our relationship. I mean, could you have imagined two weeks ago inviting me to your parents’ farm and, on top of that, me accepting?”
He shook his head. “Was I really that obnoxious?”
“We both were.”
“You weren’t.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You were just preoccupied with your job.”
“Lack of one,” she corrected. “Still, that was no excuse to be rude and refer to Valley Oaks as Podunk.”
He cringed. “I take it back. You were obnoxious.”
“I’ve got to go.” She slid into the car. “Please tell your parents thank you?”
“Sure. Are you comfortable with driving? It’s not a freeway out there.”
“I’ll go slow, if that’s what you mean.” With a little wave, she closed the door.
He watched her drive off. He didn’t know if that’s what he meant or not. He didn’t know exactly what he meant. He only knew that they were indeed making progress in their relationship.
For the duration, anyway.
There was no relationship outside of the duration. There was only a Lindstrom named Angelina Philips who lived in California.
Two strikes, he reminded himself.
He wanted to send her flowers…
Not to mention you’ve sworn off women…
No, not flowers. An exotic plant, maybe…
You know how your focus on work flies out the window…
Or an oak tree seedling…
Friends for the moment…You don’t need another companion…
A frog. Maybe a special one…made of rubies and diamonds…
Least of all you don’t need to lose control…
God has control. Not me! God…
He threw the vehicle into gear and roared off toward the barns.
Twenty-One
Maggie stepped through the back door into the kitchen just as the phone rang. She, Marsha, and Aunt Lottie were planting marigolds around the vegetables in hopes that the strong-scented flowers would discourage a seemingly bountiful supply of rabbits. It felt soothing to comb her fingers through rich, Midwestern soil again. Sweet memories of gardening with her grandmother hovered.
Wiping dirt from her hands with a paper towel, she went to the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
It was Reece. Her skin tingled. She hadn’t worked through last night yet, the fact of him not being at the reunion. “Hi.” She balled up the paper towel.
“I’m home for a couple of days. Got in late last night. I’m looking at all your potted plants on the patio. Is there anything you want me to do with them?”
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Ramon, the gardener who cared for their small plot of grass and did the heavy trimming, promised to water her flowers while she was gone. “Is the soil dry?” She heard the sliding door of her kitchen swoosh open.
“I’ll check. We had Santa Anas recently.”
She pictured Reece in chinos, polo shirt, loafers, striding across the flagstones, holding the cordless phone to his ear. The breeze would catch his silver hair at the crown, lightly fluffing it.
“Some of the leaves are a little droopy. Yep, the soil feels hard as bricks.”
“Then water them.”
“I didn’t want to interfere with Ramon’s job.”
Maggie’s neck and face were burning now. “He’ll know if they’ve been watered or not. If they’re dry, water them. It’s not that complicated.” She grabbed a dish towel and fanned herself. Ask me about the reunion, Reece.
“Ran into Bill and Jane at the store this morning. I told them there wasn’t any cream for my coffee and only one egg was left, so they invited me over for dinner tonight.”
She pulled at the collar and short sleeves of her sticking shirt. “Guess I haven’t figured out yet how to keep the refrigerator stocked with perishables long distance.” The reunion, Reece.
He laughed. “That’s not like you. Well, we’ve decided the week’s schedule. I’ll be in Chicago Thursday and Friday. I thought you might rent a car and come up for dinner, but every waking hour is booked with partners and clients. I’ll drive down Saturday and stay for a couple of days. I booked a seat for Gina to come back with me to L.A. on Mon—”
“Now you’re coming?” Her voice rose. A week after the reunion?
“There’s that easement problem just outside of Valley Oaks, of all places. I offered to look into it. I figured it was a good excuse to see you and Gina.”
“You need an excuse?!”
“Are you feeling all right? You sound a little tired. Podunk getting you down?”
Maggie buried her face in the dish towel, soaking up hot tears. Reece had always avoided her discomfort, had always held Valley Oaks in disdain, had always seemed to take her for granted. Why was that? Because she allowed him?
“Margaret? Are you there?”
Well, it was getting tiresome. “No, I’m not all right, Reece. I wanted you here last night, for the reunion. Oh, the reunion? Thank you for asking. I had a wonderful time. I laughed and danced until 1:00 A.M.” She paused for a breath and yanked her shirt out of the waistband of her shorts.
“The reunion! I forgot! I’m sorry.”
“Sorry that I had a good time?”
“Of course not. I knew you’d enjoy yourself without me.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Margaret, are you sure you want to stay there the entire month? You’re supposed to be relaxing, but you sound awfully upset.”
“Reece, sometimes life is just plain upsetting. We’ll see you on Saturday.”
“O-okay,” he said in a tone of “whatever you say.” “Give my love to Gina.”
She waited a moment, then said a perfunctory “Bye” and hung up.
And how about me? Who will give your love to me if you don’t?
She stomped up the back stairway, peeling off her shirt. Her skin was boiling and damp to the touch.
She knew now that her sister was right. She admitted it. Right or wrong, she was angry. As a matter of fact, she was exceedingly angry with her husband.
With her daughter as companion, Maggie drove down back county roads chock full of memories.
“Why the sudden interest in genealogy, Mother?” Gina asked.
“I don’t quite understand it myself. At your age, I wasn’t the least bit interested. Thanks for agreeing to come, by the way.”
“Sure. I figured we both needed a breather from the wedding planners. Whew! People are busier here than in Los Angeles.”
Maggie smiled. “I know it seems that way, especially around Lauren and Marsha.”
“I thought it was time we caught up with each other.”
“I did too. Anyway, to get back to your question. It seems the older I grow and the further away I get from my roots, the more I feel a need to get back to them. Maybe because before I know it, I’ll just be one of those roots, rotting under the ground.”
“Mom!”
“I mean, I think I’ll be with God, but what’s the whole purpose of my life here and now? I wonder if there isn’t some sort of direct, meaningful link between the past and the present. Between who my ancestors were and who I am today. If I get a handle on the past, maybe I’ll better understand myself and where I’m going.” She chuckled. “Goodness, that sounds like an elderly version of an adolescent’s ‘Who am I?’, doesn’t it?”
Gina laughed. “Yeah. But when you think about it, it makes a case for God. The fact that there’s this pattern of families throughout the ages. In one sense it seems random, that because these parents happen to live here, these children were in a certain situation that caused them to meet and marry and have children. But in another sense, I think that all points to a Designer.”
“I agree. That’s the other thing. The older I get, the more I believe God is real and He’s involved in the here and now. Otherwise, this world is just too crazy.”
“Well, I’ve decided I believe in Jesus now, too.”
“Really?” Maggie smiled at her daughter and reached over to squeeze her hand. “I think that’s a significant development, sweetheart. I believe He’s who He said He was.”
“The way Brady explained it all, it makes sense.”
“It does. When did this happen?”
“Saturday night at his place. I haven’t had a chance to tell you much.”
“He cooked dinner for just the two of you?”
“He’s really a nice guy. I liked his parents, too. But Neil is nowhere near as good-looking as Dad is.”
Maggie laughed. “You’re right. But he was some basketball player. Tell me about Brady’s place. You said it’s beautiful.”
“A hundred plus acres of beautiful. Except for an easement problem, the place is absolutely perfect for a wildlife preserve. We roamed around it all afternoon.”
Something tugged at Maggie’s memory. “Aunt Marsha said it’s the old Crowley place.”
“Is that the original Valley Oaks homestead?”
“Yes. Years ago, when your grandmother was young, folks wanted to rebuild the house, make it a museum. I guess there wasn’t enough interest.”
“Brady said the town built up east of there, nearer the railroad tracks.”
“Charles Crowley was an early leader, started a lot of things, but he farmed all of his land that wasn’t wooded. He named the place Valley Oaks, but wasn’t about to share his trees or his land. Where’s Brady’s house?”
“Do you know where the road starts, off of the highway? Then there’s a ravine?”
Maggie nodded.
“After the road curves right around that, it curves a little to the left, then straightens for about a quarter of a mile. His Ponderosa house is at the end of that lane. Smack-dab in the middle of trees. It’s about three-fourths of a mile east of the original house site.”
“You’re talking like a true country girl, Gina. What I remember of the Crowley place is it wasn’t in the middle of the woods. It was—Oh my goodness. Did you say easement problem?”
“A bunch of land was just sold for development, and a small section of his road runs through it. The farmer he got permission from died last year, and his children sold the land. Sounds like a legal mess.”
Maggie’s stomach tightened. “Your father’s coming to town because of an easement problem.”
“His company bought that land?”
“I imagine so. There probably aren’t too many other areas just outside of Valley Oaks that are headed toward development and have an easement problem.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Gina said, “Kind of weird that Dad will be tangling with the Olafssons, huh?”
“He’s been tangling with them for years. Now he gets to do it in person.”
“What do you mean for years?”
Maggie slowed the car as they entered the county seat town, 20 miles from Valley Oaks. “Well, I was an emotional basket case when I met your father.” She smiled softly. “He tended to blame the Olafssons. That’s why he usually didn’t come with us when you and I visited here. Whenever I was too strict with you as a teenager, guess who he blamed? When I avoided church involvement, he knew it was because Neil’s mother pushed religion on me.”
“Whew. I thought Brady’s chip was bad.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Maybe Dad has mellowed by now.” Gina’s tone was hopeful.
“Maybe,” she replied, though seriously doubting it was possible. Perhaps she should suggest he put aside personal—With a start she realized it wasn’t her problem.
“Wow,” Gina interrupted her thoughts. “Is that the courthouse? It’s beautiful.”
She drove toward the three-story stone building that filled almost an entire square block. “They knew how to build courthouses.” She parked alongside the curb. “Let’s go meet our ancestors.”
Maggie was pleasantly surprised that Gina’s enthusiasm matched her own. After spending hours pouring over faded handwritten ledgers of county marriages, births, and deaths, they returned home with a stack of copies of licenses and certificates.
They sat at the dining room table, munching tuna sandwiches and fruit salad, sharing their finds with Aunt Lottie. Maggie smiled to herself when she noticed her daughter bite into the white bread without even a hint of a grimace.
“Aunt Lottie, look at this one,” Gina exclaimed.
Tears filled the older woman’s eyes. “My parents’ marriage certificate.”
“My great-grandparents! Johanna and Andrew Anderson. And look at the back here. It says this is where they were born. In Sweden! I’ve got to look at an atlas. And those are their parents’ names and even their mothers’ maiden names. Just imagine, they had to come all this way on a boat and maybe wagons. What if they hadn’t come? You wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be here. Everything is a result of someone else’s decisions before us. Isn’t that awesome?”
Aunt Lottie giggled like a little girl. “Awesome. Just like God.”
“Yeah! It’s like He had His finger on all of us, down through the generations.”
“Psalm 139. He knew us in our mother’s womb.”
Gina’s nonstop chatter stopped. “He would, wouldn’t He? That’s in the Bible?”
Aunt Lottie nodded and closed her eyes. “Thou didst weave me in my mother’s womb.” She paused. “Thine eyes have seen my unformed substance; and in Thy book they were all written, the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them.”
A sense of stillness enveloped Maggie, as if a large, invisible cocoon wrapped itself round her, blocking out the world with all of its noise, its pulsating energies. The room faded from view and for one brief moment she knew she was not—would not ever be—alone.
“Wow,” Gina breathed softly. “That is so beautiful.”
Aunt Lottie nodded. “God’s Word is beautiful and powerful.”
“I don’t remember hearing about my great-grandparents. Tell me what they were like?”
Aunt Lottie told them stories about their hard-working ancestors who farmed in the area at the turn of the century. She was up to the time of the Depression and how they lost their land when Gina had to leave.
“I want to hear more later, Aunt Lottie,” she said. “I promised Lauren I’d help her clean their new house. Do you believe they just got possession today and want to paint and recarpet the whole place in two weeks?” She stepped around the table and kissed both of them goodbye. “Thanks, Mom. I love all this newfound family.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll come by in a bit with Aunt Marsha. Now don’t overdo it.”
Gina fluttered her eyelids. “Oh, Mother.”
She grinned. “Hazards of the trade. Goodbye,” she called to her daughter’s retreating back.
“Maggie,” Aunt Lottie said, “Reece called this morning. He wanted you to call him. Something about changing his schedule in Chicago so you could come.”
The cocoo
n slithered down, wrinkling in a pile at her feet. “Oh.” She started to gather the dishes.
“It must be hard having him work out of town so much of the time.”
“It is.”
“It’s not like the old days.”
Maggie carried a load to the kitchen, then returned to finish clearing the table.
“Seems like today,” Aunt Lottie continued, “everyone just has too many choices. When Peter made me mad, I knew come nighttime, I’d have to climb into bed next to him. And vice versa. We didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Uncle Peter made you mad? He was the kindest man I ever knew.”
“He was very kind.” Aunt Lottie chuckled. “Oh, honey, he was a man. Never hung up a towel in his life. Forgot my birthday now and then. Only remembered one anniversary, our fiftieth, and that was because everyone kept talking about it. Smoked too many cigars.” She sighed. “We had our ups and downs, some more serious than others. But every morning and night he hugged me.”
Maggie’s throat tightened.
“Now I don’t want you to feel funny about pushing those two twin beds together when Reece comes. A married couple needs to be close when they get the chance.”
“Aunt Lottie!”
“I’ll just call Alec and have him come over—”
“I will not have my cousin rearranging my bedroom.”
“Well, call him anyway.” She stood slowly, her gnarled hands pushing against the tabletop. “I mean Reece. He said he would be in the office all day.”
“I really don’t have time to drive to Chicago. Lauren’s band concert is Thursday night. I promised I’d go. Friday we simply must finalize things with the caterers.” Her stomach muscles tightened. “Besides, he’d be preoccupied with business. He’ll be here on Saturday.” Soon enough.
Aunt Lottie shuffled toward the doorway.
Maggie thought she looked pale. “Do you feel okay?”
“Just tired, honey. I’ll lie down until Marsha comes. Say a little prayer for you and Reece.”
Maggie bit her lip. She doubted that a little prayer would make up for all those years’ worth of missed hugs. It wouldn’t even change her mind about not calling him.