The house was small by today’s standards. A small kitchen, small living room, small bath, and three small bedrooms on the ground level with an attic room above. His great-grandfather, for whom Ben was named, along with his two brothers, Oscar and Andy, had used that attic bedroom during the thirties and forties. In the decades since, the kitchen had been modernized, and the house was now heated by natural gas rather than wood or coal. And yet whenever Ben stepped through the door, he felt transported back in time. It seemed to him he could hear the voices of all of his ancestors who had lived there, even those he’d never known.
He parked his truck beneath the carport, but instead of going into the house, he strode toward the barn. Dusty, his yellow lab, followed close at his heels. There were no horses or cows in the barn or nearby pens, no chickens in the coop. There hadn’t been any livestock since before his grandfather gave him the place. Ben hadn’t moved into the house until last April. But now that he was here, he looked forward to watching the barnyard come to life again. Horses for the therapy sessions. Maybe a cat or two for the barn and even some chickens in the coop. After all, fresh eggs wouldn’t be unwelcome.
Dusty trotted off, exploring, and when he returned, there was a large stick in his mouth. Ben took the stick and gave it a good throw. The dog raced after it, mindless of the heat of the day. Ben, on the other hand, was ready for a cold drink in the air-conditioned living room.
“Come on, boy. It’s too hot to play fetch.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ben sat on the sofa, a glass of diet soda with ice in his hand. As he sipped the drink, his thoughts returned to Ashley Showalter. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been the woman who stepped down from that ladder upon his arrival. Her light brown hair had been caught in a ponytail but enough strands had pulled loose to give her a delightfully disheveled appearance. Her face had glistened with perspiration. Slender as a reed, she hadn’t looked strong enough to carry boards up a ladder or to hammer those same boards together into a shelter. Apparently looks were deceiving.
He sure hoped she would call him soon.
About the horses, of course. His interest in her phone call was all about the horses.
Wednesday, Jan 17, 1940
“Dad?”
Andrew looked up from the workbench in the barn and watched as Ben approached him.
“Is there any chance I could go to college?”
It was a question Andrew had never expected to hear from his eldest child. From the time Ben had come to live with them at age nine, he had struggled with his schooling. The primary cause was disinterest, not because he wasn’t smart enough to excel.
“I want to become a pilot, and I found out today that the Army Air Corps Training Center requires a couple of years of college or three years of technical education before a guy can join.”
There was a lot of information in Ben’s sentence, but what Andrew heard the loudest were the words “Army Air Corps.” His son wanted to be a pilot in the military. A chill went through him that had nothing to do with the winter wind whistling outside of the barn.
The president and many other US politicians preached isolationism. They promised to keep America out of the war that was raging in Europe. But Andrew wasn’t sure the politicians and diplomats could keep that promise. Spending time with Hirsch Finkel had changed his faith in their abilities. Thanks to his neighbor, Andrew knew more than he wished to know about what had happened in Germany after Hitler’s party came to power.
Andrew had read a quote by an Irish statesman that said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men should do nothing.” It was a phrase that ran through his mind a lot lately. Could Americans do nothing for long?
“Dad.”
He gave his head a shake. “Sorry, Ben. I got distracted. Army Air Corps. Becoming a pilot. You caught me by surprise.” He cleared his throat. “College is expensive, and you know we don’t have much extra cash, even with the economy improving a little. You’d have to bring up your grades if you want to go to college, and you’ll have to get a job to pay some of your expenses while you’re in school. That means going to classes, doing your studies, and holding down work at the same time. It’ll be tough. You’ll have to want it bad.”
“I do want it bad.”
“You’ll have to be willing to stick with it, no matter what.”
“I will.”
Andrew released a breath. “Then we’ll try to figure out how to make it happen. No promises, son, but we’ll do our level best.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll do my part too. I promise.”
About the Author
Bestselling novelist Robin Lee Hatcher, author of more than seventy-five books, is known for her heartwarming and emotionally charged stories of faith, courage, and love. Robin is an eleven-time finalist and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA Award. In addition to many other awards, she is the recipient of lifetime achievement awards from both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. When not writing, she enjoys being with her family, spending time in the beautiful Idaho outdoors, Bible art journaling, reading books that make her cry, watching romantic movies, and decorative planning. A mother and grandmother, Robin makes her home with her husband on the outskirts of Boise, sharing it with a demanding Papillion puppy named Boo and a persnickety tuxedo cat named Pinky.
For more information, visit www.robinleehatcher.com
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