“Oh.”
“Havyn, I spoke to Chuck just before he collapsed and told him how uncomfortable I was with the whole arrangement. I told him that love was sacred, and I hoped to fall in love one day and then marry. Without some contractual obligation.”
Her chin lifted a bit higher as she turned forward. “Oh.” Several seconds passed.
What was she feeling? Her expression gave him no clue.
“We need to get back and talk to Whitney and Mama. They’re sure to have noticed the sheep by now.”
“Right.” Maybe she needed time to process it all. He flicked the reins to urge the horses on. “You know, your grandfather only had your family’s best interest at heart.”
“I know he did.”
“When he gave me—” Oh! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? “Of course!”
“What?”
“Your grandfather just saved the day again.” He flicked the reins even harder. “Let’s go!”
Havyn sat in silence the rest of the way home. Not that she had a lot of choice. John was all fired up and in a hurry to get back. So she held on to the seat and bounced along with the wagon. Hoping he didn’t know her thoughts. Frankly, she didn’t have the energy to pursue what was going on in his mind. He’d all but said that he wasn’t interested in her. He wanted to fall in love. Granddad’s contract made him uncomfortable.
How could she have been so stupid?
Everything had been going so well . . . even Maddy and Whit had commented about the connection they’d seen between her and John. So where had she gone wrong? Did he really not care?
Her heart sank. She’d just have to carry on as if his words hadn’t stung.
At the house, she left John by the fenced-in area where they’d left the sheep and went in search of her mother and sisters. It would be nice to take a nap and have a nice long cry. But that wasn’t to be.
When she’d gathered them all together outside, she walked them over to the pen. John looked to her as if for direction, so she cleared her throat and gave a dry but detailed account of all that had happened.
Mama paced the full length of the pen. “Sheep. You brought us sheep. But not just any sheep. Stolen sheep?” She looked at Madysen.
“I didn’t mean for them to be stolen, and now they’re not. Havyn and John said they took care of everything with Mr. Reynolds.” Maddy had a most determined look in her eyes.
“But what if he hadn’t been willing? We’d be having this conversation with you in jail. Honestly, Madysen, with all the other problems we have, I don’t need to have to worry about one more.”
Madysen’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I didn’t steal them on purpose. Well, I did take them on purpose, but stealing them wasn’t how I planned for things to turn out. I always intended to talk to Mr. Reynolds about them, I was just afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. He said he planned to sell them first thing.”
“Madysen.” Mama gave an exasperated sigh. “I know that you intended this for something good, but you can’t go around deciding these things. Adding animals to this farm means that you’re adding jobs. The idea of making cheese is wonderful, but it’s additional work. And none of us know how to make the cheese except John, and he’s already working around the clock.”
“If I might interrupt.” John spoke for the first time. He was leaning up against the fence, hands in his pockets.
Everyone turned to him, and Mama nodded.
He straightened. “I believe the least of our troubles will be making the cheese. For now, we need to make a place to keep these sheep, and figure out how we’re going to feed them. We can’t just let them roam and graze in this small space for long. Someone will need to be with them if they aren’t penned. Then there’s the concern about predators.”
“Madysen, this will be your responsibility more than anyone else’s.” The fire in Mama’s eyes said it all. “I have always loved your kind heart, but this time you just may have taken on more than even your heart can bear.”
Whitney went over to Madysen and put an arm around her. “I’ll help you with them. Besides, what’s done is done. Now we need to figure out how to make them turn a profit.”
“Won’t their wool be worth something too?” Madysen swiped at her cheeks.
Mama put a hand to her forehead. “I need to get back to your grandfather. Amka can only stay for a little bit today. And with the workers needing to be paid, I’m afraid this is just too much for me to think about right now.” She headed for the house.
“Mrs. Powell, if I might offer one more thing?”
She turned back and looked at John. “Yes?”
“Your father gave me this, and I thought we could use it to help pay the workers.” He held out a gold nugget the size of his palm.
Whitney was the closest to John. “He gave that to you? When?”
He looked between Mama and Whitney. “When he asked me to take care of the farm.”
Havyn could have smacked her sister. Mama didn’t know anything about the contract, and they’d agreed to keep it that way for a while.
Mama placed a calming hand on Whit’s shoulder. “John, if he gave it to you, I’m sure it was for a very good reason. I don’t need to know why . . . that’s your private business. But if you are willing to use that to help us out during this time, I’m sure Papa will repay you when he’s well enough. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it. Thank you.” With a nod, Mama lifted her skirts and hurried back to the house.
“Yes, thank you, John.” Though Whitney’s arms were folded across her chest, the words were sincere. Well . . . that was progress. “I still don’t understand about the contract, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say that your sacrifice for us is noble.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the dog pen.
Maddy stood by the fence, looking at the sheep. Turning around, she looked at John and then to Havyn. “I guess I need to learn how to make cheese out of sheep’s milk, and study up on wool. . . . You think I can make a go of this?”
“Well, we’ll have to start small. I can teach you what I know about making cow’s milk cheese, but I have a feeling there will be a lot to learn.” John smiled. “We’ll take it one step at a time together. All right?”
“Thank you both for helping me. I know it wasn’t smart. But thank you anyway.” Maddy reached out and squeezed John’s arm.
“Any time.” John tipped his head at Madysen, then stepped toward Havyn.
She held her breath for a moment. Everything about him drew her. And that hurt even worse.
“I was hoping we could talk later today?” The look in his eyes was deep . . . pleading.
No. It was probably about making cheese. Sheep. The farm. Whatever. “Sure. Tonight on the way to the Roadhouse would be good.”
The light in his eyes dimmed for a moment. “Oh, yeah. That will be fine.” He looked down at the ground and cleared his throat. “I have a lot of work to do. Better hop to it.”
Havyn watched John walk away. What man was willing to sacrifice his salary and now a gold nugget sure to be worth a good deal? The contract no longer bothered her. Even if he had been interested in her, it wouldn’t. Because . . .
John Roselli was a good man.
Her heart twinged. If she just knew what to do with the growing feelings she had for him, she’d be okay.
Maddy walked over, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you offer to talk to him another time, Havyn? If he wanted to talk to all of us, he would’ve suggested the ride to town himself.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She’d just have to shut the door to her heart. It was the only way to survive.
Her younger sister leaned her head back and groaned to the sky. “Can you really be that daft? He asked to talk to you. Just you. Everyone can see that he cares for you, Havyn, so why are you shutting him out?”
Maddy walked off, her hands waving at her sides as she mumbled. Probably about how exasperating it was to h
ave an older sister ignorant in the ways of love. But she didn’t know what John had said. She only had the fairy tale in her mind.
What was Havyn supposed to do? Hadn’t he said that he was uncomfortable with the contract? Because he wanted to fall in love naturally?
Seemed pretty clear to her. Even though she’d begun to fall in love with John Roselli, he wasn’t interested in her.
And that broke her heart.
Nineteen
Turning his face to the right, Chuck felt the warmth from the sun touch his cheeks. A bit of clarity seemed to push through the fog in his mind. It was summer. He could tell by the way the sun felt. There was nothing like the sunshine of Alaska in the summer.
With some concentration, he was able to open his eyes. Memories of the past few weeks came in. Him feeling like he was stuck in a fog in his mind. All the poking and prodding and how he tried to make a sound. The new doctor’s voice. The other voices—Melissa and the girls. He recognized them all now.
Blinking several times, Chuck took a few deep breaths and looked around the room. It took so much energy to move his head, but he was able to do it.
To his left, a cot had been placed close to the door. Melissa was sound asleep on it. Had she been with him the whole time? It seemed like she had. The poor thing. She must be exhausted. She winced and coughed several times. Seemed like he remembered her doing that more lately. Was the summer air bothering her?
She settled back into a state of rest. She no doubt needed a break. It wasn’t fair for her to have to sit by his side all the time.
God, why can’t You heal me? Can’t You see that they need me?
Memories of hearing the girls singing, talking, and laughing came back to him. They’d been in here too. Begging him to wake up and come back to them. He’d woken up many times, but it had taken the past few days of serious concentration to get his mind to function and remember.
So many things flooded in. Thank heaven he was thinking clearly again, even though he couldn’t remember everything that had gone on since he’d collapsed with Havyn. How long had he been bedridden?
The doctor poking him came back. They hadn’t been able to get him to move. Well, that simply had to change. He was going to get better. He had to. His girls needed him.
Putting all of his energy into it, Chuck tried to lift his right hand. Nothing happened. Then he tried to lift his left hand. His fingers moved. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
If he couldn’t lift his hand, how was he going to write? That was his only way of communicating right now, because his tongue didn’t seem to work. He’d just have to work at it more. But every time he tried to move his hand, only his fingers moved. And even that slight movement took all his energy.
Relaxing his worn-out body, Chuck tried to think through everything. He couldn’t leave his girls like this. He couldn’t. It was a good thing he’d brought John on, but there was so much he hadn’t told him.
Fact was, he had to get better. To tell them where he kept the money, how he paid the workers. Come to think of it . . . how were they managing? How long had it been since he collapsed? How far behind were they in paying the workers?
His heart picked up its pace. His girls didn’t know about the gold . . . that there was plenty stashed away. They must be worried sick.
As his mind went through all the ways he’d failed his family, another memory came rushing to the forefront of his mind.
Christopher.
What if they found out about the secret he’d held all these years regarding that man?
His heart sank.
Please, Lord, don’t let them find out. At least not before I have a chance to explain.
The Roadhouse church was packed this morning, which made it stuffier than usual. Havyn fanned her face. She hated the heat.
Scanning the room, she sang along with the congregation. Mr. Norris was so generous to let the pastor preach in the Roadhouse on Sunday mornings. Not only was it big enough to house their growing congregation, but there was a piano there for the girls to take turns playing for the service.
Every bench and chair had been utilized. Mr. Norris had arranged them in rows, pushing the tables to the side for the maximum seating capacity. It suited them well—maybe better than some of the other tent churches. Not that all that many people in Nome concerned themselves with church. Still, Mama always talked about how they should shine a light in the darkness of their town.
The singing was over and Havyn sat down. Maybe the sermon would be short today. She had so much to do at home. Animals didn’t stop having needs on Sunday, after all. She’d found plenty to do this past week, which helped keep her mind off John.
Well . . . sort of.
In any case, she didn’t need time to herself. Because then her mind just strayed to a tall, dark-haired, handsome Italian. She fanned herself with her gloves. It was so stuffy. Couldn’t someone open the windows? She looked toward the window, willing someone to open it, but John turned his face from the front and caught her attention. His smile was genuine, and all of a sudden she longed to ask Maddy to change places with her.
No. She’d sat in the middle of her sisters for this very reason. She had to stop thinking about John. Turning her face back to the front, she fanned herself some more.
She drew a deep breath. Her complaining needed to stop, even if it was just in her mind. She needed to do a better job of being content. She could get up and come to church. Poor Granddad loved the services, but he was stuck in bed. And poor Mama had chosen to stay home with him. Things could be so much worse.
“‘Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.’” Pastor Wilson stood behind the pulpit, his Bible in his hands. “Did you all hear that? The apostle Paul is admonishing us that in all things—because that’s what always means—we need to rejoice.” Their pastor smiled and looked around the room. “Now, I’m not going to name names, but how many of you have been complaining lately?”
Havyn squirmed. She wanted to hide underneath the bench. Had he read her mind? Had God told him she was complaining in her heart? Heat crept up her neck, and she took long, deep breaths. Blast her complexion! She turned red so easily. She probably looked like a tomato right now.
Pastor Wilson continued. “The rains have left us with increasingly muddy roads, the sickness has been insufferable for many, and let’s not forget about the mosquitoes.”
The congregation moaned and laughed together.
“But we see right here, in the fourth chapter of Philippians, that we are instructed to rejoice. Not just when we feel like it. Not when things are going well. It clearly says, ‘Rejoice in the Lord always.’”
Several amens sounded from around the room.
“I’m not going to belabor the point, but don’t forget that, all right?” Pastor read some more verses. “Folks, we have been neglecting one of the most powerful resources we have. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a little thing called prayer.”
More affirmation filled the room.
“And what is the benefit—the result of prayer? The peace of God. Do you see that? Do you understand how important this is? I hope you do, my friends. It’s hard to complain when you’re praying and praising.”
Ouch. She hadn’t done much of either lately.
“‘Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.’ Now, let’s take a moment to examine these verses. It’s pretty simple when it all comes down to it. The last part of the verse says, ‘think on these things.’ That’s a command, folks. Just like rejoice always. It’s not a suggestion. It’s not an if-you-feel-like-it-today kind of idea. It’s imperative. So what is it that we are supposed to think on? Look at the list. What’s first on that list? True. What is truth? Well, that’s easy. The only pure truth that we hav
e is Jesus Christ. This world is full of lies and half-truths. But God—He remains steadfast. He is truth.” Pastor walked away from the pulpit for a moment and shoved his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t intellectual mumbo-jumbo here. This is for you and for me. The common man. Right here, right now. Take this list and examine it. Copy it down and hang it in your homes. I think if we could master this list right here, we could be doing mighty things for the Kingdom. Don’t you?”
John echoed several other amens. It thrilled Havyn’s heart to hear his voice in church. It took every fiber within her to not look down the bench at him just so she could see his face—
What was wrong with her? Fanning herself with her gloves again, she focused on the pastor. Lord, I need Your help. I like John. A lot. But he made it clear . . .
Their conversation in the wagon ran through her mind again. Maybe he wasn’t saying that he wasn’t interested in her . . . maybe . . . no. She couldn’t go there. As much as she wanted to get her hopes up, she couldn’t allow it. “Amen.” John’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.
Havyn focused back up front. Pay attention.
Pastor looked around the congregation for several moments. It seemed he was trying to make eye contact with every single person in the room. He stepped back behind the pulpit and looked down at his Bible for another second. The congregation was hushed.
“We often quote this verse to encourage ourselves that we can do something that might be hard, don’t we? And I’m not saying that’s wrong. But I am wanting you to look at this passage carefully. Paul has just talked about being content in any circumstance. Then he says, ‘I can do all things . . .’ Don’t you think it’s interesting that this verse is right here, not in a passage where some great giant is being defeated? But it’s right after he talks about contentment. Personally, I think it’s because God knew that we would struggle with being content. That we would struggle with rejoicing always. He knows that we are a big bunch of complainers.”
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