by LoRee Peery
Sage didn’t answer his daughter. He bent his head and blinked the tear off his eyelash into his chili. He’d lost his appetite. The spices clogged his throat. The red chili beans felt like a lump in his stomach, but he managed to eat so nobody had reason to make a big deal out of it.
The foursome made short work of cleaning up the kitchen. Sage didn’t join in the light banter. His thoughts were on the weather.
Lezlie planted her feet, hands propped on her hips, and looked her father in the eye. “Dad, I’m going to dig Mom’s Bible out of the cedar chest. It’s still there, isn’t it?”
The Book where Becca had made the notation: We read to know we’re not alone.
He gave Lezlie a nod and looked at the clock. Three o’clock in the afternoon, and it was as dark as though the sun had already set.
“I’m going out for firewood and to check on the horses,” Sage announced. It was a wet, slippery adventure that had him panting by the time he stacked more wood next to the walk-out slider downstairs. He opened the door with enough force to make Jaxson jump. Sage heard the remote drop onto the coffee table.
“Jax! Get your mom’s keys and come help me. There’s a coating of ice on the windshields already. Ask Lanae for her car keys, too, please. We’re going to put the vehicles in the barn so we don’t have to scrape this mess again later. The sky is trying to decide if it’s spitting ice or blowing snow.”
The vehicles’ defrost functions helped melt the thin layer of ice off the sedan and SUV while Sage and his grandson scraped windows without many words. On their return walk to the house, two inches of powdery snow covered the slick rock of the driveway.
“Grandpa, I think I forgot something back there. I’ll see you in a few.”
Sage jostled Jaxson’s stocking cap, exposing an ear until it hunkered over the opposite eye. “I understand. If I didn’t feel this humidity deep in my bones, I’d stay out and play myself.”
The action brought back a reminder of Jaxson at age four. Sage pulled him close, tucked the cap back in place, and started to sing.
“I love you a bushel and a peck. A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”
Jaxson struggled to get loose. “Come on, Gramps. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Well, I don’t tell you enough how much I love you, and I sure hope we continue to offer hugs to each other until one of us dies.”
“Gross. I love you, too. But let me go, already.” Jaxson protested with a laugh.
Sage was half chuckling and half singing when he stomped his boots off inside the garage door. Maybe it was good, this company thing. He thumped the hood of his truck, thankful he’d squeezed it inside away from the storm. Unused to women in his home, he stopped a moment to collect himself and figure out what to do next.
When he opened the door, he saw Lezlie huddled in the recliner underneath a frayed blanket, looking so much like Becca that any words he could have formed froze in his throat.
****
Lanae looked up from the game drawer Lezlie had directed her to when Sage hustled through the door. He stood with mouth agape while the frigid air drafted across the room. A loose card from a box drifted to the floor next to her feet.
What in the world? Sage stared at Lezlie like he was looking at a ghost.
“Hey, Dad, where’s Jax—”
Sage grunted as Jaxson barreled through the door, knocking Sage forward. He gained his balance and came out of his daze enough to shrug off his coat.
“Look what I found in the barn. I’ve heard you guys talk about these letters. But hey, I didn’t pay much attention. What were they doing in the trash bucket in the barn, Grandpa?”
Sage scowled instead of answering. He stormed into the kitchen where he searched the bottom of the coffee carafe as though it held answers to the world’s peace problems.
“Jax, I love you!” Lezlie grabbed the discarded packet of letters from her son. “Dad, I’m not going to believe you threw them away on purpose. Lanae, have you read all of them?”
Lanae’s heart picked up its pace. With a sliding glance directed at Sage, she answered, “I have to confess, that yes, I went through them.”
“Dad, quit pretending these letters don’t exist, and get in here. We’re reading them. Thanks, Jaxson, for bringing them in.”
“Sure. Probably all mushy kisses and stuff. I’m starved.”
Lanae found a seat and sat back to watch Lezlie run the show, getting a kick out of the way Sage still frowned. But to his credit, he let Lezlie take charge. She looked at the posted dates without changing the order, and handed every other letter to her father.
He sat down on the couch next to Lanae.
“Dad, I want you to know how important this is to me, getting a glimpse of an uncle I’ve never known about. I can’t emphasize enough how when both Jaxson and I were kids…well, like I said before, it was embarrassing not knowing the names in our family tree for school projects.” Lezlie tucked the letters in her hand and took the rest to her father. She hugged him. “I couldn’t tell you the way I felt, but it was like I was adopted or something—”
“Yeah, Ma. I felt the same, but I was too embarrassed to tell you. It’s huge that I always have to put ‘unknown’ for my father.” Jaxson headed downstairs.
“This is not the time.” Lezlie stepped back and looked at her son.
He slumped his shoulders and instead of taking the stairs, draped his lanky arms over the banister rail as though he needed the iron to hold him upright.
Lanae found it quite dramatic, this interesting family situation, for mother and son to discover they had the same thoughts. Yet, they hadn’t gone to the necessary lengths to discover ancestral answers. Instead, they’d accepted poor grades for incomplete school assignments.
Lezlie resumed her seat, carefully unfolded the top letter, and started to read aloud.
While Lezlie was reading, Sage stared off with a glazed-over expression that told Lanae he wasn’t seeing or listening to a thing.
She followed Sage’s gaze out the window and gasped. Snow no longer fell. The outdoor world was bright white. A flock of cardinals, maybe a dozen, perched in a bush. Never in her life had she seen so many male cardinals so close together. The females wore fluffed feathers against the cold, making their shape rounder and softer looking than the males.
But why was Sage enthralled by the sight?
Lanae watched the birds, mesmerized. The brilliant scarlet males against the pure snow, perched vivid in the ethereal backdrop, brought to mind the shed blood of Jesus. Once a soul believed, Christ saw a saint as pure, white as snow. Without sin.
Lezlie interrupted. “What’s going on? You’re both not here in this room, by the looks on your faces.”
“Sorry.” Lanae didn’t make eye contact with Lezlie and lost track of which letter had just been read. “Guess I zoned out. I get choked up over Kate’s passionate, unfulfilled secret longings.”
“Lanae, what is your secret longing?” Lezlie asked, her words dropping like rocks. The young woman had no problem asking difficult questions.
“That can be a loaded question and differs according to where I am in my life.” Lanae answered, not meeting Sage’s eyes.
“Right now,” Sage said, touching her shoulder.
“Right now, I’m envious of your home. I wish for a home just like it. I miss the country so.” She jumped up. “And I shouldn’t. I know. I should be content where I am, thankful to be disease free. I think I need something to drink. May I?”
“There’s cranberry juice, apple cider, and cocoa makings in there.” Sage said easily. “Help yourself.”
On her way to the kitchen, she caught sight of the telephone, which reminded her to check in with Geneva, considering the weather.
After using her cell to leave a message for her sister, hot cranberry juice in hand, Lanae stood at the counter. She listened as Sage tried to read Kate’s written words without inflection.
Lord, what is he feeling? Thinking? Do the
words make him yearn for Becca, bring back his own loss? Does he wonder about Ted and what happened to him? Where he went?
They were so involved with reading the letters that Jaxson startled them all when he burst through the front door. Lanae hadn’t even realized he’d gone out again, probably through the walk-out downstairs.
“Wow, guys. It’s crazy out there! There’s a glaze on top of the snow so every step I took crunched and broke like I was on ice breaking on the water. Way cool. Check this out.” Jaxson turned his back, and dragged a huge pine bough, dripping snow, through the front door.
Sage hurried to slam out the blast of icy air.
Jaxson kept right on talking. “The ice broke this off and when I saw it, I grabbed it. Grandpa, I’ve never seen a Christmas tree in your place. We’ve got one now.”
Sage ignored the commotion and trounced down the hall, mumbling what sounded like, “sewing supplies.”
“I’ll find something to stand this branch in,” Jax said, on his way to the garage. “I’ve got this tree business under control.”
Lezlie shrugged and set aside the letters. “Guess we’ll finish these later. I’ll pop some corn for stringing.”
Lanae turned on the radio, and a Christmas-carol medley filled the air. An hour later, the adults were scrunched tight on the couch, and Jaxson sat in the recliner. They remained in silence with the lights off, hot chocolate in hand.
The “tree” looked all right where it listed some from its foundation of sand in a gallon can covered with foil. Sage had surprised them all when he brought out a jar of colored buttons, reminding Lanae of Geneva’s vast collection. Using needles and thread, they had strung strands of buttons as well as popcorn, and Lezlie created a garland of colored paper clips. Jaxson covered star-shaped cardboard in foil to top it all off. The tree looked colorful with their efforts.
Lanae wondered. This family owned no ornaments. Perhaps they made them each year, or maybe, with the death of Becca, they simply celebrated at Lezlie’s house, and Sage didn’t bother with a tree at his own home. Somehow, that seemed so sad.
Later, the snow outside the windows and the fire inside made it feel as though they were wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. Lanae snuggled in a little closer to Sage, where they shared the couch with Lezlie. She didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
Jaxson gulped the last of his hot chocolate, angled out of the big leather recliner, and announced he’d see them in the morning.
“You’ll be OK down there with the blanket and couch pillow?” Sage asked.
“No problem. I’ll catch a late show, but I’ll keep it low, so you don’t hear the TV.”
They all stood. Sage grabbed the mugs and took them to the sink. Lezlie walked to the top of the stairs to give Jaxson a hug.
Lanae called after them. “The tree was a nice gift to your grandfather, Jaxson, and I’ll cherish the memory.”
He blushed and disappeared.
Lezlie yawned before addressing Lanae. “Are you sure you don’t mind sharing a room? I could sleep out here.”
“No problem at all.”
Lezlie went to the kitchen and hugged Sage. “I’m going to turn in, too, Dad. Goodnight.”
Sage kissed her on the cheek and waited until the bathroom door closed before he resumed his seat on the couch. He grabbed the cover Lezlie had abandoned and motioned for Lenae to join him.
She cozied in next to him, where she’d been earlier, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
He clasped her hand after she smoothed the frayed blanket over their legs, and kissed the top of her head. “What was your comment earlier about being discontent?”
“I miss the ranch. I was thinking about horses and was reminded that West Nile virus had just come into the open. But we never had a vaccine as part of our routine care. Somehow, I thought I’d stay there until I died. That last morning when I gave up my life out west, I remember rising slowly from the breakfast table and hesitating a moment before opening the door. A storm raged in my heart and had been gathering speed and depth until it erupted into a flood of tears. I wondered if I was making a mistake after all. But living in the middle of nowhere, alone, I knew deep inside I was meant to start over, to move to Platteville and begin a new season of my life with Geneva and Frivolities.”
Sage stared at the flames in the fireplace. “Yeah, I know about new beginnings. I couldn’t concentrate on my job in Lincoln after I lost Becca and moved around some. When I ran across this acreage, I knew it was the place for me to start over. Can’t believe I’ve been here five years already.”
“I was thankful Keith and I had had no children to witness my humiliation and defeat. The finality of the sale delivered a stinging blow. How often I prided myself on my skills as a rancher after he was killed, taking care of the land for God. Now it’s difficult to believe the way I kept going it alone as long as I did. God was with me, I know. Keith and I had worked so hard, I couldn’t just give up.”
“You grieved for the land the way I did when I sold our home. I couldn’t live there after Becca died. I slept on the couch. Not this one. Couldn’t even go in the bedroom we’d shared. Lezlie and Becca’s sister packed up her things.”
At the mention of his dead wife, Sage released Lanae’s hand from where he had held it close to his side. Was he hiding their connection from Becca’s prying, photograph eyes?
Lanae felt the absence of his touch, brief as it had been. Sage had kept his distance all night, she suspected for the sake of Lezlie and Jaxson.
She continued her story. “Later, driving away, I felt a vast emptiness every bit as bone-deep as the one I had experienced after losing Keith to the accident. The ranch had become like a living thing to me, maybe even an idol the Bible talks about. Certainly there were times I put it before my relationship with the Lord. Just imagine, Sage, if you had to leave your land and move to the city.”
“I’d be lost. And angry. I don’t want to imagine facing a concrete jungle again on a daily basis. Or the idea of ever punching a time clock again.”
“Well, it was an adjustment all right, but I really didn’t have the chance to miss the beautiful land, the huge sky, the expanse of the horizon…” Agitated with herself, she scooted forward and put the sewing things back in order. “I got sick and probably was sick long before I left western Nebraska.”
She felt Sage stiffen and pull back. “I don’t think I could do it again, go through that pain.”
“You’ve been sick?”
“Not me. But I’ve watched someone sick for a long time. That feeling of helplessness left me raw.”
Lanae continued as though he hadn’t commented. “It was such a shock, to be diagnosed with hepatitis C.” Lanae placed several western and horse magazines into a stack and then shuffled the cards in the game box. “Until I researched the disease, I was convinced that long ago I caused it when I did something stupid.” She held the cards and looked over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. “I had a one-night stand when I was grieving, and missing Keith so much I wasn’t in my right mind. I figured the virus was my punishment. But as it turned out, sexual contact is a rare way to contract the disease.”
“So how’d you get it then?”
“It had to have been during that old surgery. Anyway, eighty percent of the people infected have no noticeable signs or symptoms, but we do experience emotional expressions like depression and panic attacks. I thought I was too excited and working too hard getting Frivolities under way.”
He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.
“As soon as I realized my life could be terminal, I got down on myself for feeling sorry and dissatisfied. I decided to live, no matter what the circumstance. I got so excited, inspired, even consumed, by the business of Frivolities. I crocheted like a mad woman. Each day I looked for the presence of God in the smallest things. My life is so rich with Eric and Moselle, Rainn and Mia. And of course, Geneva. I don’t know if I would have made it without her.”
“Now wait,” Lanae interrupted, “we don’t know what God has planned for anyone’s life.”
His face turned into an expressionless mask, as though an invisible hand had wiped it clear. He turned the card on top of his pile face-up, evened the stack in a precise rectangle.
She turned up a number one and took the five cards Sage dealt her. But instead of continuing her turn, she laid the cards down and reached for his hand. “Sage, I don’t care for these disagreeable feelings between us. Would you pray with me?”
He folded his cards in one hand and clasped her fingers, released a heavy sigh, and nodded.
“Dear heavenly Father. Thank You for the shelter we’ve had against the storm. Thank You for Sage and the safety of his home. I praise You for renewing anxious hearts, replacing those human emotions with a peace that surpasses understanding. Please show Kate a special grace at this moment, and if Ted is still around, only You know where he is. Now I ask that You guide us through the rest of this night.”
Sage squeezed her hand, inhaled, and blew it out on a heavy sigh.
She reached for one of Kate’s letters and handed it to Sage. “You didn’t read them all. I want to hear this in your voice.”
He slapped his cards on the table, avoided her eyes, and snatched the letter. He began to read.
July 19, 1960
The middle of the night
Dear, Dearest Theodore,
I finally drove to your place and met your mother. She is grieving as much for you as she is for your father.
For the sake of my own health, I fear I need to quit writing you these letters.
Maybe I am growing up. I braved up enough courage to tell my father I’m going to get a job in Omaha. One of the reasons is that I can’t be here in this room where I have loved you and been held in your arms through more dreams than I care to begin to count.
Your mother must have given up on your coming back.