Argosy Junction

by Chautona Havig

  “Wanted to be what?” She was now intrigued.

  “You’ve gotta meet Mrs. Hayward to understand. Mrs. H. made me feel like even a guy from the ‘burg could have a sense of honor.”

  This time, Lane reached for Matt’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. “That, you definitely do, Matt. Definitely.”

  “I didn’t want to use you. That sounds so awful and it wouldn’t have been intentional, not now, but once I got home and I still felt—and then when you were coming… Well, I thought that I should let my guard down some. If there was any chance of any kind of relationship, I wanted to let it happen. I didn’t realize that by letting down my guard I’d become so…”

  She interrupted his thoughts with an apology that seemed out of nowhere. “I’m sorry Matt. I—” He tried to stop her, but she stopped him. “No, Matt. This was my fault. I know you, I know your character, I’ve read your letters, and now I know how and why you were so careful, and yet, I allowed my pride…” She couldn’t finish, but Matt’s eyes told her that he understood.

  They sat in silence for some time. They were still there, sitting alone in the darkness, when Carol and Jack returned with Patience from the bowling alley. “Lane! I got a strike! I did! It was so fun! Can I call Daddy and tell him?”

  Lane smiled absently at her little sister and retrieved her phone. As Patience spoke excitedly into the phone telling her parents about her bowling experience, Lane put the envelopes in her purse, thanked Matt’s parents for a wonderful meal, and asked them if she could take them out to dinner one night the following week. Matt watched the scene with his heart in his stomach. It wasn’t going to work, and both of them knew it, but neither of them would admit it to each other or themselves.

  ~*~*~*~

  Patience went straight for the bathtub when Matt returned them to their room an hour later. Lane helped adjust the water temperature, and then left her to soak in the bubbles and sing silly songs to herself. After placing fresh pajamas in the bathroom, Lane told her they’d be in the sitting room and reminded her to come out fully dressed.

  “Sometimes she gets careless still. She’s a little immature for nine. Daddy thinks she was in the birth canal a little too long. Just enough to cause a tiny amount of brain damage, but not so long as to make it serious.”

  Matt nodded. He’d noticed that there was something different about Patience, but didn’t know if it was just her personality, her upbringing, or the fact that he didn’t know many nine-year-old girls. “I love her just the way she is.”

  “Me too.”

  “Yes, you too,” Matt admitted absently. Realizing what he said, Matt backpedaled, but Lane stopped him.

  “Don’t. I can’t take it. If you care about me, just say so. For Pete’s sake, I’d rather know a good man loves me and can’t do anything about it, than to wonder why I’m so repulsive.”

  Visibly frustrated, Lane started cleaning up the sitting room of their suite. She folded clothes, threw away tags and water bottles, and put Patience’s things in her backpack. Matt watched feeling helplessly torn.

  Finally, he caught her wrists as she walked by and pulled her into a hug. “I’ve got to go.” He drew back looking into her eyes. “You know I don’t want to, right?”

  Lane nodded. “I know.”

  “I usually go to church on Sunday mornings. I’ll be in the lobby at nine-thirty. I really hope you’ll come with me. I promise it won’t be anything like the Brethren, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to go.”

  “What if we don’t show up?”

  “I’ll sit there until you come down, and if it’s too late to go, we won’t go. You’re only here for the week—”

  “Maybe. I’m going to talk to Daddy tonight. I need to stay.”

  “But Patience—”

  “I’m going to ask him to send Mom to get her. I really need to stay Matt. I need to know—”

  She stood there for several minutes after Matt closed the door behind him. Patience found her standing with one hand on her lips looking off into space. “Where’s Matt?”

  Snapping out of it, Lane smiled. “He had to go home. He wants us to go to church with him tomorrow; what do you think?”

  “The church that gives out the cards to the homeless people?”

  Lane nodded. “Well, his church is the one who runs that place anyway.”

  “I want to go.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Conscious of Patience’s gentle snores on the other side of the room, Lane dialed her home phone. Her parents would be asleep, but this was important, and Lane needed absolute privacy to discuss things. The sound of her father’s concerned voice sent her normal steadiness out the window and she sniffled.

  “Daddy? I need to stay.”

  “What’s up, Laney?”

  “Matt. You knew, didn’t you?”

  Warren sat up in bed and snapped on the light. Martha stirred beside him alarmed. Warren covered the phone and assured her that the girls were safe. “I should also tell you that I realized the dates were probably wrong before you left.”

  “Why didn’t you have us wait? It’s too long for Patience.”

  “Because we’re very good at making sure Patience has what she needs, making sure the boys aren’t left out, making sure Tad has the same opportunities as Kyle, but we tend to let Lane bounce through life along for the ride.”

  Fresh sniffles made Lane’s nose run. She grabbed a tissue before asking, “What do you think?”

  “I think you need to spend as much time with Matt as you can so you both can see if there is anything there.”

  “Oh there’s a lot there, but can we do anything with it?”

  Warren’s laugh was the balm Lane needed. “That’s my Lane. Now you’re talking.”

  “But Patience won’t make it. The first thing she did when she got in from bowling was ask to call. In a day or two, it’s going to be tears. She loves Matt, but she needs you guys.” She took a deep breath. “I have an idea…”

  “Let me have it.”

  “I think Mom should fly out and take Patience back. Maybe Wednesday would be a good day. She could fly in Wednesday while Matt is at work and fly back out on Thursday. We could take Matt’s parents out to dinner Wednesday night.”

  Warren promised to make the arrangements. Lane knew her mother wasn’t keen on the idea of flying, but the prospect of meeting Matt’s parents would probably be enough to overcome her reservations. Warren offered to send Tad with Martha so Lane wouldn’t be alone in Rockland, but Lane assured him she was safe.

  “Dad, am I being silly?”

  “About what?”

  “Well I’m only nineteen—”

  “You’ll be twenty in less than a month, Laney.”

  Laughing at her father’s attempts to reassure her, Lane tried again. “Okay, Father mine, since I’m only almost twenty, am I crazy for wanting to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  At first, the question seemed to be avoiding the subject, but after thinking a moment, Lane realized what her father was doing.

  “You want me to define this. I get it. Matt cares about me. He might even love me. I don’t know. I’m attracted to him, I know I care about him, but am I too young to love someone enough to spend a few weeks getting to know them better?”

  “You’re avoiding the word marriage. Is there a reason for that?” Warren had a way of cutting to the heart of an issue just when you thought you’d managed to avoid it.

  Lane didn’t answer for some time. Each listened to the sound of the other’s breathing and waited for Lane to answer the question. Finally, Lane took a deep breath and sighed. “Because marriage means change, but I want it.”

  “You want marriage or you want marriage to Matt?”

  “Both. Isn’t that the most immature silly thing you’ve ever heard me say? It’s ridiculous—”

  “Your mother was eighteen when I married her. Was she ridiculous?” Warren’s voice was steady and understanding. His wife liste
ned to his side of the conversation with wide eyes and unsettled heart. “Carrie was nineteen when she married Peter. Was that a mistake? Forget the Brethren. Was marrying who she wanted to marry a mistake? Do you think she regrets it?”

  Another sniffle escaped. “I feel like a little girl playing grown up games.”

  “Then come home, Lane. We’re not trying to get rid of you. Come home; keep writing him, and maybe next year—”

  Lane’s groan stopped him. “I don’t want to wait another year to see him again. Two and a half months was so long… “

  “Then quit second-guessing yourself. You’re old enough to know your own mind. I know Matt. I trust him. He won’t play head games with you, and that’s what matters to me almost more than anything else.”

  “I know. He was attracted to me before he even came to stay with us, but he never said anything.” A fresh round of sniffles prompted a dash for the box in the bathroom.

  “I knew he was, and I respected him for it. If he’d have tried to say anything then, I would have pounded him.”

  “He’s a Christian.”

  She heard her father’s sharp intake of breath and could visualize the way his jaw must have clenched before he said, “Then he is proof that real ones still exist. Maybe he’s strong enough to resist the pull of Christian peer pressure. I wasn’t, but maybe Matt has it in him.”

  “We’re going to church with him tomorrow.” Lane could sense the change in the atmosphere between them.

  “Look, Lane, I’m not going to tell you to go or not to go. I am going to remind you to be careful. I can’t imagine Matt would ever lead you anywhere that could take you down another path like the Brethren, but I can’t be objective on this one. If you want to go, go. Just be careful.”

  Lane tossed and turned for a good hour before she gave up, padded into the sitting area, and retrieved the letters from her purse. She’d read them again with fresh eyes no longer clouded with anger and pain. She had at least two more weeks with Matt. It wasn’t enough to know for life, but it would be a strong indicator.

  She opened the first letter and read,

  Dear Lane,

  Everything I’ve tried to write sounds melodramatic. When I stopped by to say goodbye today, it was the hardest thing I could imagine doing. I kicked myself all the way out to your ranch. If I wasn’t so stubborn and angry at Josiah Gideon, I wouldn’t have put myself in a place to leave. I have never felt such gratitude and relief as I did when your father invited me to stay. I think he knows how attracted I am to you, and he took pity on me.

  Do you know how I feel about you? I don’t think you do. I’ve tried to keep my actions completely platonic, but it isn’t easy. I find myself letting down my guard when I need most to keep it firm. I won’t play with your affections. I’m probably crazy to imagine that you’d give them. After just a few hours… it is crazy. Crazy good, but crazy.

  Well, if I’m going to be any use to your father, I’m going to have to sleep.

  Goodnight Lane,

  Matt

  She read several sentences over again before slipping the letter back into its envelope and opening the next.

  Dear Lane,

  You fascinate me. Every day I hope to find that it’s just some crazy infatuation that makes my heart pound when you’re around. Do you hear it? You don’t seem to. You whack me with your hat, and I want to grab it. I feel like a little kid on the school grounds who likes the girl, but doesn’t know how to show it, so he takes her cupcake or her lunchbox and runs away. She has to chase him if she wants it back so she does. If I stole your hat, would you chase me?

  I try to imagine you in my city, and I can’t. You are such a part of this place that it hurts. I can’t see you anywhere, but here, and I belong in Rockland. I guess that’s why I’m writing letters that I’ll never send to a girl I can’t have.

  Torn,

  Matt

  The next two were written after hard days of sheep shearing. Matt’s attraction grew with each letter and it showed. Each page showed a progression to genuine caring over mere interest. The one he wrote the night before he returned to Rockland wrung her heart.

  Dear Lane,

  I so want to put “my” in front of that salutation. I leave tomorrow, but I don’t want to go. I feel guilty when I think of my parents and how excited they are to hear about my trip, but all I can think of is that I won’t see you on Friday morning. I won’t wake up and hear your laughter or see you smile or pray that your hand touches mine when you pass me the biscuits.

  Did you know I do that? I’ll miss just knowing it could happen. I’ll also miss saddling your horse. I know you can do it, and you’re much faster than I am, but it’s a guy thing like checking oil in your car or squishing a spider.

  I so wish I could tell you what I’m thinking. I want so badly to tell you how much I love watching you with Patience. You’re such a good big sister. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother. I—I can’t even write what’s in my heart. Maybe I’m afraid you’ll find these before I can get home or maybe I’m afraid that when I get home I’ll discover that attraction and infatuation can appear as emotions of light. Maybe you can think you’re in love when it’s just loneliness and appreciation.

  I don’t want to go. I’d give anything for you to ask me to stay, but you won’t. I couldn’t stay anyway, but I still wish you’d ask me not to go.

  Leaving part of my heart here… with you,

  Matt

  The tone of Matt’s letters changed once he got home. After he received Lane’s first letter, he wrote again. This was the letter that had so thoroughly surprised and angered her.

  Dear Lane,

  Two thousand miles is just too far. How will I stand to be here for the next nine months, when you’re there? I can’t leave work again until January. What is Montana like in January? I wonder.

  I’d hoped my feelings for you would go away when I got home. All the way on the plane, I tried to distance my heart from you. I thought of my parents, my job, my church—

  Oh, how I thought of my church. I thought of your reaction when you found out I go to church, believe in God, and trust Jesus for my salvation. I reminded myself of how much you despise all that I hold most dear. Well, almost all. I couldn’t quite eject you from that list.

  Your letters are going to torture me. So, what do I do? I go searching for your family’s website so I can write more often and faster. How can someone I’ve known for such a short time, mean so much to me? How can I know someone so well who I know so little?

  Where do I go from here?

  Matt

  What young woman wouldn’t thrill to read something so endearing? Matt’s letters were filled with uncertainty, dreams, and a desire to share his heart. Lane flipped through them until the last one written the night before she arrived.

  Oh Lane,

  You’re almost here. Will everything be as it was, or will I discover that I’ve built a dream in my heart that can never materialize? Is your heart sealed against me or can it be opened? Is it possible that it is already open and waiting, or do you have it barred and locked?

  I want nothing more than to talk about all of this, but then I think of me in Rockland and you in Montana and wonder if it is fair to either of us to say anything. You’re so young and yet—I love you. How is that possible? I still don’t understand it. I try to convince myself that it won’t last, but I know I’m kidding myself. I am so close to ready to make the sacrifices necessary to make it work. I think it is not knowing if you. Ack. I can’t even write it, and what I write doesn’t make sense. It’s a wonderful thing that you’ll probably never read these. If you did, I’d never have a chance.

  Counting hours, minutes, and seconds,

  Matt

  A less pragmatic young woman might have been overwhelmed, or worse, emotionally manipulated by the letters. Matt had taken a large risk, calculated as it was, in assuming he knew Lane’s personality well enough to trust her with his raw and uncensored emotions
. The ball was in Lane’s court, and yet, Matt seemed ready to take it again once she knew where she wanted him to run with it.

  She finally drifted to sleep wondering if she could leave her family for Matt. Was her answer the proof in whether she was ready to take that plunge? If she couldn’t choose Matt and his noisy dirty city over her family and the Montana mountainside she’d always known, was it the evidence she needed to know that she was just too young to know her own mind or was it a natural thing to prefer the familiar even if you loved some part of the new?

  Ten

  Sunday morning was a flurry of preparations for church. Patience fairly bounced from bed to couch and back to bed again. Lane unbraided her hair carefully and brushed it until it shone. Then, she used a curling iron and curled the ends of Patience’s hair under giving it a naturally wavy look. Thankful she’d grabbed a white headband, Lane slipped it over Patience’s head and tucked it carefully behind her ears.

  “There. You look adorable! I like those shoes with that dress.”

  Patience rushed to look at herself in the large mirror over the dresser. “It’s cute. I’ve never had a naughty girl dress before. I wonder why they call it that.”

  “Nautical Patience. Like boats and ships and things. Navy. Sailor. Not naughty girl.” Lane stifled a snicker as she slipped into the bathroom to dress. She couldn’t wait to share that one with Matt.

  Though she rarely wore cosmetics, Lane was determined to look her best. She carefully applied eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara. With a steady hand, she blushed her cheeks and added a touch of lipstick. To her dismay, the color was much brighter than it appeared in the tube. Lane wiped it off quickly, but it stained her lips just the right shade. Shrugging her shoulders, she dug out her trusty tub of Carmex and added a light coating over her lips and stood back to see the effect.