by Linda Ford
"Got ice cream," he murmured. "It needs to go in the freezer."
She took the bags and headed for the house, dropping them on the counter. Blake came in behind her, opened the side-by-side freezer and stashed the ice cream.
"Where's Aunt Betty?" he asked Amy who shrugged. "Aunt Betty," he called, striding into the living room.
Darcy heard a sharp response and then Blake returned. "She's on the phone with one of her cronies. Said she doesn't have time to make lunch today. She has to go into town and have lunch with a friend who's in town for a few hours. So..." He rubbed his hands together and looked gleeful. "We're on our own."
Darcy backed away. "I'll be back later then." She didn't wish to intrude.
Blake grabbed her wrist. "I'm hoping you'll have mercy on me and cook up a meal like last night."
Amy bounced up and down. "Please, Darcy. Cook us something."
"Anything but..." Blake grinned at Amy and together they whispered, "Macaroni."
Darcy snapped her fingers. "That's exactly what I had in mind. Thick, gluey, yummy macaroni."
Amy gagged, Blake frowned, and Darcy laughed. "Just teasing. Seriously, what do you have in the house?"
"There's a whole freezer full of meat downstairs. Come on, I'll show you."
She followed him down to a large storeroom. Not only was the freezer full, the shelves were well stocked and a narrow door opened to a cold room with a solitary bag of potatoes.
"You have tons of food here."
Blake shrugged. "It's an old tradition on farms and ranches to keep in a good supply. I suppose it has its roots in pioneer days when you stocked up for the winter, but I know Mom always said we had to be prepared for a storm."
"Storm?"
"We often get late snow storms. We can be shut off from civilization for days at a time."
"You certainly wouldn't starve to death if you were. Why doesn't Aunt Betty use this?"
"She doesn't like cooking. Made that plain from the beginning."
Darcy poked through the contents of the freezer. "What do you want?"
"What can you do?"
From the supplies here, she could cook up almost anything a person could dream of. But she knew he wouldn't want something four hours later. Something quick would have to do. "Hamburgers. Steak. Something with chicken breast?"
"Did I hear the word steak?"
"Steak it is. You want potatoes?"
"Yes."
A few minutes later, they climbed the stairs again, carrying supplies. She got the impression the man was starving for a good old-fashioned meat and potatoes meal. So while Aunt Betty fussed about, gathering up her things, and complaining she never had enough time in the day, Darcy peeled potatoes, thawed the steak, and prepared an apple crisp using a can of pie filling.
Both Amy and Blake hung about drooling.
"Mom used to cook like that," Blake said.
Amy perched forward. "She did?"
Blake nodded, his expression sad as he regarded his little sister. "You were too young to remember, but Mom loved to cook."
Amy tipped her head toward her brother. "Did I like what she made?"
Blake laughed. "You loved her mashed potatoes and gravy."
Darcy decided then and there she would make the creamiest mashed potatoes and richest gravy she could.
With no makings for a salad and no fresh vegetables, she chose three varieties of frozen vegetables and hoped they would pass the taste test.
Forty-five minutes later, they sat down at the dining nook surrounded by a huge bay window providing them a panoramic view of the rolling fields and distant mountains. Blake uttered a hurried grace.
Amy tasted everything tentatively, her eyes growing wider with each mouthful. Blake, not nearly as cautious, filled his plate and dug in like a man condemned to his last meal.
Darcy accepted their words of praise. "I love cooking," she admitted.
"Like my Mom," Amy said. She turned to Blake. "Did I like her potatoes and gravy better'n this?"
Blake chuckled. "I don't think so." He sent a warm glance to Darcy as if sharing secret enjoyment of this little girl. As far as Darcy was concerned, it wasn't a bit secret the way she felt about her sister. Amy meant more to her than she could have ever guessed. And Blake? Her gaze shifted back to him. The jury was still out on that. Her feelings had certainly shifted toward him but it was way too early to contemplate what that meant.
Everything was gone but little puddles of vegetables in the bottom of the bowls. Darcy took away the plates and serving bowls and dished up generous portions of hot apple crisp with ice cream melting down the edges.
Blake sighed loud and appreciatively when she slid the bowl in front of him.
Amy glanced toward the adults. "Do I like this?"
Blake turned serious and shook his head. "I don't think so. You'll have to let me eat it for you."
Amy narrowed her eyes and studied him. "I'll try it first." She took a spoonful. Her eyes widened as she chewed. She smacked her lips and sighed then leaned forward and wrapped her arms protectively around her dessert. "You can't have any of mine."
Darcy’s eyes met Blake's as they laughed together. Enjoyment and peace slipped deep into her heart. She'd never been part of a warm family unit like this. Mom had always been busy and restless. Always heading for the next opportunity, the next great plan. Darcy knew this situation was temporary. She'd very soon, far too soon, have to go back to her real life. But just for a few minutes, she let herself enjoy it, accepted it as one of God's generous gifts.
Blake finished his dessert first and poked Amy's elbow. "Looks like you need help." He winked at Darcy. Was he flirting with her? What was with that? It made her feel noticed. Special, even. After last night, she'd expected disinterest, or anger. Did this mean her words made sense to him and he was grateful?
Amy tightened her grasp on her bowl and continued to eat.
Sending Blake a teasing grin, Darcy leaned forward and touched Amy's hand. "I gave you a large serving. You don't have to eat it all, you know."
Amy hunkered closer over her bowl. "I want to."
Blake leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest and watched. "You're going to explode."
Amy shrugged his comment away and plowed onward. Several minutes later, her bowl scraped cleaned and licked, she leaned back, patting her stomach. "I'm full."
Darcy looked at Blake and they laughed.
He gathered up dirty dishes and carried them to the dishwasher. He stood close to Darcy as she washed up the pots, took each item from her soapy hands, and dried it. She finished and turned away, uncertain where to go, what to do next.
He dropped his hand to her shoulder, turned her toward the living room. "We have an appointment, did you forget?"
"Of course." She had no idea what he meant. What appointment?
He turned her down the hall and into a large room. A big oak desk sat in the center, a computer on one corner. Shelves lined two walls, filled with books and mementos. Large windows gave a wide view of the out buildings and a glimpse of her house.
"The farm office," he said, dropping his hands to his side. "A lot of Rob's stuff is here. I haven't had time to sort it out. That's where you come in. It would be a great help if you tackled the job." His voice sounded strained. "Maybe if his stuff was gone, I could face coming in here to do the farm books."
He wanted her to sort her father's stuff? No way. She didn’t want anything to do with—
"It really makes more sense for you to do it than me. He was your father so that gives you the right. And I'm sure you can do it with less emotional attachment than I could."
"Of course." It made sense. It just didn't feel right. She didn't want reminders of the past.
"Good." He jerked several boxes out of a closet and put them on the desk. "Most of his stuff is here."
"What am I supposed to do with it?"
He shrugged. "Whatever you think best. Anything to do with business, pile on the desk. Anyth
ing you think someone might want to keep, set aside for him or her. I guess you can dump the rest."
She peeked in one box. It was filled with clippings and odds and ends. Nothing she couldn't handle.
8
For the first time since Rob had died the demands of work didn't keep Blake from returning to the house to see how Darcy was doing. As he stepped into the house, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. Darcy stood at the coffee pot waiting for the amber liquid to drip through. Amy hovered beside her, chattering away about a card she held.
"Smells good in here."
The sisters spun around to face him. Amy rushed toward him, waving the card. "Look what Darcy found. A card I made Daddy when he went to the hospital. I made it before I even started school." He bent to examine the homemade card she shoved at him. "Do you think Daddy liked this?" She twisted it around, appraising it. "It's not very good. Look how I spelled my name."
He took the card. "I remember when he got this. He was so proud of you. Remember? You were only five."
Amy nodded. "I think I'll keep it."
"I suggested she frame it or put it in a scrapbook," Darcy said.
Amy looked serious. "I think I'll frame it. We got any frames, Blake?"
"You can pick out one the next time we're in town."
She skipped away, her gaze on her treasure.
"I found the card in my father's things," Darcy said.
"I'm glad you thought to give it to her. It's made her happy." They regarded each other.
Blake sensed her wariness. Whenever the discussion turned to Rob, she pulled back into herself, cautious, guarded. He'd hoped sorting Rob's things would help her see the good side of the man.
"How is it going?" he asked.
"It's slow. I feel like I have to check every item carefully to make sure I'm not throwing away something valuable."
He didn't ask if she meant valuable in a monetary sense or emotional. It encouraged him that she'd seen the value of hanging on to Amy's card. The child would treasure it in the coming years.
"Coffee?" Darcy offered him a cup.
Normally, he didn't bother with the stuff, but it smelled so good, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. Their fingers brushed as he took the cup from her. He wiped a streak of dust from her cheek, felt her tense. Her gaze lifted to him and he read the wonder. He edged forward until they almost touched.
"Blake! Blake!" Amy called. "Can we go to town now?"
He jerked back. "Sorry, squirt. Not today." He gulped his coffee.
"Do you want to see what I've done?" Darcy asked.
He followed her to the office where neat piles covered the desk. A big green garbage bag squatted beside the desk.
"I threw out the old sale catalogues and fliers. This pile—" She pointed toward the desktop. "Looks like it might be farm stuff. I'll let you decide whether or not to keep it." She touched the box on the desk. "I think the first box was the easiest. There wasn't anything very personal in it." She took a deep breath. "This box, however, seems to be mostly personal stuff." She lifted her gaze to him. "You sure you don't want to go through it?"
He shuddered. "I'd sooner wrestle a bear."
She nodded, her expression troubled. "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be."
That's what he wanted. Wasn't it? For her to mourn the man who'd been her father? Acknowledge it meant just a little?
She pulled out a picture and smiled widely, her eyes sparkling like sunshine on water.
He gave his cup of coffee a hard look. The caffeine had shot his heart into overdrive.
"I believe this must be you." She held the picture toward him.
He took it and groaned. "Naked as a baby."
She giggled. "You were a baby."
He read the inscription on the back. "Rob. This is Blake at six months. Cute or what? Love ya'. Kathy." He flipped the picture to the desk. "Why would Mom give him this?"
She patted his shoulder. "Probably so they could have a good laugh. After all, what were you when she gave him this? Thirteen? Fourteen? And maybe a bit rebellious?"
"Not me. I didn't have time for that. My dad died when I was twelve. By the time I was fourteen, I was doing a man's work."
"I guess you must have been glad when my father came along."
He heard the brittleness in her voice. "I was relieved to have someone else share the responsibly. I was happy he made Mom laugh again. But Darcy, he didn’t choose me over you. You have to believe that."
She stared hard at him. "Why?"
"Because—"
"It eases your conscience?"
"I don't need my conscience eased. I loved Rob and miss him like crazy."
"As I've said before, I'm sorry for your loss." She moved back to the desk and pulled out a handful of pictures.
"I'm no psychiatrist," he said to which she arched her eyebrows. "But I think it's you who are running. Afraid to acknowledge the pain of losing him."
She smiled. "Nope. Because you see, I was forced to deal with losing him fifteen years ago."
"Surely you have some questions."
"Like what?"
How could she act like nothing about Rob mattered to her? He wanted to force her to admit it did. "Like why he never came back?"
She nodded. "So now you're willing to acknowledge it wasn't my fault?"
He tossed his hands in the air. "You could have visited him anytime you wanted. No one would have chased you away."
"The same could be said for him."
"I give up. We just go round in circles."
"So why keep trying to convince me? Or yourself? The past is over and done with. I don't want to dwell on it. Or be stuck in it. I gave it to God a long time ago, and I don't intend to take it back."
Her father had another life—one that didn't include her. There was nothing new about that. She'd accepted the fact years ago. But pulling out the evidence picture by picture, letter by letter, memento after memento was like poking at a scabbed-over sore.
She hadn't seen Blake since yesterday. She told herself she wasn't disappointed, but she was. Somehow she'd let herself think he might hang around the house just to see her. As if. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Hiding out in this office, burrowing through papers was getting to her. She'd lost her mental equilibrium.
Amy bounced through the room, upsetting a stack of calendars filled with notes. Darcy wanted Blake to decide whether or not to keep them. "Wanna play house?" the child asked.
Darcy sighed. In her mind, she'd been doing exactly that, imagining making meals for Amy and Blake, doing their laundry. She glanced out at the sunshine. She had to get out of here. "Why don't we go on a picnic?"
Amy danced up and down. "Goody, goody, goody."
Darcy guided her to the door. "Go tell Aunt Betty then we'll go to my house and get ready." She'd make a simple lunch and take a blanket and some toys.
As they crossed the yard, Blake drove up.
"We're going on a picnic," Amy announced.
Blake smiled at his sister then lifted his gaze to Darcy. "Where are you going?"
Darcy answered. "To the river west of here."
"Sounds like fun."
"Why don't you come with us?"
He shook his head. "Can't."
"Awww," Amy said. "You never play with me anymore."
"You have Darcy."
Amy nodded. "We'll have lots of fun, won't we, Darcy?"
"We sure will." She flashed Blake a tight smile. She hadn't honestly thought he'd tear himself from his work for an afternoon of fun and games, and she ignored the tender scenes her imagination created. "Too bad you'll have to miss it." She clamped her lips together as they walked away to keep from pointing out he was going to miss more than a picnic if he kept it up. He was going to miss the most delightful years of Amy's life.
When their picnic was ready, Darcy drove down the road as far as they could, then they walked to the river.
Amy looked around. "Let's play
pretend."
"Okay." Darcy realized she was getting pretty good at pretend. And not just with Amy. She'd allowed herself a few delicious moments of pretending she belonged here. Welcomed by Blake.
"Let's make a house." Amy directed her toward a shaded area surrounded by trees. Darcy draped the thick blanket she'd brought from home over a low branch, creating a tent and they settled under it. Amy sat cross-legged her hands resting on her thighs. "I think we're the first ladies to come here."
"Right. How did we get here?"
The child spun a tale of a horseback ride away from home to a new area. Darcy smiled at her imagination.
The noise of a heavy animal sent a shiver across Darcy's shoulders. "Shh. Do you hear something?"
Amy's eyes grew round.
The sound came again. Closer. Heavy thuds on the gravelly ground. Darcy reached for Amy's hand prepared to—
She didn't know if they should remain motionless and silent or run for their lives.
The sound grew closer. Something brushed the blanket. Amy let out a squeak. A bulky shadow fell across the opening. Darcy screamed, then laughed in relief as Blake ducked down.
"Hi," he said.
Darcy giggled nervously. "You scared us half to death. We thought it was a wild animal."
Amy, her eyes much too large, whispered. "I thought it was a bear."
"Sorry," Blake said, bending nearly in half to slip under the blanket and wedge himself between them. He filled more than the space in the tent. He filled Darcy's thoughts, her emotions.
"So what are we doing in here?" he asked.
"We're pioneer women," Darcy explained and Amy repeated her story. Darcy heard very little of the tale, thinking instead about how his arm behind her felt so warm and protective. He was a big man yet he hunkered down around her like they belonged together. Which was too stupid for words. She scrambled out from under the blanket and sprang to her feet. "Let's go out in the sunshine."
Blake untangled himself until he stood. "It was a little too tight in there." He pulled the blanket off the tree, spread it close to the river and stretched out, patting a spot beside him.
She eyed the narrow space and finally perched beside him, watching Amy spin around, chasing sunbeams.