“He has beautiful handwriting. My friend,” she whispered. It would be so easy to let him become something more. “Foolish and impossible.” But it was equally impossible not to dream.
She checked the table of contents and found the page number for Psalms. Turning to it, she quickly found chapter twenty-five and began quietly to read out loud.
Unto Thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in Thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me. Yea, let none that wait on Thee be ashamed: let them be ashamed which transgress without cause. Shew me Thy ways, O Lord; teach me Thy paths. Lead me in Thy truth and teach me: for Thou art the God of my salvation; on Thee do I wait all the day. Remember, O Lord, Thy tender mercies and Thy loving-kindnesses; for they have been ever of old.
She had once asked Ty how to pray. He’d said he simply talked to God. Depending on how he was feeling, sometimes he prayed with great reverence. Other times he talked to God as if he were talking to his dearest friend—which he probably was. The verses Ty had given her were a prayer from whoever wrote them. She knew he intended them to be her prayer, too.
Camille considered the words of the psalm. If she said them as a prayer, she had to mean it. She had to have an open heart and an open mind. She looked out the window, watching the rain slide down the glass and thought of how Bonnie had changed since she’d left San Antonio. Though her friend didn’t have all the answers, especially where Nate and his business were concerned, she seemed happier than she ever had, more at peace with herself and life.
Camille believed in God. She supposed she always had. She didn’t know much about Jesus, but she was willing to learn. The real issue was whether or not she was willing to trust God and believe that He would show her His truth.
Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze back to the scriptures, silently reading them as a prayer, until she came to verse four. “Shew me Thy ways, O Lord; teach me Thy paths,” she said softly. Surprised by the yearning in her heart, she stopped, considering the unexpected depth of feeling. “Lead me in Thy truth, and teach me: for Thou art the God of my salvation; on Thee do I wait all the day,” she whispered.
She finished verse six in silence, then went on to verse seven, even though Ty hadn’t included it. “Remember not the sins of my youth nor my transgressions…” Her voice cracked and she drew a harsh breath.
Harlot! The preacher’s shout and pointed finger of so many years ago burned through her soul.
Pain and shame filled her heart. Tears blurred her vision, but she continued reading softly, stopping at the end of verse eight. “…according to Thy mercy remember Thou me for Thy goodness’ sake, O Lord. Good and upright is the Lord: therefore will He teach sinners in the way.”
She sat quietly rocking for a few minutes, contemplating the things she had read. “Lord, I don’t know much about You, but I want to learn. You know I’m a sinner, so I have to depend on You to teach me the way.”
The chill in the room sent her downstairs where she spent the next few hours reading her new Bible. She read about half of John, then went back to the Psalms, skipping around, reading the chapters that caught her eye. Thumbing through the pages, she found the book of Proverbs.
That’s where she was when Nola joined her in the living room by the fire. The older lady cast a knowing eye at the book in her hand and smiled. “A good pastime for such a dreary day.”
“It’s interesting.” Camille hesitated, then decided that if Nola wanted to discuss the scriptures with her, she would quickly figure out that Camille knew little about them. “My parents weren’t much for going to church. Last Sunday was the first time I’ve been in years.”
“Better to start late than never go at all.” Nola sat down in her favorite chair, picking up her own well-worn Bible. “Where are you reading?”
“John. And Psalms. Some of Proverbs, too.” She stopped, wondering if Nola would think she was silly for jumping around so.
“I like to read the Psalms, too, even if I’m studying another book. They have a way of expressing a lot of the emotions we all feel at one time or another.”
“The first verse of Proverbs says that Solomon was David’s son. Is he the same David who wrote some of the Psalms?” Camille caught her lower lip between her teeth. Now Nola would realize how ignorant she was.
If her question came as a surprise, Nola didn’t show it. “Yes. He was a king of Israel hundreds of years before Jesus’ time. Did you ever hear the story of David and Goliath?”
“I think so. Goliath was a giant that David killed with a sling-shot?”
“That’s right.”
“My mother read the story to me when I was little. I remember because it was right before the war. She said the Confederacy was like David, and Lincoln and the United States were like Goliath. She believed God would make the South victorious.”
“Most of us like to think that God is on our side in a conflict. I reckon sometimes He’s the only one who truly knows who should win.” Nola tilted her head, studying Camille’s Bible. “That looks brand-spankin’ new.”
“Ty gave it to me. I was going to buy it, but he insisted on making it a present.”
“Sounds like him. He has a generous soul, that boy.”
“Yes, he does.” And a kind heart, integrity, loyalty, a sense of humor and ruggedly handsome looks.
No wonder he was slipping past the barriers protecting her heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Ty didn’t get to spend the evening with Camille after all. The back corner of the warehouse section of the store sprang a leak. He and Cade spent half the night moving merchandise, plugging the hole and diverting the water on the roof with a secondary makeshift gutter.
When he picked Camille and Nola up for church Sunday morning, he was tired, cranky and felt as if he were coming down with a cold. By the end of the service, he was sure of it. He practically had to stuff a handkerchief in his nose to keep it from dripping.
He helped Camille and Nola into the surrey, pausing to sneeze before he climbed in, too. “I’d planned to invite you ladies out to dinner, but I’m not fit for company.” He turned away quickly, sneezing again.
“You look like you feel miserable.” Camille tugged off a glove and laid her hand on his forehead. “You’re awfully warm. Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“It’s just a cold. But about all I feel like doing is going home and sleeping the rest of the day.”
“Which is exactly what you should do,” said Nola. “Do you have anything to eat at the house?”
“Some canned goods, but Jessie will make sure I have plenty to eat. This morning, she was already talking about making me a pot of chicken soup.”
“That’s as good a cure as anything. Now take us on home so you can go rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of Nola’s house. He helped her down from the surrey, then gave Camille a hand while Nola waited by the gate, holding the umbrella over her head.
“You walk with Nola,” said Camille softly. “I’ll follow you.”
“All right.” He smiled, appreciating the way she looked after his old friend. Taking the umbrella from Nola, he held it above her and put his other arm around her waist. “Now, don’t you decide to take a swim.”
“Just about could. I think we’ve had enough rain, thank You, Lord.”
“It could stop any time.” Ty sniffed before his nose dripped. “But we’ll start worrying and griping if it stays dry too long.”
“No pleasin’ us.” Once they were on the porch, Nola led the way around to the back door. “Hold me steady, Ty, while I pull off these boots.”
Ty held her arm as she put the heel of her boot in the bootjack and tugged her foot out of it. “Miss Nola, I reckon you’re the only woman in town who wore cowboy boots to church this morning.”
“Nope. Ada Nichols had some on, too. Us old ranch hens know a thing or two about slogging through the mud and the muck. I t
old Camille she should hie herself down to the store and get a pair, too.”
Camille sat down in the chair and pulled off her mud-caked overshoes. They had only walked from the surrey into the church and back out again. “If this rain doesn’t stop by tomorrow, these overshoes won’t cover my shoes enough to do any good.” She wiped her hands on a towel lying on the table. “With the boots and bootjack my hands wouldn’t get all muddy.” She met Ty’s gaze with a smile. “I think you just sold a pair of boots, storekeep.”
“We have plenty. Should find some to fit you.” Ty helped Nola remove her raincoat and hung it up on the porch to dry. “Do y’all have enough wood?”
“Plenty. I had some coal delivered, too, in case we need it. So don’t you fret about us. We may be womenfolk, but we can take care of ourselves.” Nola smiled and gently patted him on the cheek. “We know how to holler loud and sweet if we need help.”
“Well, the loud I can attest to.” Ty grinned and pulled back, pretending she might take a swing at him—though it was something she never had done, even when he was an ornery kid. He ruined the fun by sneezing.
Camille stayed on the porch with him when Nola went inside. “Do you have some tea at home?”
“I think there’s some in the cabinet. Nola brought it over when I had a cold a couple of years ago.”
“It keeps for a long time. How about lemons?”
“Nope. But Jessie probably has some. Tea with lemon?”
“A bit of sugar, too. It’s nice and soothing, especially if your throat is sore.”
He grabbed his handkerchief, turned his head and blew his nose. “Sorry.”
“There’s no need to be sorry. Your poor nose. Do you have any Vaseline?”
“Down at the store.”
“Come inside and I’ll get my jar from upstairs. It will help your nose.”
“I’ll track mud in the kitchen.”
“I’ll clean it up. You don’t need to wait out here in the cold.” She tugged on his arm. “Nola won’t care.”
He knew she wouldn’t. It was nice to be cared for. Very nice. So he let her lead him into the kitchen, but he took long strides to leave as little mud as possible. She parked him in front of a chair and ordered him to sit. Then she raced down the hall and up the stairs.
Standing in front of the stove, Nola watched in amusement. “Want me to rustle you up some dinner?”
“No thanks.” He leaned his throbbing head on his hand. “I’m not hungry.”
“You stop by and tell Cade to check on you later.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He heard Camille running down the stairs. “Don’t break a leg on account of me,” he called.
“Not to worry.” She set the jar on the table. “A layer of this on your nose might help it from becoming raw. At least it will make it feel better. Use it often.”
“I know that.”
“But would you have done it?”
“Maybe tomorrow when I got some from the store.”
“Too long to wait.”
Ty nodded, then wished he hadn’t because it made his head hurt. He stood and picked up the jar of Vaseline. “I’m heading home, ladies. I’ll see you in a year or two when I’m better.”
Camille followed him to the door. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“I will.” He needed a hug, but he didn’t want to risk making her sick, too. Would have made him feel better, though. He was sure of it.
She tucked his coat collar around his throat, much as he had done for her the day before. “Take care of yourself. I’ll stop by in the morning to see how you are.”
“As much as I’d like that, you’d better not.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s improper.”
“Yes.” When she opened her mouth to retort, he shook his head, glancing at Nola. Thankfully, she had her back to them. But he was certain she heard every word.
“Then I’ll stop by Jessie’s to see if she knows how you are doing.”
“That would work.” He managed a smile. “Thanks for caring.”
“I do care, Ty,” she said softly. “Very much.”
His heart soared, despite the rest of him feeling lousy. “That’s good to hear. The feeling is mutual, you know.”
“I know. Now, git.”
Chuckling, Ty obeyed, picking up his umbrella from the back porch on the way.
He spent the next two days at home, taking it easy and catching up on his sleep, the lack of which had probably had something to do with getting the cold. By Wednesday morning, he was feeling almost human.
Walking into the kitchen, he glanced out the window and stopped, pushing back the curtain to admire the snow that had covered the ground overnight. There was only about two inches, but it sparkled like diamonds in the early-morning sunshine. Huge icicles hung from the eaves. The sky was clear and blue, with only a few scattered high clouds.
He cast a baleful eye at the canister of tea, deciding that he was more than ready for something else. Grinding some beans, he made a big pot of coffee. Promising his growling stomach that he would feed it, he scrambled some eggs and made toast.
After breakfast, he enjoyed another cup of coffee while he read his Bible. He spent a while praying, thanking the Lord that he was feeling better and for stopping the rain and sending snow instead. He asked God to be with his family and his friends, especially Camille as she sought Him. He also asked for wisdom in his relationship with her. As usual, he asked for the Lord’s guidance in his business and running the town.
Deciding that he felt good enough to go to the store, he cleaned up, shaved off three days worth of whiskers, and dressed for business instead of lazing around the house. A squeal of laughter told him that Ellie and Brad had convinced their mama to let them play in the snow instead of going to school.
He put on his heavy coat, hat and gloves, and walked out the front door. Smack! A snowball hit him in the chest. Though the kids howled in amusement, neither of them had thrown the missile. Camille stood halfway between the house and the street, mischief and laughter frolicking across her face. He didn’t think she had ever been more lovely.
“Can Ty come out and play?” she called.
“Not if you’re going to nail him with another snowball.” Ty checked to make sure she didn’t have anything in her hands. “Maybe we should team up against the kids.”
“Not fair,” cried Brad ducking around the side of the house. Ellie raced after him. A second later, they peeked around the corner.
Camille tipped her head, glancing in their direction. “Brad’s right. It wouldn’t be fair. Though that was just a lucky toss, I’m sure your aim would be true.”
“Don’t count on it. However, my nephew is always the pitcher when the kids play baseball. So they would probably clobber us.” Ty walked down the steps and across the yard, stopping in front of her. “How do you grow prettier every day?” he asked softly.
To his amazement, she blushed. “It’s the snow.”
“The snow?” His fingers itched to touch her cheek.
“This is the first time I’ve seen it, so I’m excited.” She looked around at the sparkling whiteness. “I never imagined it would be so beautiful.”
“This amount is nice to enjoy without causing too many problems.”
“Could we make a snowman?” The wistful note in her voice tugged at his heart. “No, that’s a silly question. You shouldn’t stay out here in this cold.” Suddenly she frowned. “Why aren’t you still resting?”
“I’m feeling much better. Didn’t you notice that I haven’t sneezed since I came outside?” The cold was making his nose start to run though. Reluctantly, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and blew it.
She took hold of his arm and took a step toward the porch. “You need to go back inside.”
He didn’t budge. Her chin tipped up and a stubborn glint lit her eyes. Her concern for him was sweet. “It’s just the cold air. Besides, I’m going stir crazy. Let’s get Brad and Ellie to h
elp us build a snowman.”
“Is there enough snow?”
“It can’t be too big, but it should work.” If they used up all the snow in his yard. He looked at the corner of the house where the children had watched their exchange. “Come on, you two. We need some snowmen experts.”
The kids hurried to join them. “I’ve only made one snowman, Uncle Ty,” said Ellie. “I don’t think that makes me a ’spert.”
“I bet you remember how to do it, right?”
Jessie stepped out on the porch, buttoning up her coat.
Ellie nodded energetically. “But we need a hat and some stuff to make his eyes and mouth.”
“I’ll gather those up,” said Jessie. “Brad, can we use your old hat? It doesn’t fit anymore.”
“The one we brought from East Texas.” Brad turned toward his mother. “Not the one Daddy gave me.”
Ty smiled at the boy, thankful for the love that had developed between Brad and Cade.
Ty showed them how to start rolling the ball of snow for the snowman’s base. He stepped back, letting Camille and the children take turns pushing it across the yard. She enjoyed it as much as they did, maybe more. “That’s big enough.”
When all three of them glared at him in consternation, he laughed. “We can’t use all the snow for that section. We have two more to go.”
“But they’re smaller,” said Camille. “Aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Camille stepped aside so Brad could start the next ball. “Jessie, you get to help with this one.”
Jessie flashed her a grin and joined in the fun, laughing as much as her children.
“Let’s make the head.” Ty leaned down and made a small ball, rolling it across the snow in the opposite direction. “Your turn.”
Pushing it farther, Camille slipped and almost fell down. Ty grabbed her around the waist, steadying her. He kept his arm around her after she straightened, holding her against his side. “We should do this more often.”
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