midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.
PROVERBS 30:18-19
Fannie stood at the window of the boarding house dining room, staring off toward the west. She’d expected things to be strange for a few days, but she hadn’t expected this. She felt empty. Listless. Like nothing really mattered all that much. And she worried. Samuel’s note mentioned “a dark night of the soul.” The idea that sweet, gentle, brave Samuel Beck might have to endure such a thing terrified her. What if he lost his faith? What if he never regained it? What if— She sighed. What if things were never the same between them again? And what did that mean anyway. The same. What was it she wanted?
Abe’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “They probably heard that sigh all the way to Bonaparte’s.” He came to the doorway holding a steaming mug of coffee. “You gonna be all right?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“About as obvious as the wart on my face.” He smiled. “You’ll see them in a few days. And things are going to be fine. If there was anything wrong, Pete would have come tearing back into town.”
“It’s so quiet compared to before.”
“I told you the winters were long. My wife—”
“I know.” Fannie nodded. “But I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile. “It is an adjustment, though.” She sat down at the corner table and, taking up a pin, began to prick holes along the lines she’d drawn. It wasn’t Braille, but if Patrick could learn to discern even a few letters this way, he’d be a natural when it came to learning the real thing next year at school.
“That boy’s crazy about you, ya know,” Abe said.
Why did he have to say that? Every time she thought about Patrick, she felt guilty. Every time Edmund tried to take her hand … and she pretended not to notice … she felt guilty. She thought it would help, not seeing Samuel every day. It wasn’t helping at all.
“You going over to the clinic today?”
Fannie shook her head. “Edmund’s bringing Patrick here around lunchtime.” She looked up at Abe. “What?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. Just asking.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I told you about my wife … right?”
“And I said that I’m going to be fine.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
Fannie waved a hand in the air. “Then … finish. You have my undivided attention.”
“There was somebody else,” Abe said. “She really loved somebody else, but she got tired of waiting for him and so she took me instead.” He paused. “And I was crazy for her and I thought I could make her love me. All I did was get us both caught up in something that made us miserable. So that’s what I wanted to say. You want a cup of coffee or not?”
Five days. It had been five days, and Fannie had taught Patrick everything she knew about Braille, finished knitting two pairs of socks, listened to Edmund read half of Great Expectations aloud … and with every passing day she was growing more on edge, because Edmund seemed to be growing more … determined.
As she lay in bed late one night, Fannie stared through the window at the starlit sky, and all she could think of was Samuel. Was he looking at these same stars tonight? Was he talking to God? Was he talking?
For the first time in weeks, she found herself talking aloud to Hannah. She missed Sam. She loved Patrick. She liked Edmund … but this just wasn’t working out. And what could she do about any of it? She wasn’t sorry she’d stayed, but what was the point if she couldn’t spend time with Edie? And how could she spend time with Edie when Samuel … when Patrick… . Finally, she began to talk to God instead of Hannah. And she counted the days until she would go with Edmund to check on the baby.
On the morning they were to head to Edie’s, Fannie rose early. She brushed her hair until it shone. Staring into the mirror, she held up the lamp and wished for a bit of ribbon to weave through the braid. She nestled fresh bread and huckleberry jam into a basket to take with them and had breakfast ready when Edmund and Patrick arrived at the boarding house. She had no appetite, but she forced herself to eat a little. Finally, Edmund was helping her up into the buggy. Abe settled a heated stone at her feet. She insisted Patrick sit on the front bench. “It’s much too cold for you to be all alone back there. Come up here between your father and me.” Edmund spread a buffalo robe across all their laps and at last they were on their way.
The wind stung her cheeks and made her eyes water. Edmund turned his collar up. Fannie and Patrick huddled together beneath the buffalo robe. It seemed to take half the day before the ranch house came into view. As Edmund handed Fannie down from the buggy and retrieved his medical bag, Pete led the little mare toward the barn. Instead of going off with Pete as he usually did, Patrick begged to come inside to see the baby.
Edie flung open the door and offered a hearty greeting, pulling them all inside. “We’ve got lunch ready.” As Edmund helped Fannie out of her cape, then hung his own coat up alongside it, Edie drew them aside and said in a low voice, “Would you believe it? Mollie’s milk’s already coming in. Josephine’s going to be a little butterball in no time. And it’s doing Mollie a world of good. I’ve never seen her smile so much.”
Just then Mollie came in, her face wreathed in smiles, and held the baby out to the doctor. “The parson named her Josephine for his mother.”
Where is “the parson”? When he finally came in to say hello, he was surrounded by “the girls.” Fannie’s heart lurched. Introductions revealed that Ruth favored Lamar, but the others seemed to think that Samuel was the center of the universe. Sam barely acknowledged her. Oh, he kissed her on the cheek and said hello, but she might as well have been his elderly aunt. Actually, she thought, he’d likely have displayed more warmth toward his elderly aunt.
He said grace over lunch, though, and while he had to stop a few times and repeat a few beginnings, it seemed that the time at Bonaparte’s was agreeing with him. Of course, he had an entire bevy of women kowtowing to him. Fannie supposed that would be good incentive for any man to learn to talk.
They were halfway through lunch when Pete knocked on the door. “Don’t mean to rush the doctor off, but there’s a storm coming in. It’s moving mighty fast.”
As it turned out, the storm was moving too fast. By the time Pete had the buggy hitched up and they were ready to head back to Fort Benton, it was obvious they’d be fools to try. The temperature had dropped noticeably. The black clouds scudding across the sky promised a storm. Were they about to be snowbound?
Samuel watched as the storm piled snow up against the bunkhouse after supper that night and rattled the windows, making things miserable for Lamar and Pete when they headed out to tend the animals. They were shivering when they came back in, and set up the checkerboard as close to the woodstove as they could until the women began to tease them about scorching their faces. Pete and Lamar traded chairs and joked about being “evenly done.”
Roberta kept Patrick busy holding a skein of yarn so she could wind it up into a ball. Sam never would understand why that was necessary, but it served its purpose, because it kept Patrick entertained as Roberta told him an outrageous version of Hansel and Gretel.
Samuel settled himself in a chair near the kitchen, where Edie and Fannie were baking cookies and talking. Sam told himself the light was better for reading there, but the real reason was that he liked the sound of Fannie’s voice.
The evening hours went by quickly. Edie introduced them all to a game she’d learned in France called charades. Samuel took perverse delight in his ability to excel at the game. After all, he’d been trying to express himself without talking for weeks. “So now,” he said with a smile, “you know … how it f-feels.”
As the evening wore on, he wondered if it was his imagination that Fannie seemed able to guess whatever he acted out. When Roberta asked if Fannie was a mind reader in disguise, she blushed and shook her head. As soon as the game was over, she bade everyone good-night.
&
nbsp; Oh, Lord, I couldn’t wait to get here … and now I can’t wait to leave. Fannie stood at the window of the room she was sharing with Lily and stared out at the snow. The storm had left a few inches in its wake, but nothing like the blizzard they’d feared. Part of her longed to be snowbound … and part of her wished she’d never come. It was just too hard to be around Samuel and have him be so … friendly.
For all her ridiculous talk about friendship, she’d realized the moment he walked into Edie’s parlor that she didn’t want to be Samuel’s friend. She wanted him to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.
Even now, just standing there thinking about it made her tremble. And made her want to cry. He hadn’t said three words to her all day. And he’d written that note to tell her good-bye.
Oh, Lord, I couldn’t wait to get away from her … and now I can’t wait for her to leave. Samuel stood at the window of the room he was sharing with Lamar and stared out at the snow. The storm had left a few inches in its wake, but nothing compared to the blizzard they’d feared. Part of him wished to be snowbound … but mostly he wished Fannie had never come. It was just too hard to be around her and have her be so … friendly. For all his ridiculous writing about how he wished her and Dr. LaMotte well and how he’d always value their friendship, he’d realized the moment she walked into Edie’s parlor that he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Even now, just standing there thinking about it made him tremble.
Minette said love was like an echo … like having an empty place inside of you filled … a place you hadn’t even realized was empty. It was silly, but tonight when they’d been playing charades, Fannie had remembered that conversation … and gotten goose bumps at the idea that she and Samuel were echoing each other’s thoughts. There was no point in trying to sleep tonight. She crept downstairs in the dark, quiet house—only to discover that she wasn’t alone after all.
“It seems the whole house is filled with insomniacs tonight.”
Fannie startled and looked toward the fireplace. A hand was just visible on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs facing the fireplace. A hand holding a cigar. “Edmund and I were just having a talk,” Edie said. She waved Fannie over. “And now, I believe I’ll leave you two alone.” She glided from the room, leaving the aroma of her cigar in her wake.
Edmund spoke up as Fannie sat in the chair Edie had vacated. “Patrick asked me something tonight after we retired. I didn’t know how to answer him.” He leaned forward onto his elbows. “He asked me why you’ve been so sad. I told him he was imagining things, but he said no. That he sees with his ears sometimes, and that we’ve both been sad. That it wasn’t the same as being sad because of the lady who died. He wanted to know if he’d done something to cause it.”
Fannie sighed. “I blamed myself for my mother’s sadness. It makes me heartsick to think Patrick might blame himself for my moods.” She paused. “I’ll talk to him in the morning. I’ll make him understand.”
“What will you say?”
“That we’re all … sad. We feel terrible about what happened to Samuel’s sister. I’ve been worried about the baby. And I’ve been missing my friends back home.”
“I know that’s all true, but it doesn’t explain what Patrick senses about you and me.”
He turned toward her. “What Patrick senses is something I’ve been too selfish to admit. I can’t make you happy, Fannie. However fond of me you might become over time, you will never look at me the way you looked at Samuel Beck tonight.”
“I never— I didn’t—”
“You can’t help it. You shimmer when he looks at you. It’s as if he’s holding up a light and you reflect it back to him. Everyone in that room tonight could see it, and Patrick sensed it. He asked me what made the sadness go out of your voice tonight.”
“Samuel doesn’t love me. He wrote a note saying good-bye. He even wished you and me well.”
“He’s being noble. Denying himself. And, I fear, confusing the issue by trying to decide what is best for you without consulting … you. You’ll have to be patient with him, Fannie. It may take a while for him to admit he’s been an ignorant son of a willy-walloo about a few things. It’s taken me most of the year.” He knelt before her. “I love you for Patrick’s sake, Fannie. I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. And Samuel does.”
“But Patrick—” Fannie’s voice wavered. She couldn’t hurt Patrick.
“Patrick isn’t giving you up. I am. I still expect you to teach him for as long as you are in Montana. I want you to play checkers and bake cookies and be the best friend you can be to him, right along with Abe Valley and Lamar and Samuel and Edie. And when the time comes that you leave Fort Benton or he and I do, so that he can go to school, I expect you to write. Often.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Neither of us is letting you go when it comes to friendship, Fannie.”
He couldn’t do it. He’d said good-bye enough. It was weak and perhaps even despicable, but as the morning dawned, and Samuel felt the reality of Fannie heading back to Fort Benton with Edmund and Patrick LaMotte, he realized that he just didn’t have it in him to pretend it was all right. He’d been noble and done the right thing by her, but enough was enough. He dressed without lighting a lamp, grabbed his boots, and headed down the stairs.
Pausing just inside the door to pull on his boots, he headed outside, through the barn, and to the massive pile of wood behind the barn. Bonaparte’s used a prodigious amount of wood. Nothing like a steamboat, but enough that Pete was beginning to have trouble keeping up. Edie had mentioned it as part of the reason she would welcome Lamar as a permanent resident. Pete needed help. Today, Samuel would give it. In fact, he welcomed the work. It would give him something to do besides chasing after Fannie, because he was very near making a fool of himself over her. Help, Lord. Keep me from doing anything stupid.
He began to chop wood. When he got hot, he took off his coat. When his hands hurt, he ignored it. When he realized Pete was hitching up the doctor’s buggy, he ignored that, too. Let her be happy.
Finally, he heard the crunch of buggy wheels on snow as Pete led the mare toward the house.
He stopped chopping wood … sank the ax into a stump … and looked up toward the sky. Let her be happy.
The door to the ranch house opened, and LaMotte and Patrick … and Fannie … with Edie … emerged. Hugs. Last words.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let her go. God forgive me… . He called her name.
LaMotte looked his way. Waved. Patrick followed suit and then climbed into the buggy.
“Fannie! Wait!”
The buggy headed out. Sam started to run. Let me make her happy. Let me… . And that’s when he realized … she hadn’t gone. He looked back at the house. She was standing there … alone. Looking his way. Then running … into his arms.
He looked down into her eyes and saw love echoed there.
“I … don’t … have … words.”
“I don’t need words,” Fannie said. “I only need you.”
Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly
above all that we ask or think,
according to the power that worketh in us,
unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus
throughout all ages,
world without end.
Amen.
EPHESIANS 3:20–21
1874
Fifteen-year-old Patrick LaMotte stood just outside the door of the Missouri School for the Blind. When he heard a carriage roll up and a familiar childish voice shouting his name, he smiled, stooped to pick up his valise, and with the help of his ever-present white cane, made his way down to the street.
“Paddy! Paddy! Climb in!” Elizabeth called. “Wait till you see my new puppy! He’s all golden and he has a black nose and floppy ears and he’ll lick you to pieces!”
Patrick laughed as his little sister flung hers
elf into his arms for a hug. She helped him climb aboard, and as the carriage wended its way through the streets toward home, Patrick learned that the puppy’s name would be Plato because Papa liked the Greeks. Jake, the daddy dog, was big and friendly, and he and the mama dog lived in St. Charles with the Hennessey family.
“Mrs. Hennessey saved the best puppy of the litter especially for us because Mama was her favorite teacher ever at the blind school!” Elizabeth gushed. “Mrs. Hennessey’s house has red bricks and black shutters, and it has the prettiest rose garden ever!” She went on to tell him that Mrs. Hennessey had a little girl and a brand-new baby, and Elizabeth was quite sure she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen … except for Mama, of course.
At which point Papa spoke up with what could only be called resounding agreement. And kissed Mama, right there in public. Which was embarrassing, but Papa didn’t care.
Concordia Theological Seminary in St. Louis, Missouri, celebrated its spring graduation with a ceremony on the lawn. The student chosen to give the graduation address was a handsome, square-jawed man with a scar running the length of his left eyebrow. As he rose to speak, a blond beauty seated in the front row swiped a tear with a gloved hand. As for the newly ordained Reverend Samuel Beck, he grasped the lectern and took a moment to smile down at his wife before beginning.
“I first met God in the face of a mother who forgave what, at the time, I considered unforgivable. After she passed on to her reward, I pored over her Bible, trying to find the secret to her peace of mind. I found not only what had given her peace of mind, but also I found what this book”—he held his mother’s Bible up “—calls ‘the peace that passeth understanding,’ the peace God promises to everyone who bows the knee at the foot of the cross.”
He looked out at the rows of his classmates. “I have met God in many places since reading my mother’s Bible: in the lives of friends of other races who showed me kindness … on a river … in the gold camps of Montana Territory … and in the face of the woman he miraculously enabled to love me, in spite of the many faults she must endure every single day.” Sam smiled down at Fannie before continuing. “And now, she and I are looking forward to seeing how God will help us use what we’ve learned here at Concordia to share a simple message: Jesus loves us. This we know, because the Bible tells us so.”
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