Return to Harmony

by Janette Oke

  “I wouldn’t be talking like that around the town,” Moira warned. “People might mistake you for a coward.”

  “Well now,” Gavin said easily and waited while his wife subsided. “Coming from someone else, maybe. But from Dylan, why, I imagine they’ll laugh and call it the voice of good sense.”

  Jodie nodded agreement. Most everyone around Harmony liked Dylan. His good nature was balanced with great strength and a rare willingness to pitch in whenever work needed doing. She glanced over at Bethan. She was listening to Dylan with rapt attention, hanging on to every word, her eyes scarcely leaving his face, her plate almost untouched.

  Bethan now leaned forward and asked, “Well, if they weren’t going to send you off to war, why did they have to keep you for so long?”

  Dylan laughed, a great and easy sound. “The army kept me because it was easier than letting me go. I discovered the first week I was in that the army has a way of doing things that don’t always make a lot of sense.”

  “But what did you do?”

  “Most of the time I worked at one depot or another, repairing everything on wheels and some that weren’t.” A flash of something more than easygoing humor appeared in his eyes. “Tanks, trucks, cars. Learned a lot about engines and the like.”

  “You must’ve enjoyed that,” Gavin offered. “Never did know a boy who got as much pleasure out of taking things apart and putting them back together as you did.”

  “Sometimes not the right way,” Bethan said with a laugh. “Momma, you remember the time he took apart your mantel clock, and when he put it back together he had a spring and a wheel left over?”

  “The work suited me just fine,” Dylan said to his father, unwilling to let this go just yet. “I always did like working with my hands, especially with machinery. The whole time I was there, I felt like I was getting ready for the future.”

  Jodie recalled the letters Bethan had received, with their postmarks from far-flung cities in Florida, Arkansas, Mississippi, even one from Texas. “You must have seen a lot,” she said with longing in her voice.

  Dylan turned, his dark gray gaze reaching across the table to her. He nodded. “Saw a bit of the world while I was out there, had myself some good times. Found out I love travel and adventure. If I can, I’d like to keep that a part of my life from now on.”

  Jodie suddenly discovered her heart had grown so full she could not draw a steady breath. Her voice was very small as she replied, “So would I.”

  Moira shifted in her chair and hurried to put in, “I’m not so sure the future holds anything much that I can look forward to. Seems to me, changes are being pushed on everything and everybody, whether we want them or not.”

  “I think the future is exciting and full of promise,” Dylan said, releasing Jodie’s gaze slowly. He turned to his mother and went on, “I love the challenge—the rush of new events.”

  “Too many new events, too much change,” Moira replied. “The world is moving far too fast for my liking.”

  “Not for mine,” Dylan answered. “It could never do that for me. This is going to be a world of machines, and I want to be a part of it.”

  “Sure seeing signs of that on near about every farm,” Gavin agreed. “Folks are either learning new ways or worrying about being left behind.”

  “There, you see?” Moira looked from husband to son. “Just as I was saying.”

  Dylan announced to the table, “I’ve decided to open up an automobile and farm machinery garage. With gasoline pumps and repair stations and new motor cars and tractors for sale.”

  Gavin stared, then exclaimed, “Here? In Harmony?”

  “Already talked to the Ford people about it. That’s why I didn’t come home three weeks ago when you were first expecting me. Used my military pass and traveled on up to Detroit.”

  “Detroit!” Jodie breathed, not paying any mind to the sudden looks from Bethan and her mother. “That must have been something.”

  “Sure was,” he said, pausing long enough to flash her a smile. Then back to his father, “Turns out they’ve been looking for somebody to set up and stock their motor cars in these parts, and they think I’m the man for the job.”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” Gavin said quietly.

  “They call it a dealership,” Dylan said, his voice almost bursting with excitement and pride. “This time next year, I’m going to be the proud owner of the first Ford dealership in Nash County.”

  “I think that’s wonderful,” Jodie breathed, and saw in his excitement and dreams a reflection of her own hunger for new things.

  “Just wonderful.”

  Dylan turned toward her, and for a moment became almost solemn. “Why, thank you,” he said, speaking more quietly than he had all evening. Jodie read the message in his eyes and it made her tremble, for it clearly indicated that her understanding and sharing of his excitement meant more to him than he could say—at least for the moment.

  Jodie held his gaze for what seemed the longest while, then when he turned back to answer another question from his father, she noticed that Bethan was watching her. And Moira. Both wore a strange expression, one mirrored almost exactly between mother and daughter. Jodie dropped her gaze, disconcerted by the watchfulness she found there. And the concern.

  ELEVEN

  ALL THAT WINTER Bethan watched the growing romance between Jodie and Dylan. Watched and held her breath and prayed. She loved Jodie as deeply as a sister, and she positively adored her only brother. But the prospect of what she feared made her heart tremble so, she found it impossible to think on such concerns for more than an instant. So it was not until her mother pointed them out that Bethan was forced to recognize what she had prayed would not happen.

  Moira had taken to spending time in bed almost every afternoon, a strange practice for such an active woman. But her joints had begun to bother her. Nowadays Bethan had the habit of tasting the air as soon as she returned from school. The house had a different quality when her mother was having one of her spells. Bethan took to preparing the evening meal, but only after she had gone in and sat on the edge of the bed and let Moira feel in charge by telling her just exactly what to serve and exactly how to prepare it. Often Jodie was there working alongside Bethan, waiting for Dylan to finish work, laughing and filling the big kitchen with her sparkle. If it were not for her mother’s ill health, that and the worrisome things she tried hard not to see, Bethan would have called those winter afternoons as close to perfect as she had ever come.

  One afternoon in late February, Bethan returned to find the house in the grip of that uncomfortable void. She sighed and pushed the door shut, unwrapped the scarf from about her head, hung up her coat, and climbed the stairs. Outside her mother’s room she paused long enough to collect herself and to put on a smile.

  She opened the door and said brightly, “It’s a perfect day to stay in bed, Momma. I’ve never known it to stay so cold for so long. And that wind!”

  “No day is a good day for bed,” her mother sighed, not turning her face from the window. “Especially when it’s become a prison.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Bethan said, refusing to let her mother’s dark mood pull her down. She walked over and settled on the side of her bed. “Soon as it starts warming up, you’ll be back to your old self again, just you wait and see.”

  Moira turned to her then, and even that small motion sent grimaces of pain over her face. She reached over and took Bethan’s hand. “Oh, daughter, daughter, what on earth would I do without you to brighten up my days and chase away the shadows?”

  Bethan saw the circles under her mother’s eyes and knew it had been a bad day. “Should I get your medicine?”

  “No, it only leaves my head feeling so foggy I can’t find a thought to save my life.” Moira inspected her daughter’s face. “I do believe old Doc Franklin has it right for once. Your eye has definitely corrected itself.”

  Bethan’s next smile was not forced. “No more eyepatch, then. Not eve
r.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Moira’s face settled into graver lines. She said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about Dylan.”

  The cold Bethan had left outside somehow crept in then, stealing into her heart and seizing it with icy fingers. Bethan nodded.

  She had too.

  “Have you noticed that he doesn’t go to church anymore except when Jodie’s there?”

  Bethan sighed, and with the sound there came a rushing in of all the worries and concerns she had tried so hard to keep at bay. “And she only goes when her father’s there.”

  Moira gave the tiniest of nods. “I tried to talk with him the other night,” she said. “For the third time. Or maybe the fourth.

  He’s a charmer, that one. Soon as I brought it up, he laughed and hugged me and changed the subject.”

  Bethan did not know what to say.

  “I’m worried about this,” Moira said. “But I can’t tell how much of it is real and how much is my illness. Pain has a way of twisting vision, that I know for certain. So I’ve decided to say nothing further.” Moira looked steadily at her daughter. “She’s your friend.

  Has her heart softened to faith?”

  Bethan wanted so to nod her head, to offer the assurance she herself so desperately sought. Surely Dylan would know that it would be wrong for him to make a commitment to one who did not share his belief in God. Even so, the easiest thing in the world for Bethan would be to remain blind to what she feared, and pretend that her hopes and yearnings were simple truth. But she could not. She opened her mouth, tried to avoid the question, but no sound came.

  “Is it right that the two of them…” Moira’s face twisted with a sudden lance of pain. Another tiny shake of her head, then, “No, no, this is not the time, nor am I right to search out what I can’t see. I’m just going to have to trust your judgment, daughter. I have no choice in the matter.”

  Bethan released her mother’s hand and rose to her feet. Again she opened her mouth to speak, but the words were just not there. She turned and walked from the room, shut the door behind her, then stood in the hall as though lost in a stranger’s house. Finally she drew the world into focus enough to walk to her own room, her feet scarcely able to carry her.

  Once her door was shut behind her, the force of the decision she faced sent her to her knees.

  All she had to do was to do nothing. Just let this fledgling romance take its course, and Jodie would stay in Harmony. Her best friend would never leave. Bethan’s most fervent unspoken prayer would be answered. There was no question in Bethan’s mind of how it would turn out, none at all. She had been seeing the looks exchanged by Dylan and Jodie.

  No matter how far afield Dylan’s questing spirit might take him, he would always return home. Bethan was certain. Dylan’s roots ran as deep as her own. Anyplace else he would fade away, just whither and die. And the love she could see growing in Jodie’s eyes was so strong, so potent, that it was quenching even her endless desire to flee, to fly. Given the opportunity to go off adventuring with her newfound love from time to time, Jodie would return to roost here in Harmony. Bethan was certain of that also.

  Yes, she could keep them—both. Physically. But spiritually? What would they do to each other? Would Dylan influence Jodie toward God? Or would she draw him further away from faith? Could Bethan just stand by and let whatever happened happen? The words unequally yoked resounded through her mind and heart, refusing to let her leave it be.

  She clasped her hands to her chest, squeezing hard, pressing with all the force she could muster to keep her heart from bursting. Because there was more. To say anything at all was to risk making Dylan terribly angry, as well as severing the threads of friendship with Jodie forever.

  Bethan knew that ultimately Dylan must answer to his God, that how he lived his life was his own responsibility. But wasn’t it her responsibility to share with him what was clear from Scripture and what she knew of Jodie’s view of God?

  Bethan remained on her knees for over an hour, her body bent over with anguish, her eyes flooded with falling tears, her soul torn between what she felt she should do and what she would rather do.

  Finally she rose, her motions as unsteady and slow as an old woman’s. She had to do it, and it had to be done now, before her resolve wavered. Before it was too late.

  She had to find Dylan. She had to tell him what was in her heart—all of it.

  Bethan reached Dylan’s new dealership and let herself in through the back entrance. She found him seated in his small office, gathering up papers from the day’s transactions and entering them in the daily journal. His head lifted at the sound of her approaching footsteps. A smile flashed, then was replaced by alarm.

  “Momma’s not worse, is she?” His eyes seemed to be trying to read her expression.

  Bethan gave her head a tiny shiver of a shake. She swallowed and took the chair placed across the small wooden desk from her brother. She dreaded what was to come, wished it could be done by anyone else but her, and prayed fervently for guidance.

  Dylan stilled in mounting apprehension. “What’s the matter?”

  “Momma’s just the same,” she said slowly. Her gaze lowered. She could not bear to look into those intense gray eyes. “She’s concerned,” Bethan started, then had to halt. This is all wrong, she chided herself. She could not put this at her mother’s door.

  “I am concerned,” Bethan said and glanced up. Dylan had not moved. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath. “You know I love Jodie like a sister. There is no one I would rather see you spending time with than her. But Jodie goes to church when her father goes, and that is all. Attending church every now and then doesn’t make for a life of faith.”

  She had to stop. It felt as though she had just run an impossible race. Her lungs sought frantically for air. Bethan chanced another look at her brother and saw a man caught in a stillness so complete he appeared to have stopped breathing. Only his eyes reflected life, a tragic light of recognition. As though his gaze cast back the thoughts she struggled to share.

  “She shuts her eyes and her heart to everything that goes on in church. She’s told me that herself.” Bethan had to keep staring at her brother. It was only seeing the depth of his gaze, the level of his concentration, that granted her the strength to continue. “I can see it, Dylan. I watch it happen every time I try to talk with her about faith—about God. I have hoped and prayed that being with you would bring her back, open her up again. But it doesn’t seem to be happening.”

  “No,” he murmured, so soft she was unsure whether he was protesting what she had said or agreeing with what she had witnessed.

  But she knew if she stopped now she would never finish. The band of emotions about her heart was so tight each word was a painful effort. “It isn’t happening. You’re staying away with her. She’s leading you—leading you away from God. But you know in your heart that your faith is too important to let this happen. You know this, Dylan. You’ve known it most of your life. You can’t let anything take faith away from you. It wouldn’t be right—not for you, not for Jodie, not for Momma either.”

  Then she stopped. It was done. Not well, but it was all she could manage. There was nothing more inside her now but the hollow ache of facing the truth of what she had said and forcing it out.

  Dylan stirred slowly, like an old man awaking from a long and troubling sleep. He ran one hand through his thick hair and gave a sigh that went on forever. “You think I haven’t been seeing this?”

  It broke her heart to see him in such anguish of spirit. She reached out a hand, let it rest gently on his sleeve. But she did not speak. There was nothing else she could say.

  “I know you’re right,” he admitted, his voice so hoarse it sounded like another speaking. “I can’t go on like this. I never expected it. I mean, I had no idea how bitter Jodie had become about church and faith. I’ve wanted to fight what I see in her, deny it. But…”

  Bethan nodded. She understood. It was so ha
rd to say.

  “You’re right, you’re right,” he said, the words almost a moan. “All this time I’ve just been getting in deeper and deeper.” He turned gray eyes fully upon her. “I love her, Bethan.”

  Bethan could not stop the tears. They spilled upon her flushed cheeks. “I’m so very, very sorry,” she managed.

  He reached his other hand across to hers, gripped it with a frantic strength. “What on earth am I going to do?”

  Bethan shook her head. Her heart cried a litany, if only, if only, and it seemed as though the very air held still, filled with the moment’s grief. “Pray,” she whispered. “Pray for God to show you. I don’t know of anything else we can do.”

  TWELVE

  BETHAN FUMBLED WITH the lock, spurred by an urgent rapping on the heavy kitchen door. But her hands were trembling so hard they had trouble working the bolt. The rapping grew louder still, and Bethan became fearful that the noise would awaken her mother. When finally she managed to draw back the lock, the door shuddered open as though it shared the dread she felt herself.

  Jodie stood there, a light shawl thrown carelessly over her shoulders. The fringed edge whipped in the brisk winter wind that also tore at her disheveled hair. She was beyond distraught. Her eyes were red from weeping, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the pale glow of the back porch light.

  Bethan caught her breath at the sight of her friend, fear a lance in her heart. “Jodie,” she said, the word a gasp, and drew her into the kitchen’s warmth.

  “Is he here?” Jodie’s voice shook so hard the words tumbled upon one another.

  “Dylan? No.” He had come in late, spent the night tossing and turning, and left before dawn. Bethan knew this for certain, as she had lain awake and listened to it all.

  Jodie’s response was to throw herself into Bethan’s arms. Bethan could only hold her and pat the shaking shoulder with a stilltrembling hand. She swallowed and managed, “Tell me.”