baked a rhubarb pie, and his heart fell free.
He fell in love with Love that day,
with her clear blue eyes and her Southern way.
He brought her home to the Western sea,
and married her ’neath that scarred oak tree.
They settled to the ranching life,
bore a son when the time was right.
Tommy played beneath the scarred oak tree,
galloped his horse ’cross the Western beach.
Cy’s flown to Jesus, Tommy too,
still in Love’s tales they live anew.
For in her heart she always knew,
love never dies when it feels this true.
He fell in love with Love that day,
with her clear blue eyes and her Southern way.
He brought her home to the Western sea,
and married her ’neath that scarred oak tree.
Yeah, lightning struck
but Love still stands.
Knows they’ll meet again
on that golden sand.
Knows they’ll meet again
on that golden sand.
The mandolin’s final vibrato echoed in the room as Rett and Zane’s voices faded. There was a moment of silence, then everyone started clapping. All Love could do was let the tears flow down her cheeks.
Rett came over and sat next to Love, putting her thin arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”
“Thank you, Sweet Pea,” Love said, reaching out and cupping Rett’s cheek in her hand. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “If you want, Zane and I could record it and put it on your iPod. He’s got some awesome music software.”
“That would be wonderful.”
While everyone was eating dessert, Love managed to slip outside. There’d been so much emotional upheaval in the last few weeks that she needed a moment to be alone. She wanted to go to the place that reminded her the most of Cy. She walked across the dark pasture to the lightning tree.
This ponderous old oak had been here before August was born, and it would probably still be here when all of them were gone. Would Rett’s great-grandchildren play underneath this tree? Or Patsy’s? Or Faith’s? Love hoped the ranch was still in the family then, but you never knew. Things were changing in San Celina County, in the country, in the world. There were no guarantees that the Johnson ranch would survive. That made Rett’s song even more precious. It would survive, it would always be there, a testament to the life that Love and Cy had lived. She ran her finger down the jagged scar from the lightning strike. Its edges felt smooth as satin.
“Thank you, Lord,” she said out loud to the Creator of this tree, the God she had doubted for so long, but who never gave up on her, never deserted her. She knew that now. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said to trust you, when you said to pray. Say hey to Cy for me. Tell him I hope to see him soon, but there’re some things I need to do here first. Tell him . . . I miss him. Tell him . . . I understand why he wanted to go home.” She inhaled deeply, the loamy scent of the soil assuring her that for right now, she was here on this solid piece of earth because God had a reason for her to be here.
“Love!” Clint’s voice carried like a strong ocean wave. He stood at the gate to the pasture, just barely visible in the purple dark. He pulled out his cell phone and opened it, holding it under his chin so she could see his face—a twenty-first-century flashlight. Her heart warmed at the sight of his smile, thankful for his friendship and his gentle wisdom. She’d need both in the next few months.
“I have to leave now.” His voice echoed across the dark pasture. “Wanted to say good-bye and wish you a merry Christmas.”
Love traced the tree scar one more time, then called back to him, “Hold on. I’m on my way back.”
Love Mercy Page 35