Cathleen didn’t answer for a long moment. And when she did, it was only a slow sigh as she turned back toward the house. “I need to get inside and clean up.”
He let her go without following, but he couldn’t help watching as she picked her way through the snow.
Her chin dipped toward the ground, and her steps were slower than usual. But her shoulders didn’t sag, and her back held its normal erect posture, as if she’d made up her mind.
A fist reached into his chest and clamped hard. She was leaving. He’d just told the woman he loved to walk away. And something in his gut said, once she left this mountain, she’d never be back.
~ ~ ~
CATHLEEN’S TEARS SOAKED into the worn cotton of her pillow, plastering the fabric against her cheek. If only crying could release the ache in her chest. Images of Dad swam through her mind, assisting customers in his shop, peering over his spectacles as he sat at the counter with mortar and pestle. His proud smile and the way he’d slip his arm around her when they discussed herbs and remedies. He’d loved his work, but he’d loved his family, too.
It gave him such pride when both his sons became physicians, even though she’d seen the lines on his face deepen as he bid each of them farewell. She could only imagine the pain of a parent, sending their child away to pursue his dreams.
The way Reuben was sending her away.
Had it caused him any pain? She’d seen something in his eyes before he turned to hide them.
But despite whether he thought she should leave or not, the decision was her own. Should she abandon Mrs. Scott, knowing it was too much for one person to see both to her care and to the homestead? How badly did her own mother need her? Mum had always been strong, even after losing Britt so young. She surely mourned Dad, but Alex was the more sensitive of her two brothers and would do Mum a world of good.
So which was the right choice? Comfort her mother in her grief and assist with the move to Butte? Or stay here to attend a woman who—without Cathleen’s care—might very well meet a tragic death?
She knew which decision her heart said was right. But her head couldn’t come to terms with it.
But then, did her preference really matter? Reuben had sent her away.
~ ~ ~
WHEN CATHLEEN WOKE the next morning, grit clogged her eyes, tightening the skin around them so much it was hard to force her lids open. But she had to. Bryan would want to leave this morning, and she had so much to do to prepare.
Her brother accepted her news with a nod, although it looked like his shoulders sagged a bit from relief.
“Just give me a few hours after breakfast, and I’ll be ready.” She spoke while she cracked eggs into a skillet for breakfast. So much to do.
Her mind scanned a mental list. They would need food to carry them for a few days, at least. She wouldn’t have enough time for bread to rise, so maybe she could make pans of biscuits, and cornbread, too. It’d be nice if she could leave something sweet. Maybe a cake? That might take too long. Cinnamon crisps? Yes. And Mrs. Scott’s soiled clothing needed to be laundered, so Reuben could start fresh. Maybe she’d have time to wash some of his clothing, too.
What else should she do for them? What else could she do? Once she rode her horse out of the clearing, she would have to turn them over to God. Lord, give me strength.
Even with all her hurrying, the sun was about an hour shy of high noon by the time she had the essentials on her list completed. Bryan had been pacing for a while, but he’d been nice enough not to push too hard. The two men had finally headed out to the barn to look at Reuben’s crop of furs.
She stirred the pot of beans she’d put on to cook for their noon meal, then turned to face the empty room behind her. The sounds of shuffling drifted from Mrs. Scott’s bed chamber. She should go say goodbye to the woman. But the burning sensation in her eyes that she’d been pushing back all day threatened again.
How could she make Mrs. Scott understand she’d be leaving? Did she even want her to realize it? The poor lady had lost so much over the past few months. Yet she’d kept such a sweet spirit. Would she believe Cathleen hadn’t wanted to abandon her?
She inhaled a long breath. Oh, God. Strength.
Boot treads sounded on the porch, and she bolstered her defenses as she turned back to the table. Out of the corner of her eye, Bryan’s form appeared first.
She grabbed the bundle with her personal effects and shoved it his direction. “I guess you can saddle the horses.”
He took the pack, then stepped back out the door without a word.
When the cabin door closed and quiet settled over the place, a motion grabbed her attention. She looked up.
Reuben stood there, in front of the closed door, watching her. The expression on his face, those piercing blue eyes, brought back memories of the first few days after he’d returned. The way he always seemed to be watching, his face never giving away his thoughts.
She swallowed down the burn in her throat. So much she needed to tell him. And not just about the household. Yet sharing her thoughts and emotions would be pointless.
He’d asked her to leave. That meant he didn’t love her, not the way she loved him. Because she did love him, she had no doubt of it now. But the feeling was apparently unrequited, and because of that, she did need to leave.
The only way she would get through these next few minutes would be to keep her mind focused on a tasks.
She whirled toward the stove. “I have beans cooking for your lunch, ready in an hour or so. And cornbread under this cloth. There’s fresh biscuits in this tin.” She motioned toward the freshly restocked crockery. With each sentence her voice lost some of its quiver. “These are the herbs I give your mum each morning and night. I think they might actually be helping. Some days anyway. Just steep them together in a tea and add a stick of cinnamon. It cuts the taste, and she doesn’t like the sweetness of honey.”
A memory slipped in, of Mrs. Scott when she’d first served the tea mixture with honey. The woman had actually turned up her nose at the stuff and dumped it in the fire.
Cathleen’s jaw started to tremble. Keep your mind on the work. She averted her face from Reuben as she stepped toward the corner shelves and pulled out the medicine box. “There’s bandages here, and this is the salve I’ve been putting on her burn. You shouldn’t need to wrap it anymore unless it looks infected, but put this on at least three times a day.”
“Cathy.”
She jumped at Reuben’s voice so close. Only a couple feet away. Her shoulders tightened, and she almost hunched over the box.
Then warmth touched her shoulder, soft and strong, those hands she loved. The hand she’d held the night of Tashunka’s foaling. With the memory, her defenses allowed a single tear to slip past her barriers. God, if you don’t want me to leave, please stop me now.
Another hand touched her other shoulder, the thumbs of both easing into circular movements. Her traitorous muscles responded, relaxing into the rhythm as his thumbs worked magic against her knots.
“It’s going to be all right.” His words were almost a whisper, hoarse and throaty. And the way he said it, she could almost believe him.
But it was a lie. He and his mum may be fine, if God sent an angel to help them each step of the way. But she would never be the same after knowing this man. Even if, after the months and months it would take to travel to Boston, settle her parents’ affairs, and make the return trip, she returned, would he and his mum still be here?
Not likely.
He didn’t belong tied to a homestead like this. As hard as he’d tried to do it for his mother, he would be miserable. And she had no doubt he’d eventually find a way to make a life for himself and his mum where he could freely live out God’s calling for him. Using the gifts the Lord had infused within him in great measure. God had so much planned for this man’s life, if only he would stop running and fully accept the Almighty’s gifts.
But those plans were not to include her, apparently.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right.” Reuben must have felt her shoulders stiffen, for this time he turned her to face him.
A second tear slid down her cheek, and a third. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see how much this was killing her. So she stepped forward into one last forbidden comfort.
Into his arms.
Her barriers broke loose the moment her face pressed against the beat of his heart. And her tears flowed. It didn’t help that he wrapped his strong arms around her, stroking her back, pressing his cheek against her hair. Comfort swaddled her in his embrace. Lord, I can’t do this. Please.
After long moments of releasing the pain, the tears finally began to subside. She sniffed them back, doing her best to rebuild her defenses. She didn’t lift her face from his soggy shirt yet, couldn’t quite face him. If she were lucky, he would think her collapse was only because of her father’s death. And that surely was the root of her emotional upheaval. Yet with this second loss right on the heels of losing Dad… She bit her lip against a fresh wave of tears.
Bryan’s voice called from outside the cabin. Her name, possibly.
As she breathed in one final breath, she soaked in the aroma of man that was so uniquely Reuben’s. Then she pushed back from him.
Without meeting his gaze, she turned to the side, wiping her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “I need to say goodbye to your mum.” His grip fell away as she stepped around him, and the depth of the chill that replaced his warmth almost brought on her tears again. Her teeth sank hard into her lower lip to ward off the emotions.
She tapped a soft knock on Mrs. Scott’s door, then slipped inside. Snores from the mattress sounded before she saw the tiny mound of raised covers. The older woman didn’t often put herself to bed, but she’d not had a nap that morning, so exhaustion must have taken over.
Cathleen crept around to the side of the bed where the quilt covered the lower half of the wrinkled face. Such a dear face, full of kindness and wisdom. She didn’t deserve to grow old in this way, but the dementia hadn’t stolen her sweet spirit.
Cathleen leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. The older woman likely wouldn’t remember anything she said if she woke her for goodbye. It was possible she may not remember Cathleen had been here at all.
With that awful thought, she stroked the soft gray hair from her brow, then whirled and escaped the room. Tears once again broke through her barricade and streamed down her face. She pressed through the front room, charging toward the door, forcing herself not to glance at Reuben where he still stood by the medicine box.
If she looked at him, even once, she was too likely to tell him the true state of her heart. And that would never do.
He’d told her to leave.
~ ~ ~
REUBEN WATCHED THROUGH the tiny cabin window as Cathleen and her brother rode away. He’d not gone out to see them off. There was too much chance he’d grip her horse’s reins and beg her to stay. Tell her the truth.
But she deserved more than that. More than him. Her family needed her now, and as soon as she was back in the world she’d been raised for, she would see that was her place. She was born for greatness, and keeping her here would mean cheating her out of what she’d been created for. And he loved her too much to do that to her.
That was the only thing that kept him rooted to the floor as he watched her leave.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE TRIP DOWN the mountain went much faster than the ride up had seemed. With every steady plodding step, the horses carried them farther from Reuben. Farther from Mrs. Scott.
What were they doing at that moment? Had Mrs. Scott been worried to awaken and find her missing? The woman always went straight into the kitchen after her nap and started tinkering around the stove. Would Reuben be there to stop her? Would he help her find something safe to do with her busy hands? Now that his mum seemed to be feeling better after those initial weeks, she did best if Cathleen kept her active with small tasks.
Of course, the burn had been a setback. Would Reuben remember to apply the salve three times a day? Infection was still a risk. Maybe she should have wrapped it once more before she left. But if Reuben didn’t change the bandage regularly, it could get soiled and cause the infection it was meant to prevent.
“Finally home.”
Bryan’s eager words brought her attention up to see the outskirts of Butte. It wasn’t a very pretty town as a whole, although the church in front of them did paint a nice picture, with its whitewashed walls and the rose vines climbing the picket fence around the perimeter.
Bryan had aimed their horses to the left where his and Claire’s house could just be seen in the distance. They had a nice view of the mountains from their western windows. She’d enjoyed more than one fiery sunset from the kitchen window as she cooked supper or washed nappies in the wet sink. But the view couldn’t compare to that from the Scott’s front porch, with layers of snow-capped mountains peeking through the break in the trees, stretching as far into the distance as the eye could see. Sheer majesty.
She swallowed the knot in her throat and nudged her mount to catch up with Bryan. He’d pushed his horse into a longer stride, no doubt eager to see his family after a night away.
Claire must have seen their approach from a window, for she stepped onto the porch, then rushed down the stairs to meet them in the yard. Bryan was off his horse and into her arms within seconds.
Cathleen took her own time dismounting, as much to look away from the reunion as to allow her stiff muscles time to unfold and support her weight on the snow-packed ground.
“Cathleen, I’m so glad you’re home. Safe.” Claire’s arm slipped around Cathleen’s shoulders, and she turned to embrace her brother’s wife. Her friend.
The warmth of the hug brought moisture to threaten her eyes again, but little Amanda squirmed between them, and Cathleen pulled back to tickle the babe’s neck. “And how’s my favorite niece? Do you remember your Aunt Cathy?”
She took the child from Claire, slipping her thumb into the little chubby hand. It was remarkable how straight the baby held herself, gurgling about something as her big round eyes stared at Cathleen. Not an infant anymore. Soon she’d be walking. Cathleen rested her head on the little mop of hair, mostly to hide the glimmer of tears that surely shone in her eyes.
“Let’s go in. You both must be starved.” Claire slipped a hand around her shoulders and guided her forward.
While Claire scurried around the kitchen, Cathleen tried to focus on the child. But Alex and Miriam soon came in, and they all sat around the big table in the kitchen for supper. The meal felt so strange, so different from the quiet suppers with Reuben and Mrs. Scott. Like she was watching the gathering through a window—on the outside, staring in.
She didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t her place right now. She belonged on the mountain, caring for that sweet old woman. Wrapped tight in Reuben’s arms.
The burning sensation flooded her eyes, this time more than she could hold back.
Slipping out of her chair, she mumbled an apology and fled the room. She grabbed her coat from the rack in the parlor and stepped out the door.
Outside, a gust of cold whipped into her. A welcome blast to clear her mind. She desperately needed some time with the Father to settle her roiling emotions. Before going up to the mountains, she used to walk down the street toward the church in the evenings. Yet now, the handful of wagons and people passing seemed to invade the peace she sought.
She skirted the house and headed toward the meadow behind it, toward the trees and hills that led up to the mountains. Almost as if they called her. It was where her heart longed to be.
Now that she gave them free access, the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, her feet crunched through the snow, on a determined march she had neither the power nor the will to stop.
At the base of the hill, she pressed her hand against a tree. Lord, what am I doing? A large rock stood in the snow beside her, an
d she sank onto it, still gripping the tree as if she needed the support. And she did.
She inhaled several deep breaths, allowing the cleansing air to fill her pores. Then, she let her eyes sink closed. “God, I need Your direction now more than I ever have. Show me which way is right.”
With her eyes pressed shut and the chilly air clearing her mind, she focused on listening to her Creator. He’d never failed her yet. Not in her earliest memories when Britt died, not when He’d led her to this place. He had a plan. She just needed to wait for it.
As she sat in silence, the refrain of a hymn crept into her spirit. “It is well with my soul.” She hummed the tune, the words filling her mind, settling peace through her as she mentally moved through the second verse.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Tears pricked her eyes as realization of the truth washed through her. Whether she was in Boston with her mother, or on a remote mountain homestead, what mattered was the Father. The sacrifice He’d made for her, and her need to share His love with those around her. The freedom that only came from living with Him.
She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, Lord.” Sorry for losing sight of Him in the midst of her troubles. Even in the midst of her love for Reuben. If God had been her focus, would she have ever left the mountain to begin with?
In that place of meditation, she lifted a prayer to the Father. What would You have me do? I’m willing. Her mind immediately stole up the mountains, images playing there that she’d tucked into her heart.
The wild beauty of the cliffs seen from the cabin porch.
Sitting with Mrs. Scott in the evenings, singing hymns while they both did needlework.
Reuben.
The warmth of his arms around her.
The utter peace of it all.
But didn’t she owe it to her family to help in her father’s death? Didn’t her own mother need her? She pictured Mum, so strong in spirit as she raised four children. Even when they lost Britt, Mum had grieved, but she’d always had such inner strength. The same strength she’d passed on to her offspring.
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 17