Rocky Mountain Match

by Pamela Nissen

  “How is she doing?” she forced out, clearing her throat as she followed him to his buggy. “How is Aaron? I mean…is there anything I can do?”

  His shoulders hanging low, Ben sighed with a nod. “Yes, there is. Right before I left there this morning, Ellie asked for you and Joseph. She wants to see you.” He hauled his doctor’s bag up to the black leather seat. “I think it would do both of them good to have the two of you there.”

  “Well, of course. Of course I’ll go.” She grabbed his offered hand and climbed into the seat. Glancing to the west where Aaron and Ellie lived in a cabin outside of town, an ominous shiver passed through her as she spotted the dark gray bank of clouds crawling over the horizon.

  “It was a good thing you caught me when you did,” Ben said, grabbing the reins. “I was coming after supplies, then going straight back out there. Aaron’s trying to get a coffin made and tending Ellie, too. She’s still not out of the woods.”

  “Will she be all right?” she braved.

  His mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t know. It wasn’t an easy delivery. She lost a lot of blood.”

  “I’ll do whatever needs to be done. Just let me know.”

  As the buggy lurched forward, rolling over the rutted ground, he glanced at her. “I saw Sven on the way here and he told me about the appointment. It must’ve been a difficult trip for all of you. I’m sure Joseph is very upset.”

  On the way to pick up Joseph, Katie proceeded to tell Ben about the day, from the way Joseph had courageously handled the discouraging news, to his silence and the unfortunate incident on the walk home. She was careful not to dishonor Joseph in any way, but she felt that Ben should know the extent of things.

  He pulled in a deep breath, blowing it out in one big gust of air. “I really hoped things would turn out better than that. But I can’t say I’m surprised.” Furrowing his brow, he jammed his hat down on his head. “Did you get much out of him after the appointment?”

  “I’m afraid not. I tried, but he wasn’t in any mood to talk, and I don’t blame him.”

  Thunder rolled in the distance, penetrating the silence. “This is one of the toughest things he’s had to face.” Slicing a glance her way, he added, “It’s a good thing he has you.”

  Katie blinked back hot tears as she stared down the street toward Joseph’s house. “I’m not sure he sees it that way. And I doubt that he’ll be too keen on my coming along today, either. He didn’t want me coming back to work with him.”

  Ben gave her hand a brief, comforting squeeze. “He may be stubborn. But knowing Joseph, he’ll put aside his trials if it means being there for Ellie and Aaron.” With a jerk of the wrist, he slapped the reins, urging the horses to move a little faster. “When it comes to doing for others, he always looks past his own needs.”

  Chapter Ten

  Joseph’s heart clenched at the unmistakable sound of Aaron working a saw in the barn. Each pass of the sharp-toothed blade through the wood echoed like some mournful cry as Joseph approached the barn with Ben.

  When Joseph had learned of the baby’s death, he’d felt deep sorrow. It had multiplied as they’d arrived a few minutes ago and he’d sat by Ellie’s bedside. Her voice sounded so small, so sad, so weak. And in spite of the warm August day, her hand had felt like ice in his. When she’d tried to comfort him about his own discouraging news, Joseph had fought hard to bat down the raw emotions that flapped like gaping wounds in his soul. It was just like her to encourage others in the midst of her own pain and loss. He’d tried to offer the same in return, but what could he say that would possibly bring any consolation?

  That God was with them? That God had a plan in it all? That God would turn it all for good?

  Having heard enough of that from well-meaning folk over the past few weeks, he was weary of assuaging answers like those. True as they may be, sometimes sentiments like those seemed trite. Sometimes just the quiet strength of another’s presence was worth more than a whole book of words. Besides, wasn’t God more than capable of showing Himself to be true, sovereign, loving? Did he really need folks to defend His honor or what He allowed in our lives?

  Thunder rumbled through the valley and the saw blade groaned to a halt. A lump rose in Joseph’s throat as he took a tentative step out of Ben’s lead and into the barn.

  “I’m sorry, Aaron,” he expressed, as Ben headed back toward the house. “So very sorry for your loss.”

  Aaron’s feet scuffed over the dirt floor and stopped in front of Joseph. After several seconds, Joseph reached out and found his brother’s arm, pulling him into a strong embrace.

  “I’m sorry, too, Joe-boy,” Aaron rasped, his tall frame quaking in Joseph’s arms. “Both about my baby…and your vision.” Stepping out of the embrace, he added, “I can tell…it’s not any better, is it? Your vision?”

  Joseph slid his hands into his pockets. “No. But don’t worry about me. And don’t worry about things at the shop. Take all the time you need,” he urged, knowing full well that time was ticking away and the deadline loomed closer. Right now, though, it didn’t matter. Not when Aaron and Ellie had just lost their baby, and she was struggling for her own life. “Just get Ellie better. That’s all you need to think about now.”

  Aaron drew in a fractured breath.

  Joseph tried to focus his unseeing eyes on his brother. He’d always believed that eye contact, man-to-man, was important. But with the dim lighting inside the barn, murky shadows were barely visible through the gray haze. Outside in the daylight, he could at least make out the barn’s faint, rough outline or a person’s foggy silhouette.

  “I’ll be here for you, Aaron,” he finally said. “Whatever you need. Just ask. I’ll do my best.”

  Aaron grasped his arm and pulled him over to the small workbench in the barn. “I could use your help trying to get this built.” He paused, clearing his throat. “So we can bury him…our little Jeremiah.”

  The lump in his throat grew larger just hearing his nephew’s name. He wanted to help, but how could he build something when he couldn’t see?

  Moreover, how could he tell his brother no?

  Then Katie’s words came back to him. Her encouragement that he could be a carpenter even without sight. That his skill had as much to do with touch as anything else. Although she had no carpentry experience, she’d had students in the past who’d succeeded in the trade. She’d assured him that there were many things he could do if his vision wasn’t what it had been.

  Awkwardly, he raised his hands and felt the wood that Aaron had already cut. The pieces were so small. Just like little Jeremiah, whose lifeless body Ben had wrapped and placed in a handmade crib that should’ve cradled life, not death.

  While he slid his hands over the individual sections of the crude box, he heard quickened footsteps approach the barn and turned his attention to the doorway.

  “Aaron,” Katie breathed. “Ellie’s asking for you.”

  Without a word, Aaron squeezed Joseph’s shoulder and ran back toward the house.

  A wave of compassion rose within Joseph. Had he ever married, he would’ve counted himself a blessed man to know love like Aaron and Ellie’s. Aaron had found someone he cherished, and who treasured him.

  Swallowing hard, he turned back to the wood pieces and began estimating the width and length. When Katie approached his side, he stilled his hands on the wood. “He wants me to help build a coffin.”

  Rain, steady and serene, made a pitter-patter sound on the barn roof as Katie stood silently beside him. The faintest aroma of fresh rain mixed with the lily scent she wore wafted to his senses, making him already miss her sweet presence.

  “I don’t think he’s trying to push you too fast, Joseph. I just think he wants to know you’re here for him.”

  “I know. I told him I’d help out and I intend to make good on my promise,” he said with a nod. Turning, he leaned back against the workbench. “I’m probably not a good judge since I couldn’t see her, but the way Ellie sounde
d in there…he needs to be with her. Doesn’t he?”

  Katie sniffed in front of him. Several moments passed in quiet and with each one he fought the urge to reach out and comfort her. But holding her was sure to weaken his resolve. Once she was in his arms he’d be overcome with the sense that she somehow belonged there.

  But she was upset. Even though Katie had known Ellie for only a brief time, they’d become close friends. Just moments ago Ellie had urged him not to let Katie get away—an urging that Joseph had silently pushed aside. Now that he couldn’t offer himself as a whole man, he had to let Katie go.

  Sooner or later, he’d have to get used to having her around and not wanting her for his own. She’d told him once already that she had no intention of going back to Iowa. If she stayed, Sam would probably pursue her with more allure than a snake charmer. When Sam wanted something, he usually went after it with lightning speed and solid assurance.

  Hearing her quietly sniff again, he shrugged off his silent deliberation and shoved away from the workbench. “Come here, Katie,” he whispered, reaching out and pulling her to himself.

  He drew his arms around her, spanning a hand at her small waist, and one at her back.

  On a quiet sob, she curled her arms in front of her and relaxed against him. Like sunshine on snow, she seeped into him, melting his defenses. Closing his eyes, he took in her scent, her form, her sweet presence in his arms. For a full, magnificent moment, he held her as if they belonged together.

  Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he knew that he could bring her comfort.

  But when he opened his eyes to find the darkness again, he realized that that’d be about it. He couldn’t protect her. He couldn’t drive his own team of horses without her by his side. And he probably couldn’t provide enough for a family to live on. What could he do if he couldn’t be a carpenter?

  The image of himself, begging on some street, a tin cup held out to those with pity, crawled through his mind.

  Joseph cringed at the picture. No matter what happened, he’d never, ever be reduced to that. He had too much pride and resourcefulness. He might not make a nice, comfortable living again, but he’d never beg.

  Katie deserved far more than he could give her. She deserved the world—and more. He could only give her a small bit of comfort. But comfort couldn’t put food on the table or see danger and circumvent it.

  On a shudder, she finally spoke. “Ellie doesn’t look good. Not at all.” Her voice was so solemn that it made his heart hurt. “She’s so pale and very weak. I’m really worried, Joseph.”

  He trailed his hands to her arms, cherishing this touch as he stepped back away from her. “Me, too. And I know that Ben is—I can hear it in his voice. He’ll do all he can medically, and we can pray and do what we can here to help them.”

  Brushing against the wood pieces behind him, he slowly turned around to try to make sense of the pile. “I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, I’ve made one of these before…. I just haven’t ever done it without sight.”

  Katie sidled up next to him. “It looks like Aaron put the pieces in piles according to size.”

  That struck him as odd—Aaron was never so organized before. Joseph furrowed his brow and carefully slid his hands over the neat piles, remembering how Aaron’s haphazard ways had always driven him mad.

  Katie grasped his hand and set it on a pile. “These are the longer, narrow boards.” Then she slid his hand to another pile. “And these, the wider, short boards.”

  “They must be the outside end pieces,” he added, making mental notes as she continued showing him each pile.

  After she’d placed a hammer, nails and the pieces he needed within his reach, he was about to give it his best try when Aaron came back inside the barn. He said that Ellie had finally fallen asleep, and Katie excused herself to return to the house and do some quiet chores while Ben kept tabs on Ellie.

  “So, do you think you could help me with this?” Aaron’s voice was ragged with emotion. “It’s not a task a fella wants to do alone. You know?”

  “Of course I’ll help.”

  The pain and grief Aaron had to be feeling and the way he kept going regardless inched through Joseph’s mind. When had Aaron gotten so mature? When had he grown up to become the man who worked beside him with patience, steadiness and precision?

  Joseph pondered those things while they completed a job no father would ever wish to do. While they made the finishing touches on the small, modest coffin, Joseph didn’t feel as if he’d offered much in the way of expertise. But he was sure that being there for his brother, walking through that heartbreaking task together, meant more than if he’d built the most splendid, elaborate coffin fit for a king…or a baby prince.

  Dawn’s first light barely cracked through the pouring rain, gray skies and cool temperatures. Katie quickly donned a pale green dress made of thin wool challis and over that, her cloak. With a covered basket heavy with food prepared by Aunt Marta, and a roofed buggy made ready by Uncle Sven, she picked up Joseph and they drove out to Aaron and Ellie’s early.

  With the baby’s death and funeral all in the same day, and Ellie’s unstable condition, Ben had dropped them off just before midnight. But at least there’d been a positive turn of events before they’d left the cabin, as it seemed that Ellie’s bleeding was lessening some. Katie had lain awake and prayed all night for her friend, but something ate away at her, undermining any peace she had.

  Morning hadn’t come soon enough.

  When they neared the cabin, she narrowed her gaze to see through the wind-whipped rain. Staring ahead at the large old pine tree that stood as a silent, settled guardian at the foot of the baby’s grave, she caught sight of a dark form hunched over at the fresh mound of dirt.

  “Is that—Aaron?” Alarm slithered through her.

  “Where? Where is he?” Joseph leaned forward, clutching the seat.

  Urgency overwhelmed her and she pushed the horses faster. “I can’t tell. The rain…it’s—” The breath whooshed from her lungs as the image came more clearly. Cupping a hand to her mouth, she held back her moan.

  “What is it, Katie? What’s wrong?” Joseph grasped her arm, his touch the only thing that kept her from crying out.

  Disbelief knifed through her. Her heart twisted in pain. “It—It’s Ellie. She’s lying on the grave.”

  “What about Aaron? Is he there?”

  She nodded, swiping at the tears pooling in her eyes. “Yes, he’s there. He’s holding her.” Struggling to hold back the deep sob that threatened to release, she focused on driving the horses into the rain-soaked yard. “Oh, dear God, no,” she whispered, a lump lodging in her throat at the unmistakable stain of red she saw covering Ellie’s muslin nightgown.

  Joseph catapulted down from the bench, reached up and found her hand. “Take me there. Please, Katie,” he urged.

  “Oh, Joseph, it’s awful,” she whispered. Thunder clapped, shaking the ground. “Something terrible must’ve happened.”

  When she and Joseph approached the grave, Aaron lifted his head, his boyish features contorted in anguish and his tear-stained face streaked with dirt. “I’ve lost her, Joseph.” He nuzzled his face into Ellie’s strawberry blond hair, dripping wet and plastered to her ashen face by the rain.

  Katie’s insides balled tight at the wounded cry. She breathed a desperate prayer for Aaron as thunder rumbled over the valley floor.

  Dropping to his knees in the mud, Joseph felt his way to where his brother clutched Ellie’s limp body. “What is it, Aaron? What do you mean you’ve lost her?”

  Katie’s stomach churned. She was unable to move or think beyond the horrific fact that Ellie was dead. How could she be? Hadn’t she taken a turn for the better? Her bleeding had lessened. That’s what Ben had said….

  Quaking from head to toe, Katie peered through her watery gaze at the bloodred stain, already being diluted by rain. The sight of Aaron’s broad shoulders shaking with silent sobs twisted her he
art. She slipped out of her cloak, spreading the light wool over him and adjusting it so it draped over Ellie, too. Stooping to kneel beside Joseph, her breath caught and heart dropped at the sight of the small booties Ellie had knit for the baby, clutched in her lifeless, dusky hand.

  “She didn’t want to—to leave the baby,” Aaron cried as a blast of thunder shook the ground. His voice was so forlorn that Katie thought her heart might break in two. “After you left last night she begged to see Jeremiah’s grave. But she wasn’t strong enough, Joseph. She wasn’t strong enough.”

  “I know, Aaron,” Joseph soothed.

  Katie bit back a sob when he grasped Aaron’s shoulders, as though trying to lend him strength. “I know how much she wanted to be here to lay the baby to rest.” Joseph’s voice was thick with emotion. “But she was so weak from the blood she’d lost.”

  Closing her eyes to the sight of her friend’s lifeless body, Katie recalled how frantic, how inconsolable Ellie had been when Katie had sat with her yesterday, during Jeremiah’s funeral. She’d held Ellie until the grieving mother had cried herself to sleep.

  Unwilling to believe that Ellie was really dead, Katie stretched her hand toward her friend. She touched Ellie’s arm, which dangled stiffly from her husband’s embrace. Her stomach churned at the hard, cold feel of Ellie’s fair skin. The touch left no question as to whether death had left its distinctive, chilling mark.

  Pulling her hand back, she blinked away hot tears stinging her eyes. For a moment, her vision narrowed to a black, cavernous tunnel and she thought she might pass out. Inhaling deeply, she glanced up to see Aaron’s face crumple in agony.

  He stared at Joseph, his desperate gaze begging for relief from his torment. “I told her I’d take her as soon as she got strong enough. I promised her I’d bring her out here to see where we laid our son to rest—under our favorite tree.”

  Smoothing back rain-soaked hair from her eyes, Katie slid her gaze up to the tree. She swallowed hard and took in the initials surrounded by a heart that had been carved into the thick trunk. Remembering when Ellie had told her about Aaron’s first true and hopelessly romantic declaration of love.