by JoAnn Durgin
Natalie lowered her eyes first, but Amy was only getting started. If she was trying to make her feel guilty, it was working.
“Of course, Marc also knows how much you love children and handmade things, so that explains the schoolhouse play and the cards. You may not know this, but we had to tackle one of the female ranch hands when we first arrived here. She set her sights on your husband, and thought she’d reel him in before we set her straight on the fact that his wife was right here in the camp and, if anything happened, she’d have to answer to the rest of us.” Amy let out a short laugh. “You don’t mess with Sam, and especially his TeamWork crew, or you’ll have to answer to Papa Bear.”
“That’s Amy’s new nickname for Sam,” Winnie said.
They all looked over at Lexa. She nodded. “Seems fitting. I like it.”
Not sure what to say, Natalie remained silent. Amy wasn’t done yet. “And then, when we went into town for supplies and Sam and Marc walked in the general mercantile, you should have seen how fast the head of every single woman within throwing distance swiveled and zeroed in on the both of them. Sorry, Lexa,” she said, throwing an apologetic glance her way. “They’re both tall, strong, manly men, and they get female attention. But the point is, they don’t care and seem downright oblivious because they only have eyes for their wives. It’s a beautiful thing, I tell you. I only hope I’ll be so blessed one day.”
Lexa surprised them by laughing. Other women coveted their husbands, and the woman laughed. “They can drool all they want. They’re making fools of themselves because they’re not getting anywhere. I trust Sam. I know how to keep him happy, and I intend on doing it all the rest of my days.” When she glimpsed their collective look of surprise, Lexa laughed even harder.
“Well, okay then,” Winnie said.
Watching them, Natalie was grateful to be part of such a great group. They put the meaning of TeamWork into action at every possible opportunity.
Amy sat down on the bed beside her, pulling her close with one arm draped around her shoulders. “Here’s the thing. You marry someone like Marc, he’s going to get female attention. Get used to it. My humble advice, take it or leave it, is to get over yourself and forgive that man or he might eventually start looking elsewhere. I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”
“This is just too much too absorb right now,” Natalie said, leaning into Amy’s hug. “By telling me to get over myself, do you honestly believe I’m being selfish? And does everyone in this room know my personal business with Marc?” An uncomfortable silence greeted her question. Looking from Winnie to Amy, she dared not look at Lexa. How could they know?
Winnie sighed. “We don’t know any details, and we don’t mean to impose or intrude in your personal lives. It’s obvious something’s going on between the two of you other than the amnesia, but we can only guess what it is. Judging by your reaction, I think we’ve got it nailed down pretty accurately. The point is, Marc’s courting you all over again, making new memories, but he’s hoping you’ll recover those hidden memories. He’s trying so hard, Natalie. Marc’s a lovely, thoughtful man, and we all love him. Even more so because he loves you so much.”
It was hard to miss all the other nods in the cabin. Natalie blew out a breath. Seemed she was outnumbered—again. But how could she be mad when these women were so sweet and caring? It was clear how much they wanted to help. “Marc calls it ‘second time around.’”
Winnie beamed. “Exactly.”
Quiet until now, it was Cassie’s turn to speak. “We can all see how much you mean to him. The only other time I’ve ever seen a man look at a woman like that is, well . . .” They all glanced over at Lexa. Bless her heart, she started laughing again. Soon, they all laughed, and Natalie couldn’t help but join in. It was infectious, and the release felt good.
“You know,” Natalie said, “I don’t think I could find better friends. Thanks for helping me get through this.” Something stirred inside, something hard to define, but it was definitely there. “Wait a minute.” She held up one hand.
“What is it?” Still sitting beside her, Amy’s arm around her tightened.
Cassie moved close, falling to her knees beside the bed, her blue eyes wide. “Do you remember something else?”
It was another breakthrough, and it got her heart pumping. “Winnie, you helped me fix something on my bridal gown right before the wedding, didn’t you?”
Winnie’s smile was bright. “You had a tiny tear in your veil. You fussed about it, but we arranged it so no one could tell.” She sighed. “You were the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and Marc was your gorgeous groom. Made for each other might sound silly, but that’s exactly what everyone said about the two of you. You were the fairy tale come true.”
Natalie grinned. Winnie was so sweet, and she appreciated her sentiment. She needed to tell Winnie privately that she remembered her name when Marc showed her their wedding photos.
“I’m not sure I want to know what you remember about me.” Amy nudged her shoulder and laughed.
She chewed the inside of her lip, her brows drawn. “Well, I don’t remember anything specific.”
“Go ahead. Out with it,” Amy said with a skeptical expression. Forthright, bright and funny, Amy had once been much more hesitant at confrontations, at least according to Lexa and Beck. An editorial assistant at a large New York publishing house, she’d come into her own, not afraid to speak her mind. That’s what was also rather intimidating.
“I’m guessing you helped coordinate everything at our wedding.”
“Which is oh-so-polite Natalie speak for telling me how bossy I was. And you would be right.”
As the other girls departed to begin preparations for dinner, Amy hugged her tighter. “I don’t mean to be harsh with you. Even if you don’t remember, I hope you can tell how much we all love you and Marc, and want the best for you.”
Natalie nodded. “I know. It means the world. In spite of the fact that I’m freezing here in Montana,” she added with a small grin, “I’m glad we’re here. You all are so great, and I can’t thank you enough for all you’re doing for us.” Once the other girls departed, it was Winnie’s turn to sit down beside her on the bed. Lost in thought, Natalie wondered if maybe she’d start remembering more things now.
“I might be grasping at straws,” Winnie said, “and I’m certainly no biblical scholar like Sam or Kevin, but I think it’s interesting that your veil tore before your wedding.”
Natalie sighed. “Tell me. My brain is muddled.” She offered a tired smile, but had to admit she was intrigued.
“In the Holy of Holies, the veil represented the separation of man—because of sin—from the holiness of God. Only the high priest was allowed to pass through the veil once a year, on the Day of Atonement. But when Jesus died, the veil was torn in half. In other words, Christ’s death on the cross made us right before God.”
Natalie drew her knees to her chest, wondering where Winnie was going with all this.
“Bear with me,” Winnie said, her voice quiet. “You might think I’m crazy, but hear me out.”
When she smiled, Natalie felt so drawn to this woman’s sensitivity and compassion. No wonder she was called the Mother Hen and everyone loved her dearly.
“Marc’s sins died when he became a Christian. Maybe you should think of your torn veil as Christ’s atonement for Marc’s past. That tear, especially on your wedding day, symbolized a new beginning for both of you, and freedom from the past.” Winnie shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. “So, do you think I’m a total nut case?”
“Not at all,” Natalie assured her, giving her a quick hug. “If anything, you’re very wise and intuitive. I understand what you’re saying, and it makes perfect sense. Thanks for sharing that with me.”
Winnie patted her hand. “We’re all here for you. Anytime you need us, just say the word. Remember, too, the Lord knows what you’re going through now, just as he did on your wedding day, and every day. H
e’s right beside you, every step of the way. He doesn’t want you to go through this alone, and neither do we. Remember that, sweetie.”
“Winnie, there’s something I want to tell you.” A fleeting look of alarm crossed over her features, but it faded quickly as Winnie listened to the story of how she’d remembered her name. “Marc thought it was a breakthrough. When I looked at the photos of you, Beck and Amy at the wedding, it’s like I knew.”
“Knew what, exactly?” Winnie’s voice was so gentle, so soothing.
“I knew the Lord sent you all to help. To love Marc and me enough to help us get through this trauma together. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Watching Winnie leave after a quick hug, Natalie wondered how she ever got along before she met Sam and Lexa Lewis and their TeamWork crew. They were gifts in and of themselves in so many marvelous ways. This unexpected birthday was turning out to be very special.
Chapter 32
Securing the horse to a nearby tree, Marc walked, hands in his pockets, shaking from the cold. Whether he shook because of the freezing temperatures or his own volatile emotions, he couldn’t be sure. He’d made decent headway in regaining Natalie’s trust and love, but even though she told him she didn’t want to give up on their marriage, another part of him knew her blind faith in him was shattered.
It’s called trust, Marc.
Maybe the ghosts of his past would never truly fade, but always lurk around somewhere, ready to surface and haunt again, triggered by unknown circumstances. Spying a fallen log, he sat down, elbows propped on his knees, his head falling to his hands. He willed the tears to come, but they were stubborn. “Natalie, I love you. Happy birthday.” Marc’s voice echoed in the stillness, mocking him. Everything mocked him these days, from his shiny gold wedding band to the Montana wilderness.
“God, help me, please.” He needed the heavenly Father to help save their marriage, and he should have called on Him first. I won’t lose her. Sure, he’d prayed, but like everything else in his life, he didn’t want to willingly relinquish control. It all boiled down to a battle of wills. He’d been calling the shots far too long and hadn’t fully surrendered to God’s will. Approaching the throne of grace, laying it all at the feet of the Savior should have been his starting point, not where he’d ended up as a last resort.
Dear God, he prayed, help us get past this. I don’t know what else to do, where else to turn. I thank you for Sam and his wise counsel and Lexa’s wise counsel to Natalie. I don’t know what we’d do without them. But you’ve blessed us with a baby together, Lord, and I know it’s Your will that we stay together. I love her with everything in me, and I want us together as a family.
The pain had been buried inside him far too long, but he’d been too stubborn. Holding onto it this long was a mistake, and he needed the release. No one else was around. No one but God. Giving into his anguish, the loud, long, slow moan trapped in his throat flowed out of him. It was almost unearthly, and along with it came the tears. They fell freely, freezing as soon as they hit the hard, cold ground.
Shivering, arms crossed in front of him, Marc rocked back and forth, watching his breath escape. His body wracked with loud sobs. Like they so often did, his dad’s words came back to haunt him. Men don’t cry. It shows weakness. He’d excelled at school, earned a scholarship to Yale, but it was never good enough to gain the attention or affection of his famous dad. “No more, Dad,” he said through clenched teeth, his fingers curling into fists inside his gloves. “I will not allow you to dictate my life!”
His dad died alone. No matter what they’d been through together—how he’d wronged them—he was still family. If only the mighty Phil Thompson had reached out, Marc would have been at his side in a heartbeat. So would his mom and sister, but he’d suffered in silence because of a distorted perception of what it meant to be masculine and strong. And, in doing so, denied his children—and the only woman he ever truly loved—the opportunity to say good-bye.
Sitting in the wilderness, his heart aching, Marc shed more tears for the sadness of it all. “You were wrong, Dad,” he said, wiping away more tears, rocking back and forth on the log. He was stiff from the cold, but he didn’t care. Once his sobs quieted, a sense of calm passed through him, the same as after Natalie’s fall. Maybe this was the peace that passes all understanding? He loved his dad in his own way, but he was gone. If he’d learned anything from how his dad lived his life, he had to make his life count—by doing things his own way, not patterning his life after a man who didn’t know how to live. Marc stopped rocking, and listened to that still, small voice.
Abraham.
Marc glanced around, but other than the horse, he was alone. Okay, so maybe he was going crazy, or else the Lord planted the name in his mind. It wasn’t just any name. It wasn’t Robert, or Harry, or even Sam. Abraham in the Bible was known for his great faith. What are You trying to tell me, Lord?
He sat for a few minutes, thinking. Then it hit him with sudden, full clarity. Abraham was asked to do the unthinkable when God told him to offer his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice. Surely, as a father, Abraham’s heart would have been burdened and heavy. Most likely, he wondered why a loving God would ask him to do such a thing, but Abraham was willing to do it because he understood that God, in His infinite grace and mercy, would work it all out for good.
But could he—a proud, stubborn-as-nails man—take such a giant leap of faith and give up the most precious thing in his life? A vision of Mr. Davis that fateful night in Boston filled his thoughts, along with his wise counsel. Give her to God, son. It’s not a battle. It’s not God pitted in one corner and you in the other. You’ll lose every time until you’re willing to surrender to His will. Only then can you possibly be a winner.
The words were seared into his memory, imprinted on his heart. He might be a little slow on the uptake, but he eventually got it. Finally, he understood what he needed to do. But why was it so hard for him to give up? Because it’s an admission of failure.
“In order to keep her, I have to be willing to give her up. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it, Lord?” Marc lifted his head in a blind haze and focused on the sudden, dark clouds obscuring the sun. Ironic. He’d experienced a personal Damascus moment—seen the light—and yet the sun had disappeared.
The Lord knew his heart and that surrendering was one of the hardest tests for him. And he was being tested. “Okay, it’s not a battle, but still, you win, God.” His anguished cry filled the silence. Love is about sacrifice. Look what Abraham was willing to do. Look what Christ did for him on that cross, dying a horrible, disfiguring death in order to save man from his own sin.
To save me. Marc closed his eyes. For the promise to Abraham or to his descendants . . . that he would be heir of the world was not through the Law, but through the righteousness of . . . “Faith.” In the same way Abraham was justified by faith, he—Marc Thompson—was saved by faith in God’s Son. The truth settled in his heart and wrapped itself around him, soothing his weary soul. Surrendering to God’s will for Natalie, including the recovery of her memories, wasn’t a failure. It was simply called . . . faith.
Something jarred his senses, and he turned his head, listening. Was that a voice? Maybe he was exhausted from all the thinking and possible hallucinating. Marc looked in every direction. No, it wasn’t his imagination. There it was again—a distinct cry for help, but whether human or animal, he couldn’t be sure.
“Is someone there?” Marc sprang to his feet. “Make a noise so I’ll know where to find you!” Running to Dandelion, he unwound the rope tethering her to the tree. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he hollered, “Where are you? I’m here to help, but I need to know where you are!”
The sounds were louder this time, a plea for help. Female. Marc shuddered. “Please, God, be with me.” Quickly mounting Dandelion, he guided the horse out of the clearing. He crept along at a slow pace, listening for more sounds. It wasn’t long before he was rewarded with another fain
t cry.
“Help me! Hurry!” The fading screams held an urgency that shot deep shivers up and down his spine, quickened his pulse. Marc didn’t think anything could be as bone-chilling as Natalie’s scream when she fell on the stairs, or her sobs as she cried in the car here in Montana, but this was dangerously close. He stopped in his tracks for a few seconds to get his bearings, but knew he had to keep moving. God put him out here in the wilderness for a reason—several reasons, apparently.
There! The cries came from the east. So much for instinct. He turned Dandelion in the opposite direction. Galloping at full speed, he prayed he’d get there in time, and the Lord would help him know what to do. Coming out of another clearing, Marc’s eyes widened in horror as he spied a woman trapped in the half-frozen water of a creek. Her face was partially submerged as she bobbed up and down in the water, flailing her arms in a desperate effort to stay afloat. Long hair was plastered to her head, and her face was deathly pale, lips nearly blue.
When her eyes moved to him, they held frozen horror yet a faint glimmer of hope. Green eyes. Rebekah! His heart pounding, Marc quickly dismounted. “Stay!” Lord, please keep that horse here. I’m going to need her. The banks running along the frozen creek offered no place to tether Dandelion. It wouldn’t do either one of them any good if he ended up in that creek with Beck. They’d both be goners. He didn’t want to make Natalie a widow before they had a chance to reunite. That kept him moving.
“Hang on, Beck!” How had she ended up in the creek? Tossing the loop over Dandelion’s head, he fashioned a loop on the other end, thankful the rope was several feet long. He was going to need it. At least he still had some manual dexterity considering his hands were practically frozen stiff. A sense of urgency spurred him on as he unfurled the thick rope attached to the saddle as he carefully picked his way to the edge of the creek.