by Ruth Reid
She set the tray on the chest of drawers. “Are you feeling any better?”
“About the same as when you checked on me an hour ago.” She patted the bed. “Will you sit for a moment?”
Julie eased down on the edge of the mattress.
“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want you worrying about me. I’m going to be okay.”
“I hate seeing you so weak. You and Doc both mean so much to me. I don’t know what I would have done—”
“It’s okay, Julie. Everyone gets sick.”
She hadn’t wanted to tell Cynthia, but all day she had a sinking feeling that everything was about to change. “I don’t want to lose you two.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Cynthia’s voice strengthened. “Now, what are you making for lunch? I keep getting whiffs of something good, and it’s not soup from a can.”
“I don’t know what it is. I just threw stuff together and put it in the oven.”
“You save me some, and I’ll have it for supper. I should be able to hold food down by then, and I heard wonderful things about your omelets. Maybe you should start doing more of the cooking around here—if you like cooking.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what I like to do.” That wasn’t entirely true. She liked being in the barns with the horses, but if she brought that up, she would end up telling Cynthia about her and Matthew’s ongoing squabble. Things were better off unsaid.
Julie sniffed the air and stood. “I’d better check the oven.” She paused at the door and looked back at Cynthia. “I’ll save you a plate if it doesn’t burn.”
Thankfully the room hadn’t filled with smoke. Julie opened the oven and peered inside at the golden-brown concoction. Hopefully it would taste as good as it looked. She removed the dish and placed it on a pot holder to cool, then gathered the plates and utensils to take outside. Now that the weather was warmer, everyone ate on either the lawn or picnic tables, which was fun for the children because manners were not as enforced.
The children and school counselors filed out of the barn and marched into the house, where they took turns washing their hands. Kimberly was at the back of the line. The girl’s lips were puckered, which usually meant she was either mad or in trouble, often both.
“Is something wrong with Kimberly?” Julie asked one of the counselors.
“She’s having a bad day. Most of the morning she spent in time-out.”
“Is it still all right if we sit together during lunch?”
The counselor nodded. “As long as she behaves.”
Julie waited until her new little friend was closer. “Hello, Kimberly. Are you ready for lunch?”
“No.” Her bottom lip quivered.
“Aren’t you hungry? I am. My tummy has been growly all morning.”
Kimberly cracked a smile.
Julie took the opportunity to take her hand. They went inside, washed their hands, then found a place at one of the picnic tables. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to fix our plates.”
Once the child had something to eat, her mood lifted. When she had trouble spearing an egg noodle with her fork, she giggled, whereas on other days she would have pitched a tantrum.
“Jew-e.” Kimberly tapped the table for attention. “Me ride pony.”
“You did! Was it fun?”
“Yes. No.” She giggled again. “Yes.”
One of the counselors seated across from them shook her head at Julie. “Kimberly, we talked about telling fibs. You didn’t ride the pony today. You’ve been in time-out most of the morning.”
“I bad girl.” The child dropped her fork on the table and crossed her arms.
“Finish your food if you want to ride this afternoon, Kimberly,” the counselor said.
Even if she had to leave the dishes soaking, Julie wanted to be there when she rode for the first time. “Can I come and watch you?”
Kimberly nodded. She patted the table until she found her fork.
When the meal ended, the children once again lined up. Julie talked with the counselor out of earshot of Kimberly. “I need to collect the dishes and take everything inside. Could she be one of the last ones to ride?”
“It’s okay with me, but it’ll be up to Kimberly not to get into trouble.”
“I’ll hurry.” Julie gathered up the plates and utensils and took them into the kitchen, then went back outside to bring in the food dishes.
Doc came up beside her and picked up the noodle dish while Julie grabbed the salad bowl and basket of garlic bread.
Once inside, he set the dish on the counter. “Where did you find my wife’s recipe for yummasetti?”
“I didn’t follow a recipe. I found egg noodles in the pantry, and tomatoes, meat, and cheese in the refrigerator, and put it together.” She opened a cabinet and removed the foil.
“It iss appeditlich.”
“Danki.” She spread the foil over the glass dish and tore off the section. “I’m going to put a plate aside for Cynthia. She thinks she can hold down a meal at suppertime. What do you think?” When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder. His stare was blank and haunting. “You don’t think she can hold it down, do you?”
Doc seemed to shake out of his deep thoughts. “We’ll see.”
She’d seen him heavyhearted before. He had the same glossy eyes when she first arrived. Please don’t hole up in your study again. Cynthia needs you. I need you.
“I’m going to take a walk.” His shoulders slumped as he headed to the door.
Did his dolefulness have anything to do with Cynthia’s sickness? Julie looked out the window and watched his uneven stride. His hips and knees were bothering him. An inner voice prompted her to follow him. He shouldn’t be alone. But Kimberly would be disappointed if she wasn’t there to watch her ride.
Julie plugged the sink drain and turned on the faucet, then put the leftovers in the refrigerator, her mind debating what she should do. She turned off the tap and raced out of the house. If she hurried, she could get back in time to see Kimberly.
A heavy scent of lilacs filled her senses as she followed a narrow path through the dense stand of maples. Brilliant shades of green leaves shimmered in the breeze. The trail led her around a pond and ended in a field of purple lilacs. For a moment, she was lost in the beauty and overpowering sweet scent.
Then she spotted Doc sitting on a bench, head bowed. Was he talking to himself? Inching closer, she stepped on a fallen branch. The snap gave her away.
Doc looked up.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I just thought . . .”
He slid to one side of the bench. “Have a seat.”
She should have rehearsed what to say before she invaded his privacy.
Doc started the conversation. “I love this time of year when the lilacs are in bloom.”
Julie wrestled with her thoughts until she just blurted, “Is Cynthia dying?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’ve never seen her sick before, and when I mentioned making her a plate of food for supper, you got . . . weepy-eyed.”
“It’s nice that you care so much, but I assure you, Cynthia will recover. She has the flu. You’ll probably get it next because of how close you’ve been working together.”
“That’s a relief. I thought she was dying.”
“Technically, the moment a person is born, they start to die. Time on earth is short.”
“Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.” She pondered the words. “Do you think it’s strange that I don’t remember anything about my past, but I remember Bible verses? Sometimes repeating them is the only thing that brings peace of mind.”
“I don’t find it strange at all. God’s Word speaks to your spirit, to your soul.”
“Then why doesn’t He tell me who I am?” She let her frustration out in a lengthy breath.
“It’s better that you follow what the Bible says. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your o
wn understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.’”
“I believe He’s led me to your ranch. I just don’t know the purpose for my memory loss.”
Doc smiled. “But the good news is He has a purpose. Hold on to that truth.”
She nodded.
“Sometimes trauma can affect the way our brains work. I’ve seen people who have no physical reason for long-term memory loss, meaning their brain has not been injured, but it’s as if something too painful in their past has shut down their ability to recall.”
“You think my past is the reason I can’t remember?” It must have been awful. Was this God’s way of sparing her from the truth?
“Let’s not get sidetracked with science. God has you, and He won’t let go.”
“Arms of mercy,” she whispered.
“My wife and I used to come here every year when the lilacs were in bloom. We even planted several varieties so the blooming season would last closer to six weeks instead of the average two.”
“They’re my favorite flower too—I think—I mean, the scent is familiar.”
“Hannah’s favorite too, but you probably already guessed that.” He stood up. “I’m going back to the house. Stay and enjoy this place, and if your heart is heavy, ask the Lord to show you your purpose.” He took a few steps away and stopped. “And, Julie, you’re always welcome on the ranch. I think of you like a daughter.”
“Thank you, Doc.” Julie lowered her head and closed her eyes, but words wouldn’t come. After a moment of basking in silence, she finally whispered, “Lord, I will trust You.”
A branch snapped. Julie opened her eyes expecting to find Doc, but instead she found a redheaded man with shimmering flecks of gold in his eyes.
“The child you’ve come to love has lost her way. She’s in danger—go to her.”
Kimberly!
Julie sprinted back to the house. Distant shouts rang out as Matthew, Quinn, and the workers from the school were spread over the area, calling for Kimberly with panic-stricken voices.
Doc came out of the house. “Kimberly’s missing.” His breathing wheezed. “I just checked inside.”
“She’s lost her way. Go to her.”
“She’s in the paddock.” Julie ran to the barn. “Kimberly!” If the child answered, she couldn’t hear over the blood pulsing through her inner ears. She checked the stalls. Empty. Empty.
Thwack.
Token. His stall door was closed. Julie yanked open the top half of the door and found Kimberly crouched in the corner, waving her walking stick at the horse.
“Kimberly,” she said in an even tone. “I need you to listen carefully and do as I say.”
“Okay.”
“Drop the walking stick.”
She eased the door open and slipped into the stall. Token turned to her, nostrils flaring. “Easy, boy.” She inched toward the corner. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Julie?” The girl’s high-pitched screech agitated the gelding. He turned one way, then made a sharp turn in the opposite direction.
“Easy, boy.” Julie bent down, gathered Kimberly into her arms, then slowly made her way out of the stall.
“Oh, thank God.” Doc was midway down the center of the paddock, wheezing heavy breaths and staggering. “Thank You, Jesus.”
Julie put Kimberly down and gave her shoulders a shake. “What were you doing in there!”
“I find you.” The child sobbed.
Julie gathered her back into her arms. “You found me. Don’t cry.”
Kimberly buried her face in the crook of Julie’s neck, soaking her with warm tears.
Matthew stalked toward them. “I told you that horse was dangerous.”
“She’s okay. He didn’t hurt her,” Julie said.
“The girl disappeared—to find you. When you make a kid a promise, you should keep it.”
Doc came between them. “That’s enough, Matthew.”
“The only reason the girl went into the stall was to find Julie.” Matthew glared at her. “Now do you believe me?”
Julie didn’t answer. She merely walked away, carrying Kimberly in her arms.
Kimberly was banned from the ranch. The dean of Saint Christopher’s made the decision based on the counselor’s recommendation despite Julie promising to watch the child’s every move and Doc putting a deadbolt on the office door leading into the pole barn. The dean’s word was final—and horribly heartbreaking.
Julie hadn’t spoken to Matthew since the near trampling, nor did she care. She stayed away from Token, the barns, even the children. To combat a longing in her heart she couldn’t explain, she planted a garden. Sufficient time left in the growing season was iffy at best—this was already June. But it gave her something to do, and Cynthia and Doc encouraged her to plant the seeds and see what matured.
Julie pulled a handful of weeds and tossed them into a pile. She didn’t hear anyone walk up the row until he cleared his throat.
“Do you have a minute?” Matthew asked.
She yanked another clump of weeds out by their roots. “What do you need?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
She glanced up and squinted from the sun. “Did Doc put you up to it?”
“No.” He kicked the toe of his boot into the dirt. “I feel bad for how I treated you and for the things I’ve said.”
Forgive and forget. She held up her hand to shield her eyes. He looked sincere. “It’s okay.”
“It’s my fault that Kimberly isn’t allowed to come back. The dean called and asked my opinion, and I told him she was disruptive and didn’t follow directions.”
“Do you even know her background? She was born to a mother addicted to drugs. Her emotional development and physical problems are not her fault. She was given no future to speak of, and the little bit of kindness from me, well, that doesn’t compare to what—”
“I know. I have an appointment at the beginning of next week to talk with the dean. I’d go today, but he’s on vacation.”
“What are you going to say?”
“That I believe she deserves a second chance.”
“Yes, I do too.” Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to make of Matthew’s sudden change in attitude.
“It’d be nice if you make omelets again.” He turned and stepped over the row of sprouting beans.
“Matthew,” she said.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“I think you’re right about Token. Doc should take him to the auction tomorrow.”
Chapter 34
Elijah shooed a fly away with his hand. The pesky creatures seemed overpopulated for this time in June, at least compared to northern Michigan. He shuffled toward Pickles’s stall, then slipped inside.
“I’m sorry I failed you, boy.” Elijah patted the gelding’s neck. “If I had the money, I would buy you myself. You have potential. You just need a trainer with his head together, and unfortunately, that isn’t me.”
Admittedly Elijah hadn’t been the same since the accident. He still went into town regularly to check for updates, and he was always relieved to hear that Catherine’s body hadn’t washed up downriver, but he didn’t understand how someone could disappear completely. Would he ever be able to move on with his life? He’d heard before that time heals old wounds, but that wasn’t the case for him—or Pickles. The horse wasn’t over the accident he’d been in either. The skittish gelding still didn’t trust people, and the progress Elijah had made with him hadn’t been enough to make him into a buggy horse for Bishop Zook’s son.
Bishop Zook trounced across the barn floor. “Mason is here. Is Pickles ready to load?”
“Jah.” Elijah clipped the rope onto the horse’s halter. “I should have been able to turn him into a gut buggy horse. I feel awful that he’s going to auction.”
“Sohn, don’t blame yourself. When I bought Pickles he was an angry horse on the way to the glue factory. I thought I could tur
n him into a buggy horse too. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“But with more time—”
Bishop Zook shook his head. “I know it’s hard for you to let him go, but the auction only comes around once a year, and frankly, I can’t afford to feed a horse that doesn’t work.” He clapped Elijah on the shoulder. “You’ve done a gut job. I’m nett disappointed in you.”
“That means a lot. Danki.” But Elijah was disappointed in himself. He’d put countless hours into working with Pickles and made little progress. How would he ever build a business training horses? He led the horse outside the barn to the waiting trailer. Lord, let him go to a gut home.
The driver closed the trailer door with a thud and attached the padlock. They all climbed into Mason’s truck, Bishop Zook in the front seat and Elijah and Joshua in the second seat.
Joshua shifted on the seat with nervous energy to face Elijah. “You think we’ll find a gut horse today?”
Elijah shrugged. “I’ve never been to this auction.”
Mason glanced into his rearview mirror. “You’ll find a lot of horses, but it’ll depend on your price range.”
The young man’s excitement deflated, and he sank back against the seat.
Joshua had just finished school a few months ago, and he was itching to have his own horse. Elijah hadn’t bought his first buggy horse until he was old enough to court. He recalled how amazed Catherine’s gaze was when she looked over his new mare for the first time. Her eyes sparkling with wonderment, she had asked all sorts of questions. The mare’s name, her age, and the question he hadn’t expected, “When can I drive her?”
Reminiscing about the time she had let the horse have free rein made the hour-long ride to the auction house go by quickly.
Joshua elbowed Elijah. “You want to check out the horses?”
“We need to unload Pickles and get him registered first,” the boy’s father said.
Elijah stayed with the horse as the bishop went to the office. Unloading wasn’t too difficult, but releasing him to the holding pen was an emotional struggle for Elijah.
The metal building was hot even with the large overhead fans at full power. It would get hotter yet once the bleachers filled up. Bishop Zook wanted to make sure they found a seat, but Elijah was too anxious to stay in one place. “I’m going to walk through the holding area. I’ll let you know if I see a horse that looks gut.”