As Rocky opened his mouth to declare his love, Seth's yelp of alarm and pounding footsteps on the porch stopped him short. "Uncle Rocky!" the boy squealed from the open door, "Rachel says she's goin' to go live with Grandma and Grandpa." Wheezing, the boy bent at the waist to catch his breath and gripped his chest. "She wanted me to come with her, but I told her-we had better ask you first. So then, she left without me-said you guys don't never wanna be ar parents. She's madder 'n a hornet."
Seth straightened his small body, his big brown eyes filling with hurt and need. "I like Grandma and Grandpa Callahan just fine, Uncle Rocky, but I wanna live with you guys." His searching eyes went from Rocky to Sarah, and without a moment's hesitation, Rocky walked to the boy and wrapped his arms around him.
Mary Callahan stood on her front porch, her arms folded at her plump waist and her skirt blowing in the wind, as if she knew they'd be arriving any minute. She put a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun, then stepped forward when they drove into the yard.
"Where is she?" Rocky asked after he helped Sarah off the wagon and reached the porch.
"In the house, sittin' on your pa's lap, bawlin' her eyes out. Keeps sayin' she wants to live with us. I do believe she ran her little legs off getting here. Whatever did you say to her?"
"I guess it's what I didn't say that matters most."
Mary leaned forward. The closed door would prevent Rachel from overhearing. "For some reason, Rachel seems to think she's not wanted at your place."
"She's wanted," Rocky said, firm as could be.
"I think she's feeling a mite insecure. She still misses her mama somethin' fierce, whether she wants to admit it or not."
"Of course she does," Sarah interjected. "Losing a parent is an awful burden to carry. It's difficult enough for adults, but when you're young, well..."
Rocky stepped past his mother and opened the front door. His father sat in the family rocker in the living room, Rachel's curled-up body snuggled against his chest, his weary eyes connecting with Rocky's over the top of the girl's blond head. Rocky walked across the room and knelt on one knee so as to meet Rachel's nearly hidden eyes.
"Rachel, do you suppose you could come out on the porch with me? I'd like us to have a little chat."
She opened the eye that was visible to him, and he noted the redness surrounding it. For one who'd lost her mother just months ago, she'd rarely shed a tear. Tending to Seth's every need, remaining brave through her pain and loss, she must surely have nearly caved under the weight of it all. And what had he done to make her load easier? Guilt ran over his soul.
When she made no move, he extended his hand, hoping and praying he hadn't lost what little trust he'd managed to build with her. Frank nudged the girl forward, and although she threw Rocky a wary look, she took his hand.
He smiled, and the two walked to the porch.
"Give us a minute," he whispered to Sarah. She nodded and followed Mary into the house.
Rocky led Rachel to the porch swing. Once they were seated, he pushed off with one foot and gazed out over his parents' farmyard. Chickens roamed freely, poking in the ground in search of seed. Two milk cows and a horse hovered near the fence, watching, dipping their heads for grassy nutrition every now and then, seeming more interested in what went on at the house than in their meager meal. The old red barn sagged in the middle, showing its age, the late afternoon sun peeking over the roof like a lazy cat.
"I'd miss you if you decided to move in with my folks," he told her.
Rachel gave him a sideways glance. "Seth could keep you company. I don't think he's very keen on movin'."
"Seth would miss you something terrible. He relies on you an awful lot, and I hate to think how Sarah would feel. She's grown very attached to you."
A tiny glint of pleasure burst into her eyes, then quickly dissolved. "She would probably forget about me in a week or so."
"Are you kidding? On the way here, she talked about all the wonderful ways you help her around the house-reading to Seth, collecting the eggs, washing the dishes, lending a hand with the meals, sweeping the front porch. I could just tell by listening to her that she'd be lost without you. We're a family, Rachel, and families stick together."
"Grandma and Grandpa are family"
"Sure, but they don't live with us. I'm afraid we'd never see you if you moved in with them. My pa's getting older, you know. He might not feel like driving you over to see your brother as often as you'd like."
She seemed to think that over. "Grandma and Grandpa don't fight like my ma and pa used to-and sometimes you and Aunt Sarah..."
There it was-the fist in the gut. He supposed he had it coming. "Rachel, Sarah and I weren't really fighting earlier; we were discussing an issue, something that happened in town, but I think we've managed to resolve it."
"Is she gonna stay at your house for always?"
A hard lump formed in his throat when he read the insecurity in her eyes. "Yes, I believe she is." He glanced down at her and winked. "I won't let her leave, if you want the truth. She means too much to me." She gave a half-smile and Rocky placed his arm along the back of the swing, giving her shoulder a tender squeeze. He weighed his next words carefully. "If you're worried our home won't always be a safe place, you can stop fretting about it this very minute."
At that, she looked him full in the face, some of her stubbornness having fallen away. "Will you be like a real pa to Seth and me?"
He smiled. "I'd like to give it a try."
"I don't remember much about my real pa 'cept for his Yellin'. He died before Seth was born." She swatted at a tiny pebble with the toe of her shoe, sending it flying. "A horse kicked him to death."
"I know that." He wondered if Rachel knew her father had been drunk when the accident happened. Matter of fact, from what his mother had told him, the jerk had rarely been sober. It was unfortunate the way he died, but if the horse hadn't killed him when it did, his drinking habit soon would have.
Rachel's lips started to form a word, then closed back up, as if what she had intended to say needed more pondering. Rocky gave her time to shape her thoughts.
"I hate when people die. What if somethin' happens to you or Sarah?"
Across the yard, Seth emerged from the barn, three kittens tucked under his arm. He plopped himself into the dirt with the trio of felines and started playing with them, oblivious to Rocky's watchful gaze.
"Some things in life cannot be controlled, sweetheart, but I can tell you something I've learned." Her expression sparked with curiosity when she raised her face to look at him. "Life isn't always fair," he murmured, "and sometimes the things that come at us are cruel-like you kids losing your ma, and me losing my wife and son. But God loves us all-and He never changes. He's there to offer comfort and strength if we just let Him." It was somewhat of a shock to hear these words coming from his own mouth, and he thanked the Lord that he could say them honestly. He casually brought his hand to rest on her small shoulder.
She moved a bit closer to rest her head against his side, and the simple act set his heart in motion. "Do you think I could have my old room back?" she asked, the question throwing him.
"What? Why...?"
"It's too big for me, and I get kind of lonesome in there 'cause I can't hear Aunt Sarah when she's workin' in the kitchen."
So she'd decided not to live with her grandparents after all. He smiled. "Well, I guess we could arrange that."
She pulled herself upright. "It's not that I don't like that new room, but I was thinkin' that you and Aunt Sarah could have it, and Seth could have the room Aunt Sarah sleeps in, and I could have the old room Seth and me used to sleep in, and..." He seriously doubted the girl understood the implication of her words. Then again, in many ways, she'd surprised him with her insightful nature.
Just then, the screen door opened with a squeak and Sarah emerged.
Immediately, Rachel made way for Sarah's slender body to slide in between them.
Af
ter Sarah snuggled into Rocky's side, he put an arm around her and set to massaging little circles into the curve of her shoulder. "Rachel just announced she wants her old room back," he stated matter-of-factly, shoving off with his foot again. The trusty old swing swayed, whining and screeching with each lift. Without missing a beat, he added, "She seems to think you and I could take the new room, Seth could have the one you've been sleeping in, and she could have her old room."
Sarah's eyes darted upward with the assertion and he smiled down at her. "It's a pretty good idea, don't you think?"
As if realizing the adults needed their privacy, Rachel wiggled her way off the swing. "I'm gonna go see what Seth's doin' with them kittens." At the bottom step, she paused and turned.
"I'd rather live with you guys," she announced with matter- offact clarity.
"Well, I'm glad that's settled," he remarked, watching her set off at a run, her calf-length dress blowing in the breeze, her blond braids bouncing off her back. He beamed with pleasure, then tipped his face close to nuzzle his whiskered jaw against Sarah's cheek. Her flowery scent had his mind wandering in several different directions. "You know I love you, don't you, Sarah?" he whispered, his voice suddenly gone hoarse.
"Did you know I love you back?" she queried.
He turned her chin with his finger and grinned, suddenly overcome with tenderness. "I was hoping."
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her waiting lips, devouring her softness, sealing their newfound love. After several moments, she pushed away and angled her eyes at him. "I've been thinking that I might like to have a baby," she announced.
He felt the beginnings of a silly grin. "Hm," he said, chuckling low and fondling a piece of her hair. "So much for our marriage in name only."
orn and raised in western Michigan, 4 Sharlene MacLaren attended Spring Arbor University. Upon graduating with an education degree, she traveled internationally for a year with a small singing ensemble, then came home and married one of her childhood friends. Together they raised two lovely daughters. Now happily retired after teaching elementary school for thirty-one years, "Shar" enjoys reading, writing, singing in the church choir and worship teams, traveling, and spending time with her husband, children, and precious grandson.
A Christian for over forty years and a lover of the English language, Shar has always enjoyed dabbling in writingpoetry, fiction, various essays-and freelancing for periodicals and newspapers. Her favorite genre, however, has always been romance. She remembers well the short stories she wrote in high school and watching them circulate from girl to girl during government and civics classes. "Psst," someone would whisper from two rows over, and always with the teacher's back to the class, "pass me the next page."
Shar is a regular speaker for her local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) organization, is involved in KIDS' HOPE USA, a mentoring program for at-risk children, counsels young women in the Apples of Gold program, and is active in two weekly Bible studies. She and her husband, Cecil, live in Spring Lake, Michigan, with Dakota, their lovable collie, and Mocha, their lazy fat cat.
The acclaimed Through Every Storm was Shar's first novel to be published by Whitaker House. Loving Liza Jane and Sarah, My Beloved are the first two books in the Little Hickman Creek trilogy.
You can e-mail Shar at [email protected] or visit her website at www.sharlenemaclaren.com.
An Excerpt from Sharlene MacLaren's next novel,
-C5,WA,,"j 4~~M/M_a
Third in the Little Hickman Creek Series
July 4, 1896
-'mma Browning's boot heels clicked out a rhythm on the wooden -sidewalk as she strode purposefully toward home. She'd just spotted Ezra, her galoot of a father, staggering in her direction, and if she didn't get out of sight soon, he'd be sure to make a fool of her-again!
Emma halted when she heard a commotion up the street. Everyone's gazes alighted on the staggering, heavyset man, dirty trousers sagging below his protruding belly, one suspender keeping them from sliding to the ground, a bottle of booze swinging from one hand. Singing at the top of his lungs, he slurred each word so terribly that no one this side of the Tennessee-Kentucky border would have been able to decipher a single phrase.
Emma put a hand to her throat. It was what she'd feared. Disgust and shame roiled in the pit of her stomach. How could Ezra Browning keep doing this to her-mortifying her in plain daylight-especially when it seemed the entire town had shown up for the holiday festivities. Someone ought to shoot the miserable, tanked-up, tangle-footed jug head, she thought, then heave him facedown into Little Hickman Creek's deepest waters. If she weren't afraid of the consequences, she'd do it herself.
Hauling in a heavy dose of air, Emma mopped her damp forehead with the back of her hand. "Guess I should get him off the street."
She knew what she'd like to do. "I'll stick him in that old tin tub out back. He can lay there til he sobers up."
Emma looked up from her bread making. It was just past ninethirty. Her shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh. Jon Atkins was helping old Ezra out of the tin tub, and from the sound of things, her father wasn't too happy for the help.
Why couldn't the reverend mind his own business?
-Ci~ia%~h ~~hee
emme go," Ezra screeched, both hands flailing. "I don't need no help."
"I beg to differ, old man," Jon argued. "You can't even stand up on your own. Look at you."
Jon caught sight of Emma Browning bounding off the boardinghouse back stoop, skirts flaring with every step, wisps of blond hair coming loose from its tight little bun and falling in damp ringlets around her oval face. Her blue eyes sparked with a mixture of anger and confusion as she marched with purpose in their direction, Luke Newman on her heels.
"What do you think you're doing, Jon Atkins?" she asked.
"I'm about to take this odorous fellow to the bathhouse."
Emma fixed him with a perplexing stare and set her jaw in a firm line. Jon paused, one arm around Ezra to keep him from toppling. "Why would you want to do that?" she asked, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the early morning sun.
"He could use a bath, don't you think?" The man's stench was enough to knock over a horse.
"Don't need no bath," Ezra grumbled. "Had one already."
"When? Last spring?"Jon asked, trying to make light of the situation. It had been at least a week since the guy had even shaved, let alone bathed himself.
Ezra coughed and spat, just missing Jon's boot. It was all Jon could do not to set the oaf back down in the tub and let him sleep awhile longer. But he'd determined to get involved in the fellow's life-actually, God had prompted him to get involved-and so here he was defending himself to the drunken fool's daughter.
"Won't do you any good," Emma said. "Matter of fact, you'd be wastin' your time." Her eyes skittered over Ezra's slouched frame. She crossed her arms and stuck out her obstinate little chin. "He's nothin' but a drunk."
Jon took a moment to study Emma's stance, spine straight as a pin, jaw tense, eyes hard and proud. She'd learned that stance from years of struggling to survive, he was sure of it. "When was the last time you saw him sober?" he asked.
Emma laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound. "Well now, that'd take some recollectin; preacher." Preacher? Jon? Reverend Atkins? Which was it? She'd known him all her life, but since his return to Hickman a little less than a year ago, she didn't seem to know quite how to address him. Furthermore, she was determined to dislike him.
Ezra swayed and Jon got a firmer grip on his arm. The bum was still so liquored up he didn't even know he was the topic of conversation.
"Come on, old man," he said, turning Ezra around and pointing him in the right direction, slanting his face away from the worst of Ezra's overpowering odor.
"You w-want some h-help?" asked Luke. Up until now, he'd been the silent observer. Matter of fact, Luke spent most of his time on the sidelines watching life go by. Jon wondered if the boy didn't know a whole lot more about living than most folks
gave him credit for knowing.
"That'd be real nice, Luke. You take the other arm."
Luke stepped forward and Emma's frown grew. "There's no hope for Ezra, Jon. You might as well accept it." Ah, so now he was Jon again.
He paused and smiled at her. "Oh, there's hope, Emma. As long as there's a God in heaven, there is hope."
She made a scoffing noise. "You'd best save your sermonizin' for your congregation.
His grin widened as he tilted his face at her. "I will if you promise to come hear me sometime."
He detected the slightest hitch at the corner of her mouth. "Now, why would I bother comin' to hear one of your sermons?"
"To please me maybe?" She gave him an odd look, and how could he blame her? She'd be blown away by the knowledge that he was attracted to her, had been since he was a snotty-nosed kid. Of course, his attraction made no sense. He was a pastor, for crying out loud. He needed a wife, yes, but a good Christian wife, someone to support his ministry, not someone like Emma Browning who openly admitted she had no use for God.
He gave himself a mental scolding.
Ask her about the room, Jon.
The nudge was as strong as if Jupiter, his horse, had plowed straight into his side. I've asked her plenty, Lord. She's made it clear she doesn't want me under her roof.
Ask, Jon.
"You rent that room to anyone yet?" he asked.
She gave him a stunned look, probably still mulling over his invitation to come to church. "What? No." Her arms remained crossed, except now she hugged herself more tightly and added a scowl to her pursed lips.
"I'm still in need of a place."
Ezra belched loud enough to scare the birds from their perches. Not only that, it carried a deadly stench. Emma lifted a hand and batted the acrid air to ward off the worst of the smell.
"Oh, for crying in a bucket! If you get him out of here, you can rent a blasted room,"
Jon grinned. It was a victory grin, he knew, so he tried not to let it grow to extremes. Thank You, Lord. "That's a load off my shoulders, Emma. Tom Averly, who bought my place, will be pleased to know I'm finally moving out."
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 29