Heart of the Wilderness

by Janette Oke

  Kendra sighed deeply. She had loved the wilderness. She had loved it all. She had been happy there, communing with the God of nature. Her God—once she had discovered who He was. But she did not say the words. There was no turning back. She managed a smile.

  “We need to get that leg of yours taken care of,” she said simply.

  She watched his hand stroke absentmindedly at his beard.

  Both of them busy with their own thoughts, they sat in silence, their eyes on the moving treeline along the riverbank.

  George broke the spell. “I’ve really been a pesky nuisance, haven’t I?”

  “A nuisance? Of course not,” Kendra was quick to declare.

  Her mind went back to the time of the accident. How frightened she had been when she knew how badly hurt he was. She feared that she would never be able to get her grandfather out of the tangled bush with only Oscar and the makeshift travois to help her. But she had done it. She had given him some of Nonie’s special root medicine. It had killed the pain some so he could endure the bumpy journey back to the cabin. But the ride had been hard on the badly broken leg. Kendra was afraid it might have been further damaged in the transport.

  It was healing now—to a measure. At least he was no longer in constant pain. At least he could move about on it—in a way. But they both soon had come to the realization that he would never be able to run the trapline again. Kendra offered to take over for him, but he refused to hear of it. There seemed to be only one thing to do. To sell what they had and move out.

  A movement on the shore drew Kendra’s attention. She saw Oscar’s head come up, his ears perk forward. She reached for him and laughed softly.

  “You see that moose? I suppose you’d just love to have a merry chase,” she teased her dog. She rubbed his ear and the deep rumble in his chest subsided. It was going to be very different for Oscar in the city. For a fleeting moment Kendra wondered if she had done the right thing to bring the animal from his wilderness home. All three of them were facing major adjustments.

  They moved into a small house just down the street from Maggie. Even before they were settled, Kendra made arrangements for George to see a city physician. His prognosis was not good. There might be a bit that could be done for George’s leg, but it would never be restored to full use.

  “You are lucky to have it at all. I’m surprised it healed as well as it did. Must have been five or six breaks there. You were lucky. Just plain lucky.”

  “I had a good nurse,” said George. Then he added thoughtfully, “And a wonderful God.”

  The doctor just shook his head as though he still couldn’t understand.

  Kendra worried. Her grandfather was too young, too energetic, to be confined to a small house on a city lot. Would he be able to manage the enormous changes?

  Kendra finally found a job doing housework for a wealthy family. It did not pay especially well, but it gave her a steady income and that was all they really needed.

  George took over the household duties. Kendra was surprised at how easily he seemed to assume the role. But then he had been a bachelor for many years, she reasoned.

  He also spent a good deal of time at Maggie’s, puttering around her yard, working her garden, repairing anything that was broken.

  The two old friends shared cups of coffee on the wide veranda and chatted over years that used to be. George took advantage of opportunities that arose to talk with Maggie about his newfound faith. Soon she was joining him and Kendra for the short walk to the little church each Sunday morning. The two prayed with more intensity, hoping that it would not be long until Maggie made her own commitment to the Lord.

  “Kendra!”

  At the sound of her name Kendra wheeled around. It sounded like—yes, it was!

  “Amy!” she cried in return and the two friends ran to throw their arms excitedly around each other.

  “What are you doing here?” they asked in unison. They both laughed.

  “I think we need to sit down and have a good talk,” Amy prompted. “Do you have time for a cup of tea?”

  “I’d love to,” replied Kendra, and they hastened to the nearby small cafe, chattering as they went.

  “I’m teaching here in town,” explained Amy. “Oh, so much has happened since I saw you last. I’m engaged. To a wonderful man. We’re to be married in September.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Kendra.

  “Now that you’re back—you can be my maid of honor. Oh, will you? Please—don’t run off on me again.”

  Kendra laughed. “I’ll not be running anywhere,” she said. “Papa Mac broke his leg—badly. He won’t be able to work the trapline anymore.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Where is he?”

  “Here—in the city.”

  “Can’t the doctors—?”

  “No,” said Kendra, shaking her head. “But—it’s really not so bad. He’s adjusted far better than I hoped. He has the house—and his puttering—and Aunt Maggie.”

  They found a table and sat down.

  “Now,” said Amy, “I want to hear all about what has happened since I saw you last. Then it’s my turn.”

  They both laughed again. It was so good to be back together.

  But what Kendra really wanted to know—what she could hardly wait to hear—was about Reynard. If Reynard was still single—or if he had found himself a girl—maybe even a wife.

  “You look beautiful,” said Kendra, and she leaned over to kiss her friend on the cheek.

  Amy did look beautiful, absolutely glowing. Kendra had never attended a wedding, and Amy was the first bride she had ever seen, and the sight nearly took her breath away.

  Kendra seemed to fit right back into the Preston family when she went out to the farm for the wedding. She was amazed at how much the younger siblings had grown when she saw them all the evening before at the rehearsal. Thomas was as tall as his father. A big boy, sturdy and strong with an easy grin and an interest in anything that might qualify as a sport. Carry was slim and pretty and yes, very aware of male attention, just as Reynard had said. Nell was more subdued than she had been as a bouncy, energetic eight-year-old. But she was just as loving, and Kendra often felt the young girl close beside her, seeming to wordlessly ask for an arm to draw her close.

  Reynard—was not married. Kendra’s heart had skipped when she heard the news. Still, she knew that she had no claim on Reynard, even if she did have deep feelings for him. They had exchanged no promises, made no commitments. She did not know if Reynard still cared at all for her—in that fashion. In fact, she had no assurance that he had ever cared—in that way—unless his look, his manner were assurance. Or the pressure of his hand on hers. Kendra clung to a hope. A dream.

  She turned her attention back to Amy, Amy the bride.

  “Walt is a blessed man,” she said with sincerity.

  Amy smiled. “Oh, Kendra—I’m so happy—I could just burst.”

  She gave Kendra an impetuous squeeze.

  “I—I just hope that you—that you will one day feel—just as I feel,” enthused Amy. “In love. Blissfully happy. So—so loved and blessed.”

  Kendra blinked back tears. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt like weeping. She was experiencing too many emotions, all wanting expression.

  “Would you care to take a little walk?”

  Reynard whispered the words very close to Kendra’s ear. The wedding was over. The bride and groom had left in a flurry of goodbyes, beaming first at each other, then at the family and guests who were to be left behind. Now the guests, too, had departed and Kendra was helping gather the wedding gifts and pack them into boxes. She looked up at Reynard and nodded.

  “I suppose—”

  “Those will be looked after,” he assured her.

  Kendra smiled. “That’s easy for you to say,” she teased.

  “Promise. I’ll help you when we get back—if they aren’t already boxed up.”

  It was a warm evening. There was no need for Kendra to get a shawl
. They left the church together and strolled slowly down the lane that led them away from the small church building.

  “You had me very worried,” said Reynard softly.

  Kendra looked up to meet his serious eyes.

  “I was afraid I might never see you again.”

  Kendra lowered her glance. “I—I had—had thought the same,” she admitted.

  Reynard reached for her hand and Kendra interlaced her fingers with his.

  “I’ve—thought about you, Kendra,” he continued.

  Kendra was unable to respond.

  “And I’ve prayed.” Silence followed. Then he chuckled softly. “How I’ve prayed.” He laughed again. “Did you feel prayed for?” he asked her quietly.

  Kendra lifted her eyes again. “I—I felt—at peace,” she answered honestly. “Strangely at peace. I—I—”

  Kendra wished to tell him how much she had missed him. How distraught she felt at the thought she would never see him again. But she wasn’t able to say the words. Instead, she answered quietly, “In spite of my circumstances—I felt that—that God would work it all out—in the right way for—for all of us.”

  His fingers tightened on hers.

  “So He brought you back.”

  Kendra nodded. “He—He brought me back. Not—not in the way I had—had hoped. I mean, I certainly would not have asked that Papa Mac be—be—”

  “Of course not. But his accident did make him think about God—about his salvation,” Reynard reminded her.

  Kendra nodded. She still could not think about that without tears of joy.

  “So—I guess lots of good came of that accident—for many of us,” he continued.

  He stopped and turned to her.

  “Kendra,” he said softly. “You must know how—how I feel about you. Would it—would it be presumptuous of me to ask if—if I might call. I know that it won’t be—quite as I would like—me being here and you in the city. But I could come as often as possible on weekends—and we could write. It would be okay now—wouldn’t it?”

  He went on before Kendra could give her answer. “I know that—that it isn’t the way a young lady might wish to be courted—but—but—”

  Kendra lifted a hand and rested it against his chest. He seemed so apologetic—so troubled by their situation. She did not wish him to think she felt cheated by their awkward arrangement.

  But she didn’t know quite what to say—or how to say it.

  The silence seemed to stretch out between them.

  “That is—if you feel the way I do,” Reynard said at last.

  Kendra could not look up into those intense brown eyes. She was afraid they would look into her very soul and discover the love that filled her being.

  He reached for the hand and drew her a bit closer.

  “Do you, Kendra?” he asked softly, placing a finger under her chin, lifting her face so she had to meet his eyes. She remembered the other time, long ago, when he had done the same thing. She had been enamored with him then. She loved him deeply now.

  “Kendra—I’ve prayed so much—about us. About what God might have in mind—for our future. All I ask—all I dare to ask is that you—grant me the opportunity to—to try to show you—how much I care.”

  Kendra nodded mutely.

  He smiled then, one of relief. “I’ll come to see you as often as I can. I promise. I’ll try to make it next weekend.”

  Kendra still could not speak. She was too overcome with emotion. She had prayed too. When things had looked so—so impossible. When she could only place her life in the hands of God and ask that His will be done. When it seemed that she might never see Reynard Preston again. But now—But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him all that. Not now. Not yet.

  He did come. That very next weekend. And as often as he could over the months that followed. George McMannus soon came to recognize the sound of Reynard’s eager steps on the broad sidewalk. Even Oscar would lift his head from the mat where he rested and cock his ears forward. Then he would turn to look for Kendra, who always seemed in such a hurry to get to the door.

  “Kendra’s in the house.”

  George McMannus straightened up from the rose he was pruning and looked at the young man who stood before him, his hat held in nervous hands.

  “I—I know, sir. At least—that’s what I was counting on.”

  Surprise showed in the older man’s eyes.

  “I—I wished to see you, sir,” went on Reynard, his eyes lifting from his hat.

  “Me?” Oscar moved from the shade of the tree where he had been watching the proceedings and pushed against the younger man for a bit of attention. Reynard reached a hand down absentmindedly and rumpled the dog’s ear. Oscar pressed more closely against him.

  “Well,” said George, “let’s get in out of the sun.”

  He turned to lead the way to the back door.

  “I—I would like to talk to you here—first,” Reynard said. Then added quickly. “If you don’t mind.”

  George stopped and turned, eyes narrowed, as though trying hard to see through the young man before him to study his very thoughts.

  He waved a hand at the bench that stood beneath a large poplar and Reynard moved toward it.

  Reynard did not make George wait. He lifted his head, took a deep breath, and hurriedly began. “I’m—sure you must know how I feel about Kendra.”

  George nodded.

  “I—I wish to marry her, sir.”

  He stopped and toyed with his hat. George watched him, sensing his nervousness and feeling empathy, yet at the same time aware of some discomfort of his own. He had known this would come. He couldn’t possibly keep her forever. Yet—He wished there were some way to put it off. To hold on to her for just a bit longer.

  He drew in a big sigh, turning his gaze off somewhere in the distance, his left hand stroking his graying beard. He wasn’t ready to answer—yet.

  “I’m asking you, sir, for her hand in marriage.”

  At last George stirred himself. He turned to look at the eager, nervous young man. There was no one to whom he would sooner entrust his little girl.

  “What does Kendra say?” he asked.

  Reynard looked surprised. “Oh, I wouldn’t ask Kendra before asking you, sir. I need your permission—for that.”

  George looked steadily at the young man. He nodded silently. “Then perhaps you should ask her—now—with my permission,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even and controlled.

  Without rising from his seat, he turned toward the house.

  “Kendra,” he called, and Kendra answered through the open window.

  “Can you join us?”

  When she came from the house, Kendra was surprised to see Reynard. She hesitated, reaching down to nervously toy with the hem of her apron.

  Reynard stood to his feet, his eyes on Kendra’s face. George waited a moment, then said, “This young man has just asked for your hand in marriage.” Both men heard the sharp intake of Kendra’s breath.

  Silence followed while Kendra cast a glance toward Reynard. He looked at her pleadingly as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

  “How do you feel about it?” asked George. “Do you wish to marry him?”

  It seemed too blunt. So—so sudden. Kendra lowered her gaze, her hands still twisting in the apron.

  “Well—?”

  Kendra lifted her eyes and looked directly into those of the young man.

  “Yes,” she said, and her voice was strong. “Yes—I wish to marry him.”

  Reynard stepped quickly forward and reached for Kendra’s shoulders.

  “I guess it’s settled then,” said George. But no one seemed to be listening.

  The two stood close to each other, their eyes exchanging promises of love. George knew he had been forgotten. He cleared his throat loudly and Reynard stirred, his cheeks coloring slightly.

  “You’d better get that girl out of here and let her know how special she is,” suggeste
d George. “There are too many nosy neighbors for you to be saying it here in the garden.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Reynard said, and his voice was filled with excitement. Confidence.

  George watched them go. One hand reached down to stroke Oscar, who had moved to press up against his knee, the other reached toward his beard.

  Though he fought against the tears, they could not be held in check. His little girl had left childhood behind and entered womanhood. He had known it would come. Should have been prepared, but it all seemed to have happened so quickly. Wasn’t it only yesterday that he had stood in the garden of the Home, bracing himself for the meeting with a nearly four-year-old. Now—now—

  He wiped carelessly at the tears with his flannel sleeve. If only—if only Mary could see her now. A beautiful young woman—vibrant—in love.

  He had to let her go—with his blessing.