Sammie must be so frightened, and Joel—she couldn’t begin to imagine the terror the boy would feel, trapped in his simple mind, unable to understand what was happening. She prayed that, somewhere in their past, their mother had found a way to turn what could be a fearful situation into one of wonder. How it chafed at her to sit here, waiting for daylight. Common sense told her that Sammie had found shelter for at least two weeks before coming to live with her, and she’d do so again—but that didn’t make it easier to wait out the night. The men would have kept hunting if not for this storm. Please, God, let it stop soon. Take care of the children, wherever they are.
A sudden awareness of her father’s care struck her, and her hands started to shake. Papa often worried about her when she was Sammie’s age and she stayed out after dark. Now she was responding the same way to her two young charges. She’d so often resented her father’s watchful eye, thinking him controlling and overly anxious. Now she wondered. Had she been unfair to judge him the way she’d done over the years? If her fears for Sammie and Joel were any indication, the answer could be yes. She pushed out of her chair and paced over to the window, staring out at the stormy night. She’d have to think this through, and maybe even pray about it, as well. Yes, it might be a good idea to ask God to lead her in this one small thing: helping her to understand her father.
Nathaniel’s words earlier that evening rang in her mind. He wanted another chance. Why wasn’t her heart singing with the joy she’d expected? Isn’t that what she’d wished for all these years? At least, at first, before anger and hurt had pushed those feelings to the back of her heart and stomped them down. Now she wasn’t so sure what she wanted. Part of her longed to return to the days of her youth, when she’d been head-over-heels in love with Nathaniel. But what about Andrew? She’d thought her liking for him was only respect at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. Admiration and respect became mixed somewhere along the way with genuine caring and attraction, but dare she allow her heart to get more deeply involved? She groaned and sank back down into the rocker. If only she could let go of her fear and trust God with her entire life—Andrew, Nathaniel, the children. All of it.
If she gave Nathaniel the chance he asked for, she’d have to be open and honest with Andrew. Tell him about her past and let him know she wasn’t sure what—or who—she wanted in her future. She couldn’t blame him if he decided she wasn’t worth the effort, or the wait. Did she want to take the chance of losing him, like she’d lost Nathaniel? But would she ever really be content with Andrew, or any other man, if she didn’t find out for sure if she still had feelings for Nathaniel?
A mighty clap of thunder rattled the windows, and she clutched the arms of the rocker. That felt close. Too close. The lightning that followed struck mere seconds later, bringing everything in the room into stark relief. An ear-splitting crash shook the cabin to the foundation, and she jumped from the chair. What in the world? She whirled around and covered her head as the ceiling creaked, groaned, and then split wide open.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Samantha crouched beside Joel and held his hand as he cowered behind the hay stacked in the loft of a barn almost a mile west of town. It wasn’t the same one they’d stayed in when they first came to Bridal Veil—that would be too dangerous. She couldn’t take the chance they’d track her to the old barn they’d used before. This one housed dairy cows that munched contentedly in the stalls below, seemingly unaware of the storm raging around them. Sammie patted Joel’s arm, hoping to calm his fears as the lightning sliced across the sky and thunder shook the wood floor. “Shh, it’s all right, Joel. God is with us, remember? He sent the lightning so it wouldn’t be so dark.”
“But I don’t like the noise. It’s too loud. It sounds like the lightning is tearing the sky apart.” Joel clapped his hands over his ears as another volley rang through the loft.
“Come on, sit closer to me. Do you remember what Mama used to tell us about the thunder and lightning when we were little?”
Joel shook his head and shivered. “No.” He hitched himself across the loose hay and leaned against a pile in the corner. “What?”
She looped her arm through his and squeezed. “She said the thunder was the angels beating on drums and making a mighty praise to the Lord. When it gets loud, we’re to think about the angels, and not be afraid.”
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I remember. But I wish they didn’t have to play so loud.”
“It’s all right. The drums won’t hurt you.”
His body relaxed, and he let out a long breath. “Just angels playing their drums and praising God.”
“Ah-huh. Pretty soon they’ll get tired of playing and put their drums away, and the night will grow quiet again.” She held up her hand. “Listen. The thunder is getting farther away, and it’s not as windy now, either.”
“When the angels stop playing, can we go back to Miss Margaret’s house? I didn’t get supper.” He wriggled around and stared at his sister.
Sammie bit her lip and hesitated, hating that she’d dragged her brother out of the warmth and comfort of Miss Margaret’s home. But from what she’d overheard the sheriff say, she knew it was no longer a safe place to stay. He wanted to question them about that man’s death, and no way would she let anyone haul her brother to jail. Over her dead body, that’s for sure. “I know, and I’ll try to find us something to eat in the morning. Do you think that if I make us a nice soft bed in this hay, you could go to sleep?”
He twisted his mouth to the side and furrowed his brows, then shrugged. “Guess so, but my tummy’s complaining. It don’t like being empty.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek. “I know. You’re a good boy, Joel. A real good boy. And I’m proud of you.” She jumped to her feet and gathered armfuls of the sweet-smelling hay out of the large stack, spreading it in a deep mound close by. “We’ll pretend we’re camping out again, and the cows down below are our pets watching over us while we sleep.”
Joel perked up and smiled. “Like Buck. He’s Mr. Gibbs’ pet, and he’d watch out for us if he was here.”
“Yes, like Buck.”
“I miss Buck. I thought we were going to get to play with him tomorrow, and Mr. Andrew was going to take us for a walk. Maybe even a picnic.” He heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’m tired, Sammie. Is the bed ready yet?”
“Yes, come lie down.” She patted the pile of hay and rubbed her tickling nose, trying to hold back a sneeze. “And don’t you worry. Everything will be fine when we wake up tomorrow.”
“You promise, Sammie?”
She hesitated and turned her eyes away. “I’m praying it will. God loves us, Joel, and He’ll take care of us.” A thought niggled at the corner of her mind, and she tried to push it away. If she really believed that, why had she run this time? Hadn’t God watched over her when those men tried to catch her in the woods? Hadn’t Miss Margaret been kind to them ever since they’d arrived at her house? Sure. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t use common sense and do everything she could to watch out for her brother. God didn’t want His children to lie down and quit doing anything for themselves, did He? She’d trust Him to keep the sheriff from finding them, but she’d do her part to make sure they kept out of sight, as well.
Margaret raced to the kitchen and huddled in the corner, her heart racing and ears ringing with the crashing noise. Total darkness covered the room, but she felt small bits of wood and—what? fir needles?—cascading over her head. She covered her mouth and choked back a gasp that turned into a sob. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that Sammie and Joel had run away. They could’ve been seriously hurt if they’d been sleeping in their normal place in the corner. The fir tree standing twenty feet behind her cabin must have been struck by lightning. Another bolt raced across the sky and gave her several seconds of light. The trunk of the once-mighty Douglas fir lay crosswise over the exposed beams of what used to be her ceiling, and the branches of the tree reached almost to her fl
oor.
She lit a lantern and stared at the hole in her roof, then around at the broken bits of branches and shattered wood from her ceiling. What a mess. Thank the Lord it hadn’t rained, but the tree branches continued to cast needles onto her braid rug and table in the far corner of the room. There was no possibility of sleep now. She shook her head and kicked a fircone back under the branches and out of her sight. At least it hadn’t brought the entire ceiling down. She could be thankful for that much.
She headed to her room and plucked a quilt off her bed. Morning would be here soon, and at least the temperature rarely dropped below sixty or sixty-five degrees this time of year. She slung the quilt over her shoulders and snuggled into the sofa, ten feet from the branches and the gaping hole in her roof. Some of the men would arrive at first light to start hunting, and she’d wait and see what could be done about repairs then. No sense in trying to roust out anyone tonight, not with the lightning still streaking across the sky.
She drew the quilt up to her chin and curled her legs under herself, thankful the rolling thunder seemed to be lessening. Her heart kept repeating a prayer over and over. Watch over the children. Please, God, watch over the children. Even as her mind drifted toward Nathaniel’s request again, her heart continued to sing the same pleading song, lifting the refrain toward heaven.
Nathaniel. She leaned her head against the arm of the sofa. Was this God’s hand bringing Nathaniel back into her life? She’d believed God had promised a perfect mate for her, and she’d been so sure it was Nathaniel. When he’d disappeared from her life, she’d had to work at not being angry at God. He could have stopped Nathaniel from leaving. Maybe, though, it was better this way. She’d been so young and still had much to learn about life. She smiled and sank further into her warm nest. What was she thinking? She still had a lot to learn, and her journey toward wisdom wouldn’t stop until the day she passed on.
What to do? Her heart yearned to understand and take the right path. She’d made no promise to either man, and Andrew had never spoken openly about his intentions. A gust of cool air shot down through the hole in the roof, scattering needles across the room. The fragrance of fresh-cut fir boughs filled the air. In spite of the damage to her home, she inhaled deeply. It smelled like Christmas, her favorite time of year. But her smile faded as pain shot through her heart. Papa wouldn’t be with her to celebrate this Christmas. It would be her first one without either parent.
O God, show me what to do! She thought of Andrew—his kindness, strength, and protective nature. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but would it be fair to allow him to court her, if she didn’t first search out her feelings for Nathaniel? No. Maybe she wasn’t still in love with Nathaniel. He’d irritated her more than once since returning, and she didn’t know for sure where he stood in his relationship with the Lord. But part of her would always wonder what might have happened if she didn’t give Nathaniel the chance he asked for.
Chapter Thirty
A loud knocking and a man’s voice shouting her name jerked Margaret from the restless slumber she’d fallen into sometime before daylight. “Just a minute.” She flung off the quilt and pushed to her feet, running her hands through her disheveled hair. She still wore her wrapper over her nightdress, and she tugged on the belt. A couple of steps brought her to the front door, and she opened it mere inches and peered outside. “Andrew?”
He stood on the porch, his face looking as she’d felt when the children ran away. “Thank God you’re safe. When did the tree come down?”
“Sometime after midnight. I assume it was struck by lightning, but as hard as the wind was blowing, you never know.” She opened the door another inch. “Give me a moment to dress? I fell asleep on my sofa and just woke up.”
“I’ll walk around back and take a look at the damage.” He cast her another worried look, then swung on his heel and strode off the porch, disappearing around the corner of her cabin.
Margaret hurried through her morning routine, loosening her braid, brushing out her hair and rebraiding it, then washing her face and changing into the dark green dress that she saved for house-cleaning. Today would be a long day—no sense in ruining a good gown.
She walked outside and breathed in the clean, fragrant air, doused by sunbeams and the scent of nearby honeysuckle. “Andrew?” She shielded her eyes against the glare of the rising sun but failed to find him.
“I’m up here.”
Margaret squinted toward the peak of her cabin. Andrew perched on the trunk of the fallen tree resting on the roof. Her hand flew to her chest. “That looks dangerous!”
He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s secure against the cross timbers, which is why the tree didn’t crash through to your floor.”
“I’m sure you’ve climbed higher while felling trees, but it makes me nervous, just the same. I’ve never been fond of heights.”
“I’ve seen what I need to.” He gripped a large limb and clambered down the trunk a couple of steps, then walked the rest of the way without mishap and jumped to the ground. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It ruined a section of roof, but the timbers appear to be intact, so the repairs should be fairly easy. I’ll get a crew out here right away. Do you have somewhere you can stay until tomorrow? I’m afraid your cabin will be a mess and will need a thorough cleaning before you move back in.”
“I’m sure I can stay with Clara if need be. You’re right about the mess. It rained needles and cones for a while last night, and bits of the wood ceiling are scattered around the room.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up before you come back.”
She shook her head and folded her arms. “It’s my home, and as much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll not put it off on someone else.”
He grinned, dimples showing at the corners of his mouth. “As much as you do for everyone else, I thought it was worth a try. But I didn’t expect you to say yes.”
She laughed, then suddenly sobered. “Sammie and Joel. How could I have forgotten?”
He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the trunk. “Some of the men should be here soon. We’ll break into teams. A couple of men can stay and help with the repairs, and the rest can fan out and search. Too bad Gibbs is still out of town.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Someone told me they think by late this afternoon, but he sometimes stays over till after church on Sunday.” He shook his head and frowned. “I’m guessing we’ll find Sammie and Joel before then, and it won’t be a concern.”
“I surely hope so.”
Silence fell between them, and Margaret’s mind raced. This would be a good time to speak to Andrew.
“Margaret…”
“Andrew…” She stopped and bit her lip, wondering what he’d started to say. She waved her hand. “You go first.”
“No, I insist. Please.” He nodded and smiled. “I’m sure whatever you have to say is more important.”
She laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. What I have to say isn’t funny. It’s just that, well…”
Andrew gently touched her arm. “Take your time, whatever it is.”
She held her breath a second, then slowly exhaled. “Thank you. I don’t quite know how to say this. You’ve been so wonderful these past few weeks.”
His eyebrows shot up, and he stared at her but kept his peace.
“Please. Would you come around to the porch and sit for a moment? We probably don’t have much time before the others start arriving.” She led the way to the front porch and gestured to the chair snugged against the outer wall.
He sank into the chair, worry tugging at his normally sunny countenance. “What is it, Margaret? Is something besides the children worrying you?”
“Yes. I mean—oh, it’s all so confusing.” She clasped her hands together on her lap and met his eyes. “I’m not even sure how to say this, since you haven’t declared yourself in any way, but—”
He
sat bolt upright and then leaned forward. “Declared myself? As in do I care for you? Is that what you’re needing to know? If so, I can easily answer that.” A happy smile lit his face, and his eyes shone with a warm light. “I care—”
“Wait.” She held up her hand and spoke the word sharply. “Please. Don’t say anything more.” Her hand started to tremble, and she lowered it back to her lap. “I’m so sorry, Andrew. This is so unfair to you.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s unfair to me?”
Her breath released in a whoosh. “It’s Nathaniel Cooper.”
“What about him? Has he bothered you in some way?” He started to rise, but she stilled him with a raised hand.
“No. Nothing like that. Do you remember that he mentioned at the ice-cream social that we knew one another before?”
He settled back in his chair, watching her intently. “Yes.”
She wished she could read his thoughts, but the quiet stillness that had crept into his eyes gave nothing away. Why did it have to be so difficult? She knew why, if she were honest with herself. Something more than fondness had been growing in her heart for Andrew recently. But she couldn’t ignore Nathaniel’s request out of hand, either.
Margaret looked down at her skirt and smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of the fabric, hating to raise her eyes and see the disappointment in Andrew’s eyes that would surely follow. “I was in love with him once and wanted to marry him.”
Andrew sucked in his breath, but no words followed. Margaret raised her eyes and met his questioning ones. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again. “Why didn’t you, then?”
She bit her bottom lip and hesitated, then decided to say it straight out. Andrew deserved that much. “We had a misunderstanding. Nathaniel left a note for me, asking that I travel with him to Portland and marry, then go on to the job that awaited him in Salem. I left one in return, saying I would, and left it in our trysting place.” She paused, a lump rising in her throat and threatening to choke her. “But he didn’t find it, and he thought I’d changed my mind. He”—she twisted her hands—“left without me.”
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 19