Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)
Page 57
“If she won’t blend in, then I wouldn’t either. It’s been a long time since I lived in your world.” Myles ate with relish.
Virginia frowned. “Yours is a veneer of wilderness, I’m certain. Cultured habits will return, given the proper surroundings. I do hope you plan to shave soon. Facial hair does not become you.”
“It was a disguise. Not a good one, but it fooled me.” Myles smiled wryly. “All of this is immaterial, since, as you know, I do not intend to remain in New York. One farewell concert, sell the business, and back here I come to purchase a farm.” His voice quivered with excitement.
Virginia lifted a trembling hand to her lips. “Um, Myles…”
“Buck Watson told me again and again that God blesses when we surrender our lives, and I’m living proof of that fact. It struck me one day that my resistance to facing my past was preventing me from having the future I longed for. You can stay in Long Island if you like, Gram, or we could sell that old house and move you out here. There’s room in the Thwaite farmhouse, and I plan to build on anyway. The farm needs money and work, that’s certain, but neither should be a problem.”
Virginia finally succeeded in breaking into his soliloquy. “About the business…there is something you need to know, Myles.”
Beulah scooped the mess of raw egg and shattered shells from the hardwood floor and dumped it into a pail. Goo had settled in the cracks between boards.
“I didn’t mean to, Beulah. The floor was slippery, and I fell flat.” Samuel hovered around her, shaking his hands in distress. “Mama needed those eggs. I feel awful.”
Beulah sat back on her heels and sighed. “The chickens will lay more eggs tomorrow, I’m sure. We still have two from yesterday. Don’t worry about it. I’m thankful you’re not hurt.”
Samuel crouched beside her. “Are you feeling all right, Beulah? Is Myles dying? Is Sheriff Boz dying? Why are you being so nice?”
Beulah frowned, then chuckled. “As far as I know, no one is dying. Papa says the sheriff is holding his own. I simply don’t see any point in being angry about smashed eggs. You didn’t intend to break them, and someone has to clean it up. I’m not busy right now like Mama is, so I’m right for the job.”
Her brother laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Beulah. You’re a peach.” With a fond pat, he hurried from the room.
When the floor was no longer sticky, Beulah sat back with a satisfied sigh. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Beulah,” Samuel called from another room. “Mama wants you to collect the dishes from Myles’s room. And can you set beans to soak?”
“I will.” When the beans were covered and soaking, Beulah washed her hands and checked her reflection in the blurry mirror. Her hair was reasonably neat, and the chapping around her mouth had cleared. She touched her lower lip, recalling Myles’s ardent kisses. “Will he ever kiss me again?” she whispered.
Glancing at the ceiling, she sighed again. Lord, please give me peace about the future. I know You are in control, but I always want to know about things right now! Please help me to control my emotions around Myles and to seek Your will.
Minutes later, Beulah knocked at the bedroom door. “Myles?”
Silence.
She pushed open the door. He lay with arms folded across his chest, staring out the window. “Myles, do you mind if I collect your dishes?”
He did not so much as bat an eye. Biting her lower lip, Beulah began to load the dinner dishes onto her tray. Mrs. Van Huysen had picked at her food. Myles must have enjoyed his stew.
“Please stay,” Myles begged as Beulah prepared to lift the tray. He reached out a hand. She was startled to see that his eyelids were red and swollen.
“Myles, what’s wrong? Where is your grandmother?” She wrapped his cold hand within both of hers. “Are you hurting?”
His other hand fiddled with a buttonhole on his undervest; the corresponding button was missing. “Yes.” He pressed her hand to his cheek and heaved a shaky sigh.
“I’m so sorry!” Beulah settled into the chair beside his bed. “Would you like me to read to you?”
“No. Don’t go so far away.”
Beulah blinked. “Far? I’m right next to you. Where is Mrs. Van Huysen?”
“Lying down, I think. I don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.”
She reached out to feel his forehead. “You’re cool and damp. Would you like another blanket?”
When she would have returned to the chair, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled until her feet left the floor. Sprawled across him, Beulah felt his face press into her neck. “Myles, let me go! What if my mother walked in right now? She would murder me!”
“I need you, Beulah. Just hold me, please! I won’t do anything indecent, I promise.”
Hearing tears in his voice, she stilled. “Myles, what is wrong?” Her hand came to rest on his upper arm. It was hard as stone. His entire body was as tense as a bowstring.
“Do you love me, Beulah?”
Her teeth began to chatter from pure nerves. Something was not right. She felt a terrible heaviness in her spirit. “Yes, I love you. I do. Myles, whatever is wrong? I’m frightened.” Pushing up with one arm, she regarded his face. “You were bright and cheerful when I brought lunch. Is the pain that bad? I’ll get Mama.”
“No!” He gripped her wrist. His eyes were glassy and intense. “Will you marry me right away? We can start over somewhere else, maybe homestead a place.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I thought you planned to buy the Thwaite farm and settle here. Why should we marry right away? You’re acting so strange, Myles.”
He emitted a bark of laughter. “Plans? I have no more plans. Not ever. Plans involve depending on someone else. I will never again trust anyone but myself. And you, of course. You’ll be my wife. We can live by ourselves out West.”
The dread in Beulah’s chest increased. “Please tell me what has happened.” She twisted her arm, trying to escape his vise-like grip.
He suddenly released her and flung both forearms over his face. “Same old story. I trust someone, they let me down. Everyone I have ever depended on has failed me. Everyone. Most of all God. As soon as I start trusting Him even the slightest bit, the world caves in. If you desert me, too, Beulah, I think I’ll crawl away and die.”
She reached a hand toward his arched chest, then drew it back. “But God will never fail you. Why do you think He let you down?”
Myles sat up in a rush of flying blankets. Eyes that reminded Beulah of a cornered cougar’s blazed into her soul, and an oath blasted from Myles’s lips. His white teeth were bared. “Enough of this insanity! The entire concept of a loving, all-powerful God is absurd. A fairy tale we’ve been force-feeding children for generations. A superstition from the Dark Ages. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about God to me again, do you hear?”
Beulah’s mouth dropped open.
His fury faded. “Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster! I need you, Beulah!” Flinging the blankets aside, Myles swung his legs over the far side of the bed and tried to stand on his good leg.
Seeing him sway, she sprang around the foot of the bed. “What are you doing? Myles, get back in bed or I’ll call Papa.” She stopped cold, realizing that he wore nothing but winter underwear. Hot blood flooded her face, and she rushed back to stand by the door.
He whipped a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his waist. Jaw set, he hopped to the window and looked down on bare trees and blowing snow. “That’s how I feel inside: cold, gray, and lifeless.”
“That’s because you’ve turned your back on God.” Beulah was surprised to hear herself speak. “What happened to you, Myles? Why are you acting this way?”
He huffed. “I’ll tell you what happened. For years Buck has been telling me about God, about salvation. Finally I decided to try this thing out, trusting God. I wrote to Gram. I started giving God credit for the good things happening in my life. I even started believing that He wa
s with me. When I read the Bible it was as if He talked to me.”
Beulah studied his broad shoulders and felt her dreams crumbling.
“I began to believe that He had wonderful plans for my life—marriage with you, the farm I’ve always wanted, and friends who like me for myself, not because I’m a Van Huysen. I’ve never wanted the money; I’ve been proud to support myself and lean on no one…except maybe Buck. But since God told me to reconcile with Gram, I figured He must intend me to make use of my inheritance. I didn’t want much; just enough to buy a farm and set us up with a good living. Then I found out that you loved me—life was looking incredibly good. Gram came, asked me to forgive her, and I did. Great stuff. Everything coming together.”
He fell silent.
Beulah settled into a chair, hands clenched in her lap.
“Then the cannonball drops: There is no money. The family friend who ran the Van Huysen Soap Company mismanaged it into bankruptcy, sold out to another manufacturer, and is now president of that company. He swindled it all away and left Gram holding massive debts. She sold off most of our stock and commercial properties to pay the debts, then mortgaged the family house to pay for the detectives who found me. There is no money. None.”
Beulah tried to sound sympathetic. “Don’t the police know how that man cheated your grandmother? Isn’t there something you could do to help her?”
“There is no money to pay for lawyers, and apparently Mr. Roarke covered his legal tracks. It looks as shady as the bottom of a well, but no one can prove anything.”
“Poor Mrs. Van Huysen. I can understand why you are upset. Had you been there to keep an eye on the business, this might not have happened to her.”
Myles turned to fix her with a glare. “Don’t you understand, Beulah? Gram is fine; she still has the old house and a small stipend to live on. The money lost was my money! This is the end of my dream. I have no money to buy a farm, and I can’t support a family on my pay as a hired hand. We cannot stay here. Either I must return to New York and try to break back into the music world—which would not be an easy task no matter what Gram says—or I must head out West and find land to homestead.”
Beulah’s chest heaved, and her heart thudded against her ribs. That heavy, ugly feeling weighed on her spirit. “So when it looks like God is answering your prayers the way you want, you believe in Him. As soon as things don’t go your way, you decide He doesn’t exist? That isn’t faith, Myles. That is opportunism. And I thought I was a selfish person! I don’t care what you decide to do. Whatever it is, you’ll do it without me.”
Picking up the tray, she stalked from the room.
Chapter 14
And Jesus answered and said unto him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee?
MARK 10:51
Al entered the sickroom without knocking. “Myles, you won’t believe what happened!” Spotting Mrs. Van Huysen, he pulled off his hat. “Hello, ma’am.”
“Good morning, Albert,” Virginia responded cordially.
“I sure enjoyed visiting with you last night. Myles, do you know this grandmother of yours whupped me at checkers? It was an outright slaughter.”
“Myles never cared for the game,” Virginia said when Myles remained silent. “He is good at chess, however.” A moment later, she rose and gathered her embroidery. “I’ll let you boys chat awhile.” The door clicked shut behind her.
Al settled into the empty chair, long legs splayed. “It stinks in here. Like medicine.”
Myles tried to scratch his leg beneath the bandage. The skin showing around the white cloth was mottled green and purple. “What’s the news from town? Doc tells me it looks like Boz will pull through.”
“If good nursing has anything to do with it, Boz will be back on his feet within the week. From all I hear, Miss Amelia treats him like a king.” Al’s eyes twinkled. “She had him moved to her boardinghouse, and her front parlor is now a hospital room. Nothing more interesting to a woman than a wounded man, but I guess you know all about that.”
Myles grunted. “So what’s your big news?”
Al slipped a letter from his chest pocket. “Today I got this letter from my folks asking me not to come west until spring. Can you believe it? Today! Think about it: If you hadn’t let that bear rip your leg off, I would have been on my way by now and missed their letter. No wonder I didn’t have peace about leaving! They don’t even want me yet. I have no idea what I’ll do with my farm next year, but it doesn’t matter—God will provide, and I’ve got all winter to think and prepare. So if you need to go to New York, don’t hesitate on my account.”
Myles tried to smile. “That’s good news, Al. I felt guilty about delaying your trip.”
“Now that you’re rich and all, you won’t be needing a farm job, I reckon,” Al said, looking regretful. “I feel funny about things I must have said to you in the last year or two, me thinking you had less education and fewer advantages than I had!” His grin was crooked. “That will teach me to judge people by appearance.”
“You always treated me well, Al. You have nothing for which to apologize.”
“Why are you so gloomy? Is your leg hurting?”
The innocent question sparked Myles’s wrath. He bit back a sharp reply and folded his arms on his chest, staring out the window.
“Hmm. Beulah is moody, too. My powers of deduction tell me that all is not well in paradise.”
“Shove off, Al. I’m not in the mood for your jokes.” Myles scowled.
Al pursed his lips in thought. “Want to talk with Buck?”
“I want to get out of this house, pack up, and head for Montana.”
“What happened, Myles? I thought your life was going great. Beulah loves you, you’ve cleared things up with your grandmother, you’ve got a music career and money to burn.”
“I’m not rich, Al. The money’s gone.”
“Oh. All the money?”
“Every cent.”
Al looked confused. “But Beulah wouldn’t care whether you’re rich or not. She loved you as a hired hand.”
“Whatever I do, wherever I go, she says she’s not going with me. Guess she only loved me if I stayed here in town.” Bitterness left a foul taste in his mouth.
“That doesn’t sound like Beulah. She could make a home anywhere if she set her mind to it, and she’s crazy about you, Myles.”
Myles gave a mirthless sniff.
“Sure you don’t want to talk to Buck?”
“I know what he’ll say. He will tell me I need to forgive those who have wronged me and give control of my life over to God. I’ve heard it all before.”
Al lifted a brow. “Sooo, tell me what’s wrong with that answer? Sounds to me as if the truth pricks your pride, pal.”
Myles rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, Myles. Think this through. Are you content and filled with joy right now?”
Myles slashed a glare at Al, but his friend never blinked. “Fine. Don’t answer that. Think about this: How could your life be worse if God were in control of it?”
Myles opened his mouth, then closed it. His head fell back against the headboard. “I’ve never had control anyway.”
“Exactly. You’re at the mercy of circumstances with no one to turn to. The only things you can truly control in your life are your behavior and your reactions.”
“Sometimes I can’t even control myself.”
“Without God, we’re all losers. Look at Buck. The stuff that happened to him was like your worst nightmare. He could be the most bitter, angry person you ever met, but he chose to trust God with his life, and look at him now!”
Myles nodded. “And you, too. You didn’t get angry about Beulah.”
Al shrugged. “It wouldn’t have done any good to get mad. Anyone can see she isn’t in love with me, and to be honest, my heart isn’t broken. The point is, once you decide to trust God with things, He turns your messed-up life into something great. I’m not saying you’d have it easy from then on, or t
hat all your dreams would come true; but no matter what happens, your life would be a success. The Bible says in First Peter, ‘Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time.’ You can never lift yourself up no matter how hard you try.”
After a moment’s thought, Myles lowered his chin and shook his head. “I don’t see it, Al. I understand that God is far above me, holy and just, almighty and righteous, but loving? I don’t know God that way. Sure, He saved me from the bear, but look what has happened to me since.”
“When was the last time you read about Jesus?”
“The last time I read the Bible? I was reading in Genesis the other night.”
“I think you need to read the Gospels now. The Old Testament is important, too, but you need to understand about Jesus first. Where is your Bible?”
“At our house next to my bed. Don’t bring it here, Al. I want to go home. Can you talk Buck into taking me home? It’s driving me crazy, being here in the same house with Beulah. She hasn’t spoken to me since we fought yesterday. Gram is good to me, but I’m getting cabin fever.”
Al looked into his eyes and gave a short nod. “I’ll talk to Buck.”
Beulah watched the wagon disappear up the drive. Her eyes were dry. Her heart felt as leaden as the sky. Returning to her seat, she picked up her piecework and took a disinterested stitch.
Violet observed her from across the parlor. “The house already seems quiet, doesn’t it? I will miss having Virginia around to chat with. She is the most interesting lady. She refused my offer to stay here. I hope she will be comfortable at the men’s house. They don’t have an indoor pump, you know, and the furnishings are rather crude.”
“Is Daniel sleeping?” Beulah asked in her most casual tone.
“Yes. Samuel is at Scott’s house, and Eunice is reading. Did you hear Al’s news?” Violet snipped a thread with her teeth.
“Several times over. I told Eunice first; then she told me about three times so far. I’m glad he’s not leaving for a while. We would all miss him. I think Eunice has romantic feelings for Al.”