by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May
“Of course.”
“No, I mean pray, when you aren’t in church. By yourself, without Pastor Larsen leading you.”
Her mother smiled. “I pray when I hang laundry, when I see the sunshine spray the grass with tiny gold sparkles. I pray when I kiss DJ and Frankie in their sleep and see the peace of innocence written upon their faces. I pray when I see your father, dozing in his rocking chair, his spectacles dripping down over his nose and the Bible open on his lap. I pray for Olive and Christian and especially Chuck every night when I read the paper. And I pray when I notice you, Lilly, standing at the edge of the yard, your long hair taken by a prairie gust. I thank God and pray for His protection and His will to be done in all our lives.”
Her mother’s speech enraptured her. For the first time, Lilly considered her mother had thoughts beyond cooking, and canning, and hanging laundry. She saw her mother young, dreaming of a family and a home, and most of all trusting in a God who reigned over her life. In that instant, Lilly was jealous. Jealous her mother knew where she was planted and was already reaping the harvest in the garden of life God had given her.
Somehow, during the past week, Lilly’s own surety about the life she thought God had planted for her had been swept up like dry prairie soil into a whirlwind of doubt. Heinrick’s suggestion that God would do what He wanted, regardless of her prayers and her sacrificial obedience to everyone’s plans for her, scared her more than she would admit. Was Heinrick right? Were she and Reggie like Joseph, helpless and at the mercy of an unpredictable God?
“Mother, did you always know it was God’s plan for you to marry Father?”
Mrs. Clark gave a slight frown. “Have I never told you how I met your father?”
“You met him at a social at your church.”
Her mother shook her head. “It wasn’t at my church. Your father was from a church in the country, a different denomination. And, Lilly, I had promised to marry another man.”
Lilly froze.
Her mother nodded. “He was a rich man, had been married before, and his wife died giving birth to their son. But he was still young and a friend of your grandfather’s. He wanted a wife, and my father wanted a secure future for his only daughter. So Timothy began to court me. He was a very nice man. Good humored and kind. He treated me with respect, and my family and friends told me it was a good match. And I agreed. So he proposed to Father, then to me, and the plans were laid.”
Lilly’s chin drifted downward.
“Then I met your father.” A playful smile lit on her mother’s face. “He was a hired hand on a farm outside town. I went to the social with my friend, Marcie, whom I was visiting for the weekend. We were studying together at a finishing school in Chicago. Donald was at the social, and the day I met him, I knew.”
“You knew?” Lilly breathed.
Her mother’s eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar passion. “I knew I couldn’t do what was expected, that I couldn’t live a life committed to a man I did not wildly love.”
“Mother!”
Mrs. Clark sat back in her chair, folding her hands across her chest. “It’s true, Lilly. Marriage is difficult and not a place for lukewarm commitment. I knew if I married Timothy, it would be for many good reasons, but not the one that mattered.”
“But what about your family, your parents?”
“Your father was patient. He courted me for three years and proved to my parents that he was committed and a hard worker. Finally your grandfather relented.”
“But weren’t you afraid?”
“I was more afraid of not surrendering to God’s plans for my life and missing out, perhaps, on the fullness of joy He wanted for me.”
“How did you know that was what God wanted…I mean, your father and all your friends said you should marry Timothy. Why wasn’t that God’s plan?”
“Because I never felt it was right. I knew I didn’t truly love Timothy, although he would have been a wonderful husband, I am sure. When I prayed, it seemed as though God wrote your father into my heart. He was the answer.
“So, in answer to your question, yes, marrying your father was always the plan. But I didn’t know it until I asked, then listened to God.”
Lilly blew out a troubled breath. “Well, I know it is God’s plan for me to marry Reggie.” Her mother’s chair creaked as she leaned forward. “God always has a plan for our lives, Lilly. But it may not be the one we think it is. We have to ask Him, then listen.”
Lilly sloped back in her chair and crossed her arms, not sure she’d recognize God’s voice if she heard it.
Dinner was a quiet, contemplative event. Lilly’s father informed the family that haying season had arrived, and Olive read portions of Chuck’s letter aloud.
We rotate through the line of trenches by week; next week Harley and Reggie and I will move forward to the supply trench, running ammunition to the support trench. I feel most sorry for the Sammies stuck in their bunkers on the front, knowing it’s wet and cold and they are eating out of tin cans. But, in two weeks, I will be there, and they will feel sorry for me. Don’t worry, Olive, for our good Lord protects us, and in a few short months I’ll return, victory in hand. Kiss my Christian for me.
Corporal Charles Wyse
Reggie’s letter burned a hole in Lilly’s pocket and suddenly she wanted to tear it open, clutch it to her chest, and remind herself of the sanity of their commitment.
Olive’s tears streaked down her cheeks, and next to Lilly, Bonnie hiccupped a sob. Melancholy bound them together in silent meditation.
“He’ll be back, Olive,” Lilly reassured in a solemn tone. Olive lifted red-rimmed eyes, attempting an acquiescing grin. It dissolved into the trembling of her chin. She buried her face in Christian’s neck.
Guilt pierced Lilly’s heart and twisted. How could she have forgotten Reggie?
Olive wiped her stained cheeks with a free hand. “Lilly, I saw Erica Torgesen at Ernestine’s. She asked if you could come to the ranch tomorrow.”
Despite the wild dance of her disobedient heart, Lilly bit her lip and nonchalantly nodded.
Lilly stretched across her bed and read Reggie’s letter.
Dear Lilly,
I gladly received your letter of June 23, and your tender words greatly encouragedme. I cannot express to you adequately the happiness your promise brings me; it is a beacon of hope during this chaotic and unforgiving war. When the enemy is upon us, shells exploding in our bunkers, I clutch my helmet and think only of you, your emerald eyes, and the future we have laid out. I am not the only doughboy to cling to dreams of home; this hope is the veritable fuel that drives all us good Sammies over the top in a desperate attempt to chase those Germans back into the hole from which they crawled and thereby return to our shores that much sooner.
I am sure you have heard of Harley’s proposal to Marjorie. I advised him toward it, he being the shy one. I assured him that Marjorie’s promise would give him the courage he needs to survive this horrendous war. Just as you give to me. He is happy, and, although he has not received her reply, he is assured in his heart of her affirmation.
As I write this, the sun is disappearing behind our lines, giving relief to the relentless view of the unburied dead, destroyed machinery, and shattered earth. Tonight I am in a cover trench, my job to fire over the heads of those in the firing trench as they move along the front. Hopefully we will not hear, “Over the top!” this evening, as most of us are tired and ready for a night to merely avoid the German star shells and lob an occasional barrage over to their side. Last night, the Germans decided to focus on our sector and shelled us for three solid hours. I spent much of the night in cover, wearing my gas mask and dodging the bombs, but we did manage to pitch a few shells and, I think, send a few Germans to their unholy eternity. We are fighting like the coyote, desperate and unrelenting and hopeful that soon, very soon, we will save the world for democracy.
I am hesitant to address this next topic, but, as your future husband, it is my du
ty to direct you toward righteousness. My mother wrote me about a rather unpleasant altercation in town where she mentioned you had placed yourself in grave danger between two fighting men. Then she suggested, and I pray in error, you may have ridden off with one of them! I am grieved by these words, Lilly. I hope it is either an erroneous report by my mother or a miscalculation in judgment on your part. Whatever the case, I admonish you to choose carefully your behavior. As my wife, you must set an example for the community on proper and modest behavior and not be fodder for gossip.
Of course, I know you are aware of this, and I trust you to conduct yourself as the Christian lady I know you to be.
One other thing, Lilly. Mother mentioned your employment by the Torgesens as a dressmaker. Please, I beg of you, be ready to cease this activity. It is not befitting a Christian wife and mother to have an occupation. You will be busy enough taking care of our children and home. I know perhaps this is a hobby for now, while you wait for my return, and because of this, I will permit it. But when we are married, and I pray soon, you will have enough to occupy yourself—taking care of me!
I think of you always and commit you in good faith to our God in heaven to honor our plans and reunite us once again.
Love,
Reggie
Chapter 16
Perhaps it was exhaustion from the sun sucking every ounce of energy as she trudged toward the Torgesen T. Maybe it was fresh guilt, churned up at the reading of Reggie’s letter. Or, it could have been the hope of seeing Heinrick. Lilly couldn’t put her hands around the exact reason, but regardless, knots twisted her stomach by the time she reached the Torgesen ranch.
“I need a new dress!” Mrs. Torgesen exclaimed after she’d piled Lilly’s lap full of new editions of Ladies Home Journal and Butterick Fashions.
Something nouveau and fabulous.” Mrs. Torgesen’s eyes twinkled as she wiggled her pudgy fingers at her. “Get to work.”
Lilly flipped through the pages, determined to make Mrs. Torgesen look better than a willow tree this time around. Mrs. Torgesen headed for the kitchen.
After examining fashions from velvet empire skirts to long-neck prairie blouses with poet sleeves and French cuffs, she decided upon a two-piece suit, ankle length, with a double-breasted jacket. She showed it to Mrs. Torgesen, who drooled on the page, then Lilly buried herself in the fabric wardrobe for over an hour measuring scraps. She finally settled on brown and beige twill for the jacket and a skirt of brown wool.
She spent the rest of the morning piecing together a muslin pattern from scraps until she’d produced a pinned-together likeness of the skirt and jacket.
“When will I have my first fitting, Lilly?”
“Next week, perhaps. I think I can have the skirt ready to fit by then.”
Mrs. Torgesen sat at the kitchen table, eating a fresh peach like an apple. Juice pooled at the corners of her mouth and dripped off her wrist. The humid kitchen absorbed the rich aroma and spiced the air. At the stove, Eleanor was steaming jars and parboiling a pot of peaches for canning. Stacked near the door were three wooden crates of fresh peaches, wrapped in green paper. Lilly couldn’t help but to stare longingly at Mrs. Torgesen’s peach. The Clark family would have no peach preserves this winter.
“Would you like a peach, Lilly?” Mrs. Torgesen gestured toward the crates.
Lilly shook her head. “Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Torgesen.” She didn’t know why, but suddenly she felt as if accepting the peach would be traitorous to the entire Clark family. She already felt like Benedict Arnold.
Mrs. Torgesen shrugged. Lilly gathered up the fabric and folded it into a canvas bag.
The noon sun burned the prairie until even the crickets hissed in protest. Lilly noticed a clump of Holstein on the horizon as she left the Torgesen T. She hadn’t seen Heinrick, and an errant thought escaped, Where is he? Seeing Heinrick would only open the crusty scar upon her heart. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the shard of disappointment that seemed to wedge deeper with each step away from the ranch.
A sharp whinny caught her ears. Lilly stiffened. She hadn’t seen Clive at the Torgesen T either, but he was never far off. She quickened her pace, not looking back, but the thunder of hoofbeats beat down upon her. Lilly gritted her teeth and whirled, intending to meet the brute head-on.
“You look angry, Lilly.” Heinrick reined his mount, pushed up his hat, and leaned on his saddle horn.
Lilly gaped, then clamped her mouth closed. A thousand words rushed to mind, but not one could be formed upon her lips. Instead, Lilly balled her fists, fixed them onto her hips.
“You are mad.” Heinrick’s crooked white grin faded. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up, I…” He glanced away, across the golden-brown prairie. “I just couldn’t make it, that’s all.”
Lilly’s bottled fury erupted. “I guess it didn’t matter that I put my reputation, not to mention my future, on the line for you! You don’t feel like it, so you don’t show up? Do you think I’m bored and needed some cheering up? Or did you just determine to pester me with all that talk about God and my religion?” Lilly crossed her arms across her chest, squeezing hard to smother her anger. “Well, it just so happens, Mr. Zook, that I was planning on telling you that you know enough English and you can learn to read just fine on your own.” Lilly turned on her heel, shaking. He would have to ride away now, and she wouldn’t have to worry about him one day longer, him or his probing spiritual questions.
Her knees shook when she heard him dismount and felt his presence edge in on her, ushered in by the smell of soap and a tinge of masculine perspiration. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her around. She glued her eyes to his scuffed boots, refusing to betray what might be hidden in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Lilly. I am grateful for all you did for me. Please forgive me.”
Lilly squinted at him. He looked stricken.
His pitiful posture turned Lilly’s heart. “Okay. I forgive you.”
His crooked grin reappeared. “Thank you. Now, come riding with me.”
“When, right now?”
Heinrick nodded. “I have to ride fence this afternoon down near your place. Come with me.”
Lilly’s jaw dropped. “Are you sick, Heinrick? Have you heard one thing I’ve said to you? I can’t be seen with you anymore. I’m going to marry another man!”
Heinrick raised his blond eyebrows and peered at her as if she was the one with the sickness. “I’m not courting you, Lilly. I just miss your company.” His mouth flattened into a line. “But, of course, I understand. I don’t want to force you into anything; I just thought it might be, well, fun.” Heinrick pulled on the brim of his hat. “It sure was good seeing you again, though.”
Regret boiled in her chest as she watched him ride away. She felt as if she’d been offered the priceless pearl, turned it down, and would never be the same for it. A compelling urge told her to call him back, to ride with him under the full view of the sun, and not be afraid.
“Heinrick!”
He reined his horse, turned, and smiled.
Chapter 17
Heinrick didn’t allow Lilly time to change her mind. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” With a whoop, he galloped back to the Torgesen T to saddle another mount. Lilly shrank into the shade of an aging ash and fought her swelling emotions. She kept telling herself he was just a friend, her student, and they were only taking a ride through the fields on a sunny day. But her stomach fluttered, and she couldn’t deny the music in her heart.
Heinrick returned with a gray speckled mare tethered by her reins to his saddle horn.
“Do you know how to ride?”
“I’ve ridden Lucy a few times.” She tied her bag to the mare’s saddle.
Heinrick helped her place her foot in the stirrup, and she slid on, sidesaddle.
“We won’t go fast.”
It felt awkward and unsteady to be halfway on a horse, and Lilly struggled to find the rhythm. “I wish I was wearing my riding skirt,” she mutter
ed. Beside her, Heinrick erupted in honeyed laughter.
They meandered through Torgesen grazing land, which rolled like giant waves toward the Missouri riverbed.
“Someone once told me the Dakota prairie was like the ocean, endless and constantly moving,” Lilly commented. The sun overhead winked at her. Prairie grass crunched under the horses’ sturdy hooves, and a lonely meadowlark called to them, hidden in a clump of goldenrod. Lilly pushed her straw hat off her head, letting it dangle down her back by a long loop of ribbon. The wind fingered her braided hair. Beside her, Heinrick hummed softly.
“Perhaps,” he finally agreed. “The prairie does seem to be constantly moving, and the wind is louder here than on the ocean, more fierce. It roars.” Heinrick followed the movement of a circling hawk. “Look, Lilly,” he said, “watch the hawk. Where it is, you will always find food.”
Lilly’s mouth went dry. “What did you say?”
Heinrick’s voice was an ocean away. “My father and I used to hunt in Germany when I was young. He told me that, and I’ve never forgotten it.”
Lilly nodded slowly, her heart thundering. The sun began to glare. The hot wind stung her face. “It’s not a thing you forget, I suppose,” she said weakly.
Heinrick continued, as if lost in a memory. “The hawk reminds me of the seagulls, soaring above the seascape. The sea seemed endless, like the prairie, but much more unforgiving. I was sick for fourteen days.”
Heinrick reined his horse to a stop on a small bluff. Lilly took in an unmarred view of the Clark homestead and, farther on, the Pratt farm. Heinrick pointed to a V in the horizon. “That’s the end of Torgesen land, and the little black line running along the hills is the railroad. See how it disappears behind that bluff?”
Shading her eyes, Lilly nodded. She hardened herself to the guilt that nipped at her, reborn by Heinrick’s words—Reggie’s words!—and focused on Heinrick’s voice.
Heinrick now pointed past her own home. “The train reappears there and runs all the way into Mobridge.” He shook his head. “I hear the railroad connects one end of the country to the other. Amazing.”