by Mary Davis
She stomped past him.
“Good girl.”
She growled.
He knew he shouldn’t have said that but couldn’t resist. She was being so unreasonable. Whether she liked it or not and whether she was angry with him or not, he was going to help her. He followed in her wake.
She ignored his offered hand and climbed up into the buggy, fighting with her skirt and stepping on the hem as she did. When she finally made it up, she sat to the far edge of the seat.
He climbed in and sat as close to her as he could because he knew it would annoy her.
She tried to scoot away but had nowhere to go.
He wanted her to know she couldn’t get away from him. He snapped the reins.
When they arrived at her house, Liv climbed down before he could offer his help. She strode inside without saying a word.
After he assisted Granny down, she said, “I’ll give Olivia a hand with dinner.” She strolled up the walk and went inside.
Troy retrieved the wheelchair, placed Mrs. Bradshaw in it, and laid the quilt across her lap.
Mrs. Bradshaw reached back and patted his hand as he pushed her. “Did you and Olivia have another quarrel?”
This time it had been more than a little misunderstanding or disagreement. “You could say that.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“That might only upset her all the more.”
Liv had never been this angry with him before. And he’d never been this upset with her. He had known his actions would set off her temper. To protect her, he’d been willing to take whatever she threw at him. And he would do it again. Mrs. Bradshaw had no trouble accepting his help. Why couldn’t Liv?
At the bottom of the ramp, she said, “Stop here.”
He did.
She reached back, gripped his hand, and pulled until he stood in front of her. “There once was a sparrow who had a broken wing. She hopped along, flapping her good wing, but couldn’t fly.”
“You’re telling me a children’s fairy tale?”
She gave him a silencing look that only a mother could achieve. “A man found the sparrow and took her home. He wrapped her wing so that it could mend. But the sparrow was afraid of the man even though he’d taken care of her wing, fed her and given her water. This made the man sad. He wanted her to trust him.”
So this was a story about him and Liv. He wasn’t sure he wanted to listen anymore. He already knew Liv was afraid.
“The day came when the sparrow’s wing was healed. Reluctantly, the man set her free. The sparrow flew away, happy to be able to fly again.”
He puzzled over the story, wondering if he should call it quits. “So, I should give up on her?”
“No.” Mrs. Bradshaw patted his hand. “A week later, the sparrow flew back to the man’s house and perched in the tree outside his window. When the man came to the window, the sparrow flew away. That saddened the man.”
Liv’s lack of trust did the same to him.
“The sparrow returned day after day, each time allowing the man closer.”
Liv wasn’t allowing him closer. If anything, she was pushing him farther away.
“After a couple of weeks, the man sat under the tree the sparrow perched on every day. The sparrow watched from a nearby tree, fearful the man would capture her again. When he didn’t, she came closer and closer. The man held something in his open hand. Seeds. Though hungry, she dared not take the food. But the treat tempted her day after day.”
The quilt slipped from Mrs. Bradshaw’s lap. He retrieved it and put it back in place.
She nodded her thanks and continued. “One day, she reached into the man’s hand and took a bite. When his other hand came up, she flapped away. Finally, she allowed the man to pet the top of her head while she ate from his hand. Soon the sparrow stayed in the yard around the man’s house, singing to him. When he left his door open, she would hop into his house, singing.
“When winter came, the man was sure the sparrow would fly away, but she stayed, shivering on his window-sill. She tapped on the glass, and he let her inside. The man and the sparrow were happy and grew old together.”
It was a nice story, but real life didn’t end like fairy tales. “So you’re saying I should let Liv go and hope she comes back to me?”
Mrs. Bradshaw gave a heavy sigh. “You are as thickheaded as my daughter. Be patient with her.”
“Haven’t I been?”
“More patient than anyone I have known. My daughter and I are cut from the same old stubborn cloth.”
Patience. How much more forbearing could he be?
“Her father being gone hurt her deeply. She still hasn’t gotten over that.”
He knew that. Liv had been different since her father had died. He wished there was something he could do to help her get over it. The only thing he could do was be patient.
He pushed Mrs. Bradshaw up the ramp and into the house, then parked her in the parlor. “Good day, ladies.”
“But you aren’t leaving? You must stay for dinner,” Mrs. Bradshaw said.
He glanced up at Liv glaring at him from the kitchen doorway.
Liv was angry with him. Good. That meant she cared. He was doing what was best for her—for them all—so he would gladly endure her wrath.
“I’m afraid I have a matter that needs attending to.” Like getting out of Liv’s way so she could simmer down. She would be more reasonable given time. He dipped his head and left.
He wanted to talk to Nick, to see if his friend thought he’d done the right thing. But Nick always ate Sunday dinner at Felicity’s. And George ate at Anita’s. Which had never been a problem because he always ate at Liv’s.
He returned the rented buggy to the livery and walked down to the waterfront to pray. He petitioned and petitioned but could hear no clear answer. He turned at the sound of clomping coming up behind him.
Pastor Kearns reined in his horse. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Troy hadn’t been aware they had scheduled a meeting. “I don’t understand.” Didn’t the pastor usually visit people on Sunday afternoons who weren’t able to attend church?
“I’m sorry. The Lord sends me places sometimes, and I don’t know why until I get there. I forget He doesn’t tell everyone about these things.”
“He sent you to me?”
The pastor glanced around. “You’re the only one I see. I’m to tell you to trust the Lord’s guidance.”
Wasn’t that why he was here? To seek God’s guidance? Once again.
“The situation may not turn out as you expect, but it will be as God intends.”
Did the pastor know what his situation was? “How will I know if the guidance I receive is from the Lord?”
“He’s already given it. And you know. Trust that what has been put into motion by your actions is right.”
“Do you know what my situation is?”
Pastor Kearns shook his head. “I don’t need to unless you feel a need to tell me.”
Trust in the guidance already given. The guidance he received to pay the Bradshaws’ rent? Then he had done the right thing. And in doing so had put something into motion. “Thank you. I think I’m good. You have helped me tremendously.”
“Then I’ll proceed with visiting folks. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.”
* * *
As Olivia prepared the meal, Troy’s words echoed in her head. I’m through, Liv. I’m through. I can’t put up with your behavior any longer. She’d finally pushed him away.
After Gran prayed, Olivia kept her head down for a moment. Was Troy’s departure for the best?
Mother put her hand on Olivia’s arm. “What is it, dear?”
Draping her napkin on her lap, she raised her head. “Nothing.”
“Whatever you and Troy fought about can be resolved.”
I’m through, Liv. She shook her head. “Not this time.”
Gran dished up chicken and dumplings and set a plate in front of each o
f them. “I’ve seen Violet Jones with her own beau now two weeks in a row. I don’t think you have to worry about her.”
She wished it were only Violet this time. Troy had done something far worse. “When you tell someone not to do something, shouldn’t they respect your wishes?”
“Did Troy do something you asked him not to?” Mother took a bite of chicken.
Olivia nodded.
“That’s not like him, but he must have had a good reason.”
Good reason? More like a selfish one to make her beholden to him. She pushed a chunk of potato around her plate. “But shouldn’t he respect my wishes?”
Gran spoke up. “He usually has your best interests at heart.”
Did he? Or was it his best interests?
Mother swallowed. “This has obviously really upset you. Why don’t you tell us, and we can all figure it out together.”
Would that help? She really didn’t want to apprise them of the debacle. They would likely side with Troy.
“Keeping it inside won’t make it go away. It will only make you ill.”
Gran took a swig of coffee. “I once knew a man who was very angry. He fell over dead.”
“I’m not going to die, Gran.”
“Are you God? Do you know how many days you are allotted on this earth?”
“Of course not.”
Mother touched Olivia’s arm again. “Does this have something to do with Violet Jones?”
Olivia shook her head.
“Then what? What has he done that is so terrible to cause this breach between the two of you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Gran stabbed a piece of dumpling. “I can’t imagine that nice young man doing anything bad.” She popped the bite into her mouth.
Olivia could take her badgering no longer and snapped back. “You think Troy can do no wrong. He could run you down with a carriage, and you would be singing his praises with your dying breath.”
“Olivia! You apologize to your grandmother right this instant.”
Breathing heavily from her outburst, she turned toward Mother. “She thinks Troy is perfect.”
“I do not. But he’s a sight better than most men in town. You aren’t going to do any better than him. And you best stop all this nonsense before you push that man away for good.”
“Too late, Gran.” Olivia put her hands on the table. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Mother pulled her hand away. “What?”
Gran shook her head. “I can’t believe that.”
Olivia looked from one disbelieving face to the other. “It’s true. He said he was through with me.”
“So that’s why he didn’t stay for dinner,” Gran said.
“What did the two of you fight about?” Mother asked again.
“It doesn’t matter. I knew he’d eventually leave.”
“Your father promised him your hand in marriage. He wouldn’t go back on that no matter what. So tell me this instant what you fought about.”
“And we all know what Father’s promises are worth.” Olivia couldn’t take the nagging. Neither of them would stop until she told them, so she blurted it out. “Money!”
“Money? What about money?”
“He wanted to give us money for rent.”
Mother let out a quick breath. “Is that all? We may have to borrow from him before the month is up.”
“No need, Mother.” Olivia slapped her napkin onto the table. “He’s taken it upon himself to pay our rent.”
“What?”
“What?”
Gran and Mother almost spoke in unison.
Then Mother continued. “He paid our rent for just this month…right?”
Mother would think that.
“Our back rent as well as next month’s. And he told Mr. Ingers to go to him rather than us!”
Gran smiled. “I knew I liked that boy.”
Olivia glared at Gran.
Mother put her hand back on Olivia’s arm. “You will go at once and apologize to him.”
Olivia pulled away. “I will not.”
Mother’s features hardened. “When a person does something kind, you don’t get angry at them. You must thank them.”
“I told him not to, and he did it anyway. We can’t depend on him. Or anyone else.”
“He has proven time and again that we can depend on him. Whether you want to admit it or not, we need help. And if Troy is willing to assist us, we need to be grateful. You need to be grateful.” Mother picked up her fork. “He is apparently the answer to my prayers.”
“Mine, too,” Gran said.
Olivia pushed away from the table. “Not mine!” She strode out back. A light rain had begun to fall. She sensed that Troy was the answer to her prayers, as well, but she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want him to be. She didn’t want to depend on him. She had thought the cannery job was the answer to her prayers.
Once again, she solidified her resolve to not care for Troy. Loving him was too painful. She had other worries without wasting precious energy crying over him.
She covered her face with her hands, and tears broke through.
Chapter 10
The next morning, Troy stopped short half a block from the bank.
Liv stood near the entrance with her back to him.
Waiting.
For him no doubt.
Had she come to chastise him again?
Lord, why can’t she see I only want what’s best for her? I don’t know how much more I can take. I want the old Liv back.
But he received the same impression he always did, patience, which matched the story Mrs. Bradshaw had told him yesterday. If the Lord was patient with him, certainly he could be patient with Liv.
He really wasn’t up for another scolding first thing in the morning. He didn’t know when he’d be ready to face her again. Maybe a day or two. Should he duck around the corner before she saw him? No sooner had the thought popped into his head than Liv turned around and saw him.
Had she sensed him staring at her?
No turning back now. He forged ahead and kept his voice level. “Good morning, Liv.”
“Good morning.” She shifted her gaze to the ground.
She hadn’t smiled. But then, neither had he. Still, he’d hoped she would have smiled. Even that tight one that told him she was still upset with him. “The bank isn’t open yet.” She knew that.
She glanced at the door and squared her shoulders. “I didn’t come for that.”
He braced himself for a reprimand.
“I’ve come to apologize for my harsh words yesterday. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a manner.”
Relief sparked in his stomach. This was an apology rather than another reproof. “Does this mean you’ll accept my help?”
Her jaw tightened. “I still wish to earn the money for our rent.”
“I see.” He sensed it wasn’t fully her idea to apologize. No matter. She had come, which was a surprise in itself. He took her hand and placed a light kiss on the back of it. Still bent over her hand, he looked up at her. “I accept your apology.”
She didn’t pull her hand away. She shook her head, and a smile tugged briefly at the corners of her mouth. “We would like for you to come to supper tonight.”
He straightened and feigned surprise. “Tonight? Such a last-minute invitation?”
She pulled her hand free and planted it on her hip. “Are you coming or not? I need to be on my way, or I’ll be late for work.”
Ah, there was the fiery Liv he loved. He gave a sweeping bow. “Tell your mother and grandmother I would be honored.” He knew it was they who had initiated the offer. But he could tell by the softening of her features that Liv was pleased he was coming, as well.
“We’ll see you tonight.”
“I can’t wait.”
She headed off in the direction of the cannery.
That had been pleasant. Especially after a night of to
ssing and turning, wondering if he’d done right by paying their rent.
Liv was well on her way to forgiving him. Once again.
He sensed tonight was going to be a change for them. A good change.
He couldn’t believe the lightness inside him.
* * *
That evening after work, Olivia couldn’t believe the lightness inside her even as she scrubbed her chapped hands. She lifted one to her nose and sniffed, and then the other. Fishy. The smell had probably soaked in clear to her bones. There was nothing more she could do for them short of making them bleed. And Troy would be here any minute.
His helping them hadn’t been the upsetting part. She’d come to the conclusion she would need to ask him for help. That he’d taken the decision away from her had angered her. She felt helpless. She hated that. But apologizing had been the right thing to do.
She dried her hands and went to her room to change out of her fish-smelling work dress. She put on the light blue one she’d worn on the Fourth of July and tidied her hair. She went back to the kitchen.
Mother and Gran had made a feast. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cooked peas with scallions in a butter sauce, fresh bread and a cherry pie. Olivia could tell they had chosen foods solely with Troy in mind.
Gran pointed a wooden spoon at Olivia. “You’re sure your apology sounded heartfelt? And he’s coming?”
Olivia had known that the supper invitation was a way they could be certain she had actually apologized to Troy. “He said he would.”
“He’s late.”
Mother spooned mashed potatoes into a large bowl and spoke in a calming voice. “If Troy said he’ll be here, he will. He probably had to stay late at work. Supper’s not ready yet.”
Gran left the kitchen. Olivia knew she was going to look out the window for him. She hurried back. “He’s coming.” She patted Olivia’s arm and nudged her into motion. “Go answer the door.”