by Tanya Hanson
“I’d say so. What a wonderful legacy she’s left behind.”
They quieted—the bridal party had come in, also silent, maybe as stunned by the beauty as he was. Suddenly his long-ignored goal simmered again, became all-encompassing. Marianne’s memorial art gallery at Pac Arts. In an instant, with Rachel at his side, the vision was clear in his mind: Establish the gallery and launch it with a show of original works by a primitive Western artist named Frieda Louisa Julia Martin. He gazed at the spectacular altarpiece, feeling closure to his loss, in harmony with Marianne’s memory. Feeling close to the God he’d abandoned long ago, close to a woman he’d never met whose faith-filled art had twice touched his soul…And close to her granddaughter who was touching his heart. In an odd way, his past had just pushed him into his future. Peace brushed over him again.
A young boy in jeans strode about lighting candles. Another teenager, his long hair streaming over a fringed leather jacket, started to sing while he strummed a guitar. Then the clergyman approached the center aisle and started the tiny group off on a gathering hymn.
Brayton’s heart lifted as Rachel’s sweet, true voice hit his ears.
7
Rachel tried to concentrate on the litany responses, on the simple, lovely music. On Carol Aubrey’s sons performing their tasks like pros at the altar. Their mom was the talented organist at Mountainview Church in town. Oh, she’d known Carol her whole life, remembered her friend’s struggles to raise fatherless kids after Hank had been killed in a hunting accident.
Fatherless. Her heart churned. It had been a big—make that huge—mistake to come to the chapel. What had she been thinking? To come here with Brayton who inspired way too much warmth, maybe even hope. To come to this sanctuary where Scott and Mary Grace had wed not twenty-four hours before Nick died.
They’d stayed to help comfort her, had cancelled their honeymoon. Sometimes anger still flickered. Nick hadn’t changed only Rachel’s plans. Against the pew, her back stiffened. She didn’t dare catch bride-to-be Charlene’s eye, so happy and hopeful. If she did, she’d lose it big time, the only suitable place of refuge being Brayton’s arms. She forced her mind to the moment at hand.
“…and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” Vicar Wegner was saying. “Today’s text comes from Esther chapter four, verse fourteen.”
Rachel’s interest spiked. She’d always loved the Old Testament account of beauteous Esther, the Jewish woman who married the King of Persia and used her position to save her people from the king’s evil officer, Haman.
“Esther shows us, friends, why we can and must trust God. And how to go about it through prayer. Esther was selected to wed a man not of her faith, a man who did not know of her heritage. A powerful ruler whose henchmen sought to exterminate her people, the Jews. An ancient Holocaust, you might say. Doubtless Esther was confused, frightened at the direction God ordained for her life. But He knew best, as He always does despite our feeble human minds that think we know it all. Very feeble human minds. ”
The congregation chuckled.
“In order to plead for her people, Esther fasted and prayed for three days then did the unthinkable: she boldly approached her royal husband in his throne room. Uninvited. This action risked not just his displeasure, but also her death due to her impertinence. But she had no doubt God was walking next to her, holding her up to do the right thing. That He’d placed her here at just this time to get good things done.”
Next to Rachel, Brayton rested his chin in his hands, elbows firm on his knees. Maybe he’d never heard the story of Esther before.
“My friends,” the vicar continued, “Esther’s story shows us why we can and must trust our Almighty God. Our Father and our Friend. Even if we have doubts and confusion, He is there. When we put our hands in His hand, His power holds us firm. He knows what is going to happen tomorrow, next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us, rejoice with us in good times and hold us close to His eternal heart in the tough ones. He will care for us no matter what. All we have to do is trust Him.”
All we have to do…Rachel grumbled as the collection plate passed her, and she tossed in a twenty. Trust Him? Been there. Done that. She’d done it her whole life, through thick and thin. Through the miscarriages and difficult pregnancy, she’d trusted God to give her and Nick a child. She recalled Nick’s glowing face when the at-home test had been positive. When the ultrasound had showed him their son. She’d trusted God to bring Nick safely home from his deployment. And He’d done so.
And up to that moment of Nick with his Silver Star, returning a hero on a tarmac full of waving flags, she’d trusted Him to give her husband and her a normal life in His name.
But instead, He’d bequeathed them months of misery. Stress. Isolation. Through Pastor Hale’s counsel, she’d believed they’d start to make it. She was sure Nick would one day be hers again, that Matty would have his daddy intact.
Until that stupid, fateful day. Oh, yeah. It was an accident. But didn’t somebody important say there are no accidents?
She choked back sobs as the little congregation sang the closing hymn. “Excuse me,” she said to Brayton, and leaving his side, she stumbled from the chapel and back to the van.
As she clung to the vehicle, holding off a wracking sob, something touched her cheek. Something warm, not the chill fall breeze. Not Brayton, either. She could hear his footsteps coming up behind her. She swiped her glove across her face. Ma would have claimed it was an angel’s touch, or better, the Lord reaching down from heaven to reinforce the connection the vicar had just preached about.
Not Rachel. It was the memory of Nick’s hand from a better time, and she smacked it away, too.
“You OK, Rachel?” Brayton had caught up. His voice turned her bones to water.
“Yeah.” Trembling, she leaned against the van, watching the shadows of the fir trees waltzing with each other across the gravel. “It’s just hard sometimes. Scott and Mary Grace got married here, in this chapel. Nick died the next day. It…all came flooding back. Seems I can’t escape no matter where I go.”
For a long while, Brayton kept silent, although his strong warm hand moved to knead the back of her knotted neck.
“I think I know what you mean. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Idaho for quite a while after…Marianne died.”
“So different for me. I could never leave here. But I need to move on. Move out of my mother’s house.” She’d sold the townhouse in Mountain Cove right after Nick died. “Maybe get a place here in Woodside Meadows. I’d be on my own but not as far as town. But…”
Brayton’s fingers slowed, firmness increasing, and his breath seemed to come faster.
“Then maybe the time is right for you,” he said. “And the place. I think it took longer for me, but the time did come when I could face it.” The pressure of his warm hand gentled, and his scent of soap and spice scattered in the wind like pine needles. “You know how the vicar said Esther prayed and fasted for three days before facing Xerxes? She knew it was dangerous, that things would be difficult, but she still faced the unthinkable. She knew it was time. And everything worked out.”
Rachel nodded, but laid her hand over his so he couldn’t move it. “I can understand that. She was trying to save her people. I’d do anything for my family. I just…” She hesitated as she swallowed the pain one more time. “I just can’t rid myself of the notion that I wasn’t Nick’s family any more. I mean, like it was before. I know he loved me, loved Matty, But he also loved his deployment. He just couldn’t seem to let it go. Like he’d left something unfinished in the Middle East.” Her eyelids lowered, her throat thickened. “I didn’t know for a long time that three of his buddies died because he couldn’t reach them.”
“Rachel, survivor’s guilt is a powerful thing.” Brayton’s tone was kind. “I lived it. I live it still.”
“I know that. At least I tried to understand. Sometimes I just wante
d everything like it was before. Then I think of all the things I could have said. Could have done. And didn’t. You know?”
“Yes, I do know. I truly do know.” Brayton held out his arms, and Rachel felt no qualms, no guilt about finding herself tight in his embrace. Leaning hard against him, she swallowed tears as she listened to the thrum of his heart. Then she gathered the strength to raise her head from the folds of his jacket and eye him straight on. She loved the feeling of safety and comfort, but her spine skittered with a sense of danger, too. This wasn’t the right time. Her heart was better left guarded.
“But I wonder…” She pulled away a bit and took a deep breath. For a long moment she fought to find the strength to mouth the words that had so often tormented her.
“Wonder what?” Brayton’s arms tightened.
“That maybe he wanted to die.” She spoke almost with no sound.
Brayton’s breathing warmed the top of her head. “No, Rachel. It was an accident. That’s all.”
“He was careless. I can’t get it out of my head sometimes. I just feel so lost.” Grief mixed with anger surged again through her veins, and now tied her words.
“Hey.” Brayton let his lips linger in her hair. “I know how it is to be lost.”
The bridal party came to the van, laughing and prattling.
“Sometimes you find yourself not thinking straight. We’ll talk more back at the ranch,” he whispered in her ear and wiped a tear from her cheek.
8
The taste of her hair lingered on his lips. Brayton longed for a real kiss and trembled deep down imagining the delight of Rachel giving one. Yet he accepted that she wasn’t ready. Without another word, they settled alone together in the back of the van, her head against his shoulder as if she really wanted it there.
“You all right back there?” Charlene turned around to ask. “Why, Rachel, have you been crying?”
“You lovebirds have a quarrel” Cricked chirped, but in a sweet way.
Rachel started to smile, and Brayton felt a smidge of relief. “It’s all good,” she said. “My grandmother designed the altarpiece at church. I get emotional sometimes.”
She hadn’t spoken anything untrue. Brayton laid his hand on her warm hair.
“That thing was gorgeous.” Charlene sighed. “I do almost wish Kyle and I were getting married right here.”
The van hit a rough patch in the road, jostling Rachel firmer against him. After a good laugh over their banged heads, the bridal party resumed their gabfest. However, Brayton and Rachel might well have been the only people in the world. Maybe it was the mountains guarding them like silver sentinels, or the hills wrapping them in a coverlet stitched with glowing fall trees. Maybe the high spires of pine raining peace down like fallen needles. Or maybe it was because she too was considering a move to Woodside Meadows. His heart pounded. They could be neighbors. More than neighbors. But now wasn’t the time to dredge up that possibility. He’d get it said sometime soon. Right now he had other things to say, and Rachel sure didn’t need his own plans muddying up her waters.
They got back to Hearts Crossing way too quickly. He prayed he’d find the words to comfort her, and the thought almost had him chuckle. Pray? He who hadn’t seriously prayed in years. Of course he’d gotten the kids to church and Sunday school because Marianne would have wanted him to continue what she’d started. But his heart hadn’t been in it. Lately, though, Nate reaching the milestone of college, Brayton had realized the years were passing by. God knocking on the door to his heart wasn’t something he could ignore.
And the vicar’s words this morning had certainly touched a nerve. God knows what is going to happen tomorrow, next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us.
And that mosaic…The peace, the closure encircled him again.
The tiny bridesmaid piloted the van up the gravel drive underneath the gate of Hearts Crossing—he’d long ago chuckled away his macho doubts of her ability. An amazing serenity filled him just passing under the hearts and cross. He knew it for sure then and there, like a hammer blow. He was here for a purpose, a purpose that had more to do than him just checking things out at Woodside Meadows. More than him gifting Addie with riding lessons.
Rachel. Helping her find her way. He’d suffered a tragic loss, been part of it, if not the cause. If anybody could help God mend her broken spirit and ease her confusion, let it be me, Lord, through You. With You.
After the van parked, the bridal party surged outside first, letting him enjoy a few last seconds of snuggling with Rachel.
“Rachel, what can we do to help in the kitchen? That barbeque smoker over there’s already got my tummy rumbling,” one of them said as he helped Rachel out.
The aromas were divine, and Rachel’s tense face relaxed into a smile. “No, no, Cricket. Thanks. All I’ve got to do is grate some cheese, and I think I’ll have the help I need.” She tossed Brayton a glance that set his heart singing. “This is your last day here, girls. You ought to mount up for one last trail ride.” She waved her hand. Each of the girls had dressed in jeans and boots for services. “You’re all set to go.”
“But we’re tenderfeet and need a fearless leader.” Charlene chuckled. “Won’t the hands still be at church in town?”
Aw. He hoped the half-dozen girly grins weren’t suggesting him. The only trail ride he’d want to go on had Rachel on a horse at his side.
“Some of the guys attend Saturday Mass at St. Anthony’s.” Rachel pointed and all eyes followed. Past the corral, a lanky cowboy maneuvered a horse on a halter lead. “That’s Topeka over there. He’ll take you out and get you back here in time for dinner.”
“Oh, goodness me.” Cricket sighed. “How do you grow ’em so handsome around here? If me and Travis don’t make it, although I’m sure I can straighten him out, I know where to come trolling.”
“Cricket!” The gaggle groaned.
Charlene simply smiled. “Thanks, Rachel. One thing’s for sure. We’re all gonna hate to leave here and get back to the real world.”
“Jobs.” One said.
“Travis,” Cricket spat out then grinned. “Aw, he’s all right.”
Rachel chuckled as the girls took off. He’d never tire of her smile.
All right. As Brayton and Rachel marched up the back steps into the large country kitchen, he found his voice, his words, and opened his mouth. But she disappeared into a large commercial fridge for a second, coming out with an armload of cheeses.
“Wanna help?” She set down her load and dug in a drawer for a grater.
“I thought you’d never ask. Let me wash my hands first.” He grinned and set to work at the long stainless steel counter. After she pulled off her jacket, she washed up and joined him
“Rachel?” Somehow, the two of them alone in a normally boisterous place performing the humble task, he knew gut-deep he’d found the right moment in this homey kitchen to speak what he’d left unsaid at church. “I’m a dad, and I’ve been a husband. If Nick hadn’t wanted to come back to you, believe me, he wouldn’t have.”
Her hand stilled, her Velveeta suspended over a mandolin, but she didn’t look at him. “But he wanted to be there. In country. Deployed. More than he wanted to be with me.”
Brayton stopped his action as well. “Well, I’ve never been a serviceman, but I bet it was because he felt his job was unfinished. That he was abandoning his duties at a critical time. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you.” Her gaze met his for a fleeting second before they both attacked their chunks of cheese.
“I can’t help wondering…maybe I wasn’t enough.” Her voice hitched.
Her pain rolled over him. More than anything he wanted to hold her against his heart, but her arms closed tight around herself. He grated about three full cups of pepper jack while he considered what to say.
“But he did come back to you. Rachel, none of us knows what we’d do, what we’d feel under extreme circumstances. Shock, grief, guilt.” And Bray
ton certainly didn’t. His shock, grief, and guilt had been of a very different nature. Nonetheless, he called up his love for Marianne, their trust in each other. He had to remind Rachel of that. “You loved him, right?”
For a few seconds, her back turned as she reached into a cupboard for a clear glass bowl.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” She dumped a ton of shreds in the bowl. “Of course I loved him. And I did understand, you know. About such extreme circumstances. He wrote. We skyped.”
“So have you let it go?”
She shrugged. “Somewhat. Or I’d go crazy. But he’s not here to heal up with me. That’s what I can’t get over.”
He recalled her painful words back at the chapel. “Rachel, Nick didn’t want to die that day. If that’s what he wanted, he had better chances over there, before he came home. His death was an accident. Believe that. Maybe he was being a little macho. But it was an accident.”
She turned to face him then. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I had an accident, too, and I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Memories sent his skin shivering. After a second, he spoke from his heart. “But mostly because no man would ever want to leave you.”
She chewed a lip he ached to kiss. “But he wanted to go back. He’d have gone back if he could have. He told me every day.”
Brayton touched her cheek. “But God kept him home with you. And God brought him home to you before calling him Home for good.” Brayton was more than ready this time.
Tears dripped down her face as she wiped it with a black-checkered dish towel.
“It hit me. At church today. Next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us.”
At her dubious smile, he moved to hold her face in his hands and leaned forward. But even as her fingers clasped around the back of his neck, she drew back from his mouth. Like she’d done last night. His heart would have sunk to his soles if he hadn’t been a patient man.