He spoke again. “I read a lot. I always have a couple of books with me.”
She realized Blue had returned to her former question as to what he did in the evenings.
“I’ve been reading the Bible. Is that one of the books you read?”
“No, ma’am.” He said it without rancor, without any emotion, as if he might have been talking about the color of snow.
“Why not? Don’t you believe in God?”
“I kind of quit believing when my wife and children died.”
She could not say if she would have had the same reaction to such a terrible event, but somehow the idea of not believing in God seemed even more terrible. “Tell me what happened.”
“They perished in a fire.”
She heard the tautness in his voice and ached for his pain. “How awful.”
“The worst part was I saw the house burning and couldn’t get there in time to do anything.”
Horror darkened her heart. “That’s dreadful. How old were the children?”
“Beau was four, Nancy five.” His hands had grown idle. He stared unblinkingly at the wall before him.
She shuddered, and for the space of a minute or two couldn’t pull a word to her mind. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to my girls.”
“It’s a man’s job to protect his family.”
She pushed slowly to her feet. “I don’t need a man. I’m more than a pretty object.”
He rose and faced her, deep lines gouged in his face. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Silence echoed in the church as she wondered what he meant and if he would explain. “Not all men expect or want a woman who is pretty but helpless,” he finally said. He looked serious. “Some even teach a woman woodworking.”
She smiled, both surprised and pleased at his comment. “Yes, some do.”
He jerked away and picked up the saw.
She chose another piece of wood to plane.
Did he think a woman could be self-sufficient and yet benefit from the protection of a man? It certainly hadn’t been her experience. In her life protection had only brought with it a form of domination. That was not something she wanted for herself or her children.
Then the real meaning of his words reached her brain. He didn’t mean her or just any woman. He had been talking about his own loss and how he’d been unable to save his family.
She glanced at him, wishing she could undo the past few minutes or say something to acknowledge his pain, but he seemed absorbed in sawing a piece of wood.
After a moment of studying him, she turned away.
Anything she said now would draw attention to the fact that they each had their own problems and concerns.
Surely she could work at his side for a few days and keep their personal lives out of the picture. She realized with a shock that she’d told him more than she had meant to. Perhaps he’d done the same.
From now on, she’d be more cautious of her words lest he learn too much about her and put her future in jeopardy.
Chapter Six
Blue resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall. What had come over him to tell her how his children had died?
Yes, it had felt good to say the words even though they ripped a bloody trail through his heart. Maybe it had felt good because Clara didn’t try to console him with empty words. Only an acknowledgment of his pain. Of course, she knew what loss was like. She’d lost her husband. She’d offered condolences for his loss, but he’d not said a thing about hers.
What could he say to make up for his oversight?
“Clara?”
Her head came up. Her eyes were wide with surprise and blue as the morning sky.
“You’ve known loss, too. I’m sorry.”
Not a flicker of acknowledgment.
“Didn’t you say your husband died? No, wait. It was Eleanor who said she didn’t have a papa. I assumed…” He trailed to an end without finishing. Had he misunderstood?
“My husband is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Shouldn’t she express more emotion, or was she trying to bury the pain even as he did?
She nodded. “Thank you. It was a loss for all of us. But he was much older and sick even before I married him. It seemed like he had disappeared from our lives long before he passed.”
“Then why did you marry him? Seems you could have had your pick of suitors.” The words came out uncensored. As soon as he’d spoken them, he wished he could pull them back. Hadn’t Ma always warned him to think before he spoke?
She gave a thin smile. “My father arranged the marriage. It suited him.”
This time he didn’t have to censor his words because none came to his mind. What she said didn’t make sense. Did she marry a man she didn’t love simply to please her father, or to avoid confronting him? Though he knew of many arranged marriages, hers seemed wrong.
“My father is very controlling.”
“Appears so.” He studied her, trying to piece together the things he knew of her. “It’s hard to believe he lets you travel about the country on your own.”
“Indeed.” She returned her gaze to the piece of wood in her hands.
Indeed? That was it? And what did it matter to him?
They worked together the rest of the morning without speaking of anything but the task at hand.
When they returned after dinner, he could not contain his curiosity any longer. “Does your father know you are here?”
Clara had her back to him and kept it that way for the space of two heartbeats. Then she slowly turned and faced him. “Why do you want to know?”
He’d asked himself the same question for the past two hours and had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer, so he simply shrugged.
She closed the distance between them until she was within reach and favored him with a scowl fit to curdle his dinner. “Do you think I need my father’s permission? Just like you think I need a husband? Well, I don’t. I can take care of myself and the girls, and I intend to.” She turned away. “Now, are we going to work or spend the afternoon talking?”
The girls had been out filling his buckets with snow, and they raced indoors in time to see the look on their mother’s face. They skidded to a stop.
“Mama?” Eleanor sounded uncertain. Maybe even afraid.
Blue answered the question. “Your mama’s okay.”
Libby marched up to him. “Did you hurt her?”
“I don’t think so. Did I, Clara?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Of course not. I’m just letting you know where I stand.”
Libby giggled. “Mama, you’re standing in the middle of the floor. Mr. Blue can see that.”
Clara turned, squatted and swept Libby into her arms. “What would I do without my sweet girls?” She signaled Eleanor to join them and hugged them both.
Blue’s chest muscles eased so he could get in a decent breath. Then forgotten words came unbidden.
Every child is a flower in God’s garden with the simple task of bringing beauty and joy to the world.
It was something Alice had often said as they had reveled in the joy of their children.
He turned away to hide the pain that surely enveloped his face even as it claimed every corner of his heart. That joy had been stolen from him, leaving him an empty shell of a man.
The girls left their mother’s arms, and Libby caught his hand. “Mr. Blue, did you see how full we got your buckets?” She dragged him to the doorway, where they’d left the pails. Each one was packed hard with snow. “Didn’t we do good?”
“You did indeed.”
She looked up at him with blue expectant eyes.
What did she want?
“Did we earn a hug?” she asked.
His insides froze, then slowly melted with the warmth of her trust. He bent over and hugged her, then reached for Eleanor, who came readily to let him wrap his arm about her and pull her close.
Over the top of the girls’ heads, Clara’s gaze
pinned him. She didn’t need to say a word for him to hear her warning loud and clear. Be careful with my children’s affections.
He had every intention of being careful. Not only with their affections but his own. That meant he must stop the talk and memories of his family. Must mind his own business when it came to questions about Clara’s activities.
She could follow whatever course of action she chose.
So long as it doesn’t put her or the girls in danger, a little voice insisted. But he couldn’t imagine she would ever do that.
He extricated himself from the girls’ gentle arms and turned to the piece of wood on the sawhorse.
He had no say in any of her choices, whether or not they were risky. And that’s just the way he wanted it.
The rest of the afternoon he managed to keep his thoughts centered on the work before him. Measure, measure again, cut, plane. When he measured, Clara held the end of the tape. She insisted on doing her share of sawing, and he had to admit she did a fine job. And when it came to using the planer, he had to confess he couldn’t do better himself.
He did admirably well at resisting thinking of anything but work.
“I’m hungry, Mama,” Libby said hours into the afternoon.
He glanced up and saw the sun’s rays slanted through the west windows. “Looks like it’s supper time. Shall we go?”
The girls scrambled into their coats in record time. Clara had hers on and waited at the door. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Just a minute.” He went to his saddlebags. “Do you want to borrow one of my books?” He pulled out the one he wasn’t currently reading.
“Really?” She hesitated even though her eyes lit with anticipation. “You’re sure?”
“Very sure. I borrowed it from Eddie at the ranch. He has a whole library of books and allows me to help myself to them. He does the same for everyone.”
“Then yes, I’d very much appreciate borrowing it.”
He handed it to her, and she clutched it to her chest. He grinned. It felt good to have a little share in providing her with pleasure.
They crossed together to the Mortons’ and sat across from each other at the table. He looked around at the others, finding it hard to believe that only three days ago all he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. Now here he was, sharing the meal with two children and three other adults.
What would happen after Clara and the girls left? After he finished at the church? Would he be able to get back to the state of solitude he preferred?
Did he still want to be left alone?
The questions went round and round in his head even as he returned to the church and sat on his bedroll. How had he gotten into this position of having a woman and two sweet little girls in his life? It was the very last thing he wanted.
He opened his book and forced his attention to the words.
When they left, he would surely miss them.
And that was exactly why he didn’t want to be involved in the first place.
*
The girls had fallen asleep. Finally. For some reason they wanted to giggle and whisper tonight. Several times she hushed them. Again she’d heard them mention Christmas and something special they anticipated. She didn’t ask what it was because, in the depths of her heart, she feared they’d be disappointed.
Her shoulders sagged. All she wanted for Christmas, and prayed for, was a home where they’d be safe, a job so she could support them all and prove to anyone who cared to challenge her that she could take care of herself and the children. God, you see my need. Please provide. Now she must do as she counseled the girls—trust God to answer.
In His way?
She jerked her head up and stared at the stack of boxes next to the table. What if His way was different than what she wanted?
She shook her head. Trusting could be so hard at times. She needed to pray. The Lord is my shepherd. He leadeth me beside still waters.
The peace and calmness that came with still waters was all she needed. God knew that.
It was time to let the matter rest, so she reached for the book Blue had loaned her.
It was The Virginians by William Makepeace Thackeray.
She ran her fingers along the cover. Lifted the book and inhaled the scent of it. Father had a fine library back home, but Clara had been forbidden to choose any books from it. Young women should not read such books. They’re too stimulating. Too adventuresome. The books Father deemed appropriate for her, apart from the Bible, were boring and dull.
She opened the pages and was soon engrossed in a story of war and adventure.
Some time later, she knew she must put off more reading until the next evening. She put a marker between the pages, turned out the lamp, crawled under her blanket on the bedroll and fell asleep with a contented smile.
The next morning, she couldn’t wait to tell Blue how much she enjoyed the book.
He’d left before them after breakfast, and she hustled the girls across the frosty ground toward the church. The sky was a vivid blue today, and the sun promised warmth. Barely a breeze stirred. It might be winter, but she certainly couldn’t complain about the weather.
Blue was sawing a board when she entered, and she waited impatiently for him to finish. He looked up. “Something wrong?”
“Not at all. I just wanted to say how much I’m enjoying the book and to thank you for lending it to me.”
“You’re welcome.” He set aside the wood.
“Have you read it?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh.” She swallowed back disappointment.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He considered the pile of cut wood. “What do you think? Should we put together more pews today?”
“Sounds like a fine idea.” She’d sooner discuss the story, but he didn’t seem to be so inclined. She tried to convince herself it didn’t matter.
He called the girls over to help hold the end pieces and by dinnertime they had four more pews put together.
They stood and admired their work.
“What did I tell you?” he asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“Didn’t I say you’d look at the final product and know a real sense of pride?” He turned to study her face. “You do, don’t you?”
She laughed. “More than you can ever imagine. Bear in mind it’s the first time I’ve made anything of significance. Well, except for—” She nodded toward the girls and felt heat rush up her face at such a comment. But they were her greatest accomplishments, and she meant to make that clear.
He followed the direction of her gaze. She watched emotions chase across his face and tried to identify them. His smile seemed to indicate pleasure in her little girls. Then the smile faded, replaced with regret, then sorrow and pain.
She touched his arm. “Blue, I am so sorry for what you’ve lost. I know it must hurt like fury to see two healthy, growing children.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt. I have to confess I enjoy your girls. But I will never forget my own two children.” His hand rested on hers.
She wondered if he realized he squeezed her fingers. He seemed so lost in his past. “No one would ever expect you to forget them. Why, that would be an insult to the beauty of their short lives.” She turned to the girls. “Why don’t you go outside and play in the sunshine?”
They needed no second invitation.
Clara led Blue to the nearest bench and pulled him down to sit beside her. “You can do your children no greater honor than to keep their memory alive. Tell me about them.”
He leaned over his knees. “They were beautiful. To my chagrin, Nancy inherited my coloring. I confess it looked wonderful on her.”
She studied him. His reddish hair didn’t look bad on him, either, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Nancy was a little mother hen. Eleanor kind of reminds me of her. She always thought she should tell Beau what to do.” He chuckled softly. “Beau only listened to her if it su
ited him. He was all boy. Clumsy, rowdy. Oh, how he liked to be tossed in the air.” He sighed deeply and leaned back. “I miss them so much. I miss Alice, too.”
“Of course you do. Your wife is a part of you. Your children are a piece of your very soul. You could only forget them if you ceased to exist.”
“Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”
“Cease existing? But why? Surely you can still enjoy the rising sun, the song of a bird, the laugh of a child. Even the pleasures of food such as Bonnie serves.”
“I guess.” He sounded less than convinced.
She considered all he’d confessed. “I don’t think I could walk through the valley of the shadow of death without the comfort of God’s rod and staff.”
“That’s the psalm they read at the funeral service.”
“The Twenty-Third Psalm.”
He continued to face ahead. She wished she could see his eyes to know what he was thinking. She didn’t have much time to wonder because he suddenly pushed to his feet. “Bonnie will be expecting us.”
She called the girls to join them as they went across to enjoy another dinner.
When they returned to work, they did not resume their conversation. Feeling content with the moment, willing to momentarily forget the threat of her past and the worry about tomorrow, she simply settled into enjoying her part in making the church pews.
She hummed as she worked. The joy of the words overflowed her heart, and she softly sang aloud. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below.”
God had been good to her and her children. Providing them a safe place to wait for the stagecoach and a way to work so she could feed herself and the girls. The words of the doxology swelled in her throat. She wanted to raise her voice to the rafters.
“Mama?” Eleanor’s voice drew her from her moment of worship.
“Yes, sweetheart? What is it?”
“Mr. Blue is a blessing, isn’t he?” Eleanor gave Blue a shy smile, then turned to Clara with innocent expectation.
Clara darted a glance at Blue, who looked as stunned by the question as she was. How did one answer such a question? Certainly Blue had played a vital role in her present circumstances. He’d been there when she needed someone—provided by God’s providential hand. But he also represented risk. He knew too much about her. If someone asked questions, he could answer them. And then her girls would be torn from her. A loss she couldn’t let herself consider.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 74