by Bonnie Leon
Rebecca tidied the books on her desk, then moved to the stove and made sure the fire was tamped down. After that she straightened the benches and picked up bits of chalk. She was suddenly famished, and the idea of a cup of tea with biscuits sounded appealing. Giving the room a final glance, she moved to the door and stepped outside.
A cool, brisk wind and the sounds of hammering greeted her. She pulled her shawl more closely about her and studied their nearly completed home. It wasn’t as grand as the original house Daniel’s grandfather had built, but it was sturdy and comfortable. This time they’d chosen to forgo a second story. Instead, the house was low-slung and sprawling, like many of the homes on the flats. A rambling veranda draped with newly sprouted greenery bordered the home, offering a shaded sanctuary. She started toward the house, and her eyes moved to Willa, who worked in the garden.
When Rebecca reached the front porch, she sat on the bottom step and breathed in the fragrance of fresh-cut timber. The baby kicked vigorously, and she laid a hand on her abdomen. She had only three months to wait for her little one to arrive. Imagining what the baby might look like, she smiled and hoped it would be a girl. Lily had said it would be. She shivered and rubbed her arms, studying the clouds moving in from the south. Perhaps they would bring much-needed rain.
Willa stopped her work and straightened. “How did class go today?”
“Just fine. The children are coming along splendidly.”
“And you. How are you feeling?”
“Quite well.”
Joseph pushed through the front door and tottered toward the porch steps. He stopped at the top and sat on his bottom. “Mum.” After studying the stairway a moment, he got onto his hands and knees and started to climb down frontwards.
“Try it this way,” Rebecca said, standing and moving to him. She turned the toddler around so he could climb down backwards.
He caught on to the idea right away and started down.
Willa watched her grandson. “I dare say, he’s been full of energy all morning. I’ve caught him in one adventure after another.”
“Since the first day he learned to get around on his own, he’s been on an endless journey of discovery,” Rebecca said with a grin. She watched the toddler climb back up onto the porch. Tottering slightly, he pushed himself upright and made his way to the railing. He grabbed the top of the balustrade and clambered onto the bottom rail. Rebecca held her breath, watching as his pudgy hands gripped the top railing and he tried to swing one leg onto the top of the banister.
“He could fall,” Willa said.
“Yes. I know. But he needs to experience new challenges. I’m trying to give him a bit more freedom.” She moved toward the little boy. “All right. That’s all for now.” Rebecca lifted him and dragged him off the railing and planted him safely on the porch.
Seemingly unruffled, Joseph headed toward a box of toys resting beneath a front window. Before reaching them he spotted his father walking toward the house. “Daddy,” he called and toddled toward the front steps. This time he turned and clambered down backwards.
When Joseph reached the bottom step, he stood and held up his arms. “Daddy. Daddy.”
Wearing a broad smile, Daniel moved to his son and lifted him. Holding the little boy firmly, he pushed the youngster above his head and smiled up at him. “Looks as if you’re having a fine day, lad.” He settled Joseph on his shoulders. “There you go, then. Now you’ve a fine view, eh?”
Perched happily, Joseph planted pudgy hands on his father’s hat and gazed about.
Willa dropped a weed into a bucket and pressed her hands against the small of her back as she watched the two. “He always loves it when you carry him about like that. His eyes are bright as the afternoon sun.”
Daniel grinned and bounced a couple of times. Joseph chortled.
Willa tugged at the tips of her gardening gloves and pulled them from her hands, then draped them on the edge of the bucket. She retied her wide-brimmed hat and glanced at a blue sky sown with tattered clouds. “It’s a grand day.”
Daniel eyed approaching heavy clouds. “It’s a beaut so far, but things could change.” Joseph lifted his father’s hat, and Daniel grabbed for it. “Hey now, I need that.” He settled Joseph on the ground, and after taking the hat from the youngster’s grasp, he returned it to his head. “Good news. We have another well flowing.”
“Grand. That makes four, then.”
“We’ll make it through the drought and be ready for the next one, I’d say.” Daniel wore a satisfied smile.
“We can praise the Lord for that.” Willa walked to her son. “And I’m sorry to say that we can count on there being more droughts.” She smiled. “But this one seems to be easing.”
“Things are better. The streams are flowing again.”
“Everything is coming back to life.” Willa gazed about. “God has restored what the locusts devoured.” She turned to her son. “I’m proud of you. You’ve done well.”
Rebecca moved in close to Daniel. “You’ve done a splendid job of restoring this place. I don’t know anyone who could have done better.”
“Everyone worked hard.” His gaze moved from the partially built barn to the servants’ cottages. “Things are better, but we’ve a ways to go. There are still cabins to be built, the house needs finishing. Plus, I’ve a mob of cattle to drive south. I need to get to that. Figure we ought to do well with the number of new calves born.” He draped an arm over Rebecca’s shoulders.
Leaning into her husband, Rebecca asked, “If you think everything is going well, why do you look so worried?”
“I look worried?”
“Yes. You do.”
“I’m fine. No worries, luv.” He smiled down at Rebecca.
Looking up at her husband, Rebecca yielded to his cheery manner. “All right, then. I won’t worry.” She looked at her son and then at her rounded abdomen. “It won’t be long before we’ve an addition to the family.”
“It will be nice having another baby about,” Willa said.
“Joseph’s not really a baby anymore,” Rebecca said. “He’s a year and a half already.”
Willa watched the little boy grab a rock and toss it. “I suppose you’re right. He’s not a baby anymore. I just hate to see the time go by so quickly. He’s growing so fast.”
“That he is.” Rebecca glanced up at Daniel. “I love the house, Daniel. How much longer before it’s finished?”
“A couple of months, maybe. We’ll have to get the barn up first though, and then we’ll finish the house.” He gave Rebecca a squeeze.
“There it is again.”
“There’s what again?”
“That worried look you’ve been wearing. Something is troubling you.”
“Nothing’s troubling me,” Daniel said almost too easily. He clamped his jaws together and looked toward town as if expecting something.
“I don’t believe you.”
Daniel smiled. “What have I to worry about with you at my side, eh?”
Joseph tromped through newly turned garden soil, then picked up a hoe. Unbalanced by the length of the tool, he teetered as he pitched the steel end into the earth and tugged. The weight of it knocked him off balance, and he fell on his bottom.
“Oh my. Not quite big enough just yet, I’d say.” Willa chuckled and helped him to his feet.
Watching the interaction between grandmother and grandson, Rebecca let go of her worries. Daniel had told her all was well. She needed to have faith in him and in the Lord.
The baby kicked again, only quite hard. “Ah,” Rebecca exclaimed.
“You all right?” Daniel asked.
“Yes. It’s just the baby. She’s a strong one.”
“She?” Daniel asked with a grin.
“Yes. She. Lily said it’s a girl, and I’d rather like to believe it is.” She glanced at her stomach. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a girl?”
“That would be fine by me.”
“I was thinking
I’d like to name her after my mother, Audry.”
“It’s a lovely name,” Willa said. “I quite like it.”
“All right, then.” Daniel patted Rebecca’s stomach. “Audry you shall be.”
“Aaady,” Joseph said. “Aaady.” He returned to the hoe and his work.
Lily appeared at the top of the steps. Hands on her hips, she smiled. “He’s a hard worker, that one, eh?”
“We can hope,” Daniel said.
“I made some tea, and seeing it’s a cool day, I was wonderin’ if ya’d be wantin’ a cuppa?”
“That sounds lovely,” Willa said, taking the hoe from Joseph, who was working hard to create a furrow. She rested it against the porch railing and then picked up her grandson. “I think we’d best get you out of the garden.” Dusting off dirt from his pants, she carried him up the stairs.
Lily disappeared indoors while Willa dropped into a cane-back chair, settling Joseph on her lap. “A rest is just the thing.” Joseph wriggled off his grandmother’s lap and ambled toward the toy box. Willa removed her hat and set it on a table at her side, then settled deeper into the chair and rested her head against its webbed backing. “I do love these cool June days. And my flower garden is doing splendidly, all except the roses. They’re struggling a bit. They need more sun.”
“It’s a beautiful garden. And the roses will flourish again,” Rebecca said, sitting. “I love the flowers you’ve added, especially the honeysuckle. We had quite a lot of it in Boston. It’s always been one of my favorites.”
Memories of riding Chavive across lush pastures at her father’s Boston estate traveled through her mind. There had always been honeysuckle growing along the gates and fence lines. Its heavy, sweet fragrance had saturated the air.
She turned to her mother-in-law. “It reminds me of home and of Father.”
“And one day it may remind you of Douloo as well.”
“I never plan to leave Douloo. Although I wouldn’t mind going on holiday.” She settled a knowing smile on Daniel.
“Soon, luv. I promise.”
Rebecca closed her eyes and took in a long, slow breath. “I was thinking the coast would be just the place for quiet, restful days.”
“You’ll have few of those after the baby comes.” Willa smiled. “Perhaps if you have a little girl, she’ll look like you.”
“If she does, she’ll be a lucky one.” Daniel stood behind Rebecca’s chair and caressed her dark hair. “I figure she’ll have the same brown eyes and wavy hair as her mother. She and Joseph will be quite a pair—one dark and one fair.”
“I must say, I think it’s going to be a girl, but I don’t suppose it’s really proper to act as if we’re sure just because Lily envisions a girl,” Willa said. “She’s a fine person, but she’s not a prophet.”
Rebecca opened her eyes and looked at Willa. “Of course she’s not, but there is something special about the aborigines. They know things we don’t.”
“That may be, but they can’t tell the gender of a baby before it’s born.” Willa smiled. “However, if it is a girl, I do hope she looks like you. I read somewhere that girls favor their mothers and sons their fathers.”
“Really?” Rebecca sighed. “Well, only time will tell.” Rebecca gazed at Joseph and then looked at his father. “Joseph is the image of Daniel.”
Clasping a ball against his pudgy stomach, the little boy made his way down the stairs and wandered toward a newly constructed paddock. “Joseph. You come back here,” Rebecca called.
He stopped and reluctantly turned and faced his mother. Glancing at the ball in his hands, he looked from one parent to the other but remained in place. Rebecca’s mind returned to the day fire had consumed Douloo, and her pulse picked up. She’d feared her little boy had been lost to the flames. Now he stood defiantly challenging her. It was difficult to be angry with him.
“Joseph. Mind your mother,” Daniel said sternly. He moved to the boy, took his hand, and led him back to the house and up the steps.
Rebecca’s thoughts stayed with the fire and the days that had followed. They had months of labor invested in restoring Douloo, and there were many more weeks of work to come.
Rebecca accepted tea from Lily. Using a tiny silver spoon, she dipped sugar from a china bowl and stirred the sweetener into her tea. Setting the spoon on her saucer she took a sip. “Delicious. Thank you, Lily.” She turned to Daniel. “So we’ve another good well, then?”
“Right. Good clear water too. We’ve been lucky, I’d say.”
“I doubt luck had anything to do with it.” Willa took a drink of tea and set her cup on its saucer.
“Right.” Daniel rested a hip against the banister. He watched Joseph make his way toward the steps again. “Joseph. No.”
The lad looked at his father, then walked toward him and held up his arms. Daniel hefted him up, supporting him in one arm.
“We’ve had a hard time of it, but we’ve survived,” Rebecca said. “In fact, I’d say we’ve flourished.”
Looking at his son, Daniel said, “The fire could have taken everything. Nearly did.” He gave Joseph a squeeze.
Rebecca held her cup and saucer in both hands. “From now on I’m convinced all will be well.”
“I dare say, we’ll have more troubles,” Willa said. “It’s the way of life.”
“Yes. I suppose.” Rebecca stared at deep grasses bending beneath a sharp breeze.
When she’d first arrived at Douloo, she’d seen her new home as stifling and intolerable. Over time she’d managed to accept her fate. And then somewhere along the way, she’d learned to love this empty, quiet place. It had become home. Still, there were days that seemed interminably long, and the land could be inhospitable. She was thankful for the school. It had been stimulating, and the students’ progress gave Rebecca a feeling of accomplishment. She was contributing something of value to the aborigines.
Rebecca looked for Chavive, who stood placidly in a nearby corral. She’d soon have a foal. Rebecca was certain it would be a fine horse, especially with Noble as the sire. “Daniel, will we be purchasing new horses soon?”
“I hope so. It will depend on money,” he said, his jaw taking on a hard line.
“I was just wondering if we might be able to purchase Noble.”
“No. I can’t imagine his owners letting him go.” Daniel’s tone was harsh.
“We got Chavive. Remember?”
“Right, but Noble . . . well, they’d want too much for him.”
Uneasiness moved through Rebecca. Daniel had that look again, and he’d suddenly become disagreeable. Something was wrong. She thought of asking him again but held her tongue. In due time he’d tell her what was troubling him.
“I’ll be needing supplies for the school. We’ve been going through things so quickly. The students are so hungry to learn.” She gazed at the tent where she met with the children several days a week. “Will you be able to build the new school soon?”
“I figured you’d be taking time off from that,” Daniel said. “Your confinement date isn’t that far away. You ought to be doing more resting. You need to build up your strength.”
“I’m plenty strong.”
“Right. I guess I would have to agree to that.” Daniel grinned.
“After the baby’s born, I could close it for a while, or someone else could teach.” Rebecca knew Daniel was unconvinced. “I love to teach, Daniel. It doesn’t make me a bit tired. I feel as if I’ve been called to it. Can you understand that?”
“Called in the way a reverend is called to preach?”
“Well, not something so grand as that, but yes, you might say so. I know I’m a help to the children, and to Lily. She comes whenever she can.” She glanced at Callie, who was sweeping the front entrance to the house. “Callie has been helping.”
“What about the children?” Daniel asked. “Having two is much more difficult than one.”
Rebecca looked at Joseph, who was scrambling out of his father’s arm
s, and wondered if it was mothering that God had intended for her. She felt a crushing love for her son. Still, a sense of calling to do more remained.
“I know it won’t be easy,” she said, “but two children can’t be that difficult to manage.”
Daniel smiled and nodded. “All right, then. I must admit, I thought you’d do this until the new baby arrived and then mothering would be enough for you. But you must do as you like. You have my blessing.”
With a basket of clothing cradled against her side, Callie walked to a clothesline beyond the garden. Rebecca was happy for the distraction. The servant set the basket on the ground, lifted out a pair of blue jeans, and shook them to dislodge the creases. Using wooden pins, she hung them on the line.
“Perhaps Callie could take over for me while I convalesce after having the baby. What do you think?” Before Daniel could answer, the sight of dust billowing just beyond the rise caught Rebecca’s attention. “Someone’s coming,” she said.
A moment later two men rode into the drive. They were young and good-looking. One was tall and lean. He looked at Rebecca, and the coldness in his brown eyes made her want to recoil. The other man removed his hat, revealing shaggy blond hair. He combed it off his face with his hand while staring at Daniel. He didn’t look any friendlier than the first man.
“Do you know these men, Daniel?” Rebecca asked, alarm pulsing through her.
Daniel was on his feet. “I . . . I don’t know,” he hedged. “Maybe.” He walked down the porch steps and strode into the yard. “G’day.”
The men didn’t smile or offer a greeting. Her heart pounding hard, Rebecca stood, clasping her hands. “What do they want?” she asked no one in particular.
“I dare say, they’ll take care of their business and then be on their way,” Willa said.
“Need ta talk,” the tall man said, his voice brusque.
“Right.” Daniel looked about, glancing at Rebecca. “Mind if we walk?”
“I’ll ride,” the blond man said. His companion didn’t respond but remained on his horse.
Daniel started walking away from the house.
Rebecca’s stomach churned. “Willa, what could men like that want with Daniel? He acts like he knows them.”