Rekindling Trust

by Sandra Ardoin

  The darkness closed in again and the air became damp and musty. Stop it, Edythe.

  Rather than focusing on the fear from having once been buried in a cellar, Edythe focused on the moment her father found her—his gentle hold, the reassuring murmurings in her ear, the outrage over the situation.

  For too many years, she had assigned her father’s harsh character to God. Until recently, she hadn’t recognized that her heavenly Father waited for her to turn to Him, to trust Him, to realize He couldn’t abide the wickedness of sinful people. And it was the sins of people that made life difficult.

  As she’d recently chosen to trust that God loved her, she also accepted that the judge did, too, even during times when his actions contradicted that love.

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” Her son’s soft voice suited the quiet inside the shed. “I tried to get them to admit they lied.”

  How he thought to accomplish something like that, she couldn’t... Her eyes widened. “Did you hit Tad?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I told him I’d give him another punch and another until he told the truth.” Rather than shame, his voice projected pride. “That’s when they dragged me in here and locked the door.”

  While disapproving of Andy’s method, Edythe marveled at her son’s courage in taking on a bigger boy. It encouraged her to fight harder against her fear.

  After closing her eyes to pray, she suppressed a desire to laugh. What difference was there in whether her eyes were opened or closed when she couldn’t see much anyway? But it was the stance one took when praying, wasn’t it?

  Lord, in these past weeks I’ve accepted that You are more than a disciplinarian, more than a puppet master seeking to control every aspect of Your children’s lives, and that You love me because I am Your child. God, You know where we are and our circumstances. Grant us both calm and a way to freedom.

  A peace she’d rarely known overcame her, and she knew the truth. In her ignorance, she had placed the control of her life in the wrong hands.

  “What if they never admit to what they did, Mama? I don’t want to go away to that place.”

  Edythe pulled him closer, both of them needing each other’s warmth to combat the growing chill of the night. Besides, unable to see more than a dark outline of his frame, she hadn’t let go of her son since finding him in the shed.

  The two of them stood by the door, ready to escape whenever the boys returned. Surely, they planned to return.

  “There’s nothing to fear, because I love you, Andy, and God loves you. As long as we believe that, we’re as free as if we could walk right out that door, because it’s fear that holds us captive.”

  Her son drew in a breath and grew taller in her hold. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  The spacing of the homes along the road meant that the neighbors likely hadn’t heard her previous cries for help. Certainly no one had come to rescue them. But one more attempt wouldn’t hurt.

  Edythe beat on the door again and called out. She pressed her ear to the wood but heard nothing except the eerie hoot of an owl somewhere in the woods.

  This building was solid compared to the ramshackle condition of the house. “Did you notice anything that might help us get out of here, Andy?”

  “I didn’t see much before they shut the door, but I found this pail.” He slapped the metal and the tinny sound rang out. “I figured I’d hit them with it.”

  She winced. “Let’s try not to strike anyone again if we can help it.”

  Edythe reached out and felt around the area near the door, searching for anything to help her break through to the outside. Perhaps something to loosen the hinges? Her fingers touched the silky threads of a spider’s web along the frame. She yanked her hand away and shivered as she dusted off the sticky strands.

  No fear, remember?

  She extended her arm. Ordering Andy to stay with her, she used her hands to walk around the walls of the shed. She shuffled her feet, careful not to trip over something unseen on the floor. Her hands explored shelves holding cans, some empty, some containing a liquid she couldn’t identify in the dark. She grabbed the heaviest one and pushed it at her son. “Hold this.”

  Edythe investigated the rest of the shelves and walls until her hand landed on something metal—a pipe, maybe. She raised the item, slid her hand from one end to the other, and laughed. “Now this I know how to use.” She gripped the body of the crowbar and held it against her.

  A rustling under the shed caught her attention. She halted and cocked her head to listen.

  Andy whispered, “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know. A raccoon?” Oh, please, not a skunk.

  The rustling stopped under their feet and a whine took its place, followed by sniffing evident through the spacing of the shed’s floorboards.

  Edythe laughed with relief. “I think it’s Mr. Peters.”

  “You brought him?”

  “He invited himself, but without him I wouldn’t have found you.” She crouched and placed her palm over a slight gap between two boards. Another whine rolled from the dog’s throat. “I wonder how he fit under the shed. I doubt there’s much room between the floor and the ground.”

  “But he did it.”

  “Yes, and if that colossal dog could do it, you can too.”

  Edythe inserted the claw of the crowbar into the gap.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  A sob broke from Hollis Larson’s throat. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

  Barrett turned his head to see Brennan’s eyebrows arched, evidence they both had expected to hear Hollis blame his brother for hurting Mr. Stark. “What happened?”

  “He was gonna catch us.”

  “Mr. Stark?”

  The boy nodded. “While Tad and Andy yelled at each other, I was smoking inside the shed and dropped my matchstick into a bunch of old rags. Before I knew it, the shed caught fire and—”

  “Hollis, no.”

  The boy ignored his brother’s warning. “The man grabbed Tad by the hair and hurt him. I didn’t know what to do, so I hit him with the board.”

  Barrett’s pity for Hollis swelled with each word of the boy’s quiet confession.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just wanted him to let go of my brother.”

  Officer Brennan drew in an audible breath and released it in a slow exhale. “All right, boys. Come with me.” He grasped the arm of each defeated brother and led them to the door.

  Barrett extinguished the lamp in the house and walked outside. A bark drew his attention to the back and the large, shadowed shape of a dog standing by an outbuilding. The animal loped toward them and jumped up on Barrett with a familiar, exuberant friendliness. “Mr. Peters? What are you doing here?”

  “You know the dog?”

  He turned to the officer. “He belongs to Sarah Jane Westin.”

  Mr. Peters ran back to the shed and jumped on the door.

  Barrett ran to the building, dislodged the bar across the door, and tossed it into the grass, then he flung open the door. Seeing raised arms wielding a large paint can—he jerked back. “Whoa! Edy, it’s me.”

  “Barrett?” She dropped the can and rushed into his arms.

  The blood pounding in Barrett’s eardrums had almost drowned out the voice he knew better than anyone else’s, the one he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “Are you all right?”

  Any compassion he’d felt for the Larson boys dissolved. Aware of Edy’s fear of dark places, he had in mind to shake each brother until his teeth rattled. The Trouble Brothers, indeed. What she must have endured in the pitch blackness.

  “Yes.” She gasped. “Andy.”

  When she turned around and faded into the darkness of the shed, he went after her.

  “Watch where you step, Barrett.”

  With the door open, moonlight illuminated the interior. He saw a large hole in the floor and a few boards thrown to the side. Andy popped up from the hole,
only his head and shoulders showing.

  Barrett helped the boy onto solid flooring. “What’s going on?”

  “Mama found a crowbar and pried up the floorboards so I could escape and open the door.”

  Amazing. “Mark told me you employed a mean crowbar.”

  Edy laughed. “I’ve discovered it’s one of my talents.” She wrapped her arms around Barrett’s neck and pressed her cold cheek against his. “I prayed someone would come. I’m so glad He sent my knight.”

  “From what I can see, I rode in too late. You, my former damsel in distress, had everything under control.”

  Officer Brennan dragged the Larsons with him to the door of the shed. “What’s this all about?”

  Edy nodded to the boys. “They locked us inside.”

  The policeman frowned at Tad. “You just keep making more problems for yourselves, don’t you? Come on.” The three of them tromped through the grass and leaves toward the carriage.

  “I had no idea you were here.” Barrett led the two of them from the shed and scanned the area, seeing no horse and buggy but his. “Surely you didn’t walk.”

  “Andy did. I drove here looking for him.” She turned toward the boys. “Where is my horse and gig?”

  Tad jerked to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. “In the woods.”

  The scattered clothes. The burlap sack. Barrett ventured a question. “Were you planning to steal the vehicle and leave town?”

  “No. We figured to borrow it to look for our pa.”

  Edy caught Barrett’s arm. “Let’s leave it be for now. I want to get Andy home before...” Her voice faded.

  “Don’t worry about Andy.” Barrett scuffed the boy’s hair. “The Larson brothers admitted everything. We’ll talk to the judge tomorrow. I have a feeling you won’t be going anywhere, son.” Son. He wanted to spend the rest of his life saying it.

  Andy let out a whoop.

  Edy’s hold on Barrett’s arm tightened. “How did you get them to tell the truth?”

  “Timmy gets the credit for taking Andy’s fingerprints. I remembered the scar I saw on Andy’s thumb and knew that if his prints weren’t on that board it would give Officer Brennan reason to doubt the Larson boys’ story.”

  “You took a chance that Andy hadn’t touched it.”

  “I believed him when he said he hadn’t. Compared to the alternative, it didn’t seem much of a risk.”

  “Thank you for not walking out on us. I’m sorry for implying we didn’t need you.”

  “You were worried about your son, and I deserved it, because I did walk out on you for a time—emotionally. But I’m back, Edy. I’m back to stay.”

  EDYTHE STRETCHED HER legs, relaxing on the blanket she’d spread over the grass a few yards from their spot on the river. Childhood laughter rang out, a carefree laughter she’d missed for too long. Finally, her children experienced the freedom due their younger years—the freedom to be children.

  As she’d done often since leaving that horrid shed, she shut her eyes and praised her merciful heavenly Father, who had worked everything out for the good of her family.

  Barrett sat on the blanket next to her. He stared off across the river. “How are things going with your father?”

  “He rules the roost as always, but life is better—more peaceful.” She smiled. “He tries to be less demanding, and I try to be respectful but firm. So far, we’ve done well to meet in the middle.”

  Barrett pointed to Andy and her father fishing side by side from the riverbank. “That looks promising.”

  “It’s a fragile truce. Andy hasn’t completely forgiven him for the years of callousness, and I’m not sure the judge knows how to fully atone for what he’s done.”

  “Change takes time. What he’s doing now will go a long way in bringing them back together.”

  Hope sprang up inside at Barrett’s mention of change. “You and my father are on pleasanter terms.”

  “As with Andy, it’s a fragile truce, but I think we understand one another better.”

  “I’m glad.” With time, they might all understand one another better. “How are the Quincys?”

  “Happy to have the ordeal over. Hopefully, the police find Osbourne soon. He’s wreaked too much havoc in this town and on the people he’s come in contact with. I’ll be looking for him, along with the police.”

  Edythe stared out over the water, accepting his need to bring the guilty to justice. “Even with all the anger my family has experienced, it’s hard to imagine a child murdering a parent. I feel sorry for Mrs. Dulong. She’s lost both a husband and a son.” Edythe thanked God she hadn’t found herself in the same situation.

  “Unfortunately, she’d spoiled him. It’s now a case of reaping what’s been sown.”

  “Parents walk a fine line between too much and not enough discipline. It’s hard to determine when to constrain a child’s activities and when to turn him loose to discover his own path.” Mrs. Dulong was too lenient with her son. The Larson boys’ father both abusive and neglectful. Edythe’s father? He meant well...much of the time. And her? She was learning to discipline her children with resolve while tempering it with love and grace. “What will happen to Tad and Hollis?”

  “I’m afraid their ending won’t be as happy as Jeremiah and Mary’s. Like Osbourne, they’ve done a lot of damage to themselves and others.”

  Andy’s repentance before the judge earned him a lecture for not telling the truth earlier. He was sent home with the instruction to mind his p’s and q’s. The Larson boys still had to learn their fate. “Do you think they will go to the reform school?”

  “It’s almost certain, especially since the police haven’t located their father.” Barrett grasped her hand, his gaze uncertain. “Would it upset you if I helped them?”

  Edythe explored her feelings on the matter. “While part of me remains angry over what they did to my children, I pity them for their upbringing. I’m sure it wasn’t easy and contributed to their cruelty toward others.”

  “No one could claim they’re angels, but if it makes you feel better, I believe Tad’s painting the bullseye on Snowman and locking you and Andy in the shed were meant to protect his brother, who struck Mr. Stark out of panic.”

  “Hollis also set fire to the Starks’ shed.”

  “With the help of oily rags and a dropped matchstick. An accident. Hollis isn’t a bad child. I think the smoking was a way to please Tad. I know what it’s like to look up to an older brother.”

  Barrett had told her of Wynn’s confession and that he understood her promise to keep it to herself. Together, they mourned his brother’s loss.

  Edythe was struck by both the beauty and risk involved in relationships. None were perfect. Some were destructive. Others suffered from misunderstandings. Those worthy of fighting for required the courage and determination to do so.

  “In answer to your question, no, it won’t upset me. Do your best for those boys.”

  He clasped her hand. “You are one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I admire you for it.”

  “Only admiration?” She waited to see if he’d recognize the question he’d asked her the day of the bicycle-riding lesson.

  His lips twitched, telling her he had made the connection. “It was never only admiration, Edy.”

  He left off the part that told her it would never be only admiration, but she had to know. “Do you love me in the same way you did years ago?”

  He drew back in feigned shock. “This newfound boldness is quite staggering, Mrs. Westin. At the same time, it’s charming.”

  “Learning my boldness charms you doesn’t answer my question.” She held her breath, longing for him to acknowledge the rekindling of the trust between them—the foundation for a solid love.

  Barrett’s grin slipped into a frown. “The truth is I’m no longer the same young man, Edy.”

  His response squeezed her insides until they ached. Her head dipped. “I see.”

  He caught her chin and
tilted her head upward until she was forced to look into those beautiful umber eyes. Their gaze bore into hers with a passion and earnestness he’d never shown her in their younger years. “See this, Mrs. Westin. See the depth of my feelings for you. I don’t want to love you the way I did then. I want to love you better. I want to love you as a grown man—a man of maturity. A man of forgiveness. Time and experience have taught me the fragility of the bonds that tie two people together and the dedication and communication it takes to keep those bonds from breaking. I want to love you for as long as we live. I do, and I will.”

  Her spirit soared. “I’ve changed, too, Barrett. I don’t love you as someone who needs a protector or a refuge. I love you as a woman seeking to be a helpmeet, a partner in life...if you’ll have me.”

  Her father paused in passing them on his way from the riverbank. “Oh, for crying out loud, Seaton. Kiss my daughter and get it over with.”

  Edythe grinned when her father winked at her and hiked away. He might often be irascible, but at this moment she appreciated his peevishness.

  Barrett grimaced. “As I said, a fragile truce. I don’t think the judge and I will ever see eye to eye on most things.” He leaned closer. “But I’ll admit, in this instance, we’re in agreement.”

  With a slight tilt of his head, his lips touched hers with restrained tenderness, as though he waited for her to pull away. She gripped the front of his shirt and urged him closer, issuing her own demand—one he met until her head swam with giddiness.

  A wet tongue slurped over her ear and temple. To the hoots and claps of three children, she wrenched away from Mr. Peters’ effort to join in on the kiss.

  Barrett laughed and handed her a handkerchief, then he jumped up and chased both squealing boys into the water, shouting merry claims to dunk them.

  Edythe’s father stood off to the side, his mouth puckered but unable to hide the hint of a grin peeking from within his mustache.

  This was the future. Through good times and bad, this was family. This was love.

  Have you missed any of the books in the Widow’s Might Series?