With a sigh, he turned away from the snowy landscape beyond the window. If nothing else, it was a good sort of day to sit in his chair and read. He was halfway through The Silver Chalice by Thomas B. Costain and was enjoying it so much that he wondered why it had taken him this long to get around to reading it.
When he entered the living room, he saw Helen in her chair, her Bible held against her chest, her eyes closed. Love welled in his chest, making him forget the frustration of moments before. A love for this woman who’d shared the ups and downs of life with him. They’d weathered hard times together. They’d rejoiced together in happier moments. Many happier moments. They finished each other’s sentences and each other’s thoughts. They laughed at the same jokes. He’d been hardly more than a boy when he’d fallen in love with Helen Greyson, and through the years, the feeling had deepened and matured. It was the same and yet more. So much more. The dross had been burned away in the refiner’s fire, and what remained was pure and of great value.
He settled into his easy chair and took the novel into his lap, but he didn’t open it. His thoughts remained on his wife. Their trip to Oregon in November—cold, windy, and rainy—had been a wonderful time for the two of them. It had refreshed and uplifted them even more than he’d hoped it would. He would love to be able to take her some place new in the spring. An even better trip than blustery Oregon. A real vacation. Someplace warm. Someplace they’d never been before. Not hard to do since neither of them had traveled much. Helen’s health had been good, despite the doctor’s dire diagnosis. Unlike Andrew with his nagging back, she’d seemed her old self for many weeks.
California, he thought. That might be the place to take her. San Francisco would be fun. He’d gone to that city with Louisa during the war, but it must be a very different place over twenty-five years later. What about Los Angeles? Were they too old to enjoy Disneyland? They both liked to watch Walt Disney Presents on Sunday evenings. Maybe they would enjoy a visit to the happiest place on earth. Would Helen want to go on a roller coaster through the Matterhorn? He could almost hear her screaming, and he chuckled to himself.
“What do you find so amusing?” Helen watched him, a small smile curving her mouth.
“Nothing in particular.”
“I’ll bet.” She set her Bible on the coffee table. “Is it still snowing?”
“Not right now, but the weatherman says it’ll start up again later today.”
“I wish Grant and Charlotte didn’t have to drive in this weather.”
“I had them take the Jeep this morning. Better traction in the snow than his truck.”
Helen rose from the chair. “What do you want for lunch? Leftovers okay?”
“Sounds good. Need any help in the kitchen?”
“Heavens, no. Doesn’t take anything to warm up a stew. You sit there and enjoy your book.”
Andrew opened the novel and began to read. Very soon he’d forgotten images of Disneyland and was engrossed in the tale of Basil, a young silversmith, in the time following the death and resurrection of Jesus. Danger surrounded the character, and Andrew’s breath caught in his chest as he turned the pages.
Chapter 25
Holly didn’t go to the restaurant on Saturday morning. She needed to think and pray. Then she needed to call her dad for some advice, a task she dreaded. He’d never been keen on her marrying—almost marrying—Nathan, and he’d been even less keen when she’d allowed herself to be talked into reopening Sweet Caroline’s. He’d warned her that too much debt came with doing so. But she’d listened to Nathan instead of her dad. She could only imagine what he would say to her now when she admitted the dire straits she was in.
Thinking about Nathan Estes—which the situation at the restaurant had caused her to do more of than usual—hadn’t helped her mood. She’d fallen for Nathan quickly, had succumbed to his charms with complete abandon, believing their love would last a lifetime. She’d believed him to be all that he appeared on the surface. A good man. A Christian man. A hardworking man. An honest man. A man who would keep his promises. Learning she was wrong—horribly, terribly, utterly wrong—had been a cruel lesson. Cruel . . . and a lesson she shouldn’t let herself forget, even if her little sister did think opening her heart was a good idea.
She’d known Jed how long? A little more than a month. And in that brief time, she’d allowed him to become her friend and then to become something more. She’d laughed with him, opened up to him, kissed him. She believed him to be a good man, a Christian man, a hardworking man, an honest man, a man who kept his promises. But how could she know for certain? Based on what? Her own poor track record? How could she ever be sure about people? Everyone put their best foot forward when meeting others. No one went around announcing that they were unreliable or only a lukewarm Christian or lazy or a liar.
“I trust too easily.” Clad in a loose T-shirt and a pair of cutoff sweatpants, her hair in a messy bun, yesterday’s mascara smudged under her eyes, she walked circles around her kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand. “I’m a fool. I let my emotions blind me to the truth. I didn’t know Nathan, even after more than a year. How can I think I know Jed after a month? I have enough troubles as it is. I don’t need more.”
Sitting on a nearby stool, Pumpkin flicked her tail as if in agreement.
A knock sounded at Holly’s back door. It had to be Jed. Who else would it be at this time on a Saturday? She went to answer it, too tired and worried to care about her appearance. Judging by the way his eyes widened when he saw her, she looked even worse than she’d thought.
“Morning.” He held AJ with one arm, the little boy riding on his hip.
“Morning.”
“We’re heading out to the farm. Care to go with us?”
She shook her head.
“Gotta work?”
“No. Not today. But there are some—”
“Then come with me. With us. We won’t stay the whole day. In fact, you can decide when it’s time to leave. Half an hour. Five hours. Totally up to you. Whatever you want.”
His words tugged at her heart. She wanted to go with him in the worst way. She wanted to be in his company. She would love for him to make her laugh, hold her hand, perhaps kiss her again. She would love for him to make her forget about the financial anvil hanging over her head and the stupid mistakes she’d made.
But weren’t those the very reasons why she shouldn’t go? She couldn’t trust her judgment. She couldn’t trust her feelings. The heart was deceitful, as she’d learned the hard way. And her heart was in grave danger when it came to Jed Henning.
“I can’t go with you, Jed. I’m sorry. You and AJ have a good time.” She narrowed the opening.
“Hey, is something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Have I done something wrong?”
Tears burned in the back of her throat. “No. It’s just . . . I can’t go with you. It’s too . . . I’m not . . .” She swallowed. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.” She closed the door.
She felt the closing of her heart too. She felt it in her chest. Like a thud. Or a punch. Or a slam.
* * *
Ashley came to greet Jed as he unbuckled AJ from his car seat. Then she held out her arms. “I’ll take him, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He wasn’t about to turn down an offer of help.
AJ went to Ashley without a fuss. Maybe he was sick of his uncle already. Maybe he was ready for someone who knew more about kids. Whatever the reason, he seemed happy to be in her arms.
Holding the toddler close, Ashley frowned at Jed. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure.” He swept the area with his gaze. “Is Ben around?”
“You’ll find him on the other side of the barn.” Glancing down at the boy, she said, “Let’s go play in the yard, shall we? I’ve got some toys for you.” AJ seemed happy with the suggestion.
Jed watched them go, then swiveled on his heel. He found Ben in the small pen beyond the barn, along with a
wide-eyed dun gelding. Jed didn’t say anything when he arrived at the fence, content to watch as Ben attempted to settle the nervous animal. If only something could settle Jed.
All the way out to the farm, he’d replayed the moment when Holly had closed the door after refusing to come with him. Maybe it hadn’t been a slammed door, precisely, but it felt like it. Had he done something to cause her to withdraw from him? Had he unintentionally offended or hurt her in some way? The past few days had been crazy. No doubt about that. But what had he done in that time to take them from a reciprocated kiss on a hike in the foothills to a door closed in his face? It didn’t make sense to him. Worse, it scared him. Scared him that what had seemed a special connection between him and Holly might already be broken.
“Ashley got AJ?” Ben asked in a low voice.
It took a moment for Jed to realize the question had been directed at him. “Yeah.”
“How does it feel to be an uncle in charge?” Ben held out a hand toward the horse, keeping his words soft and soothing.
“Scary at times. But it’s getting better.”
“How’s his mom?”
“Doing better than expected, I guess. She called me this morning before I headed out here.”
Ben drew in a slow, deep breath, still watching the gelding as he took a step backward, then another and another until his back touched the gate. Only then did he turn away from the horse and leave the pen.
“What’s this guy’s story?” Jed asked, nodding at the dun.
“Not sure. Whatever happened to him, he’s skittish around people. Somebody did something bad to him. It’ll take time before he’s ready to trust again.”
Jed continued to stare at the horse. Something about the way the animal had looked at Ben made him think of Holly when she’d opened the door that morning. Skittish. Afraid. Not ready to trust.
“You okay?” Ben asked, echoing Ashley’s question from a short while before.
Jed shrugged.
“Is it Chris?”
“No.” He looked at his cousin. “Although he called me last night.”
“He did? Is he on his way back?”
“I don’t know.” He quickly told Ben about the problems with the call. “I don’t know if he heard me any better than I heard him. He may not even know about Willow. If he’d told me or Willow who he was working for or what sort of employment he’s taken, it might help us track him down. As it is . . .” He let his voice trail into silence.
“Sounds to me like he’s in a remote area. Plenty of Idaho doesn’t have good phone coverage.” Ben took a step closer to Jed. “But now tell me what’s really bothering you.”
“Holly.”
Ben’s eyebrows went up.
“I thought things were going well between us. Really well. Now, all of a sudden, she’s pulled back. On the way out here, I was trying to figure out what I might have done or said to upset her or make her mad or hurt her. I can’t think of a thing.”
His cousin remained silent but gave a small nod.
“When I saw her this morning—I asked her to come to the farm with us—she almost looked . . . I don’t know . . . afraid of me.”
“Afraid?”
Jed glanced back at the dun gelding in the pen. “Kind of like that horse was looking at you a bit ago.” He drew in a slow breath. “Not ready to trust,” he added softly.
Sunday, February 1, 1970
On that first Sunday in February, there wasn’t a bit of evidence left of the January storms that had dumped nearly a foot of snow on the farm. Warmer weather had blown into the valley, melting away the pristine white and leaving mud and barren tree branches behind. Poor Chester had been relegated to the porch until he could be bathed. Not a terrible punishment with the sun out and temperatures inching into the fifties.
After enjoying dinner with Grant, Charlotte, and Helen, Andrew went onto the porch to sit with his faithful companion. The brilliant blue of the sky almost blinded him without his dark glasses, but he was too full and too lazy to go fetch them. After about five or ten minutes, Grant joined him, taking a nearby chair.
“It’ll be planting time before we know it,” Andrew said without looking at the younger man.
“Speaking of that, Charlotte and I talked last night.” Grant paused a moment. “I’m thinking about quitting my job and working the farm full-time.”
Andrew blinked in surprise.
“I know I didn’t plan to quit this soon, but Charlotte and I have saved up quite a bit since moving in with you. And we got some money for wedding gifts that we didn’t spend. So we’re ahead of the game there. We’ll be able to give you the spring payment with no problem and still have money in reserve.”
“I wasn’t worried about your payment.”
“I know you weren’t.” Grant drew a breath. “Grandpa, you took care of your family for forty years on this farm, right? Once you were farming, you never took an outside job. Isn’t that right too? You fed and clothed your kids right through the Depression and the war years. Somehow you managed to help my dad and my aunts and uncle go to college. If I’m smart about the crops I raise and how I manage the land, I think I can take care of all of us too.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Neither.” He grinned. “Both.”
Andrew laughed softly.
“It’s what I want, Grandpa. It’s what I think I’m supposed to do. I want to spend my days here, making it better. We’re all getting along great, you and me and Grandma and Charlotte. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, I’d say we are.” There’d been no dustups between the women, no disagreements between him and Grant. He hoped it would stay that way, although human relations could be tricky when people lived in close quarters. But he kept those thoughts to himself.
“And with Charlotte working, she and I’ll still have some regular income.”
“What about when kids come along?”
Grant shrugged. “We’re not in a hurry to start a family. Maybe we’ll be ready for a baby in a couple of years or so. But not before then.”
Andrew’s thoughts drifted back in time. Helen had gotten pregnant a couple of months after their wedding. They’d been so excited, despite the economic hard times. Love had created that baby, and their joy had known no bounds. And when that baby was stillborn, arriving two months early, the loss had nearly destroyed their marriage. Only God had been able to put it back together again. Only God had been able to bring beauty from ashes.
“Grant!” Charlotte’s cry came from somewhere inside the house. “Grandpa! Come quick!”
Heart slamming against the wall of his chest, Andrew was on his feet in a flash, oblivious to pain. Grant led the way inside, where they discovered Helen on the floor in the living room, Charlotte kneeling beside her.
“Helen.” Somehow Andrew knelt too. “Helen.” She didn’t answer. He realized, even as he heard Grant calling for an ambulance, that she would never answer him again. Even so, he whispered, “Don’t leave me, my girl. Don’t go. Not yet.”
Her expression was peaceful, eyes closed, as if she’d nodded off for a nap, as if she’d wanted a rest but hadn’t wanted to walk to the bedroom.
What a fool I’ve been. What a stupid, old fool.
He’d thought himself prepared for this moment. He’d had months to prepare for it. He hadn’t wanted her to suffer a lengthy, drawn-out death full of pain. He hadn’t wanted her illness to affect her memory or leave her isolated and afraid. He’d thought if God took her quickly, suddenly, his own pain would be lessened.
How wrong could a man be?
He took hold of her still-warm hand. The skin was delicate, like parchment. He’d rarely seen her fingers this still. He was used to watching them stir something in the kitchen or knit or mend something as she sat in the living room. Busy hands. Serving hands. Loving hands. He touched the simple ring she’d worn for four decades. He’d always meant to buy her something grander.
Tears dropped from his eyes, splatting onto his wrist. He heard a groan. A moment later he realized the sound had been torn from his own chest.
Strike me down, Lord. Take me with her.
He’d known pain. He’d known loss. But this . . . Somehow he hadn’t imagined it could feel like this.
O God, let me die too.
Chapter 26
When Ashley offered to keep AJ for the rest of the day, Jed was quick to accept. He took the car seat out of his rental car, confirmed that she had everything needed to get by until she and Ben brought the boy to Boise after dinner, and then he was off. It was hard not to speed along the country roads. Everything in him wanted to get back to the house, back to Holly, as fast as possible. It was as if, with every minute that passed, he could feel her pulling farther away from him. He needed to look her in the eyes and convince her she could trust him. And if she wasn’t ready to trust him, tell her that he was willing to wait until she could.
Jed had arrived in Boise at the end of March with a heavy weight on his shoulders. He’d been worried about Laffriot and angry with his brother. Now, all of that paled beside his feelings for Holly. He wanted to be more than her friend—and he definitely wanted to be more than a tenant in the basement apartment. A week earlier they’d been on the right trajectory, as far as he was concerned. He’d thought she felt the same.
His phone rang as he began to merge with traffic onto the freeway. Since it was attached to the Bluetooth in the car, he was able to answer it, not even trying to see the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Jed, it’s me.”
“Chris?” His gaze latched onto the off-ramp about a mile up ahead. “Where are you?” He flipped on his turn signal.
“We just pulled into a tiny town called Challis. Way up in the mountains. I’ve been on a job north of here.”
“Did you get my messages?”
“No. I’m calling from a pay phone. My phone got run over by a truck. What’s going on? I know you were trying to tell me something last night when I called, but I couldn’t tell what. The connection was bad.”
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