A sob climbed up her throat and tears welled in her eyes as she gazed wildly around the room as if seeking some hint of his presence. No, please, Lord, not without saying goodbye?
But the flowers still sat on the ledge. His bedside table was still cluttered with his personal effects. A book. The Bible. His photo album.
Becky swiped the tears from her eyes and picked it up. She flipped through it, surprise edged with confused excitement sweeping through her. There was page after page of different pictures.
All pictures of her.
“Hey, Becky.”
She spun around at the sound of Rick’s heart-stopping voice.
Colson was pushing Rick in the wheelchair into his room.
“You’re still here. You didn’t leave.” She fell back against the bed, relief sapping the strength from her knees.
“No. I’ve still got a magazine to run.” Rick motioned to his grandfather who nodded, smiled at Becky and left the two of them alone.
Then Rick pushed himself up from his chair and walked carefully toward her.
“Rick, be careful,” she said, stretching her hand out to him, unsure of how to help him. His ribs would still be sore and his one arm was in a sling.
“I’m not going to break,” he said quietly, coming to stand at her side. He looked down at the photo album in her hands. “I see you found the pictures.”
Becky couldn’t stop the blush that warmed her neck and cheeks as she laid it aside. “I thought it was your other album. The one with the travel pictures in it. I wanted to look through it again.”
“Why?”
“I was thinking of planning a trip. Maybe going somewhere once I have some free time.”
“Would you go alone?”
“I’m not a brave traveler, so I doubt it.”
“If you need a guide…” Rick let the sentence hang, and Becky felt a sliver of happiness pierce her heart.
“I might take you up on that.”
Rick faltered and Becky caught him by the arm. “You better sit down.”
He walked to the chairs by the window and carefully lowered himself into one. “I feel a little wobbly yet. Physically anyhow.”
Becky smiled and sat down beside him, trying to figure out where to take the conversation next. She wanted to ask him about the pictures. Wanted to ask him why he didn’t leave.
“I was talking to Trixie this morning.” Work was always safe. “About our financial situation. She said there was a large deposit made yesterday. For now we don’t know where it came from, but it sure is an answer to prayer. Do you know anything about it?”
“I confess,” Rick said, taking her hand in his, “I got Grandfather Colson to move some from a trust account he set up for me. A trust account I was always too proud to use because it came from him.”
“But that’s your future.”
Rick ran his finger over the back of her hand, sending light shivers up her arm. She tried to concentrate. Couldn’t.
“I decided to move it to a different future.” He looked up at her and tilted a crooked smile her way. “If there is one.”
Becky kept her eyes on his face, hardly daring to breathe.
“Becky, I’m sorry about the interview with Jake,” he said quietly. “Sorry for pushing you into a place you didn’t want to go. I was wrong to make demands. I was letting my own emotions get in the way.” He laughed lightly. “I want you to write the article the way you want it written.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She captured his hand in hers, questions she hadn’t dared voice before finally bubbling to the surface. “Was the magazine the only reason you didn’t go back to Toronto?”
Rick shook his head, twining his fingers through hers. “The magazine was an excuse.” He paused, then stood and pulled her to her feet. “You’re the reason, Becky. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I couldn’t think about leaving you.”
A soft flame kindled deep within her. “I love you,” she said simply.
Rick’s eyes drifted shut and his arms came around her, pulling her toward him. He winced but wouldn’t let go. He buried his face in her hair, his one arm holding her, his other hand tangling in her hair. “I’m not worthy of you. But I love you, and by God’s grace I will take care of you and become a person you deserve.”
Becky swallowed the emotions that surged through her. “You’ve got it wrong, Rick,” she said, carefully laying her head on his shoulder, holding him as close as she dared. “I don’t deserve you.”
Rick caught her head in his hands, turning her face toward his. “Don’t say that. I’m the undeserving one. I’m the one who was running away from God. And now I feel like I’m in a place I want to stay a while.”
He touched his lips to hers and Becky felt a gentle peace sift through her.
“But not too long.”
Rick drew back, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a world out there, remember. You told me you would be my guide. Don’t tell me I’ve downsized my Day-Timer for nothing.”
Rick laughed. Kissed her again. “And it sounds like you’re going to be filling up mine.”
“It’s all about balance, isn’t it? Balance and stepping outside of my comfort zone.” Becky said, holding his beloved face between her hands. “You’ve shown me that.”
“I’m glad I’ve shown you something.” His expression became serious. “I’m glad I came here, Becky. Even though I resented what my grandfather had done in my life, God was using him. I’m so thankful for that.”
Then he touched her lips with his, as if sealing his declaration.
“Has someone been going through my stuff?” Rick looked around his office, his lips curved in a half smile as he limped into the room.
“I needed to get at some papers,” Becky said, walking to his desk. “And I left this here to show you.”
Rick followed her, recognizing the binder that lay there.
“This is the final proof of the magazine that will be coming out. Jake’s interview is in here.”
Rick felt a tingle drift down his spine. He had trusted Becky with this. She had said nothing about it, given him no hint as to what it was about and he hadn’t asked.
Now he would find out what she’d done with it.
He flipped through the pages, a gentle thrill of pride surging through him. It was a good-looking magazine, considering the budget restraints they had to work under.
He skimmed over the Triple Bar J article, taking a moment to appreciate the pictures. “This looks really good.”
“I think so,” Becky said quietly.
And then, there it was. The garden photos Rick took were pasted in a montage down one side of the article, creating a sense of energy from the pastoral pictures. “Who did this?”
“Cliff. I let him go with it.”
“Nice job.” Rick glanced back to the headline. Seemed innocuous enough. Then he started reading.
And as he did, he realized that the article Becky had written had become a perfect blend of the two of them. She had injected a gentle humor and emotion he never could, but at the same time he could hear his own voice woven through. And then, down toward the end of the article, he read it.
The facts of Jake’s life written in the same, gently honest style. Written in a way that he knew he never could have done on his own, yet not in a way Becky would have written in the first month he had started at the magazine.
“How did you do this?” he asked, amazed at what he was reading.
Becky shrugged lightly, straightening a picture on the desk. “I tried to look at things from both points of view. When you told me what had happened to you, I tried to put myself in your place. Then I blended that in with what I knew of Jake and mixed in your voice.” She slipped her hands into her pockets, rocking on the heels of her feet. “When I phoned Jake about mentioning Kerra in the article, he was understandably reluctant, but in the end seemed relieved. He trusted me with a lot. He’s a good
man, Rick. I wanted that to come out, as well.”
“You showed that. You did an amazing job.” Rick closed the binder and smiled at her. “It’s a great article, Becky. You have a gift.”
Becky said nothing, but the faint blush on her cheeks told him more than any words could have.
He moved toward her and took her carefully into his arms. “Am I going to be sued for harassment if the publisher kisses the editor?”
“Seeing as how the publisher has a picture of the editor on his desk, I suppose I might allow it,” Becky said with a light laugh, locking her hands behind his neck.
Rick grinned down at her, allowing himself a moment of pure joy. Then he kissed her.
Then Becky drew away.
“So what?” He wasn’t so confident that her withdrawal didn’t give him his own second thoughts about how she felt about him.
Becky twirled his hair in her fingers. “I was thinking that once Going West gets off the ground, financially, I might go to part-time hours. I have an idea for a book that’s been germinating. Something you got me started on.”
“Becky, I shouldn’t have said…”
She laid her finger on his mouth. “Don’t get all diplomatic on me now. You were right about my book. And a few other things.”
“Such as…”
“I needed to be truer in my writing. More honest.” She grinned up at him then, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe I’ll take a page out of Runaround Sue’s book. So something light. First person.”
Rick caught her by the arms and gave her a light shake. “So who is this lady anyhow?”
“And I’d like you to help me with the book,” Becky said, avoiding his question.
“I’m flattered. Now, Becky,” he said injecting a warning note in his voice, “tell me who Sue is.”
“Okay.” She sighed and cut him a quick glance. “It’s me.”
“You stinker—”
She stood up on tiptoe and silenced him with a kiss. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Rick looked down at her and couldn’t help but laugh. Which immediately sent a surge of pain through his chest.
“Oh, honey,” Becky said, drawing back, her hands fluttering over his face, his shirt. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” he said with a smile. “And I’m getting better all the time. Especially now that I know your deepest secrets.”
“Well, that will take longer than a few days to sort those out.”
“You have more?”
Becky bracketed his face with her hands. “All kinds. Like a yearning to do some traveling. To spread my wings a little.”
Rick shook his head. “I can see that life with you is going to be a series of surprises.”
“‘…love…an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken,’” Becky quoted softly.
“I like that. Who said that?”
“Shakespeare, in one of his sonnets.”
“And you are also an intellectual.”
Becky laughed. “You make me feel like I can be better than I am.”
“I don’t know. I love you just the way you are. But I’m hoping we can grow together. That our partnership will be rooted and grounded in God’s love.”
“I hope so, too,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.
Epilogue
“I want to propose a toast to the bride and groom.” A man’s voice rang above the din of voices echoing through the orchard. “Would someone please find Rick and Becky?”
“I guess that’s us,” Rick said, pulling Becky to him in a quick hug.
“We could stay here.” Becky settled back against a large tree branch. She had shed her veil shortly after their wedding pictures were taken, but kept the wreath of flowers pinned in her hair. She looked like a woodland nymph in her flowing white dress, the diffused sunlight glinting in her hair.
“Sounds tempting,” Rick said, shifting his weight. “You sure these branches will hold us up?”
“For a while anyhow, though I imagine sooner or later we’ll have to make an appearance.” Becky brushed a stray leaf off his shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t rip that tux climbing down.”
Rick smiled at her and was about to give her another kiss.
Then he heard light footsteps below and a face came into view through the branches. “Aha. There you are.” Leanne looked up at them. “I figured you’d be here.”
Rick looked at Becky and shrugged. “Guess not such a good hiding place after all.”
Rick kissed her anyway. Just because he could. Then he helped his new wife out of the tree.
“I can’t believe you went climbing in that dress,” Leanne chided, fluffing out the wispy silk, fussily brushing stray leaves out of her sister’s hair.
“Leave those,” Rick said, stopping his sister-in-law. “I like how that looks.”
“Such a romantic.” Leanne gave them both a light push in the direction of the yard. “Now, you handsome couple, get moving. Dennis has been working on this toast for days.”
Becky slipped her arm around Rick and together they walked through the orchard to the opening where their families and friends had gathered for the reception.
“There they are.”
“Where were you?”
“Hiding on your own wedding.”
While Cora fussed with Becky’s dress, Rick looked around at the gathering. Colette caught his eye and winked at him. Sam raised a glass in their direction. His grandfather sat to one side listening to Diene who had pulled up a chair beside him. They were both smiling, as if pleased to renew an old acquaintance with a hint of more to come.
They were surrounded by family and friends, all gathered in this orchard to wish them well. To celebrate with them. Rick’s heart filled with love and gratitude. If he lived to be a hundred, he didn’t know if it would be long enough to express his thankfulness to God for what he had received when he had reluctantly come to this place.
Becky slipped her arm around his waist. “Hey, you’re looking mighty serious.”
He looked down at his wife and once again marveled at her love for him. His love for her. “I’m just thankful, is all. Thankful for the paths my life took that finally brought me here.”
“It was a roundabout trip if you include Malta and Thailand.”
“And all the other places between.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “But here I am and here I stay.”
“I love you, Rick Ethier.”
“And I love you, Becky Ethier.”
“Okay, enough mooning. I have to present this toast,” Dennis called out. He cleared his throat and raised a shaky glass in their direction. “Rick. Becky. This is my toast to you. May the arguments be short and the reconciliations long. May your happiness be great and your sorrows few. May your roots go deep and your branches reach out far. May your hands be empty and your hearts full. And may all the paths you take, always lead you home. To God’s place for your hearts.”
“Amen to that,” Rick whispered.
Then, in the shade of trees planted before they were born, Rick took Becky, his wife, into his arms and held her close.
Close to his heart, thankful he had found a place in hers.
Below is an excerpt from a new series called Family Ties
Chapter One
“Better slow down, Son,” Zach said, one hand on the dashboard as if to brace himself against his son’s crazy driving. “You don't need to be going full tilt down these slushy roads.”
"I should probably drive faster,” Kane replied, leaning sideways to look past the cattle liner he’d been trying to pass for the last mile. “You know I need to get that electric fence up and running before Joe and I can move those bulls into the pasture.”
Kane fought down the panic of too many jobs piling up. Fences to be fixed. Cows to calve. Barns to muck out and decades of machinery, parts, and tools, even old furniture to sort for the potential auction.
He and the hired hand only had a c
ouple of months to do it all before Kane had to go back to his job in the oil field.
And then they would sell the ranch.
Those last words resounded in his head, off-key and dissonant.
"You're lucky most of the snow is melted," Zach said as he leaned back in the seat, grimacing. "Roads would be trickier to drive this fast otherwise."
"Got it, Dad,” Kane acknowledged, giving him a tight smile while fighting down a beat of annoyance.
It seemed everything bothered him lately, and he didn't like that feeling. Sunday's sermon had been on seeing grace in the small moments; but for the past few years it seemed grace had been elusive. Bitter memories, broken dreams, and lost chances haunted him, and he’d spent the past two years burying the pain beneath long hours at work.
The truck’s wipers slapped back and forth, fending off the spray spitting up from the lumbering cattle liner’s tires. Kane slowed in deference to his father’s wishes, pulling back from it. They rounded a tight corner then, and just ahead of the semi he saw a woman standing on the side of the road, her arms crossed, a suitcase and something else lying on the shoulder beside her. Kane slowed down as the truck ahead of him swerved to avoid her. But, in the process, it hit a huge puddle, sending a spray of muddy water over the poor woman.
She threw her arms up to shield herself, but she still got drenched.
"Whoa. Stop," Kane’s father said, but not before they went through the same puddle.
Kane eased onto the shoulder.
"You splashed her," his father said, his tone accusing.
"Yeah. Thanks, Dad. I know. I saw her too late." Kane already felt horrible. He didn't need his father adding to his guilt.
Kane piled out of the truck and approached the sopping girl, who was pushing her wet hair from her face. A cool spring breeze kicked up, whistling across the open field, and he saw her stiffen at the chill.
"I’m so sorry," Kane called out, hurrying toward her. “Are you okay?”
His steps faltered when she picked up the guitar case at her side, brushing water from it.
Memories assaulted his mind at the sight of her pale skin, dark hair, and slight figure. Though drenched and dirty, Faith Howard’s stunning profile was unmistakable and sent his heart racing with old attraction and emotions. It had been two lonely years since she’d walked away, choosing his brother over him. She had broken their engagement and with it, Kane’s heart.
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