Chapter 18
Eighteen
Addie flung herself into the work the Stones did in ministering to the ill, the injured, and the needy, and there was plenty of it.
An outbreak of the flu struck one of the mining camps.
Addie insisted she could handle helping Father.
Mrs. Hammel offered to assist, but Addie pointed out that Mary needed her.
Mother wanted to accompany them. Until Addie reminded her that she was still run down after her own illness, and Father urged her to stay home and rest.
The dwellings at the camp were shacks that barely protected against the weather.
No wonder so many were sick. Miners coughed.
Often, their wives and children were pale and lethargic.
Addie went from one home to the other, making medicinal tea, sponging fevered brows, and preparing broth for the sick to sip.
She stepped from the home of a sick family. A crowd of men down the hill waved their arms at Father and shouted. An angry mob was not what they needed, and she picked her way over the rough terrain to stand by Father.
“What’s wrong?”
Father sighed wearily. “That man’s wife died. He wants to blame someone. He’s gotten others riled up.”
“Us? He blames us?” She shrank back. She’d seen how irrational a crowd became, fueling anger rather than calmness.
“Not at this point,” Father assured her. “They want to storm that house—” He jabbed his thumb toward the door up the hill behind him. “The family moved here recently, and they are blaming them for bringing the illness.”
“Is it possible?”
“There is no way to know, and even if they did, how is burning them out going to change anything? But it’s easier to find someone to blame than to accept loss and move on.”
Addie nodded. She understood the need to assign blame.
Isn’t that what she’d done to Nash? Not that she hadn’t moved on. She’d done so years ago.
But now was not the time to think of him. Besides, it was too late to change anything. He’d gone to his ranch.
Remembering how Nash had faced the angry crowd back at Golden Valley, she stepped forward and held up a hand to get the attention of those gathered in front of her.
When they grew quiet, she spoke, first addressing the man whose wife had passed. “I am sorry for your loss.”
The man rumbled.
Before he spoke the angry words surely building, she continued.
“I can understand the need to do something to make things better.” Even if that wasn’t what the man had in mind.
“I believe it’s a waste of time to look for someone to blame.
This disease might have come in because of the dirty water many of you drink.
Or from some wild animal droppings. Or the bad air. ”
Some of the miners dug into the hillsides, breathing in dust and dampness. A number of unsuitable conditions were tolerated because of the desire to find gold.
“If you care to clean up any of those, that’s a good thing.
But right now, why don’t we work together to help those who are ill?
” She shifted her gaze from man to man, grateful many of them listened intently.
“Those households where everyone is sick need their wood supply replenished. They need clean water—not the stuff you’ve all tramped through in your search for gold.
Animals need to be tended. Let’s do what we can instead of wasting time over things we can’t change. ”
A man in the back yelled. “I’ll get wood for those over there.”
“I’ll help.” The men dispersed to take care of the needs. All except the man who’d lost his wife.
Addie approached him. “What can I do to help you?”
“Can you bring my wife back?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
The man seemed to shrink in stature. Then he strolled away.
Father patted Addie’s shoulder. “Look what you’ve accomplished.”
Not certain what he meant, she didn’t respond.
“You encouraged them to look for ways to help each other and move forward.” He patted her twice more. “I’m going to check on that family.” He pointed to the house he meant.
“I’m going there.” She waved in the opposite direction.
As she trotted from one home to another, she smiled. Men carried wood, chopped it, took water to a pen of chickens, and generally helped those who were sick.
Eight days later, she visited the last of those who’d been ill. Not another person had died, and the man who’d lost his wife had left the area.
“I believe it’s over,” Father said at her side. “Now it’s time for you and me to get some rest.”
Back at Golden Valley, they sank into kitchen chairs while Mrs. Hammel served them tea and Mother set out cookies.
“It’s good you were here to help Mother,” Addie said to Mrs. Hammel.
“She’s been a wonderful help.” Mother smiled at her. “And she has some news.”
Mrs. Hammel sat in a chair opposite Father. “I’ve decided to move into town.” Her lips quivered. “There’s nothing left for me at that mining shack. I’ve found a house and had my belongings moved in. I only waited for you to get back before I moved.”
Father considered the woman. “I have purchased a house for those in need. You’re welcome to live there.”
“Thank you, but I want to be independent.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I need to say goodbye to the past so I can move forward.”
“Very well. We wish you all the best. I’d like to pray for you and your future.” He bowed his head and did so.
“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d best get Mary settled in our new home.” She called Mary from their bedroom, scooped up a valise, and led the child away.
Addie stared after the woman. She thought she could leave the past and start anew. If only it was that simple. No doubt she would be surprised by how often the past returned without invitation and at the most troublesome times.
“Will she really be able to forget the past?” Addie hadn’t intended to ask the question aloud.
Father and Mother exchanged looks before Father spoke. “I don’t know that she means she can forget it, simply not let it have more importance in her life than it should.”
Addie pretended to understand.
“You’ve done that too.” Father didn’t know her past had never been forgotten, nor did he know it had recently slapped her across the face just in case she thought she’d put it behind her.
“She told me moving forward begins with forgiveness,” Mother added.
Forgiveness? Addie had always thought she’d come to terms with her parents’ murder. She’d found relief when Morton Sturm was hanged. Discovered purpose and belonging with the Stones. And then she’d met Nash. She’d opened her heart to him before she knew his identity.
Was God playing a cruel joke on her? Testing her?
That evening as she prepared for bed, she pulled out her journal and opened it to her last entry.
She began to write, letting her thoughts and concerns flow from her fingers much as she used to let her words pour out, especially to her mama.
Hi, Mama. I know you can’t read this. But I feel like I’m talking to you, and you are listening.
You were always so patient and understanding with my childish fears and concerns.
I am no longer a child, and yet I still have fears and concerns.
If anything, they’ve become bigger and more overwhelming.
I told you about the man I met—Nash—and how I learned to care about him.
He never said he loved me, but he gave me reason to think he did. He gave me hope for a future together.
She recalled how he’d held her to comfort her, how he invited her to see his ranch.
Like I said, his father was Morton Sturm. How can I look at him and not think of who his father is? Am I judging him?
After all, he hadn’t committed murder. He wasn’t even living nearby when it happened.
Not only had the Stones taught her to seek consolation in her Bible, so had her mama. She’d helped Addie memorize many verses. “If you store them up in your mind, they will come to your remembrance when you need them.”
She opened the pages of her Bible but didn’t read anything as one such verse came to the forefront. “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” The verse had been a comfort and challenge many times in her life.
Was she wasting the precious days God provided by holding to the past?
Another thought followed that, and a shout rose to her lips. She managed to hold it back. Not only was this the day the Lord had given—it was the life He’d given. One in which she should rejoice and accept the good things He’d given instead of wearing sackcloth and ashes.
Instead of overlooking the possibility that Nash loved her because she knew without a shred of uncertainty that she loved him. It was a truth she couldn’t miss once she stopped dwelling on her past.
She pulled out a sheet of paper, and her pencil flew over the page as she wrote to Nash, begging forgiveness for her harsh judgment and unforgiveness.
I’d love to see your ranch and the house you built if that invitation is still open.
How should she sign the letter?
She smiled and chuckled. Why not go all the way?
She wrote, “Love, Addie.”
Tomorrow, she’d post it, and then she’d wait for him to get his mail or for someone to take it to him.
Nash rode home, thoughts churning round and round. Shorty and his determination to win back his wife’s affection on his mind. Forgiveness or unforgivable. But the word forgive shouted the loudest.
Could Addie forgive him for simply being a Sturm?
Could he forgive—?
His thoughts jerked so hard Star wagged his head in protest.
He forgive? Forgive what?
Addie? She’d judged him because of his name. That wasn’t fair. But yes, he could forgive that. He did forgive it.
All because of the name he’d long ago abandoned.
His father’s name, not his.
His jaw creaked as it often did when he thought of his father.
His father had done evil and saddled Nash with that awful memory. Thankfully, Mama had refused to go to the trial or even admit she knew the man.
His knuckles popped with how hard he squeezed his fists.
What Morton Sturm had done was unforgivable.
Nash jolted, sending Star into a sideways prance. “Easy, boy.”
He was guilty of unforgiveness even more than Addie.
It was time to let it go so he could move forward without the burden of carrying it.
Star did not like how Nash’s thoughts sent jerks through his limbs. Nash dismounted and stood on the crest of the cliff, looking out at the jagged granite mountains and the lush undergrowth.
“They that trust in the Lord shall be as mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever.”
He believed the words were from a psalm.
For certain, they were from the Bible. Gib had often said them as he looked out at his beloved mountains.
“It means,” he’d say, “that those who trust in God will be as solid as these mountains.” Then he’d give a little chuckle.
“Even more so, for our God is a sure foundation. A rock that can’t be moved. ”
“Lord,” Nash whispered. “I forgive my father. Thank You that I wasn’t there when he did that. Thank You that Your love is not limited by what he did.” He breathed in sweet peace. “And if it be Your will, please help me win Addie’s forgiveness…and her love.”
He swung into the saddle and continued onward, leading his borrowed horse, which gave him the perfect excuse for going to Golden Valley. Not that he needed an excuse. He would be like Shorty and work at winning Addie’s heart no matter how long it took.
The streets were quiet, with only one wagon tied in front of a store. Nash rode to the livery barn, shuddering as he looked at the loft door. He delivered the horse, paid for its use, and turned toward the house where the preacher lived.
Addie stepped from the door. Nash tied Star’s reins to the nearest hitching post and trotted toward her.
His pounding footsteps alerted her, and she turned.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Then something warm replaced that look.
Was she glad to see him?
“Addie,” he said when he drew close enough to be heard.
“Nash.”
The air between them shimmered with uncertainty and, on his part, a large dose of hope.
“I’ve come to see you. I—” Whatever he’d meant to say vanished.
She waved a letter before him. “I wrote you. I was about to mail it. Here.” She thrust it into his hands. “Read it.”
He looked at the envelope.
“Not here.” She led him into a little clearing in a grove.
He broke the seal, unfolded the sheet of paper, and proceeded to read. A lump grew in his throat at her words asking for forgiveness. The lump expanded when he read her closing. Love.
“I’m so sorry for being judgmental.” Her voice wobbled. “I can’t hold on to the past and move forward.”
“I forgive you.” He choked back the lump. “I realized I needed to forgive my pa if I wanted to live a life free of that memory.”
“We’ve both had to learn about forgiveness.”
He rattled the letter. “Love, Addie?”
She lowered her head, but not before he glimpsed the red creep into her cheeks.
He caught her chin and tipped it upward, waiting for her eyes to lift to his. “Are you saying what I hope you’re saying?”
“I guess that depends. What do you hope for?”
“That love is a possibility between us.”
Her eyes shone. “I hope it is because that’s how I feel.”
“You love me?” His words were only a whisper. “Even though—”
She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “For who you are.”
He whooped, sending birds from the trees in startled protest, and pulled her into his arms. “Addie Stone, I love you with my whole heart.” He lowered his head and caught her ready lips with his.