Chapter Seventeen
“What is the meaning of this?” Luke demanded. There was an immediate change in his demeanor, and Madelaine knew that wasn’t good. He looked angry, outraged even.
“It’s my fault,” Evelyn said as she stepped in front of Madelaine.
Luke stared at her, clearly bewildered. “Then explain yourself! How do you know his address?”
“He wrote to me shortly after he left,” Evelyn explained hesitantly. “He gave it to me in case I ever wanted to contact him.”
“And you did?” Luke spat angrily. “You know how I feel about him…”
Madelaine knew some of the story about what had happened between Luke and Timothy, but she didn’t fully understand why Luke had such a strong reaction.
She was allowed to write to her father’s best friend if she wanted to.
She had told him a while ago that she was looking for him, so this shouldn’t come as such a surprise.
“How long?” Luke yelled, waving the letter directly in front of Evelyn’s face.
“How long have you been writing to him behind my back?” He directed his wrath at his cousin, but it was Madelaine’s letter he crumpled in his tight fist, and she’d had enough.
Madelaine stepped forward and ripped the piece of paper out of his hand.
She also saw out of the corner of her eye how Caleb took Belle and ushered Simon down the hallway, away from the argument. She would thank him later.
“She didn’t write this!” Madelaine said firmly. “I did, so stop yelling at her!”
“You don’t understand. You don’t really know what happened,” Luke said dismissively to her, but Madelaine was just as furious at his behavior as he seemed to be at Evelyn’s.
“I told her,” Evelyn said, raising her chin slightly. “She does know.”
“What?” This seemed to make Luke even more irate, his gaze jumping back and forth between Evelyn and Madelaine. “What did you tell her?”
“I’m sorry, Luke…” Evelyn pleaded with him, but when she tried to put her hands on his arm, he shrugged her off. Then he turned toward Madelaine.
“So, you knew that he and I don’t see eye to eye, and you still chose to contact him?” he growled, and Madelaine could see that he was seething. “Without asking me first? I am your husband!” An angry vein on his forehead seemed ready to pop.
“I am not your prisoner, Sheriff Cross!” Madelaine countered, equally loud. “I do not need your permission to write to my father’s closest friend. I can write to him if I want to. You knew I was looking for him!”
“But you don’t need him anymore!” Luke yelled. “I’m here to help you now!” His voice broke, and he turned away. Madelaine watched him, and as outraged as he seemed to be, there was also something else. Luke seemed to be genuinely hurt by this.
However, that didn’t justify his rude behavior. She wouldn’t stand for this.
“I wanted to speak to him, regardless,” Madelaine explained with conviction. “He knew my father very well. He knew our ranch and our business very well. I wanted to write to him to find out if he’s all right, and if he’s willing to help me with Phineas.”
Luke snapped. His nostrils flared as he spun around and stared her down.
“That is my job now!” His mouth twitched, and he seemed to be seconds away from baring his teeth like a wild animal. Before he lost control, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room without saying another word.
***
Many hours had passed since Luke had left the house. It had gotten dark, and he hadn’t come home for dinner. They had waited almost an hour for him to return, but he hadn’t, so they ate without him.
She and Evelyn were in the kitchen doing the dishes, while Caleb kept Simon and Belle occupied in the dining room.
“I am so very sorry that this happened, Maddie,” Evelyn said for the hundredth time as she handed her another plate to dry.
“Would you please stop apologizing? You haven’t done anything wrong!” Madelaine said as she forced herself to stay calm. “His reaction was completely uncalled for, no matter how bad their relationship is! He needs to apologize. Not you!”
“I shouldn’t have gotten involved…”
“No, Evelyn. It was very nice of you to give me that option. I can think for myself, and I appreciate you telling me.” Madelaine dried the plate and put it on top of the other clean ones.
“Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
It’s too depressing. We need to lighten the mood, don’t you think? ”
Evelyn nodded but didn’t say anything else. When the women finished cleaning the kitchen, Belle was fast asleep in Caleb’s arms, and Simon could barely keep his eyes open, so Madelaine and Evelyn took the children to bed. As they tucked them in, both women prayed with them. It was Evelyn who spoke.
“Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for our family and all the good things You provided for us today. Thank You for our food, for our home, and the love that surrounds us. We are forever grateful. Please forgive those who are not walking on Your path, protect them, and keep them safe. As we sleep tonight, remind us of Your goodness, and help us wake up with a thankful heart tomorrow. Amen.”
Madelaine smiled at her friend. “That was beautiful, Evy.”
“Remember when you said you wanted to lighten the mood?” Evelyn asked then. “Well, I might have an idea. But you will have to allow me a few minutes so I can go and get it.”
Madelaine raised her eyebrows, wondering what Evelyn was talking about. “Yes, of course. Take all the time you need.”
While Madelaine was waiting, she pulled out her mother’s Bible and read it for a while. She found a passage which couldn’t have been more appropriate, given the fight they just had because of the apparent rift between Luke and Timothy.
Colossians 3:13—“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
When Madelaine walked back out into the dining room, she found Evelyn standing in front of the large table, taking various items out of a small box.
“What’s this?” Madelaine asked as she stepped closer.
“This, my friend, is something very, very special, indeed.” Evelyn held up a small white piece of fabric with dainty embroidery on it. “This belonged to Isabelle.”
Madelaine’s lips formed a silent O as she carefully took the piece into her hands. There were several of them, each depicting a different kind of flower stitched into it with a very skilled and steady hand.
“These are beautiful!” Madelaine said reverently as they laid them all out on the table. “And these were all made by Isabelle?”
“Yes. She was very good at needlework,” Evelyn said with a melancholic expression.
“During the first year of our marriages, she and I worked on two quilts. They were supposed to be gifts for both of our husbands. I made one for Caleb, and Issy made one for Luke. Well, she’d started it, as you can see here…
but when she had John, she barely had time to sit down and work on it.
She’d often mentioned how she desperately wanted to finish the quilt, but she didn’t have a spare minute. ”
Madelaine admired the quality of the work. “What a shame,” Madelaine said as she held up another square piece with two embroidered roses on it. “You can see that she put a lot of work into these.”
Evelyn smiled, but her eyes were sad. “She did. She poured all her love for her husband into every single square. That’s the reason I wanted to finish the quilt for her, so it could be gifted to Luke.
I have started with these pieces, here,” Evelyn said as she unfolded a larger sample of squares which had been sown together.
“But after their deaths…” She swallowed hard, and Madelaine put her hand on her arm. “I just couldn’t bring myself to look at them long enough to finish it.”
Madelaine touched another purple flower with her fingertips. “It’s a blessing that these pieces still exist, and I truly feel grateful that you brought them here to show me, Evy.”
“I think you should finish the quilt,” Evelyn said. “You’re his wife now. I don’t think I have it in me to finish it. But these pieces deserve it. I think it would be a beautiful gift for Luke.”
Madelaine looked up in surprise and saw the moisture in Evelyn’s eyes. “Are you sure? My needlework isn’t as good. I might ruin Isabelle’s hard work.”
“It’s clear to me that God sent you here,” Evelyn said as she grabbed Madelaine’s hand with both of hers, squeezing it tightly.
“And He obviously saved these pieces for a reason. Maybe they are the key to help Luke heal. Maybe this was His plan all along. I don’t know.
It just feels right. Isabelle deserves to be remembered this way. ”
***
It was late morning when Madelaine sat in her room, sorting out the different fabric pieces on top of her bed.
It was snowing again, and Belle and Simon were playing on the floor.
It had been a peaceful start to the day, although Luke still hadn’t shown his face at breakfast, and Madelaine started to wonder where he was.
For now, she wanted to focus on this new project. If she worked hard, maybe she’d be able to finish it by Christmas. Evelyn had been so kind as to provide extra needles and thread so she could begin immediately.
Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.
“Madelaine?” Luke’s voice came from the other side.
Panicked, she began stuffing the fabric pieces back into the box.
“Are you decent?” he asked, which made her scrunch her nose.
What did he think of her? At this time of day, she would most certainly not be in a state of undress like some lazy scallywag. She covered the box roughly with a blanket, marched to the door, and swung it wide open.
“What do you think? Of course I am!” she exclaimed.
Luke jumped at her abrupt response. He looked rough.
His beard was messy, his hazel eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles underneath them, as if he hadn’t slept a wink.
He still wore the same clothes as he had last night when he’d left.
When he stepped closer to her, she could smell a whiff of alcohol on his breath. Had he been drinking?
Seeing him like this, her heart went out to him. One thing Madelaine was never good at was holding a grudge.
“Are you all right?” she asked, slightly worried, although she did fold her arms in front of her chest defensively.
He lowered his head as he nodded. “Yes, I’m fine,” he spoke softly, and Madelaine knew that he felt bad. The way he’d taken off his Stetson, turning the rim in endless circles in his hands while he actively avoided her eyes, gave it away.
“Well?” she asked.
He sighed a deep breath, straightened to his full, impressive height, and was about to say something when his gaze shot past her head, focusing on something behind her.
Madelaine spun around. The blanket had slipped off the box, revealing one of the embroidery squares. When she turned back around to Luke, he stared at her, gaping. Then he walked straight past her, bent over the bed, and stared at the fabric square. He began pulling them out, one by one.
“Those are… Where did you get these? How did you get these…?”
Madelaine thought that it might be shocking for Luke to see his late wife’s work right there in front of him, so she prepared herself to speak gently and empathetically to him.
But when he turned around to her, his face was pulled into a tight scowl, and he looked furious—not wounded.
Madelaine was utterly perplexed by his reaction.
Evelyn stuck her face through the door with a bright smile. “Good morning, Luke. Would you like a cof—…?” As soon as she stepped into the room, her smile vanished.
“What is this?” Luke’s hands were balled into fists as he held two of the fabric squares up. “These belonged to her… or not?” He stared at Evelyn now. His confusion was written all over his face.
Evelyn could only nod.
“How did they end up here?” Luke clearly lost his struggle to remain calm.
“Issy would have wanted me to…” Evelyn began, but Luke interrupted her a second time.
“How dare you? What right do you think you have to touch anything of hers?” His voice became increasingly louder. Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up.
“What? She was my best friend, and—” she tried to defend herself, but Luke’s outrage found a new target when he turned his anger toward Madelaine. “How many more lies and deceptions must I discover, Madelaine?”
“I gave them to her!” Evelyn exclaimed, but Madelaine had reached a point where she didn’t want her friend to fight her fights anymore.
“All these secrets! What is wrong with you two?!” Luke’s voice was booming like thunder now, and Belle began to cry. So did Madelaine, but it was not out of sadness. She was furious.
Yet again, Luke’s reaction was utterly ridiculous, and Madelaine was so angry that her whole body shook. She asked Evelyn to take the children out of the room, and she did.
“What is wrong with you?” Madelaine screamed. “Why are you always mad? Why is everything I do always wrong?”
“This is my wife Isabelle’s embroidery! It shouldn’t even be here!” he countered through gritted teeth.
“I am your wife now!” Madelaine yelled at him, stomping her foot. “You can’t even have a single conversation without fighting! Maybe you wouldn’t act so irrationally if you were sober! What is your problem?”
Madelaine’s eyes were firing daggers. Luke’s hazel eyes turned dark.
He threw the crumpled fabric pieces back onto the bed. Then he stomped right past her and out of the room, straight toward the front door.
Madelaine scoffed. “Sure. Go ahead,” she said sarcastically as he swung the door wide open. “More alcohol will solve the problem. Am I right?”
He slammed the door so harshly it was a miracle that it didn’t fly off its hinges.
Madelaine exhaled a deep breath. Then she stared up at the ceiling and raised both hands toward it. “Why, God? Why, oh, why did you send me such a difficult man?”