Chapter 4 #3
That grassy mound kept rising beneath her anxious fingers.
“We followed her to the sitting room, where the man from town stood with a little black book in which he wrote notes with a stubby pencil. There was a black line on his lip from licking the pencil from time to time. Grandmother pointed to a little bookshelf and said she would take that with her. Two men carried it to the wagon. She circled the room, telling the man to take one thing after another. She pointed to Papa’s chair and Mama’s little table.
I thought she was taking all our things with us.
But then she pointed to the kitchen table and chairs and said they could be sold.
The men carried more and more things outside.
Our lives were dismantled. Bits and pieces went to Grandmother’s wagon.
The man with the black notebook took the other things.
I wondered how many destroyed homes were listed in that book. ”
For a moment, she didn’t speak, looked like she might shatter if she uttered a word. He didn’t dare touch her, even though he longed to offer comfort.
“My insides were like fragile glass, cutting me to pieces because of the way our life was being torn apart.” She paused as if lost in her painful memories.
“Debra was upset, too. When Grandmother pointed to a painting and said it was atrocious and would have to be sold, Debra jerked the picture from the wall and wouldn’t let her have it.
Our mama’s mother painted it, and it was special to all of us. ”
Amelia shook her head. “I had never seen Debra so angry, so ready to do battle. You have to understand that Debra was normally gentle and sweet.”
Recognizing Amelia’s pain and being far too familiar with how much it hurt to lose loved ones, Zach eased his arm closer at an incredible urge to hold her and speak words to ease her strained expression.
But they were strangers, even though she had the advantage of knowing him through those letters.
She sucked in air as if she’d forgotten to breathe.
“Grandmother let us keep the picture. I think she realized if she insisted on selling it, Debra would have fought her. My insides trembled through all this, and then I had a fearsome thought. What was happening to our animals? Grandmother said Mr. Earnest would take care of them. I thought she meant until we came back, but Grandmother said we wouldn’t be coming back.
The news almost slammed me to the ground.
I raced out to big, gentle Pierre and leaned my face against his shoulder.
I loved the farm. I think, in the back of my mind, I’ve always hoped we’d get back to one like we had. ”
Amelia was silent, and Zach waited. Had she finished?
She drew in a long breath. “Debra followed me, and she said if she had a gun, she would shoot him. I knew she meant Pierre, and I clung to the horse’s leg and asked why she would do that.
She said because our parents were dead and our home was being torn apart, and we had to go live with Grandmother, all because the stupid horse was scared of a train whistle. ”
Shudders shook Amelia. Then she rushed on as if she must get the entire story out.
“I tried to make it seem better and pointed out that train whistles are loud and, besides, what was wrong with living with Grandmother? I wanted so much for things to be simple. I’ll never forget her answer.”
When Amelia fell silent, he cleared his closed-over throat. “What did she say?”
“She said, ‘I guess you’ll have to grow up now, Amelia.’” Amelia sighed. “Debra saw the tears on my cheeks and said she guessed she would have to as well. No more being coddled by Mama and Papa.”
She offered an uncertain smile. “I knew she meant herself. She was prettier than I with shiny blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Mama and Papa were always so proud and pleased with her, and she knew it.”
Did the weary sigh mean something? Or was she only relaying facts that sometimes hurt?
The death of her parents, the dismantling of their home, and the comparison to a sister she judged to be prettier.
Was that her assessment or that of their parents and grandmother?
And of visitors? Did little old ladies at church touch Debra’s hair and comment on her beauty?
Zach listened to the sad story, unable to reassure her.
He ached for comfort, too. Since his ma’s death, he’d been forced to be strong when sometimes he longed to be a boy again.
All he could do was squeeze Amelia’s hand and listen to her words.
“What happened to the picture? Did she get to keep it?”
Amelia chuckled. “I still have it.”
“You can hang it here if you like.”
She shifted to look at him, her eyes damp.
He lifted his finger, thinking to dry away the tears clinging to her lashes. He withdrew, alarmed by how easily he’d reached for her. Would she be offended if he’d touched her? He settled for brushing his hand on her shoulder.
She held his gaze, her eyes full of depth and searching. He didn’t shift away even though he should’ve. How could he deny her a bit of understanding? How could he deny himself the feeling that they had something in common?
Her gaze shuttered. She turned her face to the sky. “I will wait and hang it in my permanent home.” Longing filled her voice.
He could offer her permanency, but along with it, worry about Pa and Kat, concerns about the ranch’s future, and a whole lot of aggravation from the neighbor. He wasn’t much of a bargain.
“What was it like living with your grandmother?”
Laughter burst from her. She rocked back and forth and then sat up. “If we hadn’t moved in with Grandmother, I would never have met Callie. And I wouldn’t have Poppy.”