Chapter 5
Chapter Five
How to enable Zach to see in a positive way the girl who had been such a dear friend?
“Living with Grandmother was fine. She was kind. It’s just—well, she wasn’t our parents, and things were different.”
“Different how?”
She twitched one shoulder. “She was set in her ways. It couldn’t have been easy to take in two girls. So many things were different in her house—set routines, being quiet, no running.” Her grin was self-mocking. “I know it sounds of little significance, but it was hard to adjust.”
Amelia swept away the pile of grass she’d built by her knee and rushed on before Zach could offer an opinion.
“She was a collector of ornaments. One of our chores was to dust her knickknacks every Saturday. Debra broke one accidentally. Grandmother wiped away a tear as she scolded Debra for being a clumsy oaf. That was a cruel thing to say to Debra, who’d had nothing but approval from our parents.
She accidentally on purpose knocked another ornament to the floor out of spite.
Grandmother said she should have let us go to an orphanage. ”
Tears wet Amelia’s words. She breathed deeply to gain control. The new living arrangements had been challenging for all of them.
“I digress. Apart from little things like that, living with her was fine. But it was different. So different.” How to explain things without sounding as if she complained?
“From the beginning, I would seek solace at the bottom of the yard, next to the alley where a thicket of bushes became my secret hideaway.” The simple memory of that special place warmed her heart.
“I’d read a book. Or draw—” She interrupted herself with a grin.
“What I lacked in talent I made up for in perseverance.”
With her fingertip, she drew circles in the patch of dust she’d exposed by her knee as she recalled those sweet, innocent days.
“I liked to pretend we were only visiting Grandmother for a time, and soon we would go home. Of course, I knew it wasn’t so.
Eventually, I grew bored with my solitary state and began to look to the outside world.
From my hiding place, I watched the family across the alley.
There was a mother, a father, and a girl who appeared to be about my age.
I decided they weren’t a happy family. There was much shouting.
The pa was often drunk even in the middle of the day.
I asked Grandmother about them, and she said they weren’t suitable company for decent folk.
I wasn’t sure if she meant us or people in general. ”
Her mocking laughter indicated that even then, she had questions about what made folks decent.
“Being ten years old, I was filled with curiosity about why these people weren’t suitable.
Especially the little girl. A few days later, she sat at the end of their yard staring at me.
” A smile warmed her insides at those earliest memories of Callie.
“‘Who are you?’ she called. I told her I’d come to live with my grandmother.
When she asked why, where were my parents, I told her they’d died.
She glanced over her shoulder and then scurried across the alley and crowded in next to me.
She wanted to know when and how my parents died.
And then she said the strangest thing. I’ve never forgotten her words.
‘You’re lucky. Dead parents would suit me.
’” Amelia shuddered. “I wanted to protest. But I’d seen enough yelling and throwing things and watched her father punching the wall, so I could guess there might be more truth in her words than I cared to admit. ”
Zach made a sympathetic noise. “It sounds like she had a terrible life.”
Amelia pushed away what happened later to recall the enjoyment of the early years of her friendship with Callie.
“She and I visited nest to the alley every afternoon. One day, it rained. I knew her father was in a drunken rage, so I invited her into our house. At first, Grandmother pinched her lips together. I thought she might tell Callie to leave. But then her expression grew tender, and she said any well-behaved child was welcome to milk and cookies at her table. ‘Stay away from my ornaments,’ she said. After that, we were inseparable. Callie probably spent more time at our house than at hers.”
Amelia couldn’t go on. Things had gotten so bad that she couldn’t bring herself to talk of them. She hadn’t revealed all the details in her letters. Wasn’t sure she could even now. Not that Zach knew about any of it.
“At least she found a safe place.” His words jolted her thoughts into a spiral.
“It wasn’t safe enough. Her mother died when Callie was fourteen. Callie said her pa broke her ma. I’ve never been sure if she meant physically or broke her spirit.” She shrugged. “Probably both. Her pa never seemed sober, and the few times he was, I think he was meaner than when drunk.”
Cold fingers coiled around Amelia’s spine as bitter memories crowded her thoughts.
“I didn’t know he did terrible, unspeakable things to Callie. It was why she ran away. I was devastated that she never said goodbye. I didn’t hear from her for over a year. Then one day, she showed up on the doorstep.”
A lump the size of a small animal clogged her throat.
“She was thin as a reed, and her coloring was blotchy. She weaved back and forth as if she didn’t have the strength to stay upright. I pulled her inside and led her to the nearest chair, then went in search of Grandmother. I hoped and prayed she would let Callie stay.
“Grandmother took one look at her and gasped. ‘Child, what’s happened to you?’
“‘Life,’ Callie said.
“‘Life should not wear you down this way.’ I don’t know if Grandmother suspected what happened to Callie, but she said she could stay until—well, no one said until when or what because she was so frail.” Amelia’s insides churned at the things that followed.
She must reduce them to mere mentions. “She admitted she was with child. Didn’t know who the father was because she’d entertained many men, saying she might as well be paid for what was happening to her.
Just before she died, she confessed her own father had—” Amelia swallowed the angry lump that developed every time she thought of it.
“Well, you can guess what he did. The baby was born, a beautiful, perfect baby, despite Callie’s declining health. Callie lived three months longer.”
Silence deep as an empty pit followed her words.
He moved closer and lifted an arm as if intending to put it around her shoulders.
She jumped to her feet. “Enough sad stories. Show me the patch of flowers that was your mother’s favorite place.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only wanted to let you know how badly I feel about what you’ve had to endure.”
How could he begin to think she would welcome him being so free with his touches? Did he think she would be like Callie?
She faced him, her eyes burning. “I will provide Poppy with a secure home where she’s accepted. It is all that matters to me.” Not the comments she’d endured as she took Poppy out in public. Not the rejections and cruel comments of young men who might have courted her except for the baby.
He’d only meant to comfort her after hearing the sad story, but Amelia had misinterpreted his offer. Jumped as if she thought he’d take advantage of her. That would never happen, and he must make it clear he had more important concerns on his mind.
“Keeping my family safe and saving the ranch are what matter to me.” He believed the words, and at one time, it had been all he cared about. But lately, he’d become aware of a hollowness inside he couldn’t ignore.
He broke free from her look, even though part of him wanted to delve deeper into her thoughts and feelings. Or did he mean he wanted to examine his own?
“You want to see Ma’s flowers? I doubt many are blossoming right now. Not with the drought.” The never-ending drought that sucked life from the land and—
From him?
When had he let his circumstances dictate his feelings? He couldn’t say when it began, perhaps when he’d laid Ma in the ground and escorted a confused pa and angry sister home. And day after day, endured the endless brass sky.
Pushing aside the wandering thought, he led the way across the edge of the hill until the dip of the ground lay before them. He stared in disbelief.
“It’s filled with flowers like an oasis of color in the dusty grass.
” His voice rang with his surprise. He laughed from pure delight.
“We called it Ma’s flower patch, but she said it was God’s and she only enjoyed it.
” The blossoms’ sweet fragrance filled the air in defiance of the heat, like a promise from God that He hadn’t forgotten their needs.
“Many summer evenings, she would sit out here, her Bible in hand. Pa would watch her with an adoring smile. ‘This is your ma at her best, talking to God about you and me and Kathy.’” Zach’s voice cracked on those words.
“I miss seeing Ma sitting here, her gentle voice carrying through the air as she whispered her prayers.”
He tried to walk away, but he was powerless to move from this spot. Instead, he sank to the ground, his legs stretched down the slope. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
Amelia sat nearby. Her soft laughter brushed across the yellowed grass. “Have you forgotten I learned much of this from your letters?”
“The ones I didn’t write?”
“Yeah, those.”
Both sobered. Who had written those letters? And why?
A scene stuck in his thoughts, having taken up permanent residence. “Gil’s mother was a friend of Ma’s.”
She nodded. Of course, the letters he hadn’t written had informed her. But the writer wouldn’t know the story he was about to tell her.
“Mrs. Morrow used to come to see how Gil was doing. Though I think it was mostly to see Ma. They would visit for hours. If the weather permitted, they’d bring tea and cookies here.”
How different Gil was when his ma was around!