Chapter 5 #2
“Gil seems to have a secret way of knowing when his mother will come and is always on his best behavior. He’ll even iron his shirt and serve his ma all his best food—he makes delicious roast venison. Won’t even tell his mother what he does to make it taste so good.”
Zach slid a glance to Amelia, grinned at her wide-eyed interest. “I guess you’re having a hard time imagining him being a skilled cook. It’s too bad, but that’s about all he cooks that I can rave about. Lately, I’d settle for any kind of meal.”
“Well, he did make breakfast. But a secret recipe? I’m having a hard time picturing that.” She rocked her head back and forth and then chuckled, her eyes shining dark green. “Guess it proves you have to be careful judging people.”
“I’ll have to bring in some venison while you’re here so he can roast it for you.” He leaned closer to whisper. “Maybe you can learn his secret.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you suggesting I spy on his preparation?”
“Me?” He drew back with mock shock. “I would never suggest such a thing.” Leaning close again, he breathed the words next to her ear. “But you don’t have to keep your eyes closed either.”
Laughter bubbled from her.
Their gazes caught and held, and for one sweet moment, Zach allowed himself to think they might share something. And he didn’t mean a similar sense of humor. He meant—
He didn’t know what he meant—and leaned away, concentrating on the scene before him. Oh yeah, he was telling about Gil’s mother.
“This one day, Mrs. Morrow seemed upset. Even I, hardly more than a boy, realized it.” His laughter rang with self-mockery. “Maybe the tears clinging to her lashes helped me see it.”
Tears like tiny diamonds. The same thing he’d seen on Amelia’s lashes a short time ago.
Only Mrs. Morrow’s tears had made him twitch.
Grown-up women weren’t supposed to cry. On the other hand, Amelia’s tears triggered a desire to hold her, comfort her, take up a sword, and fight the things bothering her.
It was a mighty good thing she couldn’t read his thoughts.
He continued his story. “Ma made tea, and they brought it out here. I remember it was a cool day with a wind blowing up the valley, but the two of them wrapped shawls around their shoulders and sat on the blanket Ma had taken with her.
“Gil saw me watching them and said to give the ladies some privacy. I didn’t know what he meant. They were so far away that no one could hear what they said. After a bit, I got bored with watching nothing happen and went to the barn to talk to my favorite horse.”
A pink flower caught her attention, and she shifted closer to trail her finger across the pale blossom.
Zach forgot the story he was telling. Nor could he remember why he thought to relay the incident.
Except sitting here brought memories of the many times he’d watched Ma in this place.
“The barn door was open, and as I moved about inside the building, brushing the horse and talking to him, I glanced out and saw Ma and Mrs. Morrow bent forward, their hands clasped in front of them. I knew they were praying. Knew, too, that praying with Ma would ease her burden, whatever it was.”
“That’s a wonderful tribute to your mother. She sounds like she had a strong faith, one that others could count on.” Amelia held the delicate blush-colored blossom to her nose, and the color reflected in her cheeks.
Oops, he was staring. Zach shifted his attention to the flowers strewn across the hillside. Some reason existed that compelled him to tell Amelia of this incident. Of course. Now he remembered.
“I was cleaning up in the barn when I heard them. They sat on the hill singing loudly, exuberantly, as if they couldn’t contain their excitement. Or perhaps it was joy.”
“What did they sing?” Amelia considered him over the flower the breeze tapped to her nose.
“I don’t recall everything, but I’m pretty sure they sang that song, you know the one.
‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow.’” The words ended up sung.
Satisfaction—or was it trust?—rose inside him.
“Mrs. Morrow went back to town a changed and encouraged woman.” Could he do less than honor his mother by resting in God’s promises to take care of them all?
Even through trying times.
Or should he say, especially in hard times.
Amelia focused on the flowers, the bright patch of bluebells, little white trumpet-shaped flowers, yellow daisylike flowers, and pink ones with five flat petals.
“I wish I knew the names of all of these.” She kept her head down, not wanting him to see the ache in her eyes.
Hearing about his mother had filled her with a sense of missing and longing.
To belong, yes. To be safe and secure, yes.
But more. To be loved as she had been as a child.
But Poppy’s needs came first. She had to give the child a permanent home even if it meant marrying a farmer from the Dakotas.
“I made the best of life at Grandmother’s. I’ll do the same in the Dakotas.” She murmured the words to herself. Tears stung her eyes, and she picked another pink flower in order to keep her gaze away from Zach. He didn’t need to know how much she missed her own ma. She didn’t need sympathy.
What she wanted—all she wanted—was a permanent, safe home.
Zach was not prepared to offer that. She’d seen his intent to put his arm around her and had shied away. She didn’t welcome such advances if they meant nothing.
She’d come west expecting to enter into marriage with him, knowing full well that it involved physical intimacy. But she wasn’t prepared to offer any favors outside of marriage. No matter how desperate her situation became, she would not follow Callie’s example.
Nor Debra’s. She would not run away from disappointment and pain.
“What do you remember of your ma?”
His question shattered her intention of putting the past behind her. Memory after memory swept over her. The details poured forth as if from an overturned water bucket.
“One of my earliest memories is of Mama praying by my bedside. I’d been sick.
Mama told me afterward that they feared for my life.
Every night, she’d knelt by my bed and asked God to spare my life.
” Her heart warmed to a smile. “That night, the one I remember, I touched her face. She jerked up and stared at me, and then started hugging me and crying. Pa came in to see what was going on, and he hugged us both and kept saying, ‘Praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.’”
Now it was Amelia’s turn to cry over the memory of such love. She wiped away the tears before Zach noticed and hurried on with another memory.
“I remember Mama sitting up late one Saturday night as she finished a dress for Debra. It was such pretty fabric. Blue with sprigs of white flowers. She was going to wear it to church and then go to a friend’s place.
That was her twelfth birthday.” Amelia sat up.
“My parents were dead a few months later.”
She breathed deeply to calm her trembling and focused again on better memories.
“Mama made the best socks and mittens. Her needles clicked away the winter hours as Pa read aloud to us. I can almost hear her laughing at the funny parts of a story. She tsked when a character did something foolish. I’d even catch her wiping away a tear when something sad happened. ”
“Do you recall any of the books your pa read?”