Chapter 9 #3
Zach studied Amelia. What was it she wanted to tell him? Likely that she’d had enough of his crazy life and was going to stay in town. The Stones would welcome her if they had an empty room. Was it wrong of him to wish they still didn’t? That a needy or ill person occupied each sleeping place?
“Shall we?” She waited at the door.
He joined. “What did you have in mind?”
“A walk. I know the morning was difficult for you, and I thought a change of scenery would help.”
He glanced around. “Looks the same to me.” He meant to be funny, but really, he sought to hide how much he wished he could change things for the better.
“And you couldn’t ask for anything more beautiful.”
“I suppose not. I don’t wish to change the landscape.”
“But you wish you could change the circumstances of your life?”
They passed the barn, apparently retracing their steps to his ma’s favorite place. He didn’t respond. What could he say that didn’t sound like whining? A man didn’t whine.
They reached the flowers and sat side by side on the slope.
“It’s beautiful and peaceful here. I expect that’s why your ma said it was her favorite spot.”
He leaned over his knees. “It was her special place to think and pray.”
“What did she do in the wintertime?”
Zach had to think. “I remember her sitting in the rocking chair and knitting or mending. Often, she seemed lost in thought, and we had to call her a couple of times to get her attention.”
“She sounds serene.”
“That describes her all right.”
Amelia grew quiet. She seemed like his ma often did, far away and lost in thought.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She blinked and met his gaze. “I was trying to understand why this reminds me of home.”
“You mean with your parents?”
“Yes. Oh, now I remember.” Her eyes flashed with a smile.
“One day, Papa led us all for a walk to show us the new crop coming through the soil. Row after row. So green and bright. ‘This is our land,’ he said. I held his hand and filled my lungs with the smell of hope and promise. He went on to say they would live there until they were old, and maybe we girls would get married and farm with them. I remember how he chuckled as if pleased with the possibility. He said he would build a bigger house and grow more crops. Raise more cows. I asked if we would have more chickens.”
Amelia smiled at Zach. “I loved the chickens.”
Right then and there, Zach told himself that, if she were staying rather than going to Dakota, he would get her a whole flock of the birds.
“I could picture us all there. So happy. Pa asked Debra what she would like, and she said she would grow row upon row of flowers. Red and pink, purple and blue, every color under the sun.” Her voice deepened with her memories.
She cleared her throat. “And she’d have cats.
Lots of cats. Debra loved cats, but Grandmother refused to let her have one.
‘Dirty animals,’ she said. ’Course we knew she was wrong. Cats are very clean.”
A sigh whispered from her lips. Then a smile again brightened the green of her eyes.
“Mama and Papa laughed, and Mama said it would be beautiful. Papa took off his hat, held it to his chest, and prayed, thanking God for His many blessings.” She released another soft sigh. “It felt like God had showered His love down upon us like a warm summer day.”
Amelia plucked a pink flower. “Sadly, it came to an end a year later.” She stroked the petals. One fell to the ground, and she tossed the flower aside. “I want to give Poppy the feeling of security I had at that moment.”
The Dakota farmer offered the life she sought. Zach would not, in any way, interfere with the fulfillment of her dreams, though he couldn’t imagine how he would cope—how any of them would cope—when she left.
He’d better start to advertise for a man to take care of Pa.
Amelia leaned back on her elbow. “I came out here to help you forget about the morning. Instead, I’m talking about myself.”
“I can’t think of a better way for me to put aside the problems of the day.”
She shook a finger at him. “Don’t try to make me feel like I was thinking of you.” She sat up, tucked her legs to one side, and faced him. “I told you a special memory. Now you tell me one of yours.” Her eyes matched the nearby pink flowers’ leaves.
Her intensity and interest reached into his heart and squeezed it until it just might burst.
He tried to shift his gaze away, but it locked onto hers.
And it stayed there as he recalled a special time with Pa.
“When I was maybe ten, Pa took me on a roundup. I rode the range, camped with the men, and studied the steers that were ready to sell. He taught me how to rope, how to cut out a cow, how to do all the things he said I would need to know when I grew up. I admired Pa so much. I saw how the men respected him and how he respected them.” Zach shrugged and turned away as tears stung his eyes.
“I liked feeling a part of something big and wonderful.”
“You still are.” Her softly spoken words drew his gaze back to her. “You’re doing what your pa prepared you for.”
“I don’t feel ready.” His words were barely a whisper. “I feel like a kid.”
She reached for his hand and took it between hers.
Emotions raced through him. All of them demanding things out of his reach. But he could no more pull free from her grasp than he could order rain from heaven.
“You’ve been thrust into a situation you didn’t ask for.
Nothing could have prepared you for all the things occurring in your life right now.
Recently, I reread the story of Joseph. Such awful things happened to him.
But the Scriptures say the Lord was with Joseph.
The circumstances of our lives change. Sometimes they are almost more than we can bear.
But God doesn’t change. Like Pastor Stone reminded us, He will never leave us or forsake us. ”
Her look went on and on, searching into the deepest corners of his heart and brushing away the cobwebs to reveal new life, new hope.
He squeezed her fingers. “Thank you for reminding me I am not alone in this struggle.”
Her eyes softened. “Often God sends people alongside us to help us.”
“Like the Dakota farmer for you.”
She withdrew her hands and turned away to study the flowers. She didn’t put any more distance between them than had been there before; nevertheless, he felt her withdrawal.
Was she that impatient for the man to offer to marry her?
He closed his eyes and forced himself to pull in air past the lump in his chest. The man had a farm, a nice house, and no complications.
Zach had nothing but troubles and trials to offer. He could hardly blame her for being anxious to leave.
The pain in his chest increased. He pressed his hand to it, but it didn’t help.
Being able to talk to her about his life, to tell her about his day, to walk with her and enjoy the scenery with her, had done a lot to make his life more bearable.
How was he to go back to dealing with all this on his own?