Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (29 page)

He picked up a stick from the dirt and, throwing it into the water, watched it swirl and jerk and finally get lodged against a fallen log.

He was that trapped stick. And he couldn’t free himself. He’d tried all week to find a way….

“I don’t know what’s got you so down,” Jim said after a moment. “But I know you ain’t behavin’ like yerself. And from what I can tell, you ain’t behavin’ right.” He picked at his fingernails. “I know I ain’t one to judge—boy, I know that—but you done told me when I did wrong and, well, I oughta tell you, too. That’s what friends do.” He gingerly patted Isaac’s back, then returned his hand to his lap.

Isaac searched Jim’s face, not as a parson gazing at a sheep, but as a friend. A friend in Christ. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You have a problem trustin’.” Jim shook his head. “A big one. You ain’t trustin’ the Good Lord with that school of yers. If He wants a school in these parts, there’ll be one. I never knew why you were so worked up about it.”

Isaac closed his eyes. Jim was right, but there was so much more at stake than just the school—not just his grandiose plans, but his entire purpose for being in the ministry. He wanted to be honest with Jim and with himself. He needed to finally exhume the truth he hated to face.

“If I don’t have the school to plan, the hospital, the next orphan train,” Isaac peered at the stick wedged in the stream, “I don’t know what I’ll do.” He let out a slow breath.

Jim looked Isaac full in the face. “I already done told ya. Trust Him.”

The sky’s blue shade blended to pink and purple as the sun began its journey to rest. Isaac watched the light gray smudges of clouds sail across the sky, and felt, in their wake, raindrops landing on his hands and arms.

“Trust Him.” He whispered Jim’s words, and like the stream’s waters dancing over stones, the truth began to cleanse. He’d been so set on his own plans to shepherd his flock, he’d forgotten to rest in the Good Shepherd. As splashes of truth revealed the dirt beneath, Isaac asked himself why he’d striven so hard to make his plans happen
. I wanted credit for myself.

Perhaps that wasn’t his only purpose, but it made up the part that wouldn’t let go, that failed to trust. Isaac took in a long, deep breath of the freshly rain-cleansed air. “My failure wasn’t about a school, or hospital, or anything else. You’re right, my friend. I failed to trust.”

Jim nodded slightly. “He’ll forgive you.”

Isaac bowed his head. “I guess that’s what I told you once.”

“Yup.”

As a measure of relief rushed over Isaac, he glanced at Jim’s face. It held a frown, a speck of doubt, as if he wondered whether he should continue. Then the faithful Goliath gripped his giant paws together and moved his thumb over the silver band on his left ring finger. His deep brown eyes pierced Isaac. “You say you’ll trust God with yer ministry, but can you trust Him with a wife, Parson? Even that?”

At that, Jim stood. “I’m gonna let you be. I’ll be back at the cabin if ya need me.”

Jim disappeared into the woods, and Isaac sat in silence.

Jim’s words replayed in his mind, and then Isaac shook his head. This week his aching mind had reeled over Warren, Aponi, Milo, and his own failed plans. But even more, Julia’s pained expression as she watched him leave plagued his thoughts day and night. A thousand needles pricked his heart every time he thought of it.

Years of stubborn adherence to a promise, and the fear it represented, surrounded Isaac like the walls of a fortress. Losing his mother and Bethany had created so great a dread of being hurt that he’d refused to open his heart to love again. And hiding within the walls of a foolish vow kept him safe from that pain—or at least it had for a time. But the truth was, Jim was right. The promise had always been built not on faithfulness, but on
faithlessness
. He didn’t trust that God could bring someone to work alongside him. More than that, he didn’t trust that God could keep her safe.

Yet now, here—because of the words of a giant man with a giant-sized faith—the door to the fortress opened before him. Could he again refuse to step through? Did he want to?

True words from those who loved him echoed through his thoughts.
It is not good that the man should be alone.
Milo had said it. But so had others in different ways. Miriam’s hints, Aponi’s attempts to match him with her daughters, even Elizabeth’s wordless looks.

Trust Him.
Jim’s simple words.

The wind picked up, bringing with it more raindrops. The rain began to pour, washing over Isaac as his stubborn fortress melted in a rush of repentance.

He lifted his face to the sky. “Forgive me for treating my fear as a vow of service to You.” His voice cracked. “I pretended I was living the life You called me to—one of true devotion—but it was only a façade for the truth, the pain, the worries of my own heart.” A teary cough emerged.

As the rain continued its cleansing flood, a light filled Isaac’s heart. Joy seeped in, unexpected but appreciated, and Isaac embraced his freedom for the first time. Freedom to love. To be a husband. A father.

Then like a melody rising at just the right moment, the words from Ezekiel
chapter 34
draped him. In his tortured darkness, when he’d clung to the Word for dear life, he’d replayed the words yet not received their truth: “‘And I will make them and the places round about my hill a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come down in his season; there shall be showers of blessing.’”

Isaac lifted his face to the sky as the drops slid down his face. “Thank You, Lord,” he whispered. “Thank You for forgiveness, grace, freedom.”

The rain let up, and as Isaac sat basking in the reality of his new understanding of the Shepherd’s love for him, a thought almost too good to consider inched its way in. Did this mean—? He dared not think it. So he said the name out loud instead.

“Julia.”

All the suppressed affection that was born the day he met her and grew each time he talked to her inundated him. He loved her, and the joy of freeing that love was sweeter than he’d ever imagined.

But would she return his love? Julia—so strong, beautiful, kind, intelligent—he didn’t deserve her, not after what he’d done. Not only had he acted frivolously with her affection, but his selfishness was so great he’d forced her to turn her back on the home she was building here. Why hadn’t he seen that his disregard for her needs and wants sentenced her to an uncertain future?

But if she could forgive him—if she could accept his imperfect, yet wholehearted, devotion—he’d humbly seek to serve her all the days of his life. With God’s grace he’d strive to be a godly husband… and he’d love her.

Always love her.

“You’ll have to tell me what was in that letter sometime.” Miriam hauled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop inside the Pioneer Livery Stable in Big Sandy, and Julia gripped the buckboard to steady herself. “You’ve been staring off into the wild blue ever since we left home. Now, you can’t be leavin’ a pregnant lady waitin’ so long. You know the smallest thing’ll send me cryin’ and carryin’ on.” Miriam cupped her hands around the ever-enlarging orb that occupied her middle and then perked her chin up. “A foot!” She tugged Julia’s hand to the spot on her belly.

A bulge of what had to be baby shifted under Julia’s hand then rolled away. “That’s incredible.” Julia moved her palm, seeking another touch. “To have a little life inside you, it must feel…I don’t know. How does it feel?”

Miriam looked up. “Well, having a baby in there means your back aches, you’re always hungry but never have what you want, you can’t sleep but you’re always tired, you never feel comfortable, and you want to cry all the time—or snap at the people you love most.”

Julia frowned. “I thought you were going to tell me how wonderful it was. You know, the gift of life growing inside you.”

Julia swung her legs off the buckboard as Miriam labored down the other side. “I didn’t finish. I was going to say that all of the holy suffering is worth it when you feel that little darlin’ move inside. Even more glorious when you hold him or her.” She rubbed her stomach again, searching for an appendage. “You’re right. It’s unlike any other experience.”

Miriam handed the reins to the paid hand at the livery, and Julia grabbed a crate of goods from the back—potatoes, corn, eggs, and two handkerchiefs, as well as the Home Sweet Home sampler she’d embroidered—to trade at the mercantile. She’d come up with the idea after she received the letter from Mrs. Gaffin that offered no practical help. She’d try to sell her embroidery to get the money she needed for the train. She prayed it would work; otherwise, she didn’t know what she’d do.

The two ladies sauntered down Main Street, wide and overgrown with weeds. Up ahead Julia spotted the Broadwater and McCullah Store—the only general store in town.

Despite Julia’s recent longing to somehow fly far away from Lonesome Prairie, she couldn’t deny the kindness the family had shown. She suspected Miriam proposed this jaunt more for Julia’s sake than for the needed supplies. Miriam deserved to know about the contents of the letter—and her plans.

The town was busier than it had been the last time Julia had walked these streets. She eyed the saloons and the interesting characters—cowboys, miners, Indians—moving in and out of the swinging doors. In the distance a group of soldiers was riding into town. Julia had heard about the frontier cavalry who protected the Canadian border, watched the Indians on their reservations, kept peace, and guarded the safety of the settlers. They rode by, and Julia felt their eyes on her. Some were young, possibly of good character, but it didn’t matter; only one man would spark her interest. And she had no idea where he was. Who knew if she’d ever see him again?

“So you’re wondering what Mrs. Gaffin said?” Julia shook the relentless thoughts away and determined to be cheerful—for Miriam’s sake—as they ambled past The Spokane House.

“By the horn spoons!” Miriam threw up her hands, and Julia puzzled at what on earth that phrase meant. “You’re finally going to tell me?”

A chuckle escaped Julia’s lips, and with it came a surge of gratitude. She’d been too serious of late. She needed a laugh, and it seemed Miriam sensed it.

Arriving at the mercantile, Julia swept open the door for Miriam and held her elbow. “Let me help you, ma’am,” she teased. “You sure you can walk with that belly?”

Miriam jerked her elbow away and stomped inside with a hearty laugh. “I got a spell to go yet till the baby comes. You wait until it gets closer, and then you can coddle me all you want.”

Julia followed, letting the door swing closed behind her. She looked around and noticed the store was empty except for the shopkeeper, who was on a ladder straightening high shelves.

Wandering through the musty but clean store, Julia sized up the goods stacked on shelves lining the walls. As she judged the bags of sugar, baskets of eggs, cans of ham and corned beef, beans of every shape and size, and other essentials, she recalled her strolls through the New York City marketplace. One could find just about any food from any culture in the world—she remembered the lutefisk at Mrs. Sorrenson’s shop—and any smell.

Julia grasped a jar of pickles then swiveled to Miriam. “I think you need these. Don’t all pregnant ladies?”

Vinegar glugged from a barrel as Miriam filled her clay jug with the pungent liquid. She peeked from the spigot to Julia. “Yeah, grab a jar. I tell ya, I crave those store pickles more than anything.” She smiled. “Well, almost anything. I want lemonade even more. We better get some lemons while we’re here.”

Julia tapped her back and grinned. “Is that why you’re always making lemonade ‘for the youngsters’?”

Miriam winced. “Maybe.” Finished filling the jug, she hoisted it into a wooden crate on the counter. After about an hour of intent picking and choosing, with little conversation, Miriam called Julia over to her. “You ’bout ready?”

“Yes,” Julia answered, edging next to her. “Any time.”

Miriam placed a final item on the counter—several yards of fashionable blue fabric with tiny light blue flowers and a faint touch of yellow.

Julia smoothed her hand over it. “It’s beautiful. Are you sewing yourself a dress?”

Miriam pressed her palm over Julia’s hand and smiled. “It’s for you.”

“For me? Why?” Julia felt her forehead crumple.

Miriam’s dark hair wisped out of her bun and framed her face. “Elizabeth, Jefferson, Abe, the children, myself and—all of us.” She paused. “We love you. And we want to say thank you for teaching the children and for all the other ways you’ve blessed us.”

Julia objected. “It’s you who’ve blessed me. I haven’t done anything but impose on your generosity. Especially lately, with all my moping. Oh, I’ve been awful.”

Miriam pushed back, still gripping Julia’s arms. “No, dear. Far from it. You’re a joy, a delight to have in our home.” Her eyes brimmed with appreciation as she dropped her hands and leaned against the counter.

“For me,” Miriam continued “it’s more than just having a kind, sweet girl brightening up the place.” Her brow knitted together and she shifted her weight. “You know, it’s far from easy to be a mother of six out here on the frontier. I mean, the young’uns are a blessing, but,” she sighed, “man alive, they’re more work than a year’s worth o’ laundry. Especially when the oldest is a rambunctious one, like my Christopher.”