Wings of a Dream (29 page)

“My family’s been on this land since the War Between the States,” Brother Latham said. “Frank here is a regular newcomer. Brought his bride, worked for the railroad, and then bought his land.”

“Railroad?” My gaze landed on Frank. I’d heard nothing of this before. Frank pushed his empty plate away, his jaw tightening as Janie’s wail wandered through the house.

He wiped his mouth and stood. “Thank you for another mighty fine meal, Irene, but we best be on our way.”

Sheriff Jeffries leapt to his feet, too. “I can bring Rebekah home, if you don’t mind.”

Frank stopped. He glanced at me, then looked away. “I’m guessing you should ask her that question, not me.”

Sheriff Jeffries put his hand on the back of my chair. “Rebekah?”

Irene folded her hands and propped them beneath her chin. My gaze searched hers, begging her to tell me what to do and not wanting her advice, all at the same time.

“Of course.” I pushed away from the table and dabbed at the corners of my mouth. “But I’ll help clean up first.”

Irene waved her hand toward me, as if shooing off a fly. “Don’t you bother about that. You go on.”

So Frank, the children, the sheriff, and I made our way outside. I helped the children into the buggy with Frank, gave them instructions to hold Janie and to be good. Dandy trotted off, trying to drag my heart along behind him.

“May I drive again?” I asked as I watched them disappear down the road.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sheriff Jeffries pulled at my arm, leading me toward the car.

“Why not?” I walked backward in front of him now, trying to read his face. “I’ll be more careful this time. And besides, it’s daylight.”

He shook his head, opened the passenger-side door for me. “I don’t like it. I’d rather you ride here.”

I started to protest but climbed inside. When he got behind the wheel, I yelled over the engine’s roar. “So do you prefer I don’t drive, or women in general?”

He didn’t answer, just steered us over the road, arms stiff, eyes straight ahead. I wanted to force him to look at me, talk to me. Instead, I folded my arms and stared out the window. Maybe this wasn’t the man God meant for me, after all.

J
ames, I need your help.” Authority oozed from Frank’s voice the next afternoon, but James didn’t budge.

“I want to stay with Bekah and Janie.” He slumped his shoulders and stuck out his bottom lip.

“They don’t need you in their way. Now, c’mon.” The growl in Frank’s voice grew deeper. James fled from the room. Frank started to follow, then stopped, hands on his hips, chest heaving.

His eyes didn’t meet mine. He just took Dan by the hand and marched out the door. I smiled a bit. I couldn’t help it. If he’d asked me, I could have persuaded James to join them. But he didn’t. He didn’t think I knew how to handle his children. At least not the way he wanted them handled. Yet I suspected that my way was more like his wife’s or Aunt Adabelle’s.

The look on James’s face had told me what I felt was true. He, more than the others it seemed, deeply felt his mama’s absence. And in some small way I had filled her place for him.

Janie sat on my hip as I climbed the stairs to find my little man. I’d show Frank I knew how to deal with the children.

“James?”

Head and shoulders jutted out from under the bed. I sat down on the floor, Janie in my lap. “You staying under there all day?”

“No.” He scooted back a bit, leaving only his head exposed. “But I wanna stay here with you.”

“You’re such a good helper.” I held his chin in my hand.

He inched forward.

“But your daddy needs a helper, too.”

“He has Dan.”

“Yes, he does. But Dan’s still little. He can’t do as much as a big six-year-old. Let me see how strong you are.”

He slid from beneath the bed and hopped to his feet. He lifted a large trunk just a smidgen off the floor and let it drop again. Dust scattered into my eyes and nose.

“See what I mean? They need your help with the heavy work.”

“But I could help you.”

“That’s true. But I could call for you when I needed your help.”

His nose crinkled, and his head turned toward the window.

“It’s such a sunshiny day. I wish I could do my work outside,” I said, trying to push him over into the decision I wanted him to make.

“Well, okay. If you think you won’t need me right away.”

I stood up, Janie in my arms again. “We’ll be fine. You run along and find your daddy and your brother.”

He dashed away, his face split into a grin. I might not have spent much time around mothers and their children, studying their ways, recognizing their feelings, but I knew what would have motivated me. And it was exactly the opposite of what Mama and Frank would have done.

Satisfied, I let Janie walk the stairs in front of me, her hands above her head, her fingers secure in mine. As we tidied the house, little boy laughter carried through the open windows. James with his daddy, just where he needed to be. But what would happen to my little man when I left him alone with Frank? Or worse yet, with a new mother?

I couldn’t think about that. So I laid Janie in her crib and took the short walk to the mailbox. Inside, the newspaper—and a letter.

I cringed as Mama’s handwriting met my gaze. I’d chosen not to write her of Frank’s homecoming. Not yet. She’d insist I come home immediately. And right this minute, that was the last place I wanted to go. She still thought of me as a child to be shielded from life, even while considering me grown up enough to marry off to Barney Graves.

Bracing myself with a strong cup of coffee, I opened the letter, thankful that Mama remained a day’s train ride away. Two pages of nothing, mostly. Until her usual cajoling for me to return home.

The boys are coming home from France daily now. When that man arrives, you just pack up and come on home. I expect Mr. Samson will visit soon enough. Someone else can take on those children now.

As her words meandered through my head, sermons I’d heard during my growing-up years hailed down on me, words about giving a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name, of suffering the little children to come to Him. I couldn’t quite feel the rightness of Mama’s directive, in spite of the fact that she’d offered an escape from Frank’s enigmatic nature.

I curled my hands around my coffee cup, wishing I could see through the walls of the house to where the boys and their daddy worked. I imagined Frank’s big hands taking his sons’ smaller ones, teaching them, training them. I couldn’t envision him barking orders or sitting idly by watching his sons struggle.

“Bekah! Bekah! Come quick! Dan fell out of the hayloft, and he’s cryin’ for you.”

Coffee ran in a river across Mama’s letter as my chair thumped to the floor. “Stay here and listen for Janie,” I called to James as I ran out the door.

Please, Lord, not Dan.
I raced through the barn door and dropped to my knees, hovering above the four-year-old’s tear-streaked face. I pushed his hair away from his eyes.

“Hush, baby. Tell me where you hurt. Tell Bekah.”

No words. Just sobs.

My gaze flew from one end of the barn to the other, frantic anger wrestling with fear. Where was Frank? Where was he?

I slid one arm beneath Dan’s knees, the other beneath his neck and lifted him into my lap, his body pressed next to mine. He cried out. I loosened my grip.

“Frank!” My scream echoed through the cavernous building. “Frank!”

I tried to stand, but Dan’s limp weight threw me off balance. “Frank!”

“What?” The barn door framed him as he barked the word.

“We have to help him.” I stumbled to my feet this time, lurching toward the wild-eyed man.

“What do you think I’ve been doing? The buggy’s hitched. I’m taking him to Doc.”

I blinked into the sunlight. “But you left him all alone.”

Frank held out his arms, his face paler than I remembered. “Give him to me so I can get him to town.” Measured words through rigid lips.

He stalked away, Dan crying more loudly with the jostle of every step. I hurried behind them. “You can’t drive and hold him at the same time.”

Frank mashed his lips together as Dan screamed louder.

I scrambled into the buggy and reached for Dan. “Let’s go.”

“Someone has to stay with the others.”

“Ollie will be home soon. They’ll be fine. Now give him to me.”

He laid his son in my arms and leapt onto the seat beside us.

“Stop at the house and we’ll tell James.”

Frank’s jaw tensed, but he did as I suggested. Then he slapped the reins on Dandy’s back and we took off toward town.

I refused to look at him as we traveled. Instead, I wiped Dan’s face and whispered in his ear until his crying quieted. When we pulled up in front of Doc Risinger’s house, I handed Dan to his father and watched them disappear inside.

My hands shook in my lap as I begged God to heal Dan—and to be with Frank, too. For when he’d taken Dan from my arms, the look of utter despair on the man’s face had swept every strand of frustration from my body. I might doubt that he’d ever approve of me, but I could never question how much he loved his children.

We returned home hours later, my stomach in knots over the state of the other children and the house. The last thing I needed was an “I told you so” from Frank. I held my breath as we neared the yard. The buggy stopped. Dan’s feet hit the ground with eagerness to display his latest badge of courage—a tight sling to keep his sprained arm still. Doc seemed to think he would be fine in no time.

I refused to wait for Frank to help me down from the buggy, although my steps weren’t as energetic as Dan’s. I lingered on the porch, listening to the children’s banter from inside while Frank took the buggy to the barn to unhitch. Just as he strode into the yard, the screen door creaked open.

“Supper’s ready.” Ollie let the door slap shut again.

Frank sighed. “You were right. Ollie has everything under control.”

“She’s an amazing girl, really.” I managed a weary smile as I read in his eyes the apology he didn’t speak.

With the dishes finished and the children settled in bed, I eased down on the porch steps near the kitchen door. The aching tired of a crisis survived had seeped into my very bones. I leaned back on my elbows and looked into the evening sky. Had it been only a month since Arthur’s visit? Two months since he’d shattered all my dreams?

Orange and pink melted into the darkening blue of twilight. What did a sunset look like from an airplane? Were the colors more intense or less noticeable? Maybe the whole thing could only be appreciated with your feet planted firmly on the ground.

Frank’s footfalls sounded across the dirt, stopping just inside the house yard, a pail of milk in his hand. I shivered and started to rise.

“Don’t get up,” he said.

I sat back down. He set the milk pail on the porch.

“I’ve missed this.” He eased down on the wide stair beneath me, hands folded, elbows resting on his knees. “Clara and I used to sit out here most nights, except the cold ones, after the babies were abed. Just sit and enjoy.” His voice cracked on the last word.

I twirled my shoelace, not sure how he felt about me witnessing his grief. I squinted into the waning day and contemplated the rock-edged path that led to the barnyard and outbuildings.