Wings of a Dream (35 page)

Tears rose and retreated in my eyes as quickly as shallow puddles after a midsummer rain. I couldn’t do what Mama wanted. I’d made a commitment to the Lord to stay here until He made it clear I should leave. If the end of March came and I had no other options, only then would I return to Downington.

I had thirty-nine days to figure out the rest of my life. I’d mark them off on a piece of paper, one by one.

James’s hand slipped into mine. His eyes danced. So much like his daddy’s, only lighter in color. So clear in speaking their need. How would I ever say good-bye?

Mama did indeed buy my ticket home before she left. Even sent it back to me with Mr. Culpepper instead of waiting for Frank to pick it up. I stared at it later that afternoon, a lump forming in my throat.

I turned to find Frank standing behind me, his eyes also fixed on the ticket. And it seemed from that moment on I couldn’t get him out from underfoot.

I
gathered the wrung-out sheet and placed it in the basket to carry to the clothesline. Beside me, Frank fed another sheet through the wringer and fished in the wash pot for more.

“So did you often help Aunt Adabelle with the laundry?” I tapped my foot against the hard dirt.

The surprise on his face told me all I needed to know. He nodded toward the basket at my feet. “You ready to hang those?”

“Yes.” I tilted my head. “Do you want to help?”

“I can.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Let me douse the coals of this fire first.”

I picked up the basket and headed for the clothesline, calling to the boys and Janie, who played far from the fire and the clothes wringer. They appeared for a moment, cheeks brightened by the cool air. I sent them into the house to warm up a bit, even as I considered shedding my own coat.

Then I trudged around to the side of the house, set the basket on the ground, and pulled the clothespins near. Maybe if I got this all done quickly, Frank would leave me alone. Not that I didn’t enjoy his nearness. I enjoyed it far too much. And that made it harder to push him from my mind. I jammed a clothespin over a fold of cloth on the line.

Help me, Lord. Help me to trust Your plans.

Halfway through my task, Frank appeared again, his easy grin spinning my stomach and thumping my heart. His hand brushed mine, tingling the skin all the way up my arm.

“I guess you haven’t had any driving adventures lately.” He picked up one of Janie’s dresses, so small in his hands. He frowned at it. Turned it upside down, then right side up.

“Let me help.” I took the dress from him, shook it out, hung the shoulders over the line, and pinned them in place. Then I shook out one of Ollie’s dresses. “No. No driving lately.”

“Did you tell your mother about that adventure?” He chuckled as he pinned one of Dan’s small shirts to the line.

“No!” I laughed, reaching for another piece of clothing. “She’d never understand that.”

“I imagine not.” He sidled an amused glance in my direction. “But you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”

I stopped working, faced him full on. “Yes, I would. I’d like to drive more. All by myself.” A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Of course, I’d do my best not to knock down your fence again.”

His eyes shone with held-in laughter. “And I’d thank you for that.”

Pulling my gaze from his, I reached for another item from the basket. “Do you . . . Have you ever thought about buying a car? My brother had one. A Model T. He bought it before he left for France. Mama mentioned he took it with him on his last adventure. Maybe he sold it to pay for—” The words stuck in my throat, but I imagined Frank would understand.

“Tell me about your home.”

“My home?” It took me a moment to realize he didn’t mean here. When had I come to think of this place as home? I shook away my shock. “Downington.”

He nodded and kept working.

“It’s not much different than Prater’s Junction, really.”

“I guess you miss your friends there.”

“Friends?”

He’d edged closer to me now, the basket resting at the far end of the line.

I scooted toward the porch, eased down on the step, leaving him to hang the last few things. “I didn’t have any close friends there.”

“Really? I imagined you to be in the center of the social whirlwind.”

“That would be Mama. Not me.” I sighed. “I thought maybe if I were in a bigger place, with more to do, more people to meet, life would be more exciting. Without Mama to direct everything. But it’s likely that’s not meant to be.”

“I’m sure you’re appreciated wherever you are.” His gaze captured mine, held it even as he picked up the empty basket.

Dan tromped onto the porch. “We’re all hungry, Bekah. Is it dinner soon?”

I pushed to my feet. “Yes, it’s dinner soon.”

Frank stepped between his son and me. “But first Dan is going to ask nicely. Aren’t you, Dan?”

The child sighed with his whole body—arms and shoulders and head heaving up, then shrugging down. “Yes, sir.” He turned to me. “Bekah, could we please have dinner soon? My belly is growling something awful.”

I bypassed Frank and lifted Dan so he and I could see each other face-to-face. “Let’s heat up some coffee for your daddy while we get dinner on the table.”

Dan grinned. Warmth spread from my fingertips to my toes. If only I could convince myself it was lit by Dan’s grin alone and not by his father’s nearness.

Other chores called Frank from the house more often than not for the next few days. At first I felt more comfortable. But loneliness crept in right behind. And fear. I wondered when, exactly, Frank planned to tell the children I’d be leaving. I felt sure he had some plan.

Weather more like spring than winter arrived as February continued. Thirty-four days remained on my makeshift calendar.

I wiped an arm across my forehead, drying the perspiration sparked by the blazing stove. Janie whined in the corner, her face pink with heat. The boys and Frank would be warm out in the fields, too. And thirsty. Water would cool them. But then I spied two lemons Frank had picked up at Crenshaw’s store. He’d had a hankering for lemonade, he’d said. I’d laughed. Lemonade in February? But it didn’t seem so outrageous on a day like today.

It wouldn’t take long. And the water from the cistern would be cool enough without ice. I mixed it up in a jiffy, then lifted Janie onto my hip, securing her with one arm, carrying the bucket of lemonade with the other, a ladle for dipping it out hanging from the pocket of my apron.

Janie clapped her hands and laughed as we walked through the barnyard and toward the fields. Almost one year old and still no discernable word.

“Birdie? See the birdie, Janie?”

“Ba, ba, ba.” She pointed and babbled something else I pretended to understand.

“Daddy. We’re going to see your daddy.”

Nothing. She just bounced in my arm, nearly knocking me off balance. I held the bucket a bit higher, determined to steady it, to arrive without spilling a drop.

The fields did indeed look ready for something. Not like when I’d first seen them, with their crops newly harvested. My stomach clenched at the reminder spread out before me. Frank was a farmer. He led a farmer’s life. A life I longed to escape.

I set Janie on the ground but kept hold of her hand. Frank and the boys huddled farther off, their backs to us, bent toward the ground, intent on something. I lifted my chin and marched forward. Frank had no intentions toward me. He’d said that before my parents arrived and again during their visit.

Frank turned, straightened. His slow smile made me want to turn and run. I wouldn’t be tethered to the land. I would find a life that mattered, a life with an open door to adventure, to change.

“What have we here?” Frank lifted his daughter high in the air. Her laughter cackled through the clear air, twisting my heart.

If Frank didn’t want me, I wouldn’t have these children, either.

I thrust my bucket into the space between us, lemonade sloshing onto the dirt beneath. “I thought you’d all like something cool to drink.”

He set Janie on his shoulders, letting her pound his hat farther down on his head. I handed him the dipper. He drank, eyes widening. Then he handed a half-full ladle to James. “Lemonade. Boy howdy, does it taste good!”

The boys slurped down their share, as did Janie. When my bucket grew light, I reached for Janie’s tiny hand. “We best get back and get dinner ready.”

Frank nodded—that lopsided, little-boy grin never leaving his face. I bit my lip and stared at the dirt, begging my heart to be still, to be reasonable, to understand that I couldn’t want him, couldn’t want this. But like an unruly child, it refused to obey. And like an exasperated mother, my irritation flowered into anger.

By the time we’d finished dinner and Frank and the boys left the house again, I had to calm my agitation. And I knew a surefire way to do that: scrubbing floors.

Ollie arrived home from school, dropped her books in the hall, and shuffled slowly into the parlor.

“Ollie?”

No answer. I didn’t have the energy to fight her. I left the books where they lay and moved into the far corner of the dining room. The final room. I returned to my knees, scouring away the dirt even though my shoulders and back and arms ached. But the exhaustion kept my mind off other things. Like the man who loved this farm and his children.

I sat back on my heels, wondering how I’d find the energy to cook supper. Maybe Ollie could help out.

Dan held on to the wall, his head poking through the doorway. My heart danced at the sight of him, even in my tiredness. He seemed so much more grown up than when I’d come four months ago. Was that possible? I tiptoed across the dining room and pulled him to me. The scar on his head couldn’t be seen anymore unless you searched for it.

“Ollie’s shiverin’, Bekah.”

“Shivering?” I hadn’t noticed it grow colder, but I’d worked myself into a sweat.

He wiggled free of my grasp. “Shiverin’ under three quilts!” He shoved three pudgy fingers in my face.

I rubbed my forehead. Thank goodness the Spanish influenza was no longer a threat. I would isolate her from the others and slather the Vicks VapoRub on her chest. I wished I still had a lemon to squeeze into hot water with some honey.