Woman of Grace (29 page)

Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

1 Corinthians 2:9

The summer days wore on, hot and sunny until late afternoons when the thunderclouds building over the Rockies would move eastward. Then the rains would come.

The heavier-than-normal rainfall that year kept Culdee Creek’s ponds full. Abby and Hannah took to accompanying the children down to their favorite swimming holes several times a week. Occasionally, if the day got too hot and ranch work drew to a temporary halt, some of the hands even joined them. It was a good time, a bountiful summer, and everyone savored it to its fullest.

Late one particularly warm, still morning in mid-August, Hannah was storing away the last loaf of bread she had baked earlier when Devlin walked in. In his hands he held a colorful assortment of wildflowers mixed with some strategically placed garden blooms. With a shy grin, he held them out to her.

“Here, these are for you.”

Bemused, Hannah accepted the bouquet. The large handful, she noted as she looked them over, included wild white yarrow, blue penstemon, milkweed, and the last few flowering, lavender-hued dame’s rockets as well as pink hollyhocks, several shades of blue delphiniums, cornflowers, and two red roses. “Why, th-thank you,” she stammered, meeting Devlin’s glance again. “What’s the occasion? You’ve never given me flowers before.”

“Actually, you need to thank Beth and Devlin Jr. They picked the flowers. I happened to pass by and, since the hands and I had just finished putting up another cutting of hay, I decided to take the rest of today off to spend with the children. It was my idea to fix a picnic lunch and head down to the swimming hole. They thought some flowers might entice you to come with us.” He paused, an eager look in his eyes. “Did it work?”

She was surprised at the momentary twinge of disappointment she felt as she realized the flowers hadn’t been Devlin’s own doing. Then Hannah schooled her features, pasting on a happy smile. “It would’ve worked even without the flowers. Of course I’d be glad to accompany you all down to the swimming hole.” She cocked her head. “Am I to assume my services are also required to prepare the picnic?”

He grinned. “Well, you didn’t think those flowers came without a price, did you?”

Hannah laughed. “I think I’ve been had, Devlin MacKay!”

“Oh, you have,” he agreed, laughing in turn, “but I’ll be glad to help you get it all together.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes slicing bread and making cheese sandwiches, which soon joined a mess of cloth-wrapped gingerbread cookies and a jar of pickles. To the rest of the food she had placed in the large picnic hamper, Hannah added some leftover potato salad, fried sausages, and a jug of apple cider she sent Devlin to retrieve from the springhouse.

“Well, that should be enough to fill the stomachs of an army,” she said at last, surveying the basket’s contents.

Devlin joined her to peer inside. “Yeah, should be just about enough to feed me. So what are you and the children eating?”

She elbowed him in the side and laughed again. He graced her with a wry smile.

A half hour later, Beth, Devlin Jr., and now nearly four-year-old Mary were playing in the deeper water of one of the larger ponds, while Jackson and Bonnie happily splashed in the shallows at the pond’s edge. Beneath the cool shade of a nearby cottonwood, Hannah and Devlin lay on an old quilt and watched. For a while they said nothing, preferring the comfortable, contented silence.

Finally Devlin stirred. “Are you thirsty? I’ve got a sudden hankering for some of that springhouse cooled cider.”

Hannah considered his offer, then nodded. “Yes, that does sound good.” She sat up and turned to the picnic basket, when Devlin’s hand settled on her arm.

“You just lay back and enjoy yourself. I’ll get the cider.”

Surprised but pleased, Hannah did as ordered. From a stout rope hung on an overhanging branch of another cottonwood, Beth, dressed in a ruffled, red-and-white bathing dress, swung out over the pond and let go not far from where Mary stood. With a wild Indian whoop, Devlin Jr., attired in his own navy-striped, one-piece bathing suit took a running start, grabbed for the rope, and sailed out even farther before letting go and cannonballing into the water. At the resounding splash he made, both girls squealed in outraged delight.

Devlin chuckled. “Leave it to my son to outdo everyone else.”

Hannah, her attention turned at that moment to Jackson, who had just dumped a small pailful of water on Bonnie’s head, nodded in distraction. “Seems like it runs in the family.”

At Bonnie’s indignant wail, Devlin glanced in his daughter’s direction just in time to see her smack Jackson in the head. “Two of a kind, I’d say.”

Their glances met and locked. Hannah searched his eyes for some sign of his feelings about their son, some sign, after all these weeks, that he had finally come to a decision about him. For the life of her, though, she couldn’t discern a thing.

Nonetheless, Devlin must have seen her unspoken question. “About Jackson.” He swung his gaze back out to the pond and children. “I’ve given a lot of thought as to what to do about him. Problem is, publicly claiming him as my own puts us both in an awkward position. Actually, it puts
you
in more of an awkward position. I don’t give a hoot what folk say or think of me.”

His eyes went dark with some indefinable emotion. “But it might make any future suitors for your hand a bit uncomfortable, not knowing where we stand with each other.”

“I’m willing to take my chances,” Hannah replied softly. “One way or another, I’m still the mother of an illegitimate child.”

“There’s also the problem of my other children. Devlin Jr.’s getting old enough to understand, ask questions. And sooner or later Mary and Bonnie will be old enough to do the same.”

“Don’t you think, whether you accept Jackson or not, that folk—including your children—are eventually going to notice the resemblance? How long do you think you can hide the truth?”

“I just don’t want to put my children through this right now, that’s all.”

“So what you’re saying,” Hannah muttered, feeling the anger rise, “is revealing Jackson’s your son would cause too many problems for you and yours.”

“You make it sound as if I’m looking for excuses to avoid claiming him.” His mouth tightened. “Well, it’s not like that at all. For a change, I’m trying to think of others and not myself.”

“Well, you’re not going about it very well!”

“What do you want from me then, Hannah? Do you want me to marry you, so I can legitimize Jackson and be able to call him my son in every way? Even then, sooner or later someone’s bound to get hurt.”

Hannah stared at him, speechless. Marry Devlin? Legitimize Jackson and become a mother to the other children in every way? The thought filled her with a wild joy. That solution would solve everything, including her heart’s secret yearning.

Then reason, tinged with disappointment, returned. Devlin wasn’t proposing. He was just venting his frustration at the situation and the untenable position it had placed him in. After all, he had just admitted someone was still bound to get hurt—maybe even him—in the process of his being forced into a marriage he didn’t want.

“What, in the end, would us getting married solve?” She lowered her gaze to the pink-and-blue calico pattern on her dress. “It would only be a marriage of convenience for the children’s sake. I think we both deserve better than that.”

A marriage of convenience.
Hannah’s choice of words stung Devlin’s pride. So, that’s all the purpose that would be served marrying him!

“I suppose you’re right.” All the fight and anger drained from him, Devlin slumped back onto his elbows. “Maybe it’d be best to just give it more time.” He didn’t like admitting defeat, but this was one situation that didn’t seem to have any easy answers. “Maybe, in time, something will present itself.”

“Something like a miracle, perhaps?” Hannah sighed and shook her head. “Well, enough of that. How about that cup of cider you were offering? I’ve suddenly developed a terrific thirst.”

Devlin hurried to comply, and they were soon sipping the thirst-quenching drink. They sat there for a while, savoring the moment, listening to the happy shouts of the children, and watching them play. Finally, though, Hannah decided the children had spent enough time in the hot sun and water.

She rose. “Five more minutes,” she called to them. “Then head on in for some lunch.”

The children took her at her word. She and Devlin had barely spread out the picnic meal before Beth and Devlin Jr., followed by Mary and Jackson, ran from the water to sprawl on the quilt and grab for food. After holding them off long enough to say grace, Hannah left Devlin to bring some order to the horde of ravenous children. Walking down to the water’s edge, she retrieved Bonnie, who sat staring up at everyone in wide-eyed puzzlement.

When the feeding frenzy had subsided and the remnants of food were put away, Hannah insisted the children lie down for an hour’s nap. Once they were quietly dozing, she turned to Devlin. “Care for a walk? I feel a need for some exercise after sitting for so long and eating such a big meal.”

He nodded and climbed to his feet. “Sounds like a fine idea.” He extended his hand to her.

For a long moment, Hannah eyed it warily. Devlin still refused to publicly acknowledge Jackson, had casually suggested wedding her, then blithely discounted the idea. Yet now he stood there, gazing down at her with the most devastatingly tender look. Whatever was she to make of him and his true feelings for her?

She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He didn’t let go once she was standing. Instead, his hand still clasping hers, Devlin led her toward another stand of cottonwoods about fifty feet away.

The trees in this particular spot were twisted and bent, some into grotesque shapes. Glancing up through the leafy branches, Hannah pictured the winter winds swooping down the hills with great force, battering the trees mercilessly. It would account for the malformed trunks and branches.

Hannah disengaged her hand from Devlin’s. Strolling over to a gnarled, low-lying branch extending from one of the cottonwoods, she hopped up to sit on it. The trees here reminded her a lot of Devlin. Life had also battered him. Like these trees, his soul was twisted and bent in many ways. It would take God’s work to untangle him.

Devlin came up to lean on the trunk of the tree she sat in. A sad, thoughtful look darkened his eyes.

Concern filled her. “What is it, Devlin? What’s wrong?”

A smile twitched at one corner of his mouth, but he said nothing.

“Are you still thinking about Jackson?” she ventured.

He exhaled a weary breath. “If it were only me, I’d gladly claim Jackson before the whole world.” His mouth twisted grimly. “But then, if it had only been me to begin with, I wouldn’t be in half the trouble I’m in right now.”

“The Lord will help us, if only we trust in Him.”

“That’s fine for you to believe,” he muttered, “but I prefer to rely on my own efforts.”

Hannah gripped the trunk on either side of her, and began to swing her legs to and fro. “What happened with you and God, Devlin? Why do you despise Him so?”

“It’s a long, sordid story.”

She glanced in the direction of the children. Tired by their swim and full from their lunch, they had all apparently settled down and were sound asleep. She turned back to Devlin. “Looks like I’ve got the time, if you care to tell me.”

“And why do you want to know?”

“Isn’t that obvious by now?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I reckon it is, though I don’t know why you’ve taken such an interest in me. Or why you care.”

“You’re a good man, Devlin MacKay. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“And you’re a good-hearted little fool,” he retorted, grinning at her to soften his words. “And don’t you let anyone tell
you
otherwise.”

She smiled. “Well, are you going to tell this little fool, or not?”

His grin faded. He joined her on the tree branch, leaning against it, his long legs bracing himself on the ground. “My pa and his older brother, Robbie, who was Conor’s pa,” Devlin finally began his tale, “were the two youngest children of Sean MacKay, a Highlander who emigrated from Scotland during the horrible years of the Highland Clearances.” He turned to her. “That was the time near the beginning of this century when the Scots peasants were thrown off their ancestral lands to make way for more profitable sheep,” he explained. When Hannah nodded, he continued. “Sean died six years after my pa’s birth, and his wife soon remarried to a man who was very cruel to the two boys, especially when he drank.

“Robbie ran away to Colorado when he was fifteen. By the time he joined Robbie here at Culdee Creek, my pa was already a hard, embittered man. He didn’t trust anyone, and pretty much justified any means that served to his personal advantage. That outlook, combined with his anger at his brother for running away to come out West, led him to believe Robbie owed him a big debt.”