Christmas Under Western Skies Page 15

  “Hardly.”

  “Take off the blinders, my boy. She’s a good looker—”

  “I never said she wasn’t.” She’d cleaned up real good from his first glimpse of her climbing, bedraggled, from the hay. “That’s not the point.”

  “She’s efficient.”

  “I guess so.”

  “And steady. Why, I bet she would be loyal to the death.”

  “All I need is someone else to worry about.”

  Uncle Mac faced him squarely. “What you need is to stop taking yourself so seriously.”

  Winnie crossed the yard on her way back from school and went into the house, her step light, as if she had not a worry in the world.

  Derek knew better. She had no home, her family was lost to her and what she owned fit into a small bag. She should be weighed down with uncertainty. Was she so simpleminded she didn’t realize it?

  Uncle Mac must have read his mind. “She’s learned to enjoy the present without worrying about the future.”

  Derek snorted. “Sounds irresponsible to me.”

  The older man sighed deeply, obviously frustrated with Derek. “Like I said, you take yourself and life too seriously. Sometimes I get the feeling you think you need to tell God how to rule the world.”

  Derek strode away. If he said what he thought, his uncle would likely have a fit, but it seems God didn’t take care of things the way He promised to.

  Winnie had tried to stay uninvolved with Kathy’s angst as they trudged toward school. But Kathy kept glancing over her shoulder.

  “Derek will pick you up after class,” she assured the child.

  “What if he forgets?”

  Winnie laughed softly. “As if he would. He’ll never forget you.”

  “Something might happen to him.”

  Winnie had stopped and squatted to eye level and grasped Kathy’s shoulders. “Bad things happen. I can’t pretend they don’t. But you can’t change the future by borrowing worry from tomorrow and trying to carry it today. All of us can only live life one day at a time.”

  Kathy’s dark eyes considered Winnie.

  Winnie pressed her point. “You miss out on the good things of today by worrying about tomorrow. Hardly seems like a good idea.”

  Kathy looked back toward the farm. “I can’t see the house.”

  Winnie realized Kathy was a few inches too short to see the peak of the house. “Would you feel better if you could see it?”

  “I’d know it was there.”

  By the time Winnie returned home she had an idea.

  She dug into a box of rags and pulled out a bit of heavy denim, then headed for the barn.

  She found Uncle Mac outside, pounding nails into a raw-looking plank of wood. For some inexplicable reason, she did not make her request to Mac. “Where can I find Derek?”

  “Try the pen over there.” He pointed down the alley way. “He was working with one of the young horses.

  Give out a call so you don’t startle them.”

  “It can wait.”

  Mac scrubbed at his whiskered chin. “Whatever is on your mind was enough to bring you out here, so you might as well get it done. ’Sides, Derek needs to think about something besides work and responsibility.

  I’m thinking you might be able to nudge him in that direction.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

  Mac waved her away. “Don’t stop an old man from dreaming dreams.”

  “Even if I tell you it’s impossible? Not what either of us wants?”

  “Could be the good Lord brought you here for such a thing as this.” He pounded on a nail, making any protest useless. She shrugged and headed in the direction he’d indicated. What difference did an old man’s opinion make? Didn’t change anything. Any more than her wishes had changed anything in the past. Or Derek’s worries could prevent troubles in the future.

  Ahead, beyond the wooden rails, Derek’s voice came to her, calm, reassuring, just as when he talked to Kathy. Safe, sheltering. Her steps slowed, she dragged her mitten along the rough wood, catching and ripping off slivers, tempting them to stab her, yet knowing pain and blood from an injured finger would not ease the emptiness sucking at her soul. She stood stark still, dropped her hands to her side and drew in air, cool, laden with the scent of animals and snow off the mountains. She let the air settle deep into her lungs, holding it until she’d leeched it of all oxygen. Only then did she let her breath out, and keep within her the strength it had given.

  She had no one. She needed no one. Especially not someone who resented another person in his life. She did not need his gentle words. His calm assurance. All she wanted was enough money to continue her journey to Banff.

  She’d given her word to stay until the Faringtons arrived.

  Her conscience dictated she help Kathy as much as she could. Perhaps that’s why God had brought her here.

  Not because of Derek, as Mac suggested. Lord, use me, protect me, help me.

  Strengthened by reality and determination, she called out, “Derek, are you there?” and waited for his response.

  Silence filled her ears. Then he answered. “Hang on while I release the horse.” A moment later he vaulted the fence. He dragged his gaze over her and glanced beyond her.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Kathy got to school safely. I met her teacher and saw the room. Admired her drawing. She has a nice touch with crayons and paper. Even the teacher said her drawings were expressive.”

  He leaned against the fence. “You came here to tell me that?”

  It wasn’t her purpose in seeking him out, but she was happy enough to relieve the concern he couldn’t hide.

  “I do have another reason for being here.” She explained what she had in mind.

  His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, but before he could voice an opinion she was certain would be contrary, she added, “What does it hurt? And it might help.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll have to get the ladder.”

  She followed him to a shed where he pulled out a ladder, then she trotted after him to the house and watched as he nailed the flag of denim to a pole and attached the pole to the peak of the house.

  “She should be able to see that from the school. It will give her something to watch.”

  Derek climbed down and stood beside her, staring up at the flapping, faded blue material. “You think it’s enough to get her to walk home alone?”

  “I can’t say. It will take time for her to get over her fears.” She refrained from pointing out that he and Mac seem to feed them, rather than give her tools to deal with them. “At the very least, she can look out from the schoolyard and know the house is still here, and by association, assume you and Mac are here as well.”

  “Seems too easy.”

  “Sometimes the answers are easier than we an ticipate.”

  He faced her, his eyes full of dark intensity, seeking answers to questions he hadn’t voiced—perhaps that he didn’t even have words for. “Is that how you see life?” He made the idea sound silly.

  “I know life is complicated—”

  “Unpredictable? Uncontrollable?”

  His driving questions scraped her nerves. She preferred to believe God controlled things. “Personally, I don’t want to see the end, the turns in the road. I think if I did, I would live in constant fear.”

  “You mean like me?” His voice carried a low warning, informing her he didn’t care for her evaluation.

  She decided to turn the conversation in another direction. “I was thinking of Kathy. Living in fear doesn’t change what might come. It only robs you of enjoyment of good things.”

  “I prefer to call it caution.”

  She ached to have him understand the difference between the two. Longed to see him know peace. “I learned some hard but valuable lessons. I wouldn’t have chosen to be taught by them, but I also don’t intend to waste what I’ve learned.”

 
His look silently demanded an explanation. She couldn’t tell if he wanted to understand, or simply to hear her answer so he could refute it. Lord, You have taught me to trust You even in difficult circumstances. If there is some way I can make him see it’s possible, then use me, guide me.

  “I prayed for a home, instead God gave me contentment. I asked for love, instead He gave me peace. I tried to find my family, asked Him to help me. I found no clue of where they had gone, but I found instead, satisfaction in knowing I am loved by God. That is more than enough.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His blunt words hammered at her self-assurance. She clung with deeply embedded fingernails to what she said. “You’re accusing me of deceit?”

  “I think you’ve deceived yourself if you believe you are content and happy to be homeless, with no family and alone in the world.”

  His accusation tore her fingernails away, leaving her heart in shreds. He had excavated a truth she couldn’t face. It was too hurtful, too destructive.

  “Believe whatever you want.” She congratulated herself on keeping her voice gentle, revealing none of the pain pulsing through her. “I know God loves me. What more do I need?” So much more she couldn’t face. “Be sure and tell Kathy to watch for the flag and take comfort in the fact that the house is there. You and Mac are here, too.” She turned and headed indoors.

  “Winnie, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  She gave no indication that she heard him.

  Why had he pushed her so hard? What benefit was there in poking at her wounds? In making her acknowledge their pain? He should have quit prodding before he made her bleed.

  As he returned to gentling the young gelding he’d bought in the fall, he tried to think how to undo what he’d done. Not that he didn’t believe she was hiding her real feelings.

  But by the time she clanged the metal triangle to signal dinner, he still didn’t know how to explain he hadn’t meant to inflict pain. What was his intention? To make her face the truth.

  Why? Would he feel better if she worried as much as he did, if she bemoaned the facts of her life?

  No. He had come to admire her optimism, perhaps even relish it. But it also accused him. Made him aware of his own shortcomings in trusting God, and that in turn made him defensive.

  He followed Mac into the house, stood at the doorway and studied her for some indication of how she felt.

  She flashed them both a smile. “Soup’s ready. And biscuits hot from the oven.”

  He let his breath ease past his teeth. So she was willing to overlook his comments, perhaps even pretend he hadn’t spoken them? His relief was short-lived. She was a warm person, but only on the surface. Below the gentle smile and kind words was a heart frozen with denial.

  How was that better than him worrying?

  Mac tossed his hat and gloves onto the narrow bench by the door and shed his coat. “Sure does smell good. A man could get used to being greeted by a warm smile and tasty food. Right, Derek?”

  Derek snorted. Uncle Mac was anything but subtle, but protests would only encourage him. “Sure could.”

  Mac grinned and rubbed his hands together as if he’d succeeded in convincing Derek that Winnie was the answer to all their problems.

  Derek knew better.

  But he was grateful to enjoy the food and the comfortable atmosphere.

  Later that afternoon, he strode down the trail to the schoolhouse to get Kathy. She raced out and joined him in the schoolyard. Her eagerness at seeing him erased the tightness lingering in his thoughts from his unkind words to Winnie. This little sister was his life. All that mattered. He turned her toward the house. “Can you see home?”

  She shook her head. “Not until I’m almost there.”

  “Look again. I think you might be able to.”

  She giggled. “I’m still not tall enough.” But she followed the direction of his finger when he pointed. Her eyes widened. “What is that?”

  “It’s a flag hanging on the end of the house.” He made it sound like it was his idea. “Winnie thought of it. Said you might feel better if you could see where the house is.”

  Kathy clung to his hand and rocked back and forth on her tiptoes. “I can see it now.” The awe in her voice said it all.

  How had Winnie known how important this was to his little sister? Why hadn’t he thought of doing something? A confusion of gratitude and regret twisted his insides.

  They headed home. The whole way, Kathy kept her gaze on the flag. Her breath whooshed out when she could finally see the house. “It’s right on top.”

  “Just like I said.” He realized not seeing the house had created unnecessary worry for her, and his regret dissipated. Maybe he could find other ways to help Kathy.

  He followed her inside.

  Winnie waited with milk and cookies. Her welcoming smile faltered a fraction as she saw Derek behind Kathy. “Do you want a snack, too?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” He didn’t normally stop for a mid-afternoon snack, but she seemed to think the idea was okay.

  Winnie put out more cookies, asked if he wanted milk or coffee. He chose the latter. Then she turned to Kathy. “Did you see the flag?”

  “Right from the school.”

  “She likes it,” Derek added. “Thanks for the idea.”

  “I’m glad it helps.” He sought her eyes. The air shimmered with tension. Then she blinked, and her barriers were firmly in place.

  He didn’t know which was stronger—disappointment at her withdrawal, or relief to be allowed to retreat to his own safety.

  Winnie wanted to ease bedtime both for Kathy’s sake and Derek’s. Plus anyone else who might be within the sound of Kathy’s cries. Everyone was exhausted from listening to the nightly struggle, when she fought her fears and Derek tried to calm her. Seeing the picture at school Kathy drew had given Winnie an idea.

  The first thing she needed was blank paper. She found a stack of folded brown store paper in a closet—along with a trunk full of yarn and yard goods.

  She folded and stitched the pages together down the fold line to create a little book. She used Kathy’s crayons to color the cover and she put Kathy’s name on the front.

  Winnie spoke to Derek as the little girl put on her nightgown. “I have a few ideas about how to make bedtime easier. Do you mind if I try them.”

  He gave a lopsided grin. “I’m willing to try anything, and if your idea works as well as the flag…” He shrugged.

  Kathy came out, her face already tense.

  Winnie took over. “Kathy, I was so impressed with your drawing at school. I told Derek how wonderful it was. I think you have a gift.” She hoped to do far more than encourage an interest in drawing. “I made you a little art book.” She showed the brown paper book to Kathy. “I think you have time to draw something tonight.”

  “Before bed?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What will I draw?”

  “Whatever you like, but if you need a suggestion, why not think about your day and draw something that shows the best part of the day for you?”

  Kathy put her stuffed bear on the table and picked up a crayon. “Does it have to be something good?”

  “Do what you want.”

  She drew a big black circle.

  Winnie sat across the table and Derek stood behind Kathy, watching over her shoulder. Winnie felt his tension, wondered if Kathy did, too. “Why a black circle?”

  “That’s what bedtime feels like.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m afraid.”

  “Maybe we can think of something to put inside the black circle to make it happy instead of scary.”

  Kathy looked intrigued. “What would you draw?

  Winnie felt Derek’s quiet study as she picked up a red crayon and drew a heart inside the black circle. “This heart stands for love, to remind you that Derek and Uncle Mac love you, and so does God.” She met Derek’s gaze then, managed t
o ignore her shock of awareness at the surprise and gratitude in his eyes. “What would you draw, Derek?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

  “You must be able to think of something.”

  He studied the drawing a moment, then picked up a pink crayon. He made a circle, added eyes and a smiling mouth, selected a brown crayon and drew hair on the head. “This is Kathy. Thinking of her makes me happy.”

  Kathy giggled. “I don’t look like that.”

  “A heart doesn’t look like that either.” He touched the red heart Winnie had drawn.

  “It’s a val’tine heart,” Kathy said with utmost sincerity.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Winnie said to the child, hoping she would think of something to help her overcome her fears of the dark.

  “Just one thing?”

  Winnie laughed. “As many as you want.”

  Kathy grabbed a crayon and bent her head over the page.

  Winnie shot Derek a glance and saw he was as amused by Kathy’s enthusiasm as she. Their gazes collided. In her heart, something burst free. Hope. Her lungs caught on an inhalation. Hope had left her too often disappointed. She lowered her eyes, pushed things back where they belonged and concentrated on Kathy.

  After a few minutes, Kathy lifted her head and pushed the book forward for the others to see. “It’s a flag. This is my teddy bear. This is Derek.”

  Winnie chuckled at the long-legged stick figure with more hat than head. There was another stick figure—a woman, if Winnie guessed correctly. “Your mother?”

  Kathy shook her head. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “You said to draw things that make me happy.”

  She made Kathy happy? But I’m not staying. She swallowed the words, rather than steal any of Kathy’s contentment. Instead, she patted Kathy’s head. “Thank you.” And before anyone, namely Derek, could offer a comment, she hurried on. “I really liked it the other day, when you sang that song. Do you remember?”

  “You mean—?” and she started to sing the words.

  “I sing the mighty power of God….” She sang it clear through.