Читать книгу The Cowboy's Baby - Linda Ford - Страница 11

Not until the door closed after Colby did Anna’s nerves stop twitching. She watched out the window as he strode down the road to the right. Where was he going? Apparently it was too much to hope he’d leave town now rather than later after they all started thinking he might stay.

But at least he was out of her house, out of her sight. Just not out of her thoughts. Try as she had over the months, she could never get him completely out of her thoughts.

“Anna, what if he does want to take Dorrie?” Alex’s voice thinned with worry—a worry that scratched the inside of her mind, as well.

Father appeared in the doorway. “He says he doesn’t. Do we have any reason to doubt his word?” Carrying his Bible Father left to visit a family whose mother lay sick.

Anna could think of many reasons for mistrusting what Colby said—and even more for not counting on him. Experience had taught her those cruel lessons. But it had not taught her a way to subdue the portion of her heart that longed for the closeness they had shared. It had been a childhood friendship. Nothing more. But she couldn’t stop the yearning in her heart that wanted to reignite that friendship. Feel again the closeness, the bond, the instant understanding they once had.

Only her rigid, well-honed self-control enabled her to dismiss such foolishness and turn her attention back to Alex’s need. She squeezed his shoulder. “Alex, we can pray and trust God to be in control of the situation.”

Alex skittered a sideways look at her. “I’m afraid.” He ducked his head so he spoke into his chest. “Sometimes bad things happen.”

She pulled him to her side, wanting to assure him he was safe. But how could she? He’d lost more than she when his mother and baby brother had died. “We have to trust God knows best.” She had fought a hard battle in her heart to get to the place where she could trust God again. Alex lacked her adult perspective to rationalize events and apply faith. His thin shoulder pressed into her ribs but he remained stiff as a stick.

Knowing she had nothing more to offer than words, she released him and turned to wash Dorrie’s face.

Her disobedient thoughts returned to Colby and the way he’d edged his way into Father’s good graces. Father believed in extending forgiveness, which was fine in theory. Not so great when it put so many people at risk. Father would be shocked at the words biting the back of Anna’s tongue. If she voiced her thoughts he would gently chide her for being uncharitable, for not showing the love of God.

Alex’s mouth remained in a tight line. His eyes clouded with troublesome thoughts.

Her heart went out to her younger brother. “Alex, I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.” She wished it were so. “Now help me with the dishes and then you can start your homework.” She lifted Dorrie from her chair. As soon as Dorrie’s feet hit the floor she went to Alex and babbled something, her face wreathed in concern as if sensing his uncertainty.

He scooped her into his arms and tickled her, making her giggle.

“Lexie,” she protested, but they all knew she loved it as much as Alex.

Anna watched the pair. Not only did she have her heart to protect, she must shield these two children from hurt, as well. She constructed a quick, impenetrable shell around the thoughts that remembered happier times with Colby. She could not let them divert her from her present concerns.

Later, as she helped Alex with his homework, she resolutely kept that shell in place. One effective way to do so was to think of the cross hanging on the fire-scarred wall. So many things raced through her mind—the times she’d knelt before that cross, giving her problems and struggles to the Lord, seeking His help in dealing with the loss of Rose, the challenges of raising her younger brother and running her father’s home. How frightened she’d been when Colby had thrust his newborn baby into Anna’s arms and begged her to take care of it.

At first, her prayer had been for Colby to stay, stop his foolish behavior and become a true partner in the raising of his daughter. Her cheeks burned as she recalled how she’d imagined him confessing his love and asking her to marry him. She now understood he could not be the man she needed. She’d done her best to accept it and focus her thoughts on being a mother to the two children in her care and running her father’s household efficiently. God, why did You let him come back when I was sure I had put thoughts of him behind me?

She wanted to slip over to the church as she’d done so often and find help, strength and renewal of her faith at the foot of the cross. It meant more to her than a symbol of Christ’s death. It was a visible reminder of God’s faithfulness in her life.

Despite Mrs. Percy’s edict, Anna couldn’t bear the thought of having the cross burned along with the rest of the debris, especially now when she knew her faith and resolve were about to be tested yet again by Colby’s return.

She’d always found what she needed in prayer and she turned her thoughts toward God in a burst of faith. God, my first concern is protecting Dorrie. And I need Your wisdom to do that. But I also need to rest in Your strength as I face Colby each day. Help me be faithful to what You’ve called me to do.

Calm returned to her soul for the first time in many hours. God had always been faithful and loving as she struggled with her many doubts and fears. It was as if He patiently held out His arms, welcoming her after each bout of uncertainty.

She wanted to save that cross. It was only a piece of wood but was a monument to her—a sweet reminder of all the times she’d turned to God for help and received more than she asked or dreamed.

Once Dorrie was sleeping she could leave. “Alex, listen for Dorrie while I run over to the church.”

Each Sunday she accompanied Father on the piano as he led the song service so she often ran over to practice on the church piano. Only this time her interest wasn’t in music.

As she stepped into the dim interior she breathed in the acrid smell of the fire still clinging to the air, but it failed to rob her of the peace and tranquility she felt in this place. She moved slowly up the center aisle pausing to wipe her fingers along the top of one of the wooden pews. She checked her fingertips, saw a trace of dust. She’d tried to keep the place clean after the fire even though it wasn’t used for services. Somehow it seemed sacrilegious to let dust accumulate. Besides not only did she pray and play the piano here, Father still came over to study and pray.

She arrived at the front. The pulpit had been taken to the meeting place so nothing obstructed her view of the cross or the blackened wall. Raw wood had been nailed over the bottom where the fire had broken through. She climbed the three steps to the platform, her heels thudding on the wood, and stood in front of the cross. The foot had been burned off completely and much of what remained was blackened by smoke or charred by the fire.

Her vision blurred. She couldn’t explain it in words but she felt the cross surviving the flames was a visible lesson of a spiritual truth—that Jesus’s death had spared them all from the flames of judgment.

She scrubbed at her eyes. This was a lesson she wanted to share even as much as she wanted to preserve the cross that had such significance in her life.

She slid her fingers along the wood, carefully going with the grain to avoid slivers. It fit tightly to the wall. She wouldn’t be able to simply lift it off.

If she could only see how it was secured but the evening light had faded to a gentle dove-gray.

“Figuring to steal it?”

She jerked back and caught her finger against a rough patch as she spun around to see who spoke. A sliver dug into her flesh. “Ouch.” She squeezed her finger to stop the pain.

Colby stood before her, a grin splitting his face.

She scowled. “It’s you. I should have guessed.” It would be too much by far to think he’d wandered down the street and found some place miles away to hang out. She gritted her teeth but not before the barest moan escaped.

He shifted his amused gaze to her hands and sobered. “Are you hurt?” He grabbed her finger and bent over to examine it.

Heat scalded her throat and cheeks at his touch. A thousand dreams and wishes blossomed like flowers after a rain. She knew she should protest and pull away but she stood as immobile as a slab of clay.

He turned her finger gently toward the last bit of light from the west-facing windows. He probed the site with a light touch then yanked out the sliver.

She gasped yet welcomed the sudden pain. The flowers withered and died and saneness returned. There were no dreams, no wishes with this man.

He pressed the site, ending the pain as quickly as it came. Then he squeezed the tip of her finger. “A little blood flow will wash away the dirt.” Two drops of blood plopped to the oiled wood of the floor. She’d have to scrub it off later.

He watched her finger a heartbeat longer. “I think I got it all but you best wash it thoroughly when you get home.” When he released her hand she couldn’t seem to move. She stared at her arm suspended between them, felt the heat from her cheeks spread to her hairline and scald the roots of her hair. She yanked her arm to her waist. Her heart throbbed where the sliver had been.

He leaned back, his head bare.

At least he had the decency to remove his hat in God’s house. She realized her thoughts were uncharitable but found perverse strength in them.

“So what were you doing?” he asked.

“Looking.”

“Don’t get slivers by looking.”

“So I touched it.” She had no intention of telling this man anything more than that. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckled. “I was enjoying a quiet evening.” He sounded vaguely regretful, as if her presence had spoiled his solitude.

“Maybe you could enjoy it somewhere else. Don’t you have friends you can stay with or something?”

“You suggesting I go to the saloon?” His quiet words challenged her. “I seem to remember a time when you begged me to stay away from that sort of company.”

“That was a long time ago. Things have changed.”

“I’m glad you admit it. Because—” he leaned close “—I’ve changed. Didn’t you promise to pray for me? Did you do it? Or decide I was a lost cause?” His nose was only inches from hers. “Perhaps you prayed I would never return.”

She refused to step back and let him intimidate her. Instead she drew herself up tall and tipped her chin. “I did pray for you. At first.”

He nodded. “Then you decided to give up on me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then I prayed you’d never come back and embarrass Dorrie with your sinful ways.”

He straightened and stepped back.

Even in the fading light she glimpsed what she could only take for as hurt. She almost regretted her honest words then he grinned and she didn’t regret them one bit. The man was far too blasé about life. Just as he was about responsibilities and friendships.

Not even to herself would she admit it was one of the things she had enjoyed about him—his ability to smile through troubles, laugh at adversity and enjoy life.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He shifted to stare past her. “What would the good people of the church say if they knew you tried to steal the cross? Do you suppose your father would be embarrassed?”

“This is ridiculous. It’s a burned piece of wood. Aren’t you planning to burn it tomorrow?”

“So what were you doing?”

He wasn’t about to leave the topic alone. But neither was she prepared to share her emotional attachment to the cross. It would make sense to no one else. They would see only how it was burned, damaged beyond repair. Mrs. Percy was right. It should be destroyed. But a flurry of regrets swamped her at the thought.

“Something hidden behind it maybe? Something you don’t want anyone to discover?”

A dull churn of anger ignited at his accusation. She suspected he was purposely trying to annoy her. But how dare he suggest she might be guilty of doing anything wrong. She was a preacher’s daughter who carefully lived a circumspect life. And if she ever missed the expectations of her role by so much as a hair there were plenty of people who would point it out to her. “I was only seeing if there was a way to salvage it.” She lifted her skirts and descended the steps. “Obviously I am being foolishly sentimental. Might as well burn it and put up a new cross.” As she hurried down the aisle, she struggled to control this unfamiliar indignation.

She marched across the yard and into the house. There wasn’t time to dwell on her unexpected reaction to Colby. She planned to finish the quilt tonight and deliver it as soon as possible. Thankfully the evenings had been warm enough of late, but if they had a cold, damp spell the Andersons would be hard-pressed to keep warm with the few things they’ve been given.

Anna paused as she sewed the edging on. She thought of how close she had come to sharing Hazel Anderson’s situation. The fire had been within inches… She shuddered. Life was so uncertain.

She jabbed the needle through the layers of the quilt with unusual vigor. Father might feel charitable toward Colby Bloxham. But all she felt was an enormous need to get the man on his way as soon as humanly possible before he upset her life. Again.

She needed divine help and paused to bow her head. Our Father in heaven, be so kind as to put Your mighty hand on the man’s back and move him onward. Before he turns my world upside down and my heart inside out. Again.