A Place Called Home (10 page)

The chickens were happily pecking at their meal as Christine headed around the barn to Belle and Betsy's pen. Both were overjoyed to see her, crowding near Christine's legs as though they were starved. Christine filled the trough and turned to go. Betsy, in her eagerness, rushed to the trough and bumped Christine on the back of the legs. She reacted quickly, dropping the pail and reaching for the fence. Catching it kept her from going facedown into the pig muck, but her knees buckled and she felt them sink deeply.

Having struggled out of the pen, Christine stood and surveyed the damage. The front of her dress was ruined. She watched as the slime dripped onto her boots, and she had to put her hand down to hold the dress away from her legs. She knew she had never smelled worse. Christine shot an angry look at Betsy, but the sow was head and ears into the slop, oblivious to all else.

Muttering under her breath about the tasty dishes made from ham, Christine retrieved her pail and stormed toward the house. Rounding the barn, she ran headlong into a tall, solid
body. Christine gasped in surprise and stepped back. Her eyes shot downward and saw boots and pants liberally smeared with muck before looking up to the surprised face staring down at her.

“Oh, Mark, it's you! I'm sorry,” Christine wailed. “Look at what I've done to your pants and boots. What a mess!” Christine plucked at the ruined skirt. “It was Betsy. She bumped right into me. I tell you, sometimes those pigs make me furious.” Christine's anger made her speak quickly and gesture wildly with her arms, the pail in one hand swinging as she spoke. “Well,” she said with an angry shrug, “the damage is done. Come up to the house and I'll try to clean up your boots.”

Christine then stalked off with a determined stride, pail still swinging, leaving the confused man to follow in her odorous wake.

Grandma Em stepped out of the house just as they approached the back steps. “Oh, no, Christine, your dress! Which one was it?” Her voice sounded resigned.

“Betsy,” Christine answered with disgust.

“Oh, Christine, I'm sorry. Betsy is always so pushy.” Grandma Em looked at the man standing behind Christine. His confused face and mud-spattered clothing greatly amused her. Her voice told him as much when she said, “Welcome home, Luke.”

Christine, who had been wiping ineffectively at her skirt, looked sharply at Grandma Em's face. Her eyes moved slowly to the man she had just plowed into and covered with pig muck. Her face began to burn as the full realization hit: This was not Mark Cameron. This was not the man who had nursed her back to health, befriended her, found her a job, and then took her lovingly into his own family.

This was
Luke,
the brother who had been on a buying trip in Chicago. Only he was no longer in Chicago—he was here,
and Christine had welcomed him home by ruining his pants. Christine stared hard at his face. Why had no one mentioned that Mark and Luke were identical twins? It was unbelievable that two faces could be so much alike. She continued to stare rudely until Grandma Em finally broke into her thoughts.

“Christine?” Still she stared on, and Luke began to feel irritated with her.

“Christine?” Christine turned with a guilty start. “This is Luke, my oldest grandson. Luke, this is Christine Bennett. She lives here and works for me.”

Luke's eyes widened at this bit of information, but he recovered quickly and offered his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Christine.” His voice was extremely polite.

Christine's own hand came forward to return the shake, but upon seeing how muddy it was, she quickly put it behind her back. Luke's hand was extended expectantly in midair until he finally dropped it to his side. “It's nice to meet you also.” Christine's voice was stiff and her face was ablaze once again. Years of training came to the fore as Luke and Christine made an attempt to remember their manners in such an awkward situation. But Christine could take no more and turned quickly to Grandma Em. “I'll go clean up.” Without waiting for a reply, she nearly ran up the steps and into the kitchen.

Luke, who was left standing outside with Grandma Em, reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. “Would you care to explain what this is all about, Gram?” Luke's voice was quiet as he used his handkerchief to wipe his face, his nose wrinkling as the smell from his boots traveled upward.

Grandma Em took pity. “Let's get you cleaned up and we'll talk over breakfast.”

Nearly an hour later she concluded, “So you see, Luke, it doesn't matter that I don't know all about Christine, including why she is so far from home. Although she has not shared
with me, she has talked with Mark. But if I learned one thing being a doctor's wife for over 45 years, you don't ask questions about patients.” Grandma Em paused and put her hand over Luke's. “What I do know is that right now I need her, and I hope her need for me will lead her to Christ.”

Luke was quiet for some time. “I guess the idea takes a little getting used to. All these years of fighting to remain alone and independent, and in the three weeks I'm gone you capitulate and let someone not only work for you but live here as well.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Mark sounded just like you the day he came and told me his idea for Christine working and living here.”

This brought a smile to Luke's face. Luke had, without spoken word, become head of the family when, over four years ago, Joseph Cameron had died. Emily was always a very capable woman, and Luke did not move in and take over. He was simply there when she needed him. Mark and Mac were more than willing to lend a hand, but Luke and Silas, being bachelors, were more available.

Emily rarely had words with her grandson, but when she did, Luke usually won. In an infuriatingly logical way he stated his case. He preferred to deal in facts rather than emotions, and much to Emily's chagrin, he could talk circles around her.

Luke was usually very sensitive to his grandmother's needs and wishes. Along the way there had been a few times when he had simply put his foot right down on the top of some of her plans.

Luke now sat on the wagon seat beside Silas. He felt strangely humbled at the thought of how well things went with him not around. He realized that he and Grandma Em hadn't really finished their conversation when Silas had shown up and offered Luke a ride home.

Silas hadn't known the time Luke's train was to arrive—just the day. But Silas was like that. In his quiet way he seemed to sense when and where he was needed and then just stepped in without pomp or ceremony.

As the wagon neared the ranch, the restless night was quickly catching up to Luke. Suddenly he couldn't quite remember what he had been a bit uneasy about at Grandma Em's. Oh, well, he would think on it later. Right now the ranch was in view, and he was sure Silas wouldn't mind if he got in a quick nap. Whatever today's problems were, they would wait a few more hours.

“You say you received this letter today?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” replied Mrs. Hall, relief and concern evident in her voice.

The sheriff turned back to the piece of paper in his hand.

Dear Mrs. Hall:

I'm sorry for the worry and pain you must certainly have experienced these past weeks. I am also sorry I was not able to tell you of my plans before leaving. The letter you delivered from Carl Maxwell told me to leave Spooner immediately. I was to meet someone in Fall Creek. When this didn't work out, I stayed on the train and ended up in a small town called Baxter. I live with and work for an older woman. She and her family are very kind and loving to me. I am physically settled but my heart and mind await answers. Please ask Carl to write me. I need his help. I'll close by
telling you once again that I am fine. I hope this finds you well. I miss you. Take care and please write to me so I know you received this letter.

Much love,
Christie
P.S. My address: Christine Bennett
c/o Mrs. Emily Cameron
Baxter, Wisconsin

“Mrs. Hall, has anyone else seen this letter?”

“No, I brought it right to you.”

The sheriff nodded and stood still as though in deep thought. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. “You heard that Carl Maxwell is missing?”

“I'd heard.”

“Without him to question, the only place to go is back to Christine.” He paused. “Write her and tell her to stay where she is. Tell her Carl is missing and that until I can dig a bit deeper, she's better off where she is. And of course, warn her about talking to people. The less said, the better. You of course understand it is just as necessary here.”

“Of course, Sheriff.” Mrs. Hall put out her hand to take the letter, but the sheriff held it away.

“I'd really like to keep this.” He saw Mrs. Hall's hesitation and then continued. “I'll copy the address so you can write, but this letter is important.”

She nodded reluctantly and replied, “When you're done with it, I'd like it back.”

“Of course, Mrs. Hall; I'll keep it safe. Now look on the bright side. Christine has written, and you know she's safe. We'll get to the bottom of this. Don't you worry.”

Mrs. Hall thanked the sheriff and he watched her walk away, wishing he felt as optimistic as he sounded.

Christine stood in the parlor before the large family portrait that Grandma Em had just asked her to hang. Twins! Why had no one ever mentioned that Mark and Luke were identical twins? Shaking her head, she wondered how many times she had asked herself that question.

Yesterday had been awful. Christine could not stop thinking about how foolish she felt while meeting Luke.

Christine's eyes moved intently over the portrait. The four Cameron brothers stood in the back. Susanne, Mac, and Julia were seated in front, a child in each lap. Silas stood to the far right of the back row, sporting a beard as full then as it was today. The man next to him could be none other than Paul. Dark hair, boyish good looks, and most of all his height marked him as a Cameron. By simple deduction Christine guessed the next man to be Luke. To the far left stood Mark, his hand on Sue's shoulder, a small Emily in her lap. Judging from the changes in Emily, Calvin, and Charles, the picture was probably about two years old.

Her eyes once again centered on the identical men in the back row, glancing quickly back and forth between the two. They were even of the same height and build. Well, possibly not. Maybe Luke's shoulders were a bit wider. Christine turned away from the picture with an angry shrug. What did she care if his shoulders were bigger? If she never saw the man again
it would be way too soon. Deciding to put it behind her, Christine walked into the dining room to dust, unaware of Grandma Em standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the emotions play across Christine's face.

Grandma Em could feel Christine's frustration. Yesterday must have been terribly embarrassing for her. The look on Christine's face when Grandma Em welcomed Luke home clearly stated that she had taken him for Mark. And who wouldn't? There were only a handful of people who could tell them apart.

Grandma Em's mind went to the conversation yesterday. They hadn't really finished talking, leaving Grandma Em unsure just how Luke felt about Christine.

As Grandma Em continued to ponder, it occurred to her why this was so unsettling. Luke's opinion was of the utmost importance to her. If Luke felt uncomfortable with Christine or disapproved of her in some way, she wanted to know. Grandma Em quickly reined in her wild thoughts. God did not put Christine in their lives simply to pluck her back out again. God would handle it. His timing would be perfect. Emily went back to work quoting Proverbs 3:5,6: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”