Brides of Idaho (52 page)

They had no reason to stay.

Would anything make Rudy change his mind and settle down?

A
picnic?” Emotions chased each other across Freddy’s face. Surprise then a flash of excitement quickly wiped away with fear then settling into indifference.

Rudy understood his confusion. Likely he’d never gone on a picnic or anything just for the fun of it. Rudy certainly couldn’t remember doing so as a child. Sure, he’d eaten outdoors lots of times, especially since he’d taken to a cowboy sort of life. But just for fun? Just to share time with others?

Or was he reading too much into the situation? Expecting something always resulted in disappointment. He ought to know that well enough. “Miss Joanna says she wants to show us a nice place.”

Freddy nodded. “Can I bring my knife?”

“Don’t see why not.” Rudy wished he could take something along to guard himself against hoping for things beyond his reach. But all he had at his disposal was the good sense to be cautious.

Joanna set a picnic basket on the veranda where he and Freddy waited. “I’ll just grab a wrap, and then I’m ready to go.”

Rudy picked up the basket. She sure must have packed a lot of food. But hauling the thing gave him something to pin his thoughts to besides admiring Joanna and wishing things could be different.

He might as well wish for the stars to land in his pocket. A man couldn’t undo the past or change who he was or how he felt.

Joanna pointed to the trail leading up the hill, and Freddy scampered ahead, exploring every root and cluster of trees along the path.

“It’s a glorious day, isn’t it?” Joanna lifted her arms heavenward as if embracing the world.

“I haven’t paid much attention, but it is.” One of those golden autumn days when the light had a warm glow to it, the wind was gentle and kind, the leaves flashed like coins caught on the branches, and the air practically burst with a scent peculiar to fall and crispy foliage. And beside him, a woman whose brown eyes were even warmer than the sunshine and who carried an inner source of light that shone through her.

“Days like this remind me how much God loves me.”

He couldn’t say he agreed. Nothing much made him think God loved him. After all, if his mother couldn’t love him, who could? Betty had answered that question for him in an unmistakable way. Seemed no one could. But he wasn’t about to introduce any note of discord.

They drew near a clearing with a log house.

“This is where Trace and Mandy live.”

“Nice house.”

“That’s the one Trace built.” She directed his attention to a crude shed. “That’s the one Mandy built.” Then she told an amusing story of a race between Mandy and Trace. The agreement was, whoever got their house built first got the land. “Trace called it a twig house.”

“So who won?”

“I guess Trace, though Mandy would say she did. But she abandoned her house to help Trace with his, and now they share it as man and wife.”

He chuckled. “Your sisters are quite a pair.”

“You wouldn’t consider them tame in any way, that’s for sure.”

“Yet it doesn’t seem to bother either Levi or Trace.”

“Love sees beyond the surface.”

They studied each other, something fragile hanging between them. Did she see beneath his exterior? And if she did, what would she see? He didn’t like what lay inside—loneliness and uncertainty that clawed at his heart.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Where are you taking us?”

A teasing flash filled her eyes. “To a special spot, if you’re up to a bit of a climb.”

“I have to say I’ve walked more the past few days than I have since I was a boy. Mostly I ride my horse.”

“Think you’ll manage?”

“I’ll manage.” Even if his heels developed huge blisters and his toes cramped, he would make it. In fact, he could think of nothing that would keep him from enjoying this afternoon, including his fears and concerns. He shoved them firmly into the background.

They turned onto a narrower trail that required they walk single file. Joanna led the way with Freddy at her heels. Rudy brought up the rear. The trail grew steeper and rocky. Aspen trees crowded close enough to form a canopy overhead.

Freddy slipped, but Rudy steadied him. Freddy hurried onward without saying a thing, still uncomfortable with Rudy touching him.

Finally, about the time Rudy thought his feet might not take much more, Joanna reached a level area and waited for them. Rudy climbed to her side and looked around.

“We’re almost on top of the world,” he said. Below lay the wide river valley, ripe with autumn colors and dotted with dark spruce and pine. Beyond it, fluffy clouds topped the blue mountains.

Joanna took her time admiring the view.

“Can I play in the trees?” Freddy asked.

“Don’t go far. Wouldn’t want a bear finding you.”

Freddy hesitated then slipped into the trees, darting from trunk to trunk.

“Do you come here often?” Rudy asked Joanna.

“This is only the second time I’ve been here. Mandy brought Glory and me to this spot before their weddings. The two of them chose the same day to be married,” she added. “Mandy wanted us to have a special occasion before our family broke up.”

He sensed again how lost she felt without her sisters. But he didn’t say anything this time. “A special occasion, you say?”

She laughed, understanding his disbelief. “What would you expect from the buffalo gals? Certainly not a tea party.” Her gaze drifted toward the distance. “We spent a lot of time here talking about the past and looking toward the future.”

“I suppose the three of you have many good memories.”

She gave a long sigh. “We seldom talked about the past. Glory always got so angry, and Mandy had this dream that Pa would come back and we’d be an ideal family. But that day I realized we hadn’t been an ideal family for a long time. I could remember Ma being strong and taking care of us. The other two can’t.”

“How much older are you?” She talked like she was a decade older, but she seemed so young.

“I’m twenty-three—three years older than Glory and four years older than Mandy.”

“Still so young.”

She slanted a look at him, her eyes brimming with curiosity and teasing. “How about you? How old are you?”

“I’m positively ancient.” Much too old to be wishing this moment with her could last forever.

“Ancient would be old and bent. You’re certainly not that, so maybe you can be a little more specific.”

Did he detect a hint of rosy color in her cheeks? He decided he liked knowing she might blush around him. “I’m thirty-two.”

“Phew. Barely older than me.”

“Old enough to be wise?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

“I doubt it.” Now that he gave it a moment’s consideration, he felt as if he’d spent the last eleven years avoiding everything but survival.

She squinted up at the bright sky and the fluffy clouds drifting across the blue canvas. “I tried to help the girls remember times when we’d been a real family. But you know, as we talked, I realized we were an unconventional family. Still are.” She didn’t give him a chance to say the words. “And it didn’t matter.”

He chuckled.

“We learned at an early age to amuse ourselves. I suppose we ran wild. We played cops and robbers and thought nothing of chasing through people’s yards. The best was when we were out of town and could run and play without anyone to complain.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“It was. But I think we’d gotten into the habit of remembering only the bad parts.”

He wasn’t keen on the way she eyed him as if she wanted him to examine his memories. “I have no wish to look at my past. I don’t look into the future either. I just take each day and do what it requires.”

“So you pretend you have no past, no future, and practically no present?”

He could find no argument, though he wanted to. Her words were too close to the truth.

She took his silence for agreement. “Should you let the past have that much control over your life?”

“It has no part in my life one way or the other.”

Her gaze was both sad and challenging. “From what you’ve said, I guess it has a powerful hold on you. But never mind that. I have no wish to start an argument.”

“Good to know.” He did his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice but failed. She lifted one corner of her mouth in a half smile.

“So you talked about the future, too? Is this when you decided you want to go to California?”

“I suppose it is. The girls wanted to know what I would do with them both moving out.”

“So rather than have them feel sorry for you or perhaps worry about you, you came up with this plan.”

“I decided it’s time for me to move on. Find out what I want to do.”

He tipped his head as he considered her. Had she realized what she’d said?

She recognized his unspoken question. “I mean do what I want to do.”

He nodded, knowing full well she’d been closer to the truth the first time.

She shifted her attention to the picnic basket at his feet. “The best thing about our day here was we talked about how much we love each other. Saying the words made our love so real.”

“You are most fortunate that you’ve had each other.”

“I know it. But now…” Her voice grew dreamy. “You have Freddy. You have someone to love and to love you in return.” Bending, she lifted the lid of the basket and pulled out a gray woolen blanket. Mouthwatering aromas of fresh bread and something spicy caught his senses.

“Neither of us knows the first thing about loving.” His mouth had done it again. Said things without checking with his brain first.

Joanna flicked the blanket to the ground. “Let’s sit.” She sat down and patted a spot beside her. “You know, Rudy, my sisters and I weren’t always loving and kind to each other. We went through a few years when we couldn’t believe in love.”

“What happened?” He adjusted himself on the blanket, keeping his feet on the grass.

“I suppose we realized we only had each other so we might as well make the best of it.”

Her words were the same ones he considered when he thought of he and Freddy thrust together.

She continued. “But one of the biggest things was, Levi came and started preaching about God’s love. That’s when I found my ma’s old Bible, and we began to read it. We read it together each night, but we also would find time to read it alone. Knowing and believing God loves me healed my heart. It was His love that loved my hurting away.”

“If only it was that easy for everyone.”

She pressed her hand to his. “I believe it’s as easy or as hard as you make it.”

The warmth of her hand spread throughout his body like a summer wind reminding him of pleasant days and peaceful evenings. “I find it impossible to believe God loves me when my own mother didn’t. I know I should honor her and not speak badly of her. But it’s the truth. She didn’t love me.”

“You aren’t dishonoring her to speak the truth. And by facing the past, perhaps you are finding a way to bring healing to your heart.”

He turned his hand and held hers, hoping his grip didn’t reveal how desperately he needed her to keep talking. Was it possible for the wound he tried so hard to ignore to be healed?

“I have a favorite Bible verse.” She held his eyes in an urgent look. Knowing she cared opened his heart a fraction more. “It’s Numbers 23:19. ‘God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it?’ To me that means God’s love isn’t like man’s love. We can trust it. If He says He loves us, He does.”

Hope, raw and naked, showed in her eyes. She really cared whether or not he believed it. It made him ache to say he did. But between the wanting to and the being able to was a valley as deep and wide as the one that lay before them, only it was dark and empty.

He did not know how to cross to the other side.

She sighed. “I know it’s hard to accept, but why don’t you read your Bible and see for yourself what God says? He does not speak empty words.”

“I might do that.” First he’d have to get the storekeeper to order a Bible, because he didn’t own one. Never had.

“Rudy, you never mention your father. What happened to him?”

“He died when we were babies. My mother raised us alone. My father left her well enough provided for that we didn’t lack for anything.”

“Except love.”

“Only I lacked that. Joe had plenty of it.”

“But not, I think, Freddy.”

A zephyr of a breeze caught the corner of the blanket, and he pinned the cloth down with his heel. “That surprises me. After all, he’s Joe’s son. I’d think that would earn him favor.” He shrugged. “No explaining it, I guess.”

“Rudy.” She squeezed his hand tight and leaned closer. “Please remember that God isn’t like your mother or even my father. He says He loves us, and He does. He says He’ll never leave us, and He doesn’t.”

He let himself swim in her concern. The sun caught in her eyes, filling them with warmth and something more. It was as if she spoke silent hope and faith. She believed so completely. “Is it easy to believe?” His voice sounded distant.

“It’s easy enough once you decide. It sometimes takes a while to let yourself accept the truth and rest in it.”

“Rest in it. You make it sound so appealing.”

“Rudy.” She leaned so close he felt her breath on his cheeks. “I wish for you to find the same love and healing I have found in God’s love.”

“Do you really care that much?”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with…

He wouldn’t let himself try to name the look in her eyes. He drank from her gaze, let his eyes drift across her sun-kissed cheeks and come to rest on her lips—parted with eagerness. She said she cared. Her words caught at heavy corners of his heart and lifted it skyward, light and airy as a bird on the wing. She cared. For the moment he would not consider what it meant, how it threatened his boundaries. “Joanna.” He whispered her name.

She leaned closer.

Dare he kiss her? Would it send her running into the woods? Would it end this fragile sense of friendship and caring between them?