Crossing Values (4 page)

“I will, Micah. See you Thursday.”

: : : : :

“Things should turn out nicely this year.”

Peter could see how pleased his mom was. She loved having people over, but parties were her specialty.

“Amber, dear, you start putting all the baking supplies on the table so we can organize them by recipe. I’ll work on getting all the cold stuff put into the refrigerator and, Peter, will you please work on putting everything else away for me?”

It was only Monday afternoon, but by tomorrow night, Peter knew the house would be filled with the smells of Thanksgiving desserts.

“Oh, Peter, will you plug in the extra fridge so it’s cold and ready for me to use tomorrow, please?”

“Already done, Mom. I plugged it in before I headed into town this morning.”

“Wonderful! Now, help me think where everyone’s going to sit. Let’s see. My last count included thirteen adults and five children. We’ll use the high chair for Megan, which leaves us with two two-year-olds and two four-year-olds. If we put the other two chairs at the dining room table, that will seat eight of us.”

Peter paused in organizing the can goods to look critically at the dining area. “What if we turned the table sideways, then added the folded table to the other side, doubling the width of the dining table? It might be a little tight around the wall and glass doors, but we should be able to fit ten or eleven around there plus the highchair. If we lay a blanket on the floor over by the staircase, Logan and I can have a picnic with the kids.”

“Can you bring those wooden chairs up from the office Wednesday afternoon?”

“Sure. I can—”

“Oh! Peter!” Faye shut the freezer with a quick slam and walked over to the dining table where Amber was diligently organizing sugar, chocolate, and berries. “Do you think we can fit two of those folded tables here?”

Peter walked over and eyed the space. “Probably, Mom. What are you thinking?”

“Allie just bought a table like ours for organizing the end of year tax paperwork. If we brought the bench up from the shop for the little ones . . .”

“Hmm. Just might work, Mom. The back legs on that bench need tightening up, but I should be able to get to that before Thursday.”

“Wonderful!” Faye gave Amber a quick squeeze. “This is just wonderful! In just three short days our home will be full of all my favorite people!”

Peter couldn’t help but watch Amber during his mother’s outburst of excitement. She certainly wasn’t returning the loving embrace but she also didn’t seem as tense as she had the first couple of days.

Good, thought Peter as he went back to sorting non-perishables for the pantry. Someone in this family seems to be making her feel at ease!

: : : : :

Peter breathed deeply as he shut the door behind him. In many ways, the wood shop was his sanctuary. He loved the smell of the wood as he worked with it. In his youth he had marveled at the trees God created: the Douglas fir, regally stretching into the sky and perfect for beams and trusses; the western red cedar, beautiful both in nature and in paneling for homes; the red alder, gorgeous in the autumn and precious as a carved toy in the hands of a child. So much variety, Father, in height and in purpose. Thank You for the trees and for the love You gave me for them.

Peter walked over to the old bench he’d moved down from outside the logging office. Six feet long, the white oak wood had been rubbed smooth with years of use.

So much laughter has been shared on this bench, so much counsel given, Father. Help us to continue to use this wood for Your glory. Peter lifted the bench onto the worktable so he could check out the leg joints. He grabbed some wood glue and a screwdriver off nearby shelves.

Let this bench be a gathering place for many more years, as men take time to sit together and share their lives. Let it be not only a place where men come together, but a place where men are drawn closer to You.

Peter set the bench aside to dry and walked over to his project area. His mother’s Christmas present was coming along nicely. He’d been working for the last few weeks on something she could sit on while enjoying her favorite spot down at the river. It was inspired by the rough-looking log furniture but with a smooth back for his mom’s comfort and big enough for his dad to join her.

Peter grabbed his small chisel and carefully began working on the verse he was carving into the back: The LORD has chosen you to be his treasured possession, from Deuteronomy 14:2.

Father, as she rests on this bench, cement this verse into my mother’s heart. Use her to teach others this same truth. Never let her fall into the thinking that she is too old to be useful but continue to guard her mind and clearly show her the part of Your plan that You want her to fulfill. Protect her so that she may be free from further pain and grant her supernatural wisdom so that she would give the women You bring her godly counsel.

At this Peter thought of Amber and paused in his work. She’s a tough one, Father.

Yes. Peter could almost hear the Holy Spirit responding back to him.

There must be hope for You to have brought her here.

Of course.

But what do we do? How do we reach her? I can see slight differences in the way she responds to Mom, but she’s got such thick walls up.

Love her.

Love her. Peter sighed. I know that’s always the answer. But how do we love her? Whatever happened caused deep wounds.

Yes.

How do we fix wounds we can’t see and she won’t talk about?

Love her.

Peter paused in his work. His eyes focused on the words from Deuteronomy: treasured possession. How do we convince Amber that she is one of Your treasured possessions?

Silence.

Peter sighed. “Perfect,” Peter muttered as he rose from the bench. Love. So simple, yet so complicated. “It’s a great time for You to get quiet on me.” Peter looked heavenward, not really expecting a reply. Usually the silence meant the answer was staring him in the face. He just had to figure it out.

Chapter 5

FAYE WATCHED OUT THE DINING
room window as Peter locked up the wood shop and headed toward the river. She’d found him lost in thought more than once in the last few days. Deep in thought. Or in prayer. She wasn’t sure which. But it wasn’t quite like him. He was definitely puzzling over something. “That’s not the path he normally walks, Lord. In fact. . . . Hmm. Now isn’t that interesting.” Peter hadn’t followed that path in several months. “Very interesting.”

Chapter 6

AMBER WOKE EARLY THURSDAY MORNING
and breathed deeply. Mmmm. More yummy smells from downstairs.

Thanksgiving preparations had consumed Faye all week. Amber quickly learned that Monday was shopping day, Tuesday was pie day, Wednesday was bread day, and Thursday was dinner day.

She stretched her tired muscles as she remembered all the work she and Faye had done together. With Faye’s patient guidance, Amber mixed and rolled out four pie crusts, preparing them for the fillings: pumpkin, black cherry, mountain huckleberry, and lemon piled high with a softly browned meringue. I remember meringue like that.

Before she got teary eyed, Amber threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. Her back and arm muscles complained from the workout they had received the day before kneading dough. For Thanksgiving breakfast, Faye insisted on cinnamon sourdough bread as well as homemade cinnamon rolls. There was also fresh-baked wheat bread available, and do I smell muffins? Amber’s belly grumbled in response.

She had also helped Faye prepare yeast rolls for the Thanksgiving dinner—enough for everyone to have at least two, plus several larger ones for those who wanted turkey sandwiches later on in the evening or the next day for lunch.

I’d better stop thinking about what’s done and get ready for what’s coming. After wincing through one more stretch, Amber grabbed a pair of jeans, a navy blue T-shirt, and a blue and green plaid shirt before heading to the door. After checking the clock one final time to make sure Peter would still be out running, she opened the door and almost screamed.

“Sassy! What are you doing here?”

Dark chocolate eyes looked at her as Sassy lay directly in her path. The brown face with its white stripe down the middle was beginning to grow on her.

“I suppose you are kinda cute. For a dog.”

Sassy tilted her head slightly to the right and raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t take that to mean I like you! Now go on. Go find someone else.”

Sassy tilted her head to the left.

“Wait a minute! Why aren’t you out with—”

“Sassy!” Peter appeared at the top of the stairs. Amber clutched her clothes tightly to her, frozen in position. Suddenly, her knee-length flannel nightgown didn’t seem like nearly enough covering.

“Amber, I’m sorry. Sassy, come here.” The dog obediently got up and went to Peter’s side. “I find her sleeping at your door just about every morning. Andy and I decided to take this morning off running. I’ll get her out of here right away.” Peter turned to head back downstairs without looking at her again.

“Come on, Sass.”

Sassy looked back at Amber.

“Sassy! Now!”

Peter sounded rushed. Anxious maybe. Stressed? Odd.

Amber shook her long hair and proceeded to the bathroom. She turned on the water to get hot, then undressed and stopped to look in the mirror. Definitely some changes going on here. Faye’s cooking is doing my ribs some good and my hair’s looking better. It would be so easy to get used to hot showers and Faye’s company. Amber sighed, turning away from her reflection to get into the water.

: : : : :

“Hey, Mom!”

“Brittney, dear! Good morning!”

Amber stopped mid-bite into her cinnamon roll to see a dark-haired woman burst into the kitchen. Not quite as tall as Peter, the slim woman dressed in jeans and an Oregon Health & Science University hoodie plopped three bags down onto the floor so she could embrace Faye.

“Where’s Pops?” said Faye.

Brittney waved a hand in the air. “Oh, you know Pops! He’s got Peter chasing down some vibration he heard in my engine on the drive here. I tried to convince him the Chevy dealer looked it over just a week ago, but you know him! I’ll just go put these—oh! I’m sorry. Mom, why didn’t you tell me we had company already?”

“Brittney, this here’s Amber, the one I told you has been so helpful!”

“Hi, Amber. It’s great to meet you.”

Amber smiled meekly.

“Mom’s been raving about you all week!” said Brittney.

“What kind of ice cream did you get?” said Faye.

“You know that I made a trip to Tillamook Ice Creamery for Dad. I’ll put them in the outside freezer for later. Those cinnamon rolls smell wonderful! I’m ready to dig in!”

Amber sighed. It’s going to be a long day.

: : : : :

“S’more?”

“Hmm?” Amber picked her head up off the back of the chair and looked at Peter. She was contently nestled in the leather chair by the fire, even though Sassy lay on the floor beneath her.

Peter flashed his crooked smile. “I asked if you wanted a s’more. Here.”

Amber took the small plate from him and looked at the concoction. Marshmallow oozed on all sides of the graham cracker. “Umm, exactly how am I supposed to eat this?”

Peter sat down on the ottoman in front of her. “Don’t worry. No one ’round here can do it neatly.”

There’s that crooked smile again. As she tried her best to pick up the snack at the neatest possible corner, she realized Peter still watched her. “Where’s yours?”

“Pops is cooking more. Emma and Taylor are currently gooey messes, and I stole this one while Britt and Logan were wrestling for it.”

Amber had watched the family closely, looking for any signs that what she’d been part of this past week was all a facade. Instead she’d been confronted with a lot of laughter. Best she could tell, Logan was three or four years older than Peter, and Brittney was about that much younger. But they interacted like they depended on each other. Like they enjoyed depending on each other.

Even more confusing was that Logan’s wife, Heather, didn’t seem like she was any less part of the family. Faye looked after her as much as she did Brittney, and Heather moved comfortably about the kitchen like she was in her own home. And Micah’s daughter-in-law, Allie, was openly accepted too, like she belonged.

It’s only natural that the grandkids are loved by everyone, thought Amber. At four and two, Emma’s and Taylor’s blonde hair, blue eyes, and chubby cheeks would easily win over most adults. And six-month-old Megan’s smile was irresistible. But that doesn’t explain Chad’s boys.

To say Chad and Amy’s boys were a handful was an understatement, but no one seemed to mind. More than once Amber watched Peter, Logan, or Andy grab one or the other of Chad’s sons to wrestle, throw in the snow, or otherwise divert some energy.

Maybe there isn’t anything more to find here but the love written about in books. She sighed.

“What are you thinking about?”

Amber suddenly became aware that Peter was still on the ottoman near her. She stared at him for a moment, not sure what she could safely tell him about her thoughts.

“Seemed like a lot of meaning in that sigh,” said Peter.

Just at that moment Heather came marching through the French doors holding four-year-old Emma as far from her as she possibly could. Emma’s face was streaked with chocolate and her blonde hair boasted several puffs of marshmallow. Her tongue was still working hard to clean whatever it could get off her chubby fingers before Mom got to the tub.

“One day I’ll miss this, right?” Heather said, giggling as she rushed through the living room and into the bathroom.

Amber couldn’t help a chuckle. Sassy thumped her tail in response.