Everlasting Love (6 page)

Greeted by a unanimous chorus of “Yeah!” she released the dog with a hand signal and a joyful “Okay,” watching in delight as he bounded up to the group of children and was immediately surrounded. There was certainly no reluctance to reach out and embrace the four-legged ambassador of unconditional acceptance, was there?

Megan was filled with delight and appreciation for the direction her life had taken. If, after her parents' divorce, she'd chosen to go live with her strict father the way Roxy had, there was no telling what would have become of her or where she'd be now. Maybe she'd have rebelled, too.

No, I wouldn't have,
Megan told herself with calm assurance. God had had a wonderful plan for
her all along. Even as a teen she'd glimpsed inklings of it.

She wouldn't break the rules and try to proselytize the young people she'd be working with, but there was no way she could live her daily life without relying on faith. Her actions were her real sermon.

And speaking of actions, it looked as if the boys were beginning to tire of dodging dog kisses and trying to pet Wiggles when he wouldn't hold still.

“Okay,” she said, moving past James to the children. “Let's start with a simple rule. This is important. Listen up, guys. You, too, Wiggles.”

She waited until all eyes were on her, including the dog's. “I don't want you coming up here and playing with the animals unless you're invited. Not even if Mr. Wiggles looks lonely and treats you like his best buddy.”

Zac's sly grin gave her pause so she stared straight at him and added, “I don't care how many excuses you can think up. I mean what I said. Got that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the thin teen muttered.

“Good. I wouldn't want everybody to lose the privilege of having fun just because one of you broke the rules. Any questions so far?”

“Yeah,” Zac drawled. “How come your dog's got one brown eye and one blue one? He looks real weird.”

“He's an Australian shepherd,” Megan said. “Lots of them have unusual eye color. It's just how they're made. The same goes for his tail, in case you haven't noticed.”

“What tail?” Bobby Joe asked with a puzzled look. He leaned to peer at the dog's rear end. So did Mark.

Megan smiled. “Exactly. Most dogs do have tails. But Aussies are usually born without them. It doesn't bother Wiggles a bit. We can still tell when he's happy because he wags his invisible tail so hard his whole body…wiggles.”

She waited for the snickering to die down, then said, “Okay, now that everybody has met my mean old watchdog, let's go see my horse, Buckets. Follow me.”

Megan started toward the pens, her dog obediently trotting at heel on her left. The boys came along in a loose group, bouncing, skipping and jabbering excitedly. The only child who wasn't acting his age was Zac.

He hustled his walk to match her stride. “That's a dumb name for a horse.”

“Oh, I don't know. When I first got her, Buck
ets didn't even have a regular name. She'd been starved till she could hardly stand up anymore. I started calling her Buckets because every time I saw her she had her nose stuck in a bucket of feed.”

“If she was so bad off, how come you took her?”

“Because she needed a friend. And I needed a horse like her. By the time I'd nursed her back to health we were good buddies.”

“Horses don't know stuff like that, do they?”

“I'll let you make up your own mind after you've taken care of Buckets for a little while. I think you'll be surprised.”

Zac snorted derisively. “Yeah, sure.”

Megan noticed that although the boys had gathered outside the nearest railing of the horse pen, James was hanging back. Was he looking for errors in the way she kept the children safe? Perhaps. It didn't really matter. At the moment, she had six boys to educate about the proper way to approach a horse, while keeping said horse from mistaking their fingers for snacks.

She brought out a cube of sugar to demonstrate. “Now watch what I do so you'll know how to give her treats. First, look at Buckets. See how her eyes are on the sides of her head instead of in front, like
ours? That's so she can see on both sides at the same time and stay safe from predators.”

“Like mountain lions?” Bobby Joe asked, awed.

“If there were any left in Arkansas, yes.” She looked to James. “Are there?”

“Not according to Game and Fish.”

“That's a relief.” Megan smiled. “I'm sure Buckets is glad, too.”

She paused, held her hand perfectly flat, palm up, and bent to show the boys. “Always offer food like this. When you get close, Buckets can't see what's right in front of her nose. If something smells good, she'll nibble at it to see if it tastes good, too. She's not being mean, she's just confused. If your fingers are in the way, they can get tasted before she realizes it's you she's biting.”

“Eeew,” Zac said. “Finger food.”

Megan had to work to keep from laughing. “Right. That's why it's best to always present a treat on a flat palm.” She reached into her pocket. “I have plenty of sugar cubes. Who wants to go first?”

No one came forward. A mere fourteen hands tall, Buckets wasn't big for a full-grown horse but Megan knew the mare would appear impressive viewed from the perspective of a child. All they'd
need was one boy brave enough to feed her and the others would line up to do the same.

Megan demonstrated how gently the mare lipped the treat off her palm, then looked at Zac. “How about you?”

He raised both hands in front of him and backed away. “Not me, lady. I don't want no horse spit all over me.”

“Her nose tickles.”

“Uh-uh. No way.” Safely distant, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head insistently.

Megan could see that none of the others were willing to step forward when their eldest peer had set such a strong negative example.

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “No problem. Let's have Mr. Harris do it first to show you how easy it is.”

If she had looked at James's face before speaking, she wouldn't have tried to draft him. A person didn't need a degree in psychology to see that the man was displeased to have been included in her presentation. Well, it was too late to do anything about that now. He'd have to grin and bear it.

Megan motioned with her whole arm. “Come on. Show the boys there's nothing to be afraid of.”

He came, all right, looking as if his best friend had abandoned him, his favorite truck had been wrecked, he'd just eaten a meal of unripe wild persimmons and had been punched in the stomach for dessert. Clearly he was having to force himself to approach. If it hadn't been for the boys watching his every move, Megan doubted she'd have been able to talk him into helping at all.

“Offer the sugar on your open hand,” she said. “Then hold real still and she'll take it from you.”

The private look James shot her way as she handed him the sugar cube was anything but amiable. It was a good thing Buckets cared more about food than anything else, including how friendly her benefactors might be, Megan thought, because if she'd been in the horse's shoes, she might have nipped a man with such a rotten attitude, just on general principles!

M
egan couldn't believe the man's absurd reluctance. What a shame he didn't prize the affection animals offered. In respect to their immense tolerance, they were often like abused children who looked to their abusers for solace because they knew no alternative.

The young people at Camp Refuge were not the only ones who needed to learn how to enjoy and fully appreciate the blessings of God's creations, were they? A certain stubborn man could use a dose of the same medicine.

Megan smiled, amused at the picture those thoughts created. She could see herself holding a big spoon brimming with the antidote for James's paradoxical disposition and trying to coax him into opening his mouth to take it.

“Spooning it in won't be the hardest part,” she muttered. “Getting him to
swallow
will be the real trick.”

He jerked his hand away before Buckets could gobble up the sugar. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” Realizing she'd been thinking aloud, Megan blushed. “Tell you what. This is taking longer than I'd planned. Let's leave Buckets and go see something smaller. I think you'll all like Rocky.”

The abject relief on James's face almost made her laugh. Poor guy. He'd been about as eager to feed the horse as she would have been to offer one of her pet bunnies to a hungry snake. She didn't care if it was the way of nature for creature to eat creature, she didn't intend to facilitate it. Which was one reason she'd chosen not to include reptiles in her menagerie. Besides, they weren't exactly cuddly.

On the other hand, studies had proven the beneficial physical affects of petting an animal's warm, soft fur. Not only did doing that have the advantage of encouraging a feeling of rapport and companionship, it also lowered a person's blood pressure and slowed his or her pulse.

Megan knew from personal experience that there was wonderful solace to be found in having
a pet. When it seemed no one else understood her feelings, her animals were always empathetic. They might not fathom the depths of her needs but they gave all they had, which was good enough for her.

 

Little Rocky was an instant hit with everyone. James had to smile at the flying squirrel's antics—and at its owner's. Over her camp uniform, Megan had donned a loose shirt with big pockets. Rocky was playing hide-and-seek by scampering over her shoulders and ducking in and out of those pockets.

Just when it looked like the tiny squirrel would finally hold still, it took off again, made a mad dash up to Megan's shoulder and hid under her hair, bringing a chorus of squeals and laughter from the boys.

She giggled, too. “Hey, that tickles.”

“He never runs away?” James asked.

“Hasn't so far. I've had him four years and he's never made a break for it. I think he sees me as his private tree.” She blushed. “Until I learned to wear something loose that he could crawl into easily, some of my demonstrations got kind of interesting.”

Chuckling, James nodded. “I can imagine. He
sure likes to hide. I guess he's cute. It's hard to tell exactly what he looks like when he's moving so fast.”

She reached back and gently cupped the tiny animal in her hands, bringing him forward and letting him peek out between her fingers.

“Rocky,” she said, bending so the boys could get a good look at him, “I'd like you to meet my new friends.”

Seeing flying squirrels from a distance had never given James a clear picture of how cartoon-like the species actually was. Rocky's big black eyes were oversized for his little face and his rounded ears were far larger in proportion to his head than those of a mouse. If there ever was a creature that embodied sweet innocence and natural appeal, it was that squirrel.

“His fur is very silky,” Megan said. “You can all take turns petting him if you do it slowly and don't make too much noise. We don't want to scare him, do we?”

“No, ma'am,” Bobby Joe said, obviously in awe of both Megan and her pet.

James stood back till all the boys had had a chance to touch the finely striped fur. He hadn't intended to take part in Megan's exhibition but when she held the little squirrel up to him, he
stuck out a forefinger and acquiesced. The cinnamon-brown coat was so thick, so fine, short and soft, it felt more like warm velvet than the fur of an animal.

“Very nice,” James said, doing his best to ignore the knowing look on her face.

“I'm glad you like Rocky better than poor Buckets. Someday, you'll have to fill me in on why you're not crazy about horses,” Megan murmured for his ears only.

“In your dreams,” James countered. He watched her tuck the now-weary Rocky into her pocket and button the flap. “Are you going to introduce the boys to the rest of your menagerie now?”

“If you have no objections.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “None at all.”

“Do you have anything against burros?”

“Cousins of horses? Count me out.”

“They're really cute, big ears and everything.”

James arched an eyebrow. “And a big mouth, judging by the sound of that braying. Folks can probably hear him all the way to Serenity. Does he holler like that all the time?”

“No. Only when he's feeling left out. Soon as we're done and I put him in with Buckets for company he'll quiet right down.”

“I sure hope so.”

Dropping back, James brought up the rear as Megan led the boys around her cabin to where the burro was penned. As he'd suspected, it was one of those tattered-looking, dusty-gray animals with a darker stripe down its spine and across its withers. It had ears the size of canoe paddles. When it lifted its head to bray, it laid those enormous ears back against its neck and, sides heaving, put its whole body into the effort. It sounded more like “haw-hee” than “hee-haw.” The boys started imitating the sound, adding to the cacophony.

Gathering the children closer, Megan spoke softly so they'd have to be quiet to hear her. “This is Beethoven. I call him that because he's so musical. I'll bring him out and you can all pet him at the same time if you want. He won't mind. He's used to a lot of attention. He really likes people.”

James arched his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.

“Of course, he's also very stubborn sometimes. Maybe we should name him Mr. Harris, instead of Beethoven.”

“Oh, no,” James said before the joke could go any further. “Having two of us with the same name would be way too confusing. Besides, I never sing.”

“Never?”

The mischievous twinkle in her eyes nearly
made him smile in spite of his resolve to remain solemn. “Never.”

“Not even in church?”

“Nope. My Sundays are spoken for. I don't get out much.”

“You can't work 24/7!”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because it's inhuman. It's un-American. It's—”

“It's what I want,” he insisted. “This job is my life. I chose it. I like things the way they are.”

“I never said you didn't.”

“You implied I shouldn't be so dedicated.” Folding his arms across his chest he faced her, waiting for an argument.

Instead, Megan snapped a rope on the burro's halter and led it out of its small pen, pausing just beyond the gate. She scratched Beethoven's fuzzy forehead and let the children get absorbed in petting him before she spoke aside to James.

Her voice was gentle, her manner subdued. “What I was trying to point out was everyone's need for rest, for downtime. That's all. I know what it's like to be so gung ho that you work yourself to death. I did that in college. Believe me, total immersion in my studies was more than counterproductive. It was unhealthy.”

“You made yourself sick?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She paused. “I had an emotional breakdown.”

He sensed how difficult that admission had been for her and softened his stance. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Megan shook her head slowly, as if entertaining the sweetest of memories. “I'm not. I had to get all the way to rock bottom before I gave in enough for the Lord to get my attention and lift me up. The trip was rough but worth it, believe me.”

“I'm not going to even pretend I understand what you just said.”

“That's okay,” Megan said with a laugh. “You'll have two whole weeks to figure it out.”

 

By evening, Megan was exhausted. After making the drive up from Bald Knob, getting her animals unloaded and safely settled, introducing the boys to the project and unpacking her clothes and personal items, she was so tired she regretfully declined James's invitation for supper.

“Thanks,” she said, yawning behind her hand. “Roxy wants to join you but I'll take a rain check. I'd probably doze off at the table and fall headfirst into my mashed potatoes.”

“That would liven up the meal.”

“Yeah. I'll bet the kids would love it.”

James chuckled. “I can guarantee they would.”

Megan leaned on the edge of the half-open door to her cabin. “I'm afraid I'm done for the day, in more ways than one. Tell the boys I'll see them tomorrow.”

“They'll be disappointed.”

“They'll also learn that adults have lives beyond working all the time, unlike somebody I could mention.”

“I work hard because I enjoy it,” James countered.

“I know. And I admire your dedication. You're doing a marvelous job.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it.”

He smiled. “No, I don't suppose you would. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Another yawn slipped out.

“Hey, I'm keeping you when you should be relaxing.” He backed away from the door. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

She watched him turn and descend the wooden steps, then start down the hill toward the dining hall. There was still a spring in his step. She, on the other hand, felt like an old washrag, wrung out and limp.

Pushing her hair back off her forehead she noticed it felt damp. Little wonder. The humidity so near the Spring River had to be close to a hundred percent. Thankfully, there was also a slight breeze filtering through the trees. The warm evening would have been stifling without it.

Megan couldn't recall the last time she'd been so tired she'd lost her appetite. Till now, she hadn't realized what a toll the long day had taken. Not only had she been worried about her darling animals—and her sister—she'd felt as if she were on display and being tested every moment James Harris was nearby.

“That's because I was,” she murmured. No wonder she was worn-out.

She sat down in the recliner, leaned back and sighed. A cooling draft from the open window soothed her. Outside, a whippoorwill called. Another answered. Tiny tree frogs began a squeaky chorus, punctuated by the louder croaks of others of their species.

Her mind drifted. Reality faded. Soon, sleep took her back in time. She and her sister were seated on the lawn in front of their childhood home. They were picking broad spears of grass, holding them taut between their thumbs, and trying to blow over them to make them whistle.

“Come live in Calico Rock with Mom and me,” Megan said. “It's not too late to change your mind.”

Roxanne shook her head as she pulled up another tuft of grass. “No way. Daddy needs me.”

“
I
need you.
We
need you,” Megan argued. “You act like it's Mom's fault their marriage broke up.”

Roxy's eyes flashed. “Well, it certainly isn't Daddy's.”

“It is so.”

“No way. You're just being hateful.”

Megan sighed. “Okay. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this but somebody better. Our father's been doing bad things. Hurting Mom. They had a big fight about it. That's why they're getting a divorce.”

“No way!” The younger girl jumped to her feet and started away. “I don't believe you. He didn't do anything bad. He wouldn't.”

Following, Megan grabbed her arm to stop her. “You're still a kid. How would you know?”

Roxy whirled, red with anger, and jerked free. “I'm old enough.”

“You're a baby. I'm almost eighteen.”

“That doesn't make you a genius,” she screeched. “You don't know what you're talking
about! Daddy loves us. Mom must be crazy to think he doesn't. And you're just as bad as her for believing it.”

Megan's eyes grew moist, blurring the scene and leaving her casting around for her sibling through a haze of tears. Poor Roxy had never been able to get past their father's charm and see the man for what he was, had she?

On the other hand, Megan had sided with their brokenhearted mother so completely she'd given their father little opportunity to repent or explain his supposed indiscretions. And that had been the final wedge that had split their family irrevocably.

Half-awake, Megan tried to shout to her sister, to beg her not to go away. Her voice choked with emotion. Her cheeks were wet and flushed. The images in her mind were fading rapidly.

“Wait,” she called, “don't go!”

A sense of loss weighed heavily on her heart. She fought awakening. In the distance a dog barked. Wiggles? Growing consciousness brought a return to the present.

Megan's lids fluttered, then lifted. Her eyes snapped open. Someone was bending over and staring at her, practically nose to nose. Only the belated realization that it was James Harris kept her initial gasp from turning into a scream.

“Megan? Megan, are you okay?”

“Of course I am.” She rubbed her eyes and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

He pointed to the end table. “Inez sent you a bite to eat. When I got to the porch I thought I heard you crying. I was afraid something was wrong so I came on in. I didn't mean to scare you.”