Fields of Grace (28 page)

Suddenly, she realized neither Henrik nor Joseph were in the store. Her heart skipped a beat—might Henrik have wandered off again? “Where are the boys?”

Eli took her arm and aimed her toward the wide window. “They are sitting on the boardwalk sharing a penny’s worth of gumdrops.”

Lillian’s lips twitched as she fought a grin. “I thought you said no candy.”

He scratched his chin, shrugging. “The boys have worked hard. They deserve a treat. And a penny . . . We can spare a penny.”

She shook her head, chuckling indulgently.

The woman approached and spoke to Eli. He nodded, then turned to Lillian. “Our things are ready.”

Henrik and Joseph helped Eli load the boxes, bags, and barrels into the back of the wagon. Lillian watched Henrik closely, searching for signs that he might slip away, but he showed no desire to wander. Instead, he bantered with Joseph, followed Eli’s directions without a scowl, and tipped his hat to ladies who passed by on the sidewalk.

Standing back, observing the way Eli and her sons worked together, her heart swelled. Even Henrik had apparently accepted Eli’s position as head of their household. From all appearances, they had become a family. A true family.

The loading completed, Eli clapped his hands together. “
Nä-jo
, boys. Climb in so we can visit the lumberyard and buy wood to build doors for the sod houses.”

Doors
. . .

As Eli assisted her onto the seat, Lillian’s lovely imaginings dissolved. A true family would have need of only one door because they resided under one roof. As long as she and Eli lived in separate sod houses, they would never be a family in the truest sense.

24

O
h, Eli, stop!”

Eli, alarmed, drew back on the reins. The horses halted, whickering in disapproval. With home so near, they were no doubt as eager to be back in their shelter as Eli was ready for his bed.

The day’s journey to McPherson Town and back, although mostly spent sitting on the wagon seat, had worn him out. Apparently it had done the same for the boys, because both slept soundly, curled between items in the back. The day was not over, however; they still needed to unload the wagon. But the urgency in Lillian’s tone pushed aside everything but seeing to her need.

“What is it?”

She pointed ahead, her face alight with pleasure. “The colors! Oh, look at the sky!”

Eli looked. Over the past months, he had observed that Kansas had particularly beautiful sunsets. This one was no exception. He smiled in agreement.

The horses pawed the ground impatiently, but Eli held tight to the reins and watched Lillian take in the glorious sunset. The sweet curve of her lips and the awe in her eyes made him long to reach out, hold her hand, and tip his temple against hers while they admired the sight together.

“So many colors . . .” Lillian’s gaze darted here and there, seemingly trying to memorize every inch of the broad sky. She gestured animatedly as she spoke. “Bright pink clouds above, orange and yellow ones nearer the ground, and a purple sky behind. Why, the scrub trees and tufts of grass appear to be penned in ink, so black they are against that color-filled sky!” She laughed aloud, and Eli’s grin grew. She glanced at him, and suddenly her delight faded. “You think me foolish.”

“Ach, nä.”
Eli shook his head, curling his fingers around the reins to avoid reaching for her. “I think you are wise to take time to acknowledge God’s handiwork. There is a verse in Psalms . . .” He searched his memory for the reference and exact words. “The beginning of chapter nineteen, I believe, that says, ‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork.’ In a sight such as this one I see God’s glory exuberantly proclaimed.”

Lillian stared at him, her lips parted slightly as if amazed. “The sky does seem to be singing praise.” She faced forward again, and Eli allowed her a time of uninterrupted thought. Slowly the sun disappeared, the brilliant colors fading as if the scene had been drawn with pastels and the artist had returned to rub the top layers away. When the clouds were deep purple against a dusky sky, Lillian released a contented sigh. Then she gave a little jolt.

“Oh! How dark it is. And there is still work to be done. I am sorry, Eli.”

He chirruped to the horses, and they lurched forward. “Do not apologize for taking time to show appreciation for God’s creation, Lillian. I believe our hearts are enriched when we pause to give Him praise, to recognize all He gives.”

Clouds parted, revealing the first stars. The boys continued to sleep, one of them snoring softly. Night sounds—insects chirping, the wind’s endless whisper, and the distant hoot of an owl— provided a sweet melody. Under the cover of shadow, he opened up a bit of himself to this woman with whom he wished to share all. “Sometimes I marvel at the extras God provides. He meets our needs, yes, but so much more. He did not have to make the world a bright, colorful place of beauty. He could have simply provided the things our bodies require to survive. But He also chose to feed our souls. He designed flowers, singing birds, and even little furry barking creatures that pop out of holes and make us laugh. And He created a sky that begins and ends each day with a show of color.”

As the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the sod houses, he gathered his final thoughts. Turning to her, he finished quietly. “I think, Lillian, that when we do not pause to admire God’s wonderful handiwork in putting this world together, we disappoint Him. Surely He must delight in our wonder when we delight in His creation.”

Lillian’s eyes glittered, tears trembling on her full lower lashes. She swallowed, blinked, and shook her head slowly. “Eli, you should have been a preacher. That was the most lovely sermon I have ever heard.”

Self-conscious, Eli chuckled and rubbed his finger beneath his nose. “
Ach
, such a thought—me, a preacher. I am a farmer, Lillian, nothing more.”

“Oh no. You are more. Much more.”

The admiration in her tone and the sincerity shining in her eyes filled Eli in a way he had never experienced before. His breath caught as warmth spread from his middle outward, heating every inch of his body. With a trembling hand, he reached to cup her cheek, but just before his fingers connected with her face, a squeak in the back of the wagon intruded.

“Ma?” Joseph’s sleepy voice drifted over the gentle night sounds. “Are we home?”

Lillian turned her face slightly toward her son, but her eyes lingered on Eli. “
Jo
, Joseph, we are home.” She licked her lips, finally breaking his gaze to look behind them into the wagon bed. “You and Henrik help Eli unload our things, and I will put together a supper for us.”

While Eli carried boxes into the sod house, sidestepping around Henrik and Joseph, who stumbled sleepily as they helped, his mind continually replayed Lillian’s simple statement.
You are more. Much
more.
The words thrilled him but also bewildered him. Much more than what? And the look in her eyes as she had spoken—what had he glimpsed in her eyes of clearest blue? He had seen the soft look before, when she had spoken of Reinhardt. But having that tenderness turned on him while she uttered words of praise had taken his breath away.

He plunked the last flour sack on top of the stack of boxes and peered around the sod house. The storehouse of items shrunk the room, leaving very little space to move around. He stepped outside and crossed to Lillian, where she held a skillet over the fire. The flame’s glow lit her face, bringing out the golden shimmer in her hair. He thought of his comment that God hadn’t needed to make the world beautiful, but beauty was His gift to mankind. This woman’s beauty felt like a gift to him.

Hunkering beside her, he cleared his throat. “I am afraid you will be more crowded than ever with all our winter goods stored with you. I am sorry the sod house is so small. But I promise you, after the harvest, when I build your house, I will make it large— larger, even, than the house you occupied in Gnadenfeld—and it will have many rooms.” The dream unfolded without effort. “There will be a parlor, and a room for eating separate from the kitchen the way the wealthy enjoy, and many bedrooms. One for Joseph and Henrik and—”

He nearly bit his tongue, he stopped so abruptly. What was he saying? He planned to move Lillian to town when the others arrived. He would have no need of a large house.

To cover his blunder, he said, “But house building is months away yet. Maybe I should have Henrik come live with me. It would give you and Joseph more room.”

Lillian stared at the skillet, where something bubbled and sent up aromatic steam. “I suppose that could be one solution. . . .”

Eli tensed, his senses suddenly alert. “You . . . you have another idea?”

For a moment, she dipped her head, her face glowing red. From the fire’s heat? She rubbed her lips together, flicked a quick glance at him, then focused once more on the skillet. When she spoke, he had to turn his ear toward her to hear. “Maybe you could use the small sod house as a . . . a storehouse. And . . . and we could all . . .”

He held his breath, waiting for her to complete the sentence. But she fell silent. His chest exploded with each booming heartbeat. He finished the sentence in his mind:
We could all live together.
Is that what she intended to say? But wasn’t theirs merely a marriage of convenience? She still loved Reinhardt.

You are more
. His mouth was so dry his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to ask questions, to hear her answers, but he couldn’t make his lips cooperate.

“Ma?” Joseph stomped to the fire, his face puckered into a cranky scowl. “When will we eat?”

“Only a few more minutes, son. Be patient.”

Joseph stalked away, muttering. But even though he departed, Lillian didn’t attempt to resume the previous conversation. Eli couldn’t find the courage to mention it, either. When the egg and meat mixture in the skillet was ready, they ate in silence, their gazes meeting and then darting apart. By the time they’d finished the simple meal, full dark shrouded the area, and Eli suggested Lillian wait until morning to wash the dishes.

She followed Henrik and Joseph into the sod house and released the canvas flap, sealing them inside without so much as a backward glance. But what did he expect? For her to turn around and finish the sentence that plagued his mind? By now she no doubt regretted her hasty words.

Eli tossed the remaining coffee from the pot into the fire. He waited until the flickering flames completely died, then pushed to his feet and plodded across the ground to his own little sod house.

Pausing outside the door, he looked at the bigger house only a few feet away. Both houses were constructed of sod, both loomed like black shadows beneath the night sky, but what a difference inside the walls. One sheltered people; one confined a person. He didn’t want to go into his little house. He didn’t want to be alone.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed aside the canvas and forced his feet to cross the dirt threshold. Inside, he stared across the tiny room. Never had the little dwelling felt as dismal as this night.

Lillian dropped heavily onto her feather tick and stared at the dark ceiling. Joseph’s soft snore and Henrik’s distinct, deep breathing let her know she wasn’t alone, yet loneliness sat heavily in her breast. Slowly, as if forcing it through cold molasses, she stretched her arm to the side, to that narrow slice of bed where her husband used to lie. Longing rolled through her as she remembered coiling against Reinhardt’s sturdy frame, being warmed by his body, feeling his breath stir her hair.

She traced time backward, to her final night in Gnadenfeld. Less than half a year ago . . . but so much had transpired in those brief months, she felt as though her time in their little village—her time as Reinhardt’s wife—was a lifetime ago. Was this lonely ache the reason she had nearly invited Eli to share the sod house with her? She searched her own heart. Did she truly wish to share her bed with Eli, or was it merely loneliness for Reinhardt that had brought about the impulsive invitation?

When they had watched the sunset together, she had felt bound to Eli in a unique way. Eli hadn’t scoffed at her fascination at the colors in the sky. Not only had he understood, he had supported her desire to drink in that wondrous beauty. How easily he could have dismissed her desire to admire the sunset given the late hour and the long day, but he had stopped, listened, shared.