High Plains Hearts (23 page)

She tried to speak, but something had happened to her voice. No words came out.

The verse from Ecclesiastes Jake had mentioned on Christmas Eve returned to her: “A time to keep silence.” She understood and listened.

He continued. “I come to you as a Christian who has given himself to Jesus, but I need to know one more thing.”

Right there, on the edge of County Road Four, Jake Cameron knelt in the snow. “Tess, will you share my life with me? Will you marry me?”

“ ‘It is not good that the man should be alone,’ ” she quoted softly, regaining her voice. “Nor is it good that the woman should be alone. Yes. Yes!”

He put the ring on her finger. Overhead the stars, both old and new, danced joyfully as the nova of love twinkled on her hand.

Could an evening ever be more extraordinary? Tess pondered the question over a dinner she barely tasted.

He loved her! That much she had come to know, bit by bit, throughout the time they’d been together. But to hear him say it and to have him commit to her for life—she kept turning it over and over in her mind. No matter how she looked at it, it was spectacular.

“Where should we live?” he asked. “I feel as if your house is more like home to me, but if you’d prefer we can move to the Pines.”

“Oh please, can we stay at Angel’s Roost? After all, that’s where we met.”

“And,” he said, his fingers pleating and unpleating his napkin, “it’ll be closer for me.”

“Closer for what?” she asked idly.

“Work.”

She sat up straight. “How can you say that? Panda’s is in the End!”

“Panda’s South is. But Panda’s Downtown is much closer.” He looked up and smiled.

She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “Panda’s South and Panda’s Downtown! It’s the perfect solution, but can you do it?”

He nodded. “The River Exchange, the building you chose—the building God chose—is historic, and I’m getting a financial break in the restoration because I’ve promised to keep it as true to its original glory as possible.”

He pulled some papers from inside his coat pocket and unfolded them on the table. “See? Here are some pictures of what it used to look like. I’ve been working with the county museum, with the special collections department at the library, and with the state historical society to re-create both the interior and the exterior accurately. I want to keep the integrity of that building, but the modern touches will all be removable, should we need to take them out at some time.”

She studied the drawings. “Why didn’t I know about it?”

“I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“I’m surprised—and so happy, Jake!”

He signaled to the server and whispered in his ear. The server nodded, smiling, and soon returned with a familiar foil-wrapped package.

“For Cora?” Tess asked.

“I need to ask her for your hand in marriage,” he said, “and I’m just smoothing the way.”

“I think she’ll give her consent. If that has what I think it has in it—salmon?—she’d probably let you rob us blind.”

“Oh, I think she’s more discerning than that,” Jake said. “After all, she chose you.”

“And she has been a shameless matchmaker ever since she met you,” she reminded him. “I’m pretty blessed by that furry girl.”

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask,” he continued, holding her hand as they left Whispering Winds. “Why is your store called Angel’s Roost?”

“I hope it’s a place where angels can stop and rest for a while before they go on to serve.” She smiled. “After all, some of those guardian angels probably need a good rest now and again.”

“Speaking of resting,” he said as they stood outside the restaurant. “I’d like to bring Faith back home.”

“But she’s so perfect in Panda’s!” Tess said.

“I think a certain cat the color of pussy willows would like her friend back.”

“Maybe now Faith’s halo will stay on straight,” Tess commented.

“I hope not.” Jake laughed, and Tess remembered his words on New Year’s Eve. “I want her there, reminding us how wild and crazy the journey of faith is, and how much fun it’s going to be, when we walk along the path with love.”

He bent to kiss her, and as his lips touched hers Tess was sure she heard the fluttering of wings.

TESS’S CELESTIAL TRUFFLES

1 12-oz. package semisweet chocolate chips

1 can dark chocolate frosting

¼ cup ice cream topping, such as caramel or butterscotch

1 tsp. cold coffee

Ground nuts

Melt the chocolate chips. Stir in the frosting. Add the topping and the coffee. Chill until the mixture begins to set. Shape into balls (or drop with spoon, if mixture is very sticky, into the ground nuts) and roll in the nuts until the chocolate is covered.

Refrigerate. The truffles firm up when cold.

Note from Tess: If for some unfathomable reason you don’t want chocolate, you can try different flavors and combinations of chips, frostings, and toppings with some interesting results. Be creative!

I
N
THE
C
OOL
OF
THE
E
VENING

In 1997, my community was evacuated as the river rose up over its banks and came into our homes. We were gone for six weeks, and we came back to houses that were devastated. There was so much to do; the task ahead seemed impossible. Plus we had to endure even more heartbreak as we threw out family heirlooms that had been destroyed by the flood. I remember holding my daughter’s baby pictures, covered with sewage and mud, and crying as I dumped them into a garbage bag.

But through it all, we found that people everywhere cared. Strangers donated food, clothing, and personal care items. They came in teams to help rebuild this town they hadn’t even heard of before. And above all, they gave us their prayers.

This book was written through tears and smiles, and is dedicated with love and gratitude to those wonderful folks who were so kind to us. I can never thank you enough.

T
he Wild West barbecue was in full swing. Lily Chamberlain didn’t have to search for the area where it was being held. Huge clouds of aromatic smoke drifted from the common area outside the dining room, and the happy shouts of young campers filled the air.

Her son tugged on her arm. “Mom, walk faster.”

Her body ached. She didn’t want to walk at all, let alone speed up. She and Todd had done the three-legged race, scooted on their stomachs through a cardboard maze, jumped rope, leaped over hurdles made of hay bales, and climbed an artificial wall. She’d be lucky if she could even move the next day.

“Look, it’s Ric!” Todd broke loose and ran toward the serving line, his hair gleaming golden red in the late afternoon sun.

She hobbled painfully after him, vainly calling, “Wait! Todd William Chamberlain, get back here!”

One of the servers zipped around the table and caught her son in a bear hug. “Gotcha!” he said. “You’re supposed to listen to your mom, young fellow.” He set Todd down and held out his hand. “I’m Ric Jensen. I have Todd in my arts and crafts class.”

His bright blue eyes sparkled under a thatch of summer blond hair that was now wind strewn. Charcoal was smeared across one cheekbone, and a spot of barbecue sauce had dried on his chin. She couldn’t help but like him immediately.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said. “I’m Lily. I hope Todd’s doing well.”

“He’s the best five-year-old painter I’ve got!” Ric declared. “He’s been working on his Noah’s ark quite diligently.”

“It’s purple,” Todd added.

“Yes, it is indeed.” Ric grinned at Lily. “I’m glad to meet you. Todd talks a lot about you.”

“Ah.” She didn’t dare ask what he said. Todd had an unusual knack for sharing the most interesting tidbits about her life. “Well, I believe we need to get in line here, Todd. It sure smells good.”

“Usually you’d begin down at that end,” Ric said, motioning to his right where grills were sizzling and steam was billowing from large open vats. “But since you’re here, let’s start.”

He handed them two plates from under the table. “Make sure you sample all the sauces. As you can see by my apron, I’ve tried them all!” His body was swathed with a white apron that was stained with sauces of many varieties and colors.

“This splotch is Pastor Jack’s southwestern marinade. Packs a kick, so you might want to be cautious. This mustardy bit is from a legendary concoction straight out of Fargo. And this,” he said, pointing to another, “well, I don’t know what it is. But it was mighty tasty. Yup, this apron tells a story all right. A story of gluttony and greed.”

“It looks like an artist’s apron,” Todd said, somewhat in awe of the messy garment.

“Hey, I like that! I’m the Van Gogh of the barbecue world!” Ric spun his tongs with a flourish. “But today, corn is my canvas. May I interest you in trying some?”

He plopped an ear of corn on each of their plates, then he spooned a yellowish glob on, too. “My specially seasoned butter,” he announced. “It makes plain old corn on the cob a gourmet delight.”

“What’s in it?” Todd asked suspiciously.

“Family secret, young man. Family secret.” He winked at Lily as Todd examined the dollop of butter. “Say, if you two don’t already have a place to sit, I’ve got a spot marked over by the teeter-totter. I’m just finishing up here, and I’d love some company.”

It was blissfully close. After getting a hamburger for herself and a hot dog for Todd, she added brownies to each of their plates and picked up paper cups of lemonade. She gave Todd his plate and lemonade, which he promptly spilled down his shirt. “We’ll just share mine,” she explained to the young woman pouring the lemonade. “It’s safest. And cleanest.”

She limped over to the picnic table and sank down gratefully. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t throb, sting, or pound with pain. Todd, though, joyfully leaped past the slide and sandbox and headed toward the teeter-totter, the food on his plate in severe jeopardy of falling off. He circled the teeter-totter, dodged the swings, crossed the merry-go-round, and returned to her, out of breath.

“Isn’t this the greatest place ever?” he asked as he took a bite of his hot dog.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said automatically. “And yes, it is the greatest place ever.”

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s got a lake and a church and a playground—”

“No, I mean why can’t I talk with my mouth full? It saves a lot of time. I can chew and talk at the same time. Watch.”

He provided a vivid demonstration.

“That’s dreadful, Todd. Nobody wants to see chewed-up food.”

He wasn’t convinced. “It’s not
that
gross.”

“Gross enough. Just don’t do it.” She tapped him lightly on the nose and leaned over to hug him, but he wriggled out of her grasp. “Cooties!” he said with pretend disgust.

She shook her head. He came up with the strangest things.

Any conversation with Todd was interesting, but she didn’t object when he abandoned his plate of food to accept another little boy’s invitation to play on the teeter-totter. It gave her one of those brief moments of respite that were so rare with a five-year-old.

It wasn’t easy raising Todd by herself, but they’d managed. Out of the heartbreak of early widowhood, God had sent the blessing of a baby, and she had been able to move through her grief.

Todd was bundled energy, but he kept her focused on what was real and important in life.

Who knew it would be so complicated? For the millionth time, she revisited the choice she’d made in Chicago. Which was more important: one man’s ethics—or lack thereof—or the survival of a program that would benefit many women? Had she been wrong to leave? Should she have reported the wrongdoing and jeopardized the Nanny Group’s existence?

The image resurfaced of the head of the Nanny Group smiling as he voiced threats so veiled that she’d often wondered if she had, in fact, understood him correctly.
Everything goes forward without any problem
, he’d said,
and all will be fine. Nothing is ever to get in my way. But you understand that, don’t you, Lily? You know the importance of silence
.

In the back of her head, she could hear her mother’s voice:
Nothing happens by accident; it’s all part of God’s plan
.

“Mom, look! I’m the king of the camp!” She looked up just in time to see Todd standing on top of the monkey bars, waving his arms at her. Before her heart could completely stop, he slithered down the metal railing to safety.

The child had to be part monkey. That, or he had a guardian angel working overtime.