Robin Lee Hatcher (7 page)

Following Dru’s instructions, Emily put the heavier and dirtier things to soak in lye. Afterward, she dropped them into the copper kettle to boil. The more delicate articles were given to Dru, at her insistence, to wash in a tub of lukewarm water.

Steam filled the kitchen, leaving Emily’s face beaded with perspiration. Wisps of hair — all of it that wasn’t hidden beneath a scarf — curled across her forehead and nape, sticking to her skin. Bent over the washtub, she scrubbed the clothes and linens on the fluted washboard. It wasn’t long before the muscles across the back of her neck and shoulders complained, but she gritted her teeth and kept at it. As each article was completed, she dropped it into a barrel-shaped tub to await rinsing. The girls were kept busy hauling clean water into the house and dirty water out.

“Here, Miss Harris.” Dru came around the washtub. “Let me take over while you get those things rinsed and hung out to dry. It would be a shame to waste the sunshine. Days are short now that autumn’s here.”

Short? This day felt like an eternity, and it wasn’t yet noon. Perhaps Gavin Blake had been right about her. She might not have what it took to live on a ranch like this one. Her brother-in-law’s good fortune had given her a life of privilege, and she’d grown soft because of it. Over time, those early years after they’d settled in Idaho had become romanticized in her mind.

Wringing water from the clean laundry took longer than she’d imagined it would. By the time she had her first basket filled with clothes, her hands hurt, the skin raw and chapped. Gavin couldn’t call them lily-white today.

As she carried the basket toward the door, she paused to whisper in Sabrina’s ear. “Help your mother. She is tired and should rest.”

The girl nodded, and Emily continued outside.

The Stanley Basin was blessed that day with the warm breath of Indian summer. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and grass, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine. Aspens applauded with leaves turned gold by cooling nights.

Emily paused for a moment to take in the beauty that surrounded her, and familiar words bubbled up from her heart, demanding to be spoken aloud. “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.”

She smiled. How good to know that God watched over her, even in this remote valley. How good to know he didn’t slumber, even in the darkest hours of night.

Drawing a deep breath, she moved toward the clothesline that was stretched between two trees and supported in the middle with a wooden prop. She set the basket on the ground, then placed her hands on the small of her spine and bent backward. When she straightened, she found Gavin leaning against the corner of the cabin, watching her.

“Not as much fun as a fancy dress ball, is it?” He pushed off from the house and walked toward her.

She turned away and grabbed the shirt on top of the basket of clothes. “I told you before that I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“I can see that.”

His tone caused her to look at him again. Was that an apology of sorts? She couldn’t be sure. And what did it matter, even if it was?

Only it
did
matter. She wanted him to think better of her.

She gave the shirt in her hands a good shake, wanting to slough off thoughts of Gavin Blake at the same time, then held it against the clothesline and slipped the split wood pin over one sleeve. As she reached to fasten the other sleeve in place, the pin dropped into the thick grass at her feet.

Without a word, he leaned down, picked up the clothespin, and held it out to her.

“Thank you.” She closed her fingers around it, feeling suddenly clumsy beneath his gaze.

He didn’t release the clothespin immediately, and after a moment she was forced to look at him a third time. His hard, searching gaze made her feel like a bug under a microscope. How she wished he would go study someone else for a while and leave her in peace.

“Thank you,” she said again.

He let go at last. “You’re welcome, Miss Harris. And just so you’ll know, I’m grateful for the help you’re giving Dru.” With a tip of his head, he turned and walked away.

It took several seconds more before Emily could breathe easily again.

Twilight had settled over the basin, bringing with it a bank of clouds in the west.

“Looks like we’re in for some rain.” Gavin turned from the window. “You girls better get your animals in the barn fed.”

“Okay, Pa.” Sabrina set aside the square of embroidery fabric. “Come on, Pet.”

“Put on your jackets,” Dru said before the girls reached the door.

Gavin sat on a chair near the fireplace. “Where’s Miss Harris?”

“Lying down. She’s exhausted after all she did today.” Dru leveled a reproachful gaze on him. “It’s your fault, you know. She’s trying to prove she can do
everything
because you don’t think she can do
anything
.”

“Wait a minute. I never said — ”

“Don’t argue with me. You know it’s true. I didn’t hire her to clean house or wash clothes. I want her to teach the children, to get them to trust and care for her so that when I . . . when I’m not here, they’ll have a woman they can turn to. They’ll need her. More than you know.”

His jaw tightened. Despite his words of thanks today, he didn’t think Emily Harris would last a month, let alone stay around after Dru passed on.

“It’s not like you to be unfair, Gavin.”

Unfair? He hadn’t been unfair. Had he? Well, maybe he had. She might prove him wrong. There could be more to her than he’d first thought.

He pictured her as he’d seen her earlier. There she’d stood by the clothesline in that yellow dress — fitted bodice and flounced skirt — her hair hidden beneath a matching scarf. She’d looked like a wilting sunflower. Her face had been flushed, damp wisps of hair clinging to her nape. Her hands had looked like the hands of a rancher’s wife, red and rough.

“All right, Dru. Maybe I haven’t been fair.”

He turned his gaze on the fire, wishing he’d never let his wife talk him into hiring a governess. Especially not Emily Harris. Bitter experience had taught him not to trust a beautiful woman just because she did one good deed. And whatever else Emily was, she was first of all beautiful.

Gavin would be wise to remain on guard.

Seven

Dru closed the cabin door behind her and walked to the center of the yard, pulling the shawl close across her chest. The air was still. Nothing stirred. All was quiet. Overhead, stars winked down upon the earth, but she wouldn’t be able to see them for long. A storm was coming. She could feel it. She could smell the rain. Soon the wind would rise and clouds would roil across the sky.

If only the storm would blow away her cancer. If only the number of times she would see these storms had not been cut short. If only she could live long enough to see her daughters grown and settled and happy.

If only this cup could pass.

But heaven called to her too. No more sorrow. No more sighing. No more pain. Charlie was there, waiting for her, and she would at long last see the Savior face to face. She would no longer be an alien in a strange land. She would be in her true home, her eternal home.

Father God, Brina and Pet need someone in their lives who loves
you. Emily knows you, Lord. Perhaps she can do what I haven’t been
able to do. Perhaps she can help Gavin discover your saving grace.

Two tears moved slowly down her cheeks.

I don’t want to leave them. Why must I leave them?

In the distance, she saw a flash of light, followed by the low rumble of thunder. It wouldn’t be long now. A breeze caressed Dru’s damp cheeks and tugged at the hem of her nightgown.

Rest
, her heart seemed to say.
Rest and trust. Fear not.

She drew in a shuddery breath.

Yes, Lord. I will trust in you. I will rest. Therefore I will not fear,
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried
into the midst of the sea.

Gavin opened his eyes, his body alert. The room he shared with Dru was dark, but he sensed his wife’s bed was empty. As he sat up, he reached for his trousers and slipped into them, then pulled on his boots. A few quick steps across the bedroom and he was opening the door. A faint glimmer of light from the red coals in the hearth revealed the front door ajar. He moved toward it, his concern growing.

Outside he was met with a flash of lightning that lit up the sky, followed seconds later by a crack of thunder, splitting the silence. Before the sound faded, the heavens sparked again and then again.

Dru stood in the yard between the house and barn. A dark shawl was draped over her narrow frame, so slight it seemed a breeze could blow her away. As if in response to his observation, the wind rose, billowing the white fabric of her nightgown.

He moved toward her. “Dru?”

She didn’t turn. “I felt the storm coming.” Her voice was soft, barely audible above the peals of thunder. “The air was so still when I awoke. Thick, like you could cut it with a knife. I wanted to see it for myself.”

He stopped beside her, almost put his arm around her shoulders, then didn’t. Something told him she didn’t wish to be held.

“I’ll miss these storms.” She turned her head, her face spotlighted by another flash of lightning. “I yearn for heaven, but I’ll miss all I’ve loved on earth.”

His chest grew tight. He hated it when she spoke about dying this way.

“I’ll be with Charlie in heaven. With Charlie and our baby son who never got to take his first breath. They’re waiting for me now.” She was silent a moment, then added, “There won’t be any tears or sorrow or sighing where I’m going. Do you know that’s true?”

No, he didn’t know. He’d tried to believe, but he couldn’t find it in him.

The wind increased. Dru’s hair whipped about her face while black clouds, turned silver by the lightning, rolled overhead.

“It wasn’t right to ask you to marry me, Gavin. You should have had a chance to find the kind of love Charlie and I shared. If it weren’t for my girls . . .” She let her words trail into silence.

“I wanted to do it. I’ll do my best by Brina and Pet. They’ll never want for anything. I’ll tell them what a fine woman their mother was, and they’ll never have cause to doubt it. Not ever.”

“Loving God and loving others are the only things that make sense in this world, Gavin. It’s what we’re made for, to love and be loved.” She turned toward him. “If you let him, God can heal that broken heart of yours. If you let him heal you, you could find a woman to love.”

His gut tightened. “I care about you, Dru.”

She placed her hand on his forearm. “I know you care.” Her voice was softer now, her look pleading. “You care because I was Charlie’s wife and we were a family. You care for me as you would a sister if you’d had one. But that’s not the kind of love I mean, Gavin. You deserve more.”

“I like things the way they are.”

Dru leaned her head against his chest, whispering, “No you don’t. You only think you do.”