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BOOK: Tracie Peterson
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“Oh,” Morgan said sounding rather deflated. “Does he have a little girl?”

“No, Harry hasn’t married yet, so he doesn’t have a family.”

“Will he like me?”

“I’m sure he will think you are positively charming,” Deirdre said, helping her daughter into the jacket. “Now, why don’t you go play in the back garden while Grammy and I fix breakfast. But don’t pick her flowers.”

Morgan nodded somberly and headed out the door. Deirdre
chuckled to herself, imagining that Morgan had figured she and some little boy were going to go boating on the lake. Kids!

Harry rowed in long, persistent strokes to cross the distance between his place and the Mitchell farm. He was glad to hear that Deirdre had brought Morgan to visit with Mattie for a spell. He hadn’t thought Mattie to be herself since returning from Ashley’s tragedy in Denver. Harry supposed that having to deal with Ashley’s near-death experience couldn’t help but steal some of Mattie’s contentment and peace. After all, in spite of the physical distance, Mattie was still very close to all of her girls.

Harry tried not to think about Ashley and the accident. He had prayed fervently for her recovery, but he hadn’t wanted to dwell on the details. He cared about what happened to her, but he cared more about how it affected Mattie. Sometimes the older woman seemed so strong, and other times she was very vulnerable—almost frail. Of course, Mattie would never have admitted it, but Harry had seen changes in her over the last year. Maybe age and time, heartaches and disappointments were taking their toll. He just didn’t want to see her get old before her time.

Still, he couldn’t worry about it. He was a firm believer that God had everything under control. Even the most minute detail was ordained by God, as far as Harry was concerned. Having a little girl around the farm would be just the ticket. Morgan would draw out Mattie’s joy and help the older woman to regenerate her enthusiasm for life. It seemed preordained.

Up ahead he saw the wooden dock and waved at Deirdre and Morgan. Morgan seemed to be enthusiastically ready for her day as she jumped up and down on the wood planking. She was a precious little girl, Harry thought. Delicate and petite, with huge eyes that seemed to watch his every move. Hair the color of ripe wheat bounced in a ponytail fixed high atop her head. She was dressed appropriately in lavender jeans and a printed floral shirt, with a zippered
jacket to ward off the chill.

“Grammy says to come have breakfast with us,” Deirdre called, interrupting his assessment of Morgan.

“Are
you
Harry?” Morgan questioned.

“Yes,” Harry replied, easing up alongside the dock. “You must be Morgan. I remember seeing you when you were just a couple of years old. You’re half grown-up now.”

“I’m five,” she told him very seriously. “Five is old enough to go to school. I just granulated.”

“Granulated?” Harry questioned.

“She means graduated,” Deirdre offered. “They graduate from kindergarten now. They get a little cap to wear and receive a diploma that looks better than the one I got from college.”

Harry laughed. “Well, congratulations, Miss Morgan.” He tied off the boat, then climbed up onto the dock. “Why don’t we go celebrate with breakfast.”

Morgan seemed to approve of the plan and quickly put her hand in Harry’s. “I thought you would be a little boy,” she told him honestly, “but it’s okay that you’re a big boy.”

Harry grinned and looked over at Deirdre. “It’s okay, huh?”

“Yup,” Morgan said sweetly. “I can live with it.”

Harry was immediately charmed, and after breakfast he felt as if he’d spent a lifetime with the precocious child rather than a mere half hour. Morgan seemed completely at ease in his company, and in a way, she seemed to hold him in highest regard. Harry—the man with the boat!

They spent nearly two hours on the lake. Two hours that Harry really could have used to go over his equipment and work on making repairs to his hay shed. But somehow the time slipped away and it didn’t really seem all that important that his chores were going undone. When they finally returned to Mattie’s dock, Morgan slipped out of her life jacket and let Harry put her up on the dock.

“Don’t run off,” he told her. He laughed as she plopped down on the dock. “I want to show you how to tie some knots,” he said,
pulling the boat rope up to where he joined Morgan.

“Is it important?” Morgan asked, as though anything less than the most important of issues was beneath her taking time out to learn.

“It’s very important,” Harry replied. “And I’ve never shown another little girl. You will be the first one. Maybe even the only one.”

Morgan nodded solemnly, the weight of this austere moment seeming to settle upon her shoulders like a queen’s robe. “That
is
important.”

“All the knots have secret names,” Harry told her, “and only those people who have learned them know their names. This one is a clove hitch. You use it to tie up the boat.” He showed her how to bring the rope around and draw it through.

Morgan immediately assessed the situation and understood. She took the rope from him and after two tries made a very decent knot for herself. “I did it!” she squealed.

“Yes, you did. Congratulations.”

“Now I can tie up the boat.”

“You certainly can,” Harry said. “Maybe I’ll let you tie up the boat tomorrow. That is, if you want to go on another ride?”

“Oh boy!” Morgan said, nodding enthusiastically. “Can I wear the life jacket again?”

“You always have to wear the life jacket when you go boating with me,” Harry said seriously. “Boating can be very dangerous, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

They rejoined Deirdre and Mattie, and Morgan told them, in her animated way, how she had helped to row the boat and had learned to tie a “clothes hitch.”

“That’s clove hitch,” Deirdre told her daughter.

Morgan frowned. “You know about the secret name?”

Deirdre spied Harry, who was trying hard not to smile. “I heard about it from Daddy,” she told Morgan, quickly trying to recover the moment. “You know how smart he is.”

This satisfied Morgan, who, after eating her lunch and a dessert
of milk and cookies, went begrudgingly to bed for an afternoon nap. Deirdre lifted her in her arms as they climbed the steps, and Harry could hear Deirdre comforting Morgan with the promise that her nap would not take very long at all.

Seeing them like that made Harry wish more than ever that he had a family. He loved children and had always wanted to have several of his own. He just didn’t know that he wanted to have them with Sarah Hooper.

“You sure look down in the dumps all of a sudden,” Mattie said as she cleared the table. “I have more cookies if that’s what your frown is all about.”

Harry shook his head. “I’d burst if I ate another thing. But you do make the best oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the world.”

Mattie laughed. “Well, you’re welcome to the recipe.” She finished putting the glasses in the sink, then asked, “Did you have a good time with Morgan? She seemed so taken with you.”

“We had a wonderful time,” Harry admitted. “She’s quite the little charmer, although she did say something that made me wonder if there was a problem at home. I just wondered if Deirdre said anything.”

“Such as?” Mattie came to the table and sat down beside Harry.

“Morgan said that her mommy and daddy were always yelling at each other and that her mommy seemed happier here on the farm. I just wondered if Deirdre was okay.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me,” Mattie replied. “I know Dave is under a lot of pressure, so I’m sure Deirdre is as well. Hopefully this trip of theirs will help sort everything out. They leave next week.”

“Does Deirdre plan to spend much time down here or is she hurrying right back to Kansas City?”

“She told me she’d stick around for the Memorial weekend picnic on Sunday. I guess after that she’ll head home. I sure hope there’s nothing seriously wrong. I’d hate to see another of my girls in pain.”

Harry nodded. He’d hate to see Mattie caught up in yet another problem and almost chided himself for even having brought up the subject. “I’m sure you’re right,” he finally said. “I’ll bet everything is just kind of going at full speed for Deirdre and her husband. Probably everything will iron itself out once they get away for a while.”

Mattie’s features seemed to relax. “Yes, of course. We all know how stressful planning can be. Why, just look at you, Harry. You’re a ball of nerves, what with this wedding looming ever closer.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “I suppose so.” But despite Mattie’s accuracy when it came to pegging his own problems, Harry was in no mood to try to explain. “I guess I’ll be getting on home. I promised Morgan we could take the boat out again tomorrow, so unless it’s raining or Deirdre has other plans, I’ll probably come by early like I did this morning.”

“Plan to have breakfast with us again,” Mattie encouraged. “I’ll fix your favorite coffee cake.”

He grinned. “It’s a deal.”

Chapter 20

To everyone’s surprise, Erica and Connie showed up on Saturday. Each arrived in their own vehicle, having not told the other one that they were coming. It was so typical of the way they managed their lives.

“I thought you were sick,” Mattie said as Connie gave her a big embrace.

“I think it must have just been food poisoning or something disagreeing with me,” Connie replied. “I felt fine after a few hours, and I rested all day yesterday just to be sure. But I feel great and since I was looking forward to coming down here, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

“And what about you?” Mattie questioned Erica, who was engaged in a quick exchange with Deirdre.

“My audition was yesterday and it went very well. I flew home last night with the assurance from the audition team that I’d hear something on Tuesday. I couldn’t see myself just sitting around this weekend waiting for some word.”

“What about Sean?” Deirdre questioned.

“Well, he’s decided to take some time to pray and think about our future. He believes that we can surely find a way to work out both my love of the orchestra and our love for each other. I think the idea of us needing to move to a larger city has put him into a bit of a tailspin. So he’s gone home to his folks in Springfield.”

“Well, it’s to my gain, then,” Mattie declared. “We were just discussing having our own picnic tonight by the lake. Harry’s going to build us a big bonfire down by the shoreline, and I plan to barbecue.
Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Connie and Erica eagerly agreed.

Plans for the evening went through without a hitch. The mosquitoes were the biggest challenge to deal with, as they seemed to be everywhere at once and as big as June bugs.

“I had this area sprayed,” Mattie said, swatting at the biting insects, “but it’s been a couple of years. I guess it’s time to do it again.”

“Here, try this,” Connie said, offering a bottle of lotion to Mattie. “I’m not getting bit at all.”

“Can I use that on Morgan?” Deirdre questioned. “She’ll be a mess of welts by morning if I don’t do something quick.”

“Sure,” Connie replied. “It’s safe for all ages.”

Harry threw some more wood on the fire, then came to sit down on the blanket not far from Connie. “So how’d the school year play itself out?” he asked.

“We had several track meets in May and our school did exceptionally well. Our girls’ team ended up placing second in our region, which was something no one expected.”

“They must have had a good coach,” Harry said, giving Connie a smile.

Seeing that Morgan was playing by herself along the water’s edge, Mattie took a deep breath and decided now was as good a time as any to share the news Mavis Lane had given her only two days earlier.

“I had a call from Mavis,” she began. “There’s some further news about Rachelle’s death, and since the three of you are here, I think it might be a good idea to tell you what she had to say.”

“Why spoil such a lovely evening?” Deirdre questioned. “Is it really all that important?”

Mattie nodded. “I think it is. It seems that Rachelle’s death was definitely a suicide. Mavis doesn’t want everyone to know that and figured we wouldn’t want everyone knowing it either. People already presume it was a suicide, but because there were no other indications that it was, most folks are content to call it accidental. After all, your mother was in the height of her popularity and demand.”

“So it was a suicide,” Erica commented. “She’s still dead. Why does it matter one way or the other?”

“Well, it seems,” Mattie said rather slowly, “that she left some letters. Apparently she wrote them on the trip to Alaska, knowing that she was going to end her life. She put them all in an envelope addressed to Mavis and slipped it into her luggage prior to taking the pills.”

“What does that have to do with us, Grammy?” Connie questioned.

“The letters were to you girls. One for each of you and one for me.”

The girls each looked at Mattie with such a stunned expression of disbelief that Mattie hurried to continue. “Mavis is sending the letters but is hopeful that we will keep the suicide issue to ourselves. She feels it will only add to the media frenzy and send a whole new onslaught of publicity our way. She knows I would rather avoid that, and I think you girls would rather avoid it as well.”

BOOK: Tracie Peterson
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