Wings of a Dream (40 page)

“Well, I . . .” Arthur fidgeted with the lapels on his jacket and straightened his tie. “I didn’t think she really meant it.” His old grin returned, as if he and Frank had a long history of friendship between them. “Lovers’ spat and all.”

His arm went possessively around me again. I tried to spin away, but he held me fast, his fingers digging into my side. “You know how women are, always saying one thing and meaning another.”

I freed myself from his grasp, fists clenched, chest heaving like an angry bull.

Frank stepped between us, the chiseled muscles in his arms flexing tight beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “I don’t believe I know that, son. Seems to me, women generally say what they mean. At least my wife always did. And I haven’t known Rebekah to do differently.”

I peeked over Frank’s shoulder in time to witness the color drain from Arthur’s face, leaving his appearance more like an alabaster statue instead of a man. He backed down the dirt walkway, crashing into the fence, feeling behind him for the gate, then for the door of his shiny car. “Yes, sir. Maybe I was wrong, sir.”

One corner of my mouth lifted as Arthur inched around the front of the car and reached for the door.

“You need some help with that?” The amusement in Frank’s voice made me imagine the twinkle in his eye.

“No, thank you.” Arthur sat behind the steering wheel, looking like a little boy caught smoking in the hayloft. The gears growled as he turned the car to head back toward town.

Frank raised his hand. “Sure was nice to meet you.”

I stood next to my protector as Arthur’s tires kicked up a swirl of dust around us.

“I hope I didn’t frighten your young man.” Frank stared after the car.

“He’s not my young man.”

Frank turned slowly, eyebrows raised, as if questioning that I spoke truth. My bravado deflated as quickly as a punctured tire.

“I thought he was, once. But I realized a while ago that I was wrong.” I hesitated, suddenly embarrassed by the whole affair.

James pushed between us. “Can we play ball now, Daddy?”

Frank kept his eyes locked on mine for a long moment before he tousled his son’s hair. “Anytime you’re ready, son.”

The next Saturday dawned clear and warm, like spring preening in her new dress. With a light step and a tune on my lips, I worked back and forth from stove to table. Bacon and eggs and biscuits and gravy. Whatever had possessed me to stir up such a breakfast?

Frank rubbed his hands together as he slid into his chair at the head of the table. “Woo-whee. Smells like Christmas.”

“Daddy,” Ollie scolded. “Christmas smells like cinnamon, not bacon and biscuits.”

Frank laughed as he tucked a napkin into his shirt. “So it does, Ollie. So it does. But I’m thinking this breakfast smells mighty fine, too.”

Janie squawked and reached for a biscuit. Ollie broke one open and laid it within her sister’s reach. I set a new ball of butter on the table and took my seat. Frank blessed our food before he filled his sons’ plates.

It felt so right, the six of us around the table enjoying a meal. I set my elbows on the table, rested my chin on my clasped hands, and watched. Frank tipped his head, his question as clear as if he’d spoken. “What?” his gesture said. “Why are you looking at us like that?”

I shrugged my answer, hoping the truth wasn’t apparent in my eyes.

He picked up his coffee, washed down his eggs, and cleared his throat. “I thought we’d make a trip into Terrell today.”

“All of us?” Ollie nearly shouted.

“That’s right, honey. All of us.”

Ollie’s head whipped in my direction. “Terrell, Rebekah.” Her wide eyes told me this was a pleasure she’d experienced before, one she longed for again.

“How does that sound, Rebekah?” Frank’s words turned all eyes in my direction. “Think you can get us ready?”

I laid down my fork, breakfast suddenly a rock in my stomach. Did he mean this as my farewell party? Maybe he’d tell the children that two weeks from today I’d board the train and ride back out of their lives.

Frank grinned at me and pushed his plate away.

I let out a long breath and managed an answering smile. “I’ll have us ready. Ollie will help.”

“Me, too!” The boys’ words tangled with each other.

Frank slapped his hands on his legs and stood. “I best get my chores done, then.”

As he left the kitchen, I grabbed his empty plate along with my half-empty one. Terrell might not be quite as big as Dallas, but according to the things I’d heard, it had a sight more to offer than either Downington or Prater’s Junction. And if I were doomed to live out my days in Downington, I wouldn’t let this last opportunity for excitement pass me by.

We rode into Terrell behind a skittish Dandy. We weren’t the only ones in a horse and buggy—or horse and wagon—but enough automobiles zipped from street to street that Dandy spooked quite often.

Frank gripped the reins, held Dandy’s head more tightly. “Times are changing, aren’t they?”

I took a deep breath. “And will you change along with them?”

“When it seems prudent.” Frank shrugged. “Some things are lasting; some are gone in a flash. I’ll adapt to the lasting changes, but it might take me some time to figure out what those really are.”

I considered his words as the jangle of harnesses and the creak of leather intertwined with the chug of motors, just as the smell of gasoline mingled with that of horseflesh and manure. Before, I might have protested his cautiousness. Now I wondered if it held more wisdom than my desire for everything new and flashy.

“ ’Course, if this bond election for new roads comes out right, I might be tempted to jump right into the automobile craze.”

I shot up a silent prayer for voters on their way to the polls, then reproached myself. I wouldn’t be here to enjoy new roads, anyway. Let alone any automobile Frank might be persuaded to purchase.

Dandy walked farther into the heart of the city. My head turned this way and that, craning to see every possible sight Terrell afforded. A large hotel. Several grocers and drug stores. Auto shops and harness makers, almost side by side. The train depot.

“Oh! What’s that?” I pointed toward a large building fronted with massive columns.

“Carnegie library,” Frank said.

“Mama took me there once,” Ollie whispered from the back.

I bit my lip, wishing my comment hadn’t elicited that response. And yet that was the truth of the matter. They’d had a mama. One that only Ollie and James and possibly Dan remembered. I swallowed hard and glanced at Frank. His face held no discernable expression.

“What do you remember about it, honey?” I asked Ollie.

“Rows and rows of books. And being shushed. A lot.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. My mama would have had to shush me, too, I imagined.

We rolled on down Moore Street. Then Frank turned and hitched Dandy to a post and we climbed from the buggy. Frank set Janie on his shoulders. She clapped and grinned. I caught Dan by the hand.

People swarmed before the storefronts. I felt certain I gawked like a country girl as we clomped up and down the board sidewalks, my arm swinging with Dan’s. My day in Dallas hadn’t been filled with such wonder. Only with expectations—and then disappointment. But today Ollie and James walked beside me, wide-eyed and excited. And I couldn’t help but join in their enthusiasm.

We ended our meanderings at the soda fountain. With my handkerchief, I wiped away the dirt that had collected on our sweaty faces before we stepped inside. Frank ordered three sodas. I shared with Janie, Frank with Dan, and Ollie with James. As we rested and laughed, the contentment on each face both freed and squeezed my heart.

James slurped up the remaining drops in his glass and let out a long sigh.

“Good day, son?”

James nodded. “A family day.”

I held my breath and let my gaze rest on Frank’s face for only an instant before my trembling hands fussed with Janie’s dress. He had nothing but smiles for his son. What did it mean? Did he like the idea of us as a family? Maybe just seeing his children’s happiness had sparked his own. I beat back hope, reminded myself that it wasn’t me he wanted.

He slapped his hands against his knees and stood. “We best be on our way back before the sun decides it’s worked long enough and heads to bed.”

“Daddy”—Dan grabbed his father’s hand—“you know the sun doesn’t have a bed.”

“Oh.” His forehead wrinkled as he gazed into his son’s upturned face. “Doesn’t it?”

“No. Bekah says it goes to the other side of the world at nighttime.”

“Does she now?” His eyebrows rose in my direction. Why in the world did I blush and turn away?

“Well, let’s race it home, shall we?”

The children nodded to sleep, one by one, as Dandy’s pace steadied us home again. I kept quiet, as did Frank. Had James’s comment disturbed us both? The thought made my head hurt, for I couldn’t discern the answer. So instead, I wondered about Mama.

I hadn’t heard a peep from her since she’d arrived back in Downington. I expected a long letter detailing my youthful foolishness for remaining with Frank’s family, but none arrived. Had Daddy stayed her hand or was she simply not speaking to me? And did it matter?

She had plenty of opinions as to what my future should entail. But in spite of her suggestions, I couldn’t find the peace I sought. Whether she recognized it or not, I had my own life to live. My own decisions to make. The Lord wanted
me
to hear Him and obey.

But as day passed into day, I found myself afraid to ask for His direction. For more and more I wondered if He’d side with Mama and tell me to be content to go back home.

“I’ve been praying for you,” Irene said after church the next morning. Her face didn’t hold the same laughter as it had before Beulah’s passing. It had turned serious and searching.

I squirmed in my seat, for the first time uncomfortable with my friend.

She sat beside me. “How are things at the house?”

“Fine.” But I couldn’t meet her eyes. I smoothed my skirt, crossed my ankles, pulled my handbag closer to my body.

She placed a hand on mine. “I’m still praying.”

I nodded without looking up, my gaze stuck on her hand until it moved from view.