Worthy of Riches (37 page)

Susie giggled and twisted her fingers into her mother's hair.

Jean sat up and smiled down at her youngest.

“Laurel could bring William to see you. Then you wouldn't be lonely.”

“Yes, but she can't come every day. She has her own chores to do.” Jean stood. “Now, enough of this. It's time for sleep.” She walked to the door, stepped into the hallway, and pulled the door nearly closed.

She already felt lonely. With Will and Justin gone, Laurel married, Luke off hunting or trapping most of the time, and Brian in school, the house was empty. Sometimes she felt more alone than ever.
It's been nearly a year. When will the healing come?
she wondered, feeling discouraged. What would she do when all the children were grown and gone?

That's something better left to another day,
she told herself and headed down the stairs. For now, she had bread to bake and washing to do.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she crossed to the overstuffed sofa and plumped a throw pillow. A nap would be nice.
Just a little one,
she told herself and dragged a blue afghan off the back of the sofa. Lying down, she positioned the throw pillow under her head and pulled the afghan over her.

Sun slanted in a window, and dust particles glistened in its light. She gazed at bare rosebush limbs pressing against the glass and imagined how they would look in July clothed in greenery and red blossoms. Maybe by then her sadness would lift.

A car rumbled up the driveway. Jean sat up and looked out the window. It was Ray. Jean wasn't sure if she felt good or bad about seeing him.
The kids have missed him,
she thought. Since his argument with Luke, he'd stayed away.
At least he wasn't hurt that day,
she remembered. The wound Luke had inflicted had been superficial.

Ray climbed out of the car, closing the door firmly. Huddling in a heavy coat, he plodded through the snow, keeping his head down and hands in his pockets. He didn't look like himself.

Jean tidied her hair and headed for the back door, the thought of seeing him lifting her spirits. He knocked before she could reach it. Opening the door, she smiled. “Hello. Good to see you. I was wondering when you were going to get around to visiting. We've missed you.”

“I've missed you all too,” Ray said, his tone serious. “Can I come in?”

Something
is
wrong.
Jean swung the door open and stepped aside. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Is it made?”

“No. But I can make it easy enough.”

“Nah. I don't want you to go to the trouble.” Ray pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pockets, then pushed back his hood, revealing a tangle of dark curls. “Actually, I came by to talk to you about something.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Luke around?”

“No. He's checking the traplines.”

“Good.”

Jean settled on a kitchen chair and folded her hands in front of her. She knew something was coming.

Ray sat across from her and leaned on the table, staring at his clasped hands.

“It's usually best just to say whatever you have to say.”

He looked up at Jean and took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. “Since the last time I was here, I've been doing a lot of thinking. After Will died I only meant to help, not to cause trouble. I … I felt obligated. Will had asked me to look after his family. I never thought we'd become friends, but we did … I think.”

Jean offered an encouraging smile. “Yes. I'd say we're friends.” “Seems my best intentions have gone wrong. I didn't mean to bring trouble, but I have.” He pressed his palms together. “I've been thinking … it would be better if I didn't come around anymore.” His words jarred Jean. “Not come around? For how long?” “As long as it takes for Luke to get over being mad.” “He might never forgive you,” Jean said, trying to absorb this new loss. “Brian and Susie will miss you.”

“I'm going to miss them, but…” Ray shook his head. “Every time I set foot in this place, Luke raises his hackles.”

Jean stared at her hands. “It doesn't seem right, his hatred controlling what we do.”

“It's not, but I don't see any other way.” Ray stood and pulled on his gloves. He was silent a moment, then said, “Well, see ya,” and walked out.

Weeks passed, and Ray was good to his word. He didn't set foot on the Hasper farm, but he didn't dismiss his promise to look out for Will's family. Several times a week Ray sent someone by to check on them and to do chores. They almost always brought gifts of meat or fish.

Jean was grateful, but the visits from others only served to remind her how much she missed Ray. He was very different from Will. He had a quick temper, and on occasion he still bullied his way through situations, but she liked him—maybe it was his straightforward way of approaching life. And she couldn't deny he was a man of honor. He'd promised Will that he'd keep watch over his family, and he was.

With Ray's absence Jean and Luke did not argue as much and the house was more peaceful. But it also felt as if someone had been misplaced. Brian and Susie often asked about Ray and couldn't understand why their friend no longer came to visit. When Jean tried to explain, it only created friction between the two youngest and their older brother.

Occasionally they'd see Ray in town, and he always made time to chat. Susie and Brian would be animated and pleased, but when the visit ended, they were always let down, for each time they would invite their big friend to visit, and he would decline. Jean began to pray that either they wouldn't see Ray while in town or that Luke would have a change of heart. She waited for the right time to talk to Luke again.

Spring arrived, and the cold and snows were tempered by sporadic warm spells. The earliest spring flowers broke through the wet earth, hugging tree trunks and foundations of homes. Breakup was imminent, and the townspeople began to make bets on the exact day and time the ice would break free.

After finishing chores one morning, Luke sauntered into the house. “Morning. Looks like a good day,” he said cheerfully.

This is as good a time as any,
Jean thought. “Luke, I was wondering if we could talk about Ray Townsend.”

“What about?” he asked, his voice guarded. “Things have been better since he's been staying out of our way.” He took a chunk of cheese from the icebox.

Jean bit back a retort and poured hot water into the sink.

Luke sliced the cheese and slapped it between bread. “I guess he finally got the message.”

Picking up the knife Luke had used and setting it in the sink, Jean asked, “And what message would that be?”

“That he doesn't belong here and that I'm the man of this house.”

Jean turned and leaned her back against the counter, then folded her arms over her chest. “No. That's not it. The message you gave is that you're not a man yet and you're unforgiving.”

Hurt flickered across Luke's face, then insolence settled in.

“Ray didn't want to cause more trouble between us. That's why he hasn't been around.”

Luke smirked. “I'd say he's scared.”

Jean's anger and frustration boiled up. “I'm ashamed of you, Luke, and if your father could hear you, he would be too.”

Luke's smirk disappeared.

“Ray Townsend isn't afraid of you. He cares about us. He figured he had to stay away to keep the peace.” She briskly folded a towel and slapped it down on the counter. “You're the one causing the problems.”

Luke scowled. “I didn't make the trouble. He did. He should have stayed away from the beginning. He wasn't welcome here, and he knew it.”

Jean pressed her hands down on the counter and waited for a wave of rage to pass. Taking a deep breath, she turned and crossed to her nearly grown son. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she said softly, “I miss the young man I used to know—the one who loved life and looked for the best in people, the one who was quick to forgive.” She could feel the sting of tears. “Luke, hate is eating you up. The fine man I know is disappearing right before my eyes.”

Luke stared at his mother, then shrugged away. “I'm not naïve like I used to be. A man like Ray Townsend doesn't deserve forgiveness. I'm responsible for this family. I'm just trying to protect you. I'm sorry you can't see that.”

Jean smoothed the towel, hoping to quiet her growing anger, “Luke, it's an honorable thing to feel responsible and protective, but my life and this farm are not your responsibility. They're mine.” Luke started to say something, but Jean held up her hand. “I will finish,” she said sternly. “Your behavior will not be tolerated any longer. You are old enough to know better. And you need to know that God will hold you accountable for your behavior. He doesn't look kindly on hatred and bitterness. I won't have you interfering any longer. Do you understand?” When Luke didn't answer, she repeated, “Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” he growled, shoving two sandwiches and two apples into a bag.

“Alex and I are going to the river.” With that he left, slamming the door behind him.

Jean stared at the door. She'd prayed and prayed, but still he clung to bitterness. What would happen to him?
Lord, you have to do something.

“Hey, what's with you?” Alex asked, leaning against the bridge.

“Nothin'.” Luke stared at the river, hands stuffed into his coat pockets.

“Right. You've been bad-tempered all morning. Even though it looks like we might win that bet, I think the breakup's starting today.”

Luke clenched his teeth. “It's Ray Townsend. He's trying to weasel his way into my family, and my mother can't see it. She thinks he cares.”

“Maybe he does.”

Luke looked at his friend. “You really think he could? He murdered my father.”

“It was an accident, Luke. Your father's the one who insisted on going. And he decided to stay with Ray. Ray didn't make him.” Alex glanced away, then continued. “He should never have taken an old rifle like that. He knew better.”

“I never thought
you'd
turn against me. I thought you understood.”

“I do, but you've got to let go of the past. Let go of your hate. Your father's death wasn't Ray's fault.”

With a look of astonishment, Luke said, “I can't believe it. He got to you too. I thought you were smarter.” He shook his head. “Seems I'm the only one who can see the truth.”

“Maybe you're the one who's wrong,” a soft voice said from behind Luke.

He whirled around to face Mattie. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn't make sense that everyone else is wrong and you're right.”

“You don't know Ray Townsend the way I do.” Luke glowered. “I don't want to talk about it anymore.” He returned to staring at the river.

“Anything happen yet?” Mattie asked.

“Nope,” Alex said. “Just a lot of groaning and popping.”

Luke cut in. “Why do you think I'm the one who's wrong?”

“I thought you didn't want to talk about it,” Mattie teased, her dark eyes smiling.

Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Luke's eyes followed the curves of frozen ice. They looked like ribbon candy.

“It's just that everyone else thinks he's fine, including me.” She stepped in front of Luke and met his eyes. “People change.”

“Not him.”