A Mother at Heart (16 page)

But how could she stay? How could she see him every day, knowing she couldn't have him?

She dropped her head in her hands at the thought of being around Jake that long. So close and yet so far.

This isn't fair, Lord,
she thought.
I can't do this to him. The only thing I can do is leave. He will think I hate him, when I'm doing it because I love him.

She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to pray. She thought back to this morning, to the service, to yesterday and what Jake had told her.

It was too bewildering, and it was too early to go to bed. She dropped into the recliner and, glancing to the side, noticed the Bible. She needed comfort and guidance, and in these lonely hours of the night she didn't know where else to turn.

She opened it and turned to Romans, the same chapter Jake had read from. Slowly she reread the words, clinging to one love she knew she was allowed to claim.

She had lived a life close to God before. Would He take her back?

Nothing could separate her from God's love. The
Bible said so. The same Bible that had brought good news to millions of people for hundreds of years. So many people before her believed it; many after her would, as well.

Miriam closed her eyes, her thoughts becoming prayers. Nothing, she thought. No present or future. Her past, her mistakes, her mother's mistakes, the things she wished she could change—none of that would separate her from the love of God shown in Christ. He would take her no matter what she came with. His love encompassed her regardless of her debt.

She reread the words again and again, and slowly she felt power surge through her. This wasn't a battle she had to fight alone. She didn't have the strength. All she had to do was take what was given. The other night, on the hillside, she had struggled, had tried to find God, as Jake had suggested.

She had gone about it all wrong, she realized, tracing the words of the passage with her finger. God was waiting for her to stop the struggle, to let Him give.

Miriam clutched the Bible, her eyes closing as she opened her tightly held heart and gave it over to God. She felt a joy and peace flood her heart. Tears of cleansing thankfulness drifted past her closed eyelids and down her cheeks as she found herself quietly humming songs from her youth. Songs of praise.

She opened the Bible again randomly and started reading John. She stopped at John 16:24. “Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask
and you will receive and your joy will be complete.”

I want to do something for Jake,
she prayed.
That is all I ask. Something to show him I love him. Something he will remember. I know he loves me and I know that leaving will seem like betrayal, but I can't ask that of him. I can't.

She read on, gaining strength and comfort. She knew she would need everything she could to get her through the next day—until she left.

“Thank you, Lord,” she said quietly.

Everyone, except Jake, was still asleep by the time Miriam got up the next morning. She hadn't slept much. She was too aware of the fact that Jake lay only a room away from her. It made her edgy and nervous, and by the time she woke up again, she was sure she had gotten only a couple of hours' sleep. Jake's alarm woke her up. However, she waited until she heard the sound of the tractor leaving the yard before she rose.

She would have to wait until Tilly was up to run home for a fresh change of clothes.

She sat down in the recliner again and picked up the Bible. She read through some of the Psalms, again seeking and finding the comfort she had found last night. In the silence of the morning, she prayed again. Prayed for God's good and perfect will to make itself known to her.

Then, unable to sit any longer, she went upstairs and checked on Taryn. The child was still asleep, still feverish. But she didn't seem as warm as yesterday.

Miriam brushed the hair out of Taryn's face, lightly touching her cheek. Taryn sighed and turned onto her back, still sleeping.

Miriam felt a rush of tenderness for this young child, and wished she could stay, prayed she could stay.
I don't want lots of money, Lord. I don't need to be rich. If I could stay here, it would be all I'd want.

Miriam mentally pulled herself back from these lives that she had to leave soon. Turning, she left the room.

She cleaned up what she could and then went back downstairs to set the table for breakfast and possibly make a pot of tea for Tilly.

The shrill ring of the phone broke the silence of the house. Miriam almost ran to get it, snatched it off the hook. “Hello, Prins household,” she said, breathless.

“This ain't Tilly, is it?”

“No.”

“Don't tell me Jake got married without telling me?”

What a thing to say to a complete stranger! “I'm sorry. If you wish to speak to Jake, he's gone already,” Miriam said, unable to keep the prim tone out of her voice.

“My goodness, you're a secretary. Since when does Jake need a secretary?” the man said with a laugh.

“May I ask who is calling?” Miriam asked.

“You may.” Silence followed this comment, and then Miriam recognized the joke. And the voice.

“Hello, Simon,” she said dryly.

“Wow. An amazing secretary who recognizes voices of someone she has never met. Who are you?”

“Miriam Spencer.”

A pause followed that, as she sensed Simon trying to place her. “Okay,” he said triumphantly. “I remember. You're that old girlfriend. The high school fling.”

Miriam knew she had been more to Jake than a fling, but disdained to comment on that.

“Did he get my message last night?”

“Yes. Tilly told him you called.”

“Well, this is kinda sudden, but I'm leaving right away for the airport. I'll be there sometime this afternoon. Do you know if he's done seeding yet?”

Miriam was confused. “As far as I know, he should be done by today.”

“Great. My timing is, as usual, impeccable. I know this is short notice, but I'm hoping to get there by about three. If Jake isn't home, then you and me can sit down, have tea, and you can remind me what a jerk I used to be.”

“Okay.” Miriam tried to keep her voice cool, remembering his unmerciful teasing whenever he would visit, and how Jake had always intervened, standing up for Miriam.

“Well, take care,” Simon said, his voice breezy, before hanging up.

As she hung up she glanced at the clock, and, as if to force herself to stay on course, phoned Carl.

“So, you heading out today?” he asked.

“Well, something came up here. I'm probably leaving this afternoon.”

“That's cutting it a bit close, but I guess you know your own limits. How are you feeling?”

In love. Confused. Scared. Forgiven. “I'm okay,” she said.

“You don't sound okay.”

“I'm fine. I've got to go. Talk to you later.”

“Hey. Hang in there, girl. We'll untangle this financial business once you start working.”

Not quick enough to make any difference here, she thought wryly. She knew she was looking at a minimum of four years of heavy payments, if she got other contracts as good as the one Carl had gotten for her. Otherwise it would be longer. “Yeah. It'll be fine.”

“S
mells good in here.”

Miriam turned from washing the dishes in the sink to see Tilly in the doorway, yawning. The woman had dark rings under her eyes; her skin was blotchy and puffy with fatigue. She drew her light blue bathrobe around her and blinked. Without her glasses, she looked especially vulnerable.

And old.

“Not a good night, Tilly?” Miriam asked, pulling out a chair for her. She had been busy in the kitchen, baking Fred's favorite muffins, hoping she could tempt his appetite.

“I felt like I didn't sleep, but I must have.” She smiled her thanks as Miriam poured her a cup of tea from a carafe. It was still steaming.

Tilly caught the mug close to her, as if to absorb its warmth. “Jake said you have to leave today?”

“Later on. I'm driving back so I can make up the time along the way.”

Tilly took a careful sip of her tea and sighed. “How's Taryn?”

“She's sleeping well now. Not restless. She's still a bit warm. I don't know if she's feverish.”

“The fever must have broken, or she'd still be hot.” Tilly looked around the kitchen. “Thanks for cleaning up. And for making supper last night. You're a treasure, you know.”

Miriam felt a surge of warmth. She knew, but only because Tilly had been telling her that all her life. “Thanks, Tilly. I love you. I hope you know that.”

“I do, dear. I do.”

The thump of footsteps on the stairs made them both turn around.

Taryn. Already dressed in her blue jeans, and a big smile on her face when she saw Miriam in the kitchen. She walked around the table and sat down on the bench behind it. “I'm hungry,” she announced.

Miriam glanced at Tilly, who was trying not to smile. Taryn was obviously better. Miriam felt as relieved as Tilly looked.

“How about a muffin and some juice?” Miriam asked, pulling a pitcher out of the fridge.

“Two muffins.” Taryn held up two fingers, her brown eyes gleaming.

“We'll start with one, I think.”

Once Taryn was done breakfast, Miriam went to see how Fred was doing. He lay, still and quiet, in his bed, and Miriam became concerned.

She came back out of the room. “I think we should take him to the hospital, Tilly,” she said.

“I thought so.” Tilly pulled her hand over her hair, smoothing it back with a weary gesture. “I'll go get dressed and then I can bring him.”

“You're not taking him. You're way too tired. I'll bring him in.”

Tilly shook her head. “No. They always ask so many questions, and you can't answer them. Besides, I don't think Taryn should go out just yet. She may look perky now, but she'll be droopy again in a couple of hours.”

“Well, let me come with you, at least.”

“Okay,” Tilly agreed. “And thank you.”

Miriam parked her car back in the driveway and glanced over at Taryn who, just as Tilly had predicted, was sleeping again.

She felt a twinge of guilt, but then realized she would have felt worse if she had let Tilly go in all by herself. Each had taken her own vehicle, but at least Miriam had been with Tilly for a while.

Now she was back at home, with nothing to do but wait for Jake.

Taryn yawned and stretched, smiling at Miriam. “I'm hungry,” she announced.

“I can't get over your appetite, little girl,” Miriam said, getting out of the car. She walked around and opened the door for Taryn, who already had her seat belt undone.

Once inside the house, she rummaged through the refrigerator and found some soup left over from yesterday. She heated it up, and Taryn ate it all.

“Now we need dessert.”

“Not for lunch.” Miriam cleared away the bowl and took it to the sink.

“Can we have a marshmallow roast? My daddy always has one with me.”

Miriam knew that to be a bit of an exaggeration, but figured it was a perfect way to keep Taryn entertained for a while. She didn't know what else to do with the child, and it would probably be good for her to get outside.

Fifteen minutes later they were squatting in front of a low-burning fire, toasting marshmallows. Taryn's face was smeared with the remnants of her most recent marshmallow, and Miriam regretted not bringing out a wet facecloth for her.

“You look grubby,” Miriam said, reaching across to carefully wipe off the worst of it with the cuff of her shirt.

Taryn tried to cooperate by licking her chin with her tongue and wiping her face with her hand, but only succeeded in making it worse. “I'm gonna need a bath,” she said.

“Yes, you are.” Miriam touched her nose lightly with her finger and smiled.

Taryn looked suddenly serious. “I heard Grandma say you're going away today. Why don't you want to stay?”

Miriam's heart sank at the sad look on the little girl's face and the plaintive note in her voice. She got up and, leading Taryn by the hand, walked over to the picnic table. They sat down together, and Miriam took a deep breath. “Remember the night I gave you a kiss on your hand?”

Taryn opened one sticky fist and looked down at it, nodding slowly, her ponytail bobbing.

“Well, that kiss was for when I'm going away.” Miriam stopped as a lump in her throat cut off her speech. She waited a beat, then forced herself to continue. “I have to go back to work. I don't live here.”

Taryn clenched her fist. “But I want you to stay.” She looked up at Miriam, her soft brown eyes filling with tears. “Don't you want to stay with us? Daddy wants you to stay.”

“I told you already, dear, I have to go back.” Miriam stopped, then pulled Taryn against her, held her close.

Taryn wound her arms around Miriam in a tight hug. “But who is going to bring me to play school?” she cried, her voice muffled against Miriam's jacket.

“Your grandma will still be here. And your daddy.”

Taryn sniffed loudly. “I want you to bring me.”

Miriam pressed a kiss to Taryn's head, inhaling her smell. She felt a yearning toward her that she was sure had much to do with her own regrets, her own sorrow over lost opportunities.

She should have been mine, Miriam thought, closing her eyes. Remembering what Paula had written, she fought down a surge of anger, of hate over what her friend had done and the repercussions of it.

Once again she struggled to forgive her mother for taking her away, for blackmailing Jake.

Am I never going to be done with this?
she prayed, rocking Taryn lightly, the hurt magnifying the more she thought of her mother, of her friend.
Dear Lord,
must I go through this each time I think of them?
To forgive was difficult enough, but to forgive someone who wasn't even there seemed futile.

At the same time Miriam knew that if she was going to go back east stronger than when she arrived, this was precisely what she had to do. Forgive.

Please Lord, help me to get through this. Help me to forgive them. I can't do any less, because I know how much You forgave me.
Miriam finally realized what she was saying in her own prayer. She
had
been forgiven. The guilt she felt over past sins, her feelings of shame, had all been forgiven, thoroughly and completely. Yet she still struggled to give that same forgiveness to her mother and her best friend.

As Miriam rocked Taryn, she smiled.
Thank you, Lord, for Your love, for Your forgiveness. Please be with this little girl and help her to understand. Help her when I go, because I know she is attached to me.

Miriam took a slow breath, and another, and then gently set Taryn away from her. “Let's go in the house and get washed up, okay?” she said quietly, wiping away a tear from Taryn's cheek with her thumb.

Taryn sniffed, nodded once and jumped off the picnic table. She stopped, her head cocked to one side. “Do you hear that?” she asked, turning back to the farm driveway. “I hear Daddy's tractor.” She grinned back at Miriam and began running toward the driveway.

Moments later, Miriam realized it wasn't a tractor, and felt a surge of disappointment.

The vehicle slowed by the driveway and then
turned in. It was a silver sports utility vehicle, its shiny finish coated with a thin layer of dust.

The license plates told her that it was a rented vehicle. Simon most like, she assumed as she glanced at her watch.

“Come back here, Taryn. Wait until he's turned off his truck,” Miriam warned.

Taryn paused as the vehicle parked beside Miriam's. Then as it came to a stop, she jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “It's Uncle Simon!” she shrieked.

A tall man got slowly out, stopped beside the vehicle and stretched. He wore a leather jacket and blue jeans. His face was half covered with a pair of brown-tinted aviator glasses, and as he turned to look at Miriam, his mouth curved into a distinct smirk.

“Uncle Simon!” Taryn called out, running directly toward him.

“Hey, squirt,” he said, bending over to grab the little girl. “How's my favorite niece? And you must be Miriam,” he said, turning to Miriam. He slipped his glasses off his face and tucked them in the pocket of his coat. His smile grew broad and more sincere. He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Simon.”

“Yes,” Miriam said quietly, returning his firm shake with an equally firm one. “I remember you. I'm sorry but I haven't had time to run out to the field and tell Jake you were coming. I thought he'd be back by now.”

Simon nodded. “Oh, well. I'll just wait.”

“Do you want some coffee or tea?” she asked.

Simon grinned again. “Tea. That's what we drink in this house, isn't it, Taryn.” He bounced his niece once and set her down. He turned to Miriam. “So we'll have a cup of tea and then you can tell me all about what's happened in your life since the last time I saw you.”

Miriam doubted that she would, so she just smiled and walked ahead of him into the house.

Jake pulled up the seed drill and glanced at the gathering clouds. Normally the thought of rain would have made him antsy, but he was done, praise the Lord.

He drove the tractor to the road and got out to secure the drill for transport. Just as he was walking back to the tractor, the first few spatters of rain hit.

He had tried not to think about Miriam while he worked. Had tried not to think of her leaving today. But he had spent most of the morning reliving what had happened yesterday. What could he have done different? How could he have convinced her to stay?

But she was adamant, and no matter what he had said, he couldn't break through the barriers she had erected. He knew she loved him. Was sure of it. She had said it herself. So why did he have the feeling he was even worse off than before?

She was holding something back from him.

So he sat in his tractor, mulling and praying and wondering if he was going crazy all at once or if it had been coming on for some time.

He reached up and turned on the radio, hoping to find something other than the usual heartbreak and
honky-tonk. He settled on a classical station, which soothed him.

By the time he returned home, he felt as if his emotions were finally under control—until he pulled into his driveway and, with a lift of his heart, saw Miriam's car.

Right beside it was a rental vehicle. Probably a salesman, he thought, with a sigh of frustration. The last thing he wanted was to go over the merits of one kind of spray over another or what kind of baler he should buy. Not with Miriam still in his house and getting ready to leave.

Please give me strength to get through this,
Jake prayed, leaning back against the tractor.

Then he noticed that Tilly's car was gone, and fear gripped him. There was probably a simple explanation, but he was afraid.

He looked over the yard that his father had built up all these years. Other than his time with his first father, Tom Steele, Jake had spent some of his happiest years here.
Please let everything be all right with my dad. I love him too much. I know I should let go, but I'm afraid to. I don't have the strength right now to lose another father.

He leaned against the tractor another moment, knowing that whoever was in the house could wait. He needed to draw on the strength that only God could give him. He felt emotionally vulnerable and drained. His father was ill, and he was in love with a girl who he knew wouldn't be satisfied living here. Not after the life she had lived. He had been utterly foolish to even entertain that idea.

He turned to trudge across the yard. The rain was coming down in earnest now, so he started to run.

As he opened the porch door, the sound of a man's deep laugh greeted him. It sounded like Simon. Puzzled and apprehensive, he toed his boots off and set them aside, then walked into the kitchen.

A tall man sat with his back to Jake. Taryn sitting on the chair nearby, chattered away to him. She was looking a lot better. The man turned as Jake entered the kitchen.

“Daddy, Uncle is here,” Taryn called out as soon as she saw her father.

“Simon.” Jake felt surprise as his brother stood up to greet him. “What in the world are you doing here?”

Simon grabbed Jake in a most unmanly hug, then pulled away, his expression serious.

“I took a chance,” he said slowly, watching Jake's face intently. “I talked to Miriam this morning, right after I got a call from Jonathan. You remember him? The Mountie?”

Jake nodded. Jonathan had been instrumental in bringing Simon and Jake together.

“You might want to sit a minute, and I'll tell you what I found out.” Simon pulled out a chair and set it out for his brother. “It's about our mother.”

Jake chanced a quick look at Miriam, who stood by the sink, watching him, her expression enigmatic. He looked away.

He didn't want to deal with this right now. He didn't want to think about a mother that he had never met, that he had no emotional attachment to.