A Place Called Home (8 page)

“Christine, someone is bound to ask me where you're from or why you're in Baxter. I have no wish to pry or to embarrass you, but, maybe you could give me a little help.” Emily stopped talking then, praying she hadn't said too much. If she drove this young woman away, she would never forgive herself.

Christine's answer was long in coming, and her voice was quiet and hesitant. “My grandfather died about two weeks ago. We lived up north. I was on my way south to stay with someone…. When that didn't work out, I stayed on the train and found myself in Baxter. Upon arriving, my bag was stolen and I was attacked. That's how I met Dr. Mark. Losing my bag made work necessary.” They had continued to walk as Christine spoke and were now home and seated on the front porch.

“But even if I hadn't been hurt, I would have stayed and rested for awhile before starting home.”

“Thank you for sharing with me, Christine. I'll be praying for God's special comfort over your loss.” Emily stood and put a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder. “Please remember, Christine, I'm here for you. If there is anyone at home you want to contact, feel free to use the paper and stamps in the desk in your room.”

Emily left Christine alone on the porch. She was glad she had asked. Christine had been honest with her, of that she was sure, but neither had she told the entire story. Emily's mind went back to her meeting with the sheriff in the general store that morning. When Christine had been across the store looking at bolts of fabric, the sheriff had approached her and asked outright if the young dark-haired woman was Christine Bennett. Emily had been a little surprised when he had done nothing more than thank her and walk away after she had told him yes.

Emily climbed the stairs to her room. A pensive look on her face, she prayed that God would give her the needed wisdom to help this girl she was sure He had placed in her life.

Christine was not long in following Grandma Em indoors. Going to her own room, she sat at the desk. As she sat there she realized she had been trying to block Spooner and its problems from her mind. And for a while it had worked. The paper was in the desk, just as Grandma Em had said. She toyed with it a moment before pulling some out. Determination on her face, she began to write. Even if it meant confronting Vince Jeffers herself, she wanted some answers!

Christine could not have known that a small, nondescript man was boarding the train in Spooner. His destination: Fall Creek. His purpose: to do Vince Jeffers' bidding.

Sunday dawned warm and lovely, but the beauty of the day was lost on Christine. Staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror which hung on the inside of her closet door, her thoughts were more suited to rain.

The dress she wore was mint green, lightweight, and fresh-looking. With short puffed sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a full skirt, the dress was really quite lovely and looked as though it had been made for her. A frown clouded her face as she remembered it hadn't been. Continuing to frown into the mirror, she realized how important it had become that Grandma Em's family and friends like her. Being out of her element and dependent upon other people brought a rush of insecurity to Christine.

As Christine descended the stairs she decided to relax and be herself. Her lack of close friends in Spooner had been because of where she lived, not because people didn't like her. Joseph Bennett's neighbors had been elderly, which probably explained why Christine had grown close to Grandma Em so quickly.

Being busy helped Christine get her mind off her troubles, so with a determined step she headed to the kitchen to start breakfast. Turning from her work, she heard Grandma Em's footsteps approach.

“Good morning, Christine. Oh! You look lovely, and your hair up like that is darling!”

“Thank you.” Christine's raised hand to her hair showed Grandma Em how unsure she had been.

“Oh, Christine, there will be three of us for breakfast. Silas and Luke always take care of the stock on Sundays and then take us to church.”

Christine noted that Grandma Em talked to her as though she had been a part of the family for years. Emily headed off in the direction of the dining room, counting aloud the number of family expected for lunch.

Christine continued with breakfast preparations when the door leading to the backyard burst open. In strode a man, who without a glance in Christine's direction went to the washstand. Christine stood still, her eyes taking in dark hair and a full, dark beard. His shirt tightened across a broad back and muscular arms as he reached for the soap. His height made him a Cameron.

As he washed, and without looking up, he began to speak in an exasperated voice. “Gram, those pigs are a nuisance. How you stand it is beyond me! And that goat! I was ready to nail his mouth shut this morning. Plus I made the mistake of going out to the pigs before giving corn to the chickens. They followed me and kept up a steady stream of chatter the whole time I was wading in to feed those two monstrosities you call pigs.”

Silas Cameron turned from his washing to see he was not addressing his grandmother. He did not know this woman who stared at him as if he had lost his mind, but he was warm to his subject, so he continued. With little more than a flicker of surprise showing in his deep blue eyes (eyes that must be a Cameron trait, Christine thought), he went on.

“Have you seen those pigs?” he asked her directly.

“Belle and Betsy?”

“Right. Well, I'll tell you this family could be eating ham and bacon for years if she'd let us butcher those two. Everyone tried to tell her when she and Grandpa bought this place, but no, she said she felt sorry for the animals and Grandpa never could tell her no. So here we are, how many years later still taking care of—” He stopped when he saw his grandmother standing in the doorway, an amused smile playing across her lips.

Silas was always much quieter than his brothers and sister. He was not one you interrupted—for fear of shutting him up, never to know when he would start again.

Emily now openly smiled at her grandson. Silas returned the smile as he moved over to bend and kiss her cheek. Straightening, he leveled a look at Christine.

“Gram, introduce me to this poor girl who was forced to stand here and listen to me rant and rave.”

After the introduction, and while he was still warm to the subject, Silas shot another question at Christine.

“What do
you
think of Belle and Betsy?”

“Well, they do grow on you.”

Christine watched him throw back his head and roar with laughter, giving her a glimpse of beautiful white teeth amid his bearded face. His eyes were still sparkling with mirth when he said, “Grow is something Belle and Betsy do very well!”

This brought laughter from both Grandma Em and Christine as they laid out breakfast. While they ate Emily couldn't help but notice how relaxed Silas was with Christine. Since he was normally quiet around people he didn't know well, she couldn't help but wonder if he was drawn to her because of her resemblance to Julia or if he was attracted to her as a woman. She was lovely and sweet. Grandma Em ate her breakfast with a thoughtful heart.

Later, as Silas helped Christine onto the seat of the sturdy, two-seated wagon, she sighed with relief. If the rest of the family was this nice, everything would be just fine.

The drive to church was short—almost too short for Christine to become nervous; almost, but not quite. Her palms felt damp and she hid them in the folds of her skirt, but the sight of the church interrupted her thoughts.

It was white and small and utterly charming. Christine's eyes traveled skyward, taking in the high steeple. The bell caught the morning sunshine, Christine noticed, just as it began to ring. She loved the sound. Grandma Em's hand on her arm brought her out of her daze and they walked up the steps together. Grandma Em, sensing a need in Christine, closely hooked her arm in Christine's and led them to a seat.

With a simple but warm interior, the oak pews boasted a dark stain, as did the pulpit. Off to one side sat a piano that had seen better days.

Unaware of the curious glances in her direction, Christine's eyes moved around the room. A tall, lovely young woman stood out like a Christmas tree on the Fourth of July in a small town like Baxter!

Christine watched as a man stepped into the pulpit. Emily leaned over and told Christine his name was Pastor Nolan.

Christine listened closely as Pastor Nolan made a few announcements before opening his Bible. She watched Grandma Em do the same with a Bible she hadn't even noticed. Christine's cheeks burned; she had no Bible. Without even looking at Christine, Grandma Em reached into the pew rack, took out a Bible, and handed it calmly to Christine.

It took Christine a little time to find Luke 15:11, and once she did, she didn't look at her Bible again. Her eyes riveted on Pastor Nolan, listening intently to every word.

Pastor Nolan was telling a story of a young man who wanted his inheritance early. His father gave it to him. The young man
left home and spent every dime, wasting it away on riotous living. When the young man found himself alone and destitute, and knew his father's servants lived better than he did, he picked himself up and started home. The father had been watching for his son and saw him when he was still down the road. The father ran and hugged his son, his heart alive with joy. They celebrated his homecoming and welcomed him with open arms.

At the end of the sermon Pastor Nolan said, “Maybe one of you has been away from home. The Lord Jesus Christ is watching and waiting to welcome you back. Maybe you aren't sure you even have a home. Maybe you haven't taken that step of faith and told Him of your sin and believed He died for you.”

Christine stood for the closing song on wobbly legs, not understanding everything he had said but knowing the part about home was making her depressed and teary. She mentally shook herself lest she cry right there in church.

Moving through church, Grandma Em took Christine with her, introducing her and staying close. Christine was unaware of how conscious Grandma Em was of her feelings. Grandma Em had glanced up at one point to find Mark and Susanne's eyes on Christine. She watched them exchange a glance, and Grandma Em's heart felt heavy for Christine. Emily still knew next to nothing about her, but she knew that when Christine was ready to talk she would be ready to listen.

In the wagon ride home, Christine tried to sort out the people she had met. The sermon, along with all the new faces, had been a bit overwhelming. Plus she still had not met Julia and her family.

Upon arriving, Christine went straight to the kitchen, hoping the work would take her mind off her jumbled emotions.

“Well, if that isn't the most depressing sight I know—seeing my dress on another woman and having it look better on her!” Christine spun around in surprise upon hearing these words. Her eyes met those of a beautiful, dark-haired woman.

Julia Cameron MacDonald stood with her hands on her hips trying to look disgusted, but the smile in her eyes told Christine the truth. Julia stepped forward then, hand extended and a full smile lighting her face.

“I'm Julia MacDonald. Gram tells me your name is Christine.” Julia shook Christine's hand and both women felt a spark of comradeship. Their relaxation was visible as all doubts cleared.

“Yes, I'm Christine Bennett, and thank you for the dress. I hope it hasn't put you out.”

“Julia has enough dresses to loan the entire town and not be put out.”

It was a man's voice coming from the kitchen doorway that Julia had just vacated. He was the size of a mountain. Christine stared at him, thinking it was the first time she had met someone bigger than her grandfather. But Julia spoke to him as if she were scolding a child.

“Behave yourself, Mac. Come over here and meet Christine.” She caught his hand and pulled him over. “Mac, this is Christine Bennett. Christine, this is my husband, John MacDonald, Mac
for short.” Christine's hand was swallowed in a huge paw that she could not keep from staring at. Mac, seeing the train of Christine's thoughts, said, “My mother always tells me I just didn't know when to stop growing.” He smiled before adding, “I can't say as I meet too many women the height of my Julia.” Mac dropped an arm across Julia's shoulders and gave her a quick hug.