Child of Promise (13 page)

Luanne nodded. Noah shot her a quick smile, then headed around back to the stable. The horse was none too fond of the idea of going out into the near-blizzard conditions, but Noah was finally able to coax the animal into the buggy traces. He drove around to the front of the rectory, and Luanne dashed out to join him. As Noah urged the horse forward, she threw the thick, warm lap robes over their legs.

When Luanne was finally deposited safely at her home, Noah turned and headed back into town and down Main Street. The light was still on in the clinic, so he tied the horse outside, then walked in. Helen Yates sat at her desk.

“What can I do for you, Father Starr?” she asked.

Noah pulled his cap off his head and glanced at Beth’s closed office door. “Is she still seeing patients?”

Helen’s gaze swung to the door. “Oh, no, not anymore. Dr. MacKay always closes her door when she’s not around. She left three hours ago on a house call to the Johnsons’ farm. I assumed she’d already finished and had returned directly to the rectory. The Johnson boy—Samuel—had a case of the measles and was her last patient for the day.”

Unease curled in Noah’s gut. “Well, Beth’s not home. Can you ring up the Johnsons and see when she left them?”

“Of course.” Helen went to the telephone and turned the crank. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, she finally hung up the earpiece.

“No answer. Nothing. I wonder if the lines are down because of the storm.”

“So we don’t know if Beth’s still at the Johnsons’, waiting out the storm, or somewhere in between there and Grand View. Is that what you’re saying?”

Helen’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, I suppose that is what I’m saying. But surely Dr. MacKay would choose to stay where it’s safest. She knows how bad the weather can get here in the winter.”

“Yes,” Noah said grimly, “but she’s also prone to imagine, after living here all these years, that she can handle anything the weather cares to dish out.” He did some quick mental calculations. “The Johnsons live about five miles northeast of here, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Helen nodded vigorously. “If you follow the bluffs, you should be able to run right into their place.”

“Problem is,” he muttered, “if Beth takes a different route home, I might miss her in this snow.” He put his cap back on his head and pulled it low over his ears. “Could I impose on you to go to the rectory and stay with Millie and Emily until I get back? I took Luanne home to be with her family, and there’s no one to stay with them now.”

“I’d be happy to, Father Starr.” She gathered up her paperwork and shoved it into her desk drawer. “Don’t you worry about them at all. We’ll be fine until you get back.”

“I’m much obliged to you, Helen.” Noah turned to go when she halted him.

“Be careful out there, Father Starr. And bring Dr. MacKay safely back to us.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ll try, Helen. Just say a prayer for the both of us, will you? We’re going to need it.”

“I’m sorry, Father Starr,” Zeke Johnson, Samuel’s father, said to Noah an hour later after a painfully slow ride out to their ranch. “Dr. MacKay left here over an hour and a half ago. She should’ve been back at Grand View by now.”

“Well, that’s the problem. She wasn’t an hour ago when I left to ride out here.”

“We asked her to stay the night and wait for the storm to blow over, but she insisted she needed to get back to town.” Zeke shook his head. “And you know how headstrong those MacKays can get when they set their minds to something.”

Unfortunately, Noah did. And Beth was a MacKay through and through.

“What direction did she ride out? And was she in a buggy or on horseback?” he asked.

Zeke lifted his arm and pointed. “Straight west she went, and on horseback. A big bay gelding.”

“Thanks. I’d best be on my way if I’m to have any hope of finding her in this snow.”

“God go with you, Father. The Doc’s been good to me and mine. I don’t want her to come to any harm.”

Noah smiled tightly. “Nor do I, Zeke. Nor do I.”

An hour or so after he rode out from Zeke Johnson’s place and headed back in the general direction of Grand View, Noah lost his way. As the day waned into darkness, the wind and snow created whiteout conditions. At best, he could barely see to his horse’s head. And, at the worst, he couldn’t even see the horse.

Frustration and a growing apprehension filled him. He’d be lucky even to make it back to Grand View himself, much less have any hope of finding Beth. Trusting his horse’s instincts over his own, he gave the animal his head and just held on.

Lord, Noah silently prayed, let Beth have made it to town already. Let her be safe and sound back at the rectory. And if it’s also Your will, let me make it back home safely, too.

The wind was icy, bitter, and his face, hands, and feet gradually became numb. He pulled the wool scarf from his jacket and tugged it up to cover his nose and mouth. After dragging the two lap robes high up onto his chest and tucking them snugly behind him, he wrapped the reins around the loosened brake arm and thrust his gloved hands beneath his armpits. By now the temperature was at least ten or twenty below zero. No telling what it’d drop to by the end of the night.

He knew he had to find some sort of shelter; there was little hope of surviving out in this wind. But the chances of happening onto any sort of building when he couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction would require more than luck. It’d require a miracle.

An ironic thought struck him. He had been so worried about losing Millie and had agonized over God’s heartlessness in taking her from him, he had never once considered the possibility he could actually die before his aunt. But no one, save God, knew when the time of one’s death would come. And death just might come for him this night.

The consideration didn’t frighten Noah. Despite all that had transpired of late to test it, he still had his faith. His only regret was leaving Millie and Emily. And Beth. Sweet, alluring Beth. Who knows where their relationship might have led?

Noah chuckled, the sound more of a grunt through cold-stiffened lips. He must really be getting frostbitten, leastwise in the head, to imagine such a thing. He and Beth . . . What a dreamer he had become!

His horse’s pace quickened suddenly, causing the buggy to lurch then skid on the frozen ground. The animal whinnied. From a place ahead and down to his right, Noah heard another horse whinny in reply. Excitement shot through him. He grabbed the reins from the brake arm and pulled back hard, halting his horse.

“Beth?” he shouted out into the wind and snow. “Beth, is that you? Beth, are you there?”

No answer came. Despair filled him. How could he possibly find anyone in this?

Then the other horse whinnied again. Noah set the buggy brake, wrapped the reins around the brake arm, and climbed down, heading through deep snow in the direction of the horse.

“Beth? Beth?” Noah cried out as loud as he could. “If you’re there, answer me!”

For a fleeting instant, he thought he heard a sound, a voice, but then it was gone. Still, it was enough to guide him closer. For a moment the wind stilled. The snow dissipated, and he saw the horse. At the animal’s feet was a dark form.

“Beth!” Noah whispered and fought his way forward.

13

Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.

Isaiah 1:18

She was cold, unconscious. No matter how hard Noah tried to rouse her, Beth wouldn’t respond. Finally, because there were no other options, and because he couldn’t leave her out in the wind and snow any longer, Noah gathered Beth into his arms and carried her back to the buggy.

He wrapped her snugly in the two lap robes and laid her on the buggy floor, out of the wind. Then, gathering up the reins, Noah urged the horse on.

He had to get Beth to some sort of shelter as soon as possible, if there was to be any hope of reviving her. The blowing snow, however, refused to subside, and he couldn’t see any farther ahead than he had before.

Anger filled him. Had he found Beth only to lose her?

Help me, Lord, he prayed, his entreaty both fervent and frantic. Help me. Don’t let Beth die. Help me find some way out of this storm. Help me.

The wind screamed, tearing down from the heavens. The snow rose, fell, swirled endlessly as if in some crazy dance. And still Noah drove on, battling his growing despair.

Trust, he told himself over and over. Trust the Lord will make this all turn out for the good. He loves Beth. He knows what’s best for her.

Tears stung his eyes before being whipped away by the icy wind. If You would, Lord, take me this night instead of Beth. Take my life and spare hers, because the thought of losing her—

Just then, the wind died once more. The airborne snow settled, drifting gently back to the ground. And, once again, Noah could see for some distance. To his left and not more than fifty feet away was a small house. It was dark, most likely abandoned, but shelter nonetheless. If the wind hadn’t died when it did, he would’ve driven right past it and headed on into the darkness.

Noah turned the horse toward the house, praying desperately that the wind would hold for a few minutes more. And, by some miracle, it did. Just as he pulled up before the house, the storm unleashed its fury once more.

As if it had built in intensity in those few minutes of respite, the wind shrieked down now with a savage vengeance. Climbing from the buggy, Noah was nearly knocked from his feet. He grabbed hold of the buggy, which also threatened to topple over, and held on. Finally, when the wind eased a bit, Noah staggered to the house and pounded on the door.

“Is anyone home?” he shouted above the roaring maelstrom. “Is anyone home?”

No one answered. Noah tried the door. It swung open. He pulled out a packet of matches he always kept with him for lighting a stubborn altar candle, walked into the dwelling’s dark interior, and struck a match.

It was indeed abandoned, empty save for a rickety table and some chairs, an old chest shoved into a corner, and tattered curtains at the windows. On the table sat an oil lamp. The house appeared reasonably weather tight, however, and possessed a cast-iron, potbellied stove.

Noah ran from the house, pulled Beth from the buggy floor, and slung her over his shoulder. When they were inside, he kicked the door closed. In the pitch blackness, he carried her to the stove and laid her off to one side. Then, feeling his way to the table and the oil lamp, he struck another match to illuminate the area.

After removing the chimney, Noah lowered the match to the wick and prayed the small amount of oil remaining in the fount would light. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, the wick glowed then flamed. Noah put the chimney back on the lamp and carried it to the stove, where he placed the lamp on the stovetop.

Ten minutes later and with the aid of the wood from a chair, he had a good fire going in the cast-iron stove. Noah then turned his attention to Beth. Unwrapping her from the blankets, he saw her coat, hat, and skirt were frozen and hard. He pulled off her outer garments, only to find her blouse and petticoat were also wet clear through.

Noah hesitated. If he removed those clothes, too, Beth would have scant remaining clothing left to insulate her. And she’d need more than the thickness of the two lap robes to warm her. She’d need his warmth as well.

He ripped off his jacket, hat, and gloves, which were as stiff and frozen as Beth’s had been, and tossed them aside. The best that could be done, in addition to the heat slowly building in the woodstove, was to try to add his own body’s warmth to Beth’s chilled body. She’d do the same for him, he well knew, if the tables had been turned. And at such a time as this, saving a life was far more important than propriety.

With trembling fingers, Noah unbuttoned and removed Beth’s blouse and petticoat. He shed his boots, shirt, and trousers just as quickly. Then, clad in his drawers, he snuggled up close to Beth and wrapped the lap robes around them both.

Her chilled flesh was uncomfortable, and Noah’s first instinct was to pull away and hoard his own warmth, but he forced himself to press closer. If it required all his body’s heat, if it drained the very life from him, he’d give it all to save her.

Her hands were like blocks of ice. Noah took them in his, trying to massage some circulation back into them. He pulled them up to lie between their two bodies. He laid his feet alongside hers. And all the while as he gently rubbed her back, he spoke to her.

“You’re safe now, Beth,” he whispered, his mouth pressed to her ear. “I’m here. I’ll protect you. Just come back, Beth. Don’t leave. I need you. Millie needs you. Emily needs you. Oh, sweet one, you’re needed by so many. Don’t leave us. Please, don’t leave me!”

He talked and held her close as the night wore on. The little house warmed and, gradually, so did Beth. But she never woke, only dreamed on, caught in a place from which Noah feared he might never call her back.

In the wee hours of the morning, Noah finally fell into an exhausted sleep. And in his slumbering the storm passed through, leaving a ravaged land in its wake.

Something tickled Beth’s nose. She rubbed at it and touched a rough blanket. Turning her face away, she snuggled against something warm, firm, and thudding most disconcertingly against her ear.

She frowned. It sounded . . . sounded just like a heartbeat.

Beth slowly opened her eyes. A thick, plaid lap robe half-covered her face. Above the blanket, she could see the beamed ceiling of a small and totally unfamiliar house. And beside her, that steady pounding went on and on. A chest rose and fell, slowly, rhythmically. An arm, a strong, masculine arm, pinned her to a
very
masculine body.

Recollection flooded back. She had been out in that horrendous snowstorm. Her horse had stumbled, and she had gone flying, striking her head on something hard.

That was the last thing she remembered. And now she was lying in a strange place, beside a strange man.

Ever so carefully, Beth pushed up to stare down at the man. Relief swamped her. Noah. It was Noah! She sighed and lay back next to him, reveling in the joyous realization. She was alive and safe with Noah. She was—

With an outraged gasp, Beth reared backward. Noah’s chest was bare, and as her gaze swept downward, she realized he was dressed only in his underwear. As was she, she noted, turning her gaze to her chemise and long, lace-trimmed drawers. Whatever had happened?

Beth’s glance scanned the room. It was bright outdoors, probably midday, and the sun glinted blindingly off tall drifts of fresh snow. Inside the house, she saw her coat and skirt flung in one direction, her blouse and petticoats in another. Noah’s clothing lay nearby. At their head was a potbellied stove that radiated a faint heat.

The realization of what had most likely transpired struck her. Noah had rescued her last night, brought her here, and tried to save her life by warming her in whatever way he could. But how had Noah found her in that terrible storm? Indeed, how had he even known she was gone from town?

Taking great care not to disturb him, Beth disentangled one of the lap robes, wrapped it around herself so she was completely covered, then lay down beside Noah once more. A sweet joy filled her, twining about her heart until it squeezed with a fierce, aching pain. Noah . . . All that mattered was he had come for her, risking his own life in the doing.

She could love a man for such courage and devotion, if she hadn’t loved him already.

Tenderly, Beth gazed at him. Her glance caressed his features, admiring his strong nose, his firm, full lips, the proud angle of his jaw, the smooth line of his cheek. He was so handsome, so dear.

Reaching up, Beth dared what she’d never dare if he had been awake. She ran her finger down the side of his face, across it, and then traced the line of his mouth. His cheeks were rough, his beard beginning to grow in. She reveled, though, in the maleness of it, the short, coarse hairs rasping most pleasantly beneath her fingertips. For this rare, glorious moment, he was hers to savor.

Noah stirred, shifted beside her. Then, ever so slowly, his lids lifted, and Beth was impaled by a clear brown gaze. As recognition seemed gradually to dawn, Noah’s eyes warmed. He smiled.

“Beth,” he said, his voice rusty with sleep. “God was good. He answered my prayers. He led me to you, then showed me the way to this house. He saved us both.”

Beth didn’t know what to say. The words caught in her throat, melted away in the emotions of the moment. God was indeed good. She was at Noah Starr’s side, and she was content.

Clutching her blanket close, Beth snuggled against him. “Yes,” she murmured at last and, for once in a very long while, meant it, “so it seems.”

“Why did you leave the Johnsons’, when you saw how bad the storm had become? If I hadn’t known you were gone, if I hadn’t gone out to find you . . . Well, you know as well as I you would’ve died out there.”

“I wanted to get back to town, to you, Millie, and Emily. Millie’s getting really bad, Noah. She doesn’t have much time left.” Beth exhaled a deep breath. “I wanted to be there for her, for you.”

“But not at the risk of your life, Beth. No matter what happens, we’d never want you to risk your life.” He cradled her face in his hand. “Do you really know how much you mean to us? Do you?”

Pain stabbed at her. Ah, if only Noah meant those words the way she needed him to mean them! But he was such a good, caring man, and would speak words like that many times in his life to many people. As he should. He was a man of God, after all.

Tears formed in Beth’s eyes. “It was all I thought to give back to you,” she whispered. “For all you’ve done for me.”

“Beth, Beth,” he crooned. Shoving to a sitting position, Noah pulled his lap robe up to cover himself, then wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “In truth, I’ve done so very little. I haven’t even been able to aid you with that secret pain you carry so close. Yet how I’ve ached to help you with it.”

She clenched her eyes shut. Fear swelled within her.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t like me so much anymore.” Her voice wavered. “Y-you’d think less of me and be so very disappointed. And I can’t bear for you to do that. I just can’t bear it, Noah!”

“There’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t heard from someone, in some form, before. And when I listen, I am vowed to listen just as Jesus listened. With love and understanding. And even, if need be, with forgiveness.”

Beth didn’t want to tell him, but she was so weary of bearing her secret alone. Even if she lost Noah’s affection and respect, perhaps he could at least show her the way to put the pain behind her. Show her how to find peace, acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, absolution. Absolution of her sins. Absolution from God.

“It happened in my final year of medical school,” Beth said at long last. “I was getting maybe four hours of sleep most nights. The workload was heavy enough, and I put an even heavier burden on myself to keep up my class standing.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I was at the top of my class, as I’d been from the start and was determined to stay there. I was going to show everyone who had ever made a disparaging remark about me as a woman or an Indian that, in the end, I was better than any of them. But the strain got to be too much. I hadn’t any friends and had made a fair share of enemies in the bargain. Too uppity, they said. A female who needed badly to be put in her place.

“In time, the isolation and loneliness became unbearable. I could hardly drag myself from bed in the morning. I fought constant exhaustion.” She smiled grimly. “Then a handsome— and very wealthy—young intern took a sudden interest in me. At first, Matthew just seemed concerned. We’d go to the park near the hospital to eat our lunches together and talk. He made me laugh, something I’d almost forgotten how to do.

“Eventually, Matthew coaxed me from my dismal little flat to go to the opera with him, and then another time to the symphony. He showed me things I’d never seen before. Like a flower long denied sun and sustenance, I bloomed under his kind attention. He made me feel so alive, so womanly. In time, though . . .” Beth hung her head, suddenly ashamed to go on, to put the truth to words.