Faith Hope and Love (A Homespun Romance) (13 page)

"Wait," Rachel called out, "I'm not sure.  I don't know a thing about trees.  Let's take this one."  She put a hand out to the one that Luke had picked first.

"Sweetheart," he leaned on his axe, "I want to get this one now."

His glance mocked her.  See? it said, it isn't as hard as you think.  All it takes is compromise.  Give and take.  As she looked at him, Luke's eyes darkened in the way that warned he meant to kiss her.  He took a step forward.  Rachel panicked.  One more kiss like the last and she wouldn't even be able to spell her own name, leave alone make plans to return to Bangladesh.  Stepping back she stopped when a branch brushed her spine.  "I'll pack the picnic basket while you cut down the tree.  That way we'll save time," she said and fled.

Luke hefted the base of the tree to rest against one broad shoulder, letting the rest of the tree drag behind him.  In his other hand he held the axe.  Rachel carried the empty picnic basket and the blanket simply because she had got there first and refused to give it up. 

They walked home in silence for the most part, each busy with their own thoughts.

They were on the home hill when Luke said casually, "You know Rae, one of these days, you're going to have to stop running and face those fears we talked about.  All I'm asking is that when the time comes you give yourself a fair deal."

CHAPTER 8

Marie had just taken over with Gordie and Rachel was free for the rest of the morning.  It was always hard to leave Gordie, but usurping all the other women’s time with the baby wouldn't be fair either.  This way, the degree to which Gordie would miss her, would be cushioned at least.

Coming out of the sun room she paused a minute to admire the decorated tree in the corner of the living room.  Its fresh scent permeated the whole house.  Gordie had everyone in splits of laughter by mimicking her deep breaths and following it up with an
Aah
of appreciation whenever he looked at the tree.  Luke had placed a three foot high makeshift fence around the tree so that Gordie could enjoy the tree without pulling at the ornaments or being in any danger of taking the whole tree down.

Angela and her younger brother David had decorated the tree after school yesterday, consulting frequently with Rae.  The white doves and the silver tinsel enhanced the majesty of the fir with their pristine simplicity.  Already Christmas presents had mysteriously appeared under the tree, adding to the magic of the season.

"Do you know where Luke is?' she asked Theresa casually. 

He hadn't appeared at breakfast and she had simply assumed he was working in his study.  It was unusual for him not to come out for his usual cups of tea, though.

"I haven't seen him since he put Gordie in his crib this morning," Theresa said quietly. 

For the first time that day Rachel became aware of how strained the older woman looked.

"Do you think he might be at the farm?'

Theresa thought for a minute.  "No.  I don't think so.  There are too many people there.  Rob would have gone there if he was upset.  He always needed sheer physical labor if something was bothering him, but Luke is different.  He searches for the quiet places." 

"Is something wrong?' 

Theresa looked out of the kitchen window.  "Today would have been Robbie's thirty fourth birthday."

"Where can I find Luke?'  Rachel couldn't keep the breathless urgency out of her voice.  Theresa would work out her grief scouring the kitchen and going down to the mission in Santa Barbara to recite a rosary but the fact that Luke had disappeared like a wounded animal worried Rachel tremendously.  To run and hide, his pain had to be soul deep.  She had to go to him.

Theresa thought for a minute and then said, "Do you remember the spot where he took you for the Christmas tree?  Past the area there is a trail that goes right to the top of Jasper's mountain."  Her lips trembled before she tightened them and went on, "It's where the family graves are.  I think he might be there."

It seemed a long way when one went up the path alone.  In spite of a jacket and her sweater, Rachel shivered.  The wind had lowered the temperature considerably and the overcast sky seemed to fit the solemnity of the day.  Past the evergreens where they had picnicked the path grew steeper.  Doubts set in as she huffed and puffed her way to the top.

Was she doing the right thing seeking Luke out like this?  Instinct urged this course of action and she had obeyed blindly. 

Rachel paused on the edge of the clearing in surprise.  Walled in by a six foot evergreen hedge on three sides, the clearing was huge.  December roses were in full bloom everywhere, the riot of color suggesting life everlasting instead of an ending.  If it weren't for the gravestones, she would have taken the spot for some sort of enchanted garden.  Rachel's gaze wandered from the oldest to the newest and the largest in white marble.  A single grave.  It seemed right that Chris and Rob hadn't been parted even in the choice of their final resting place.  The fresh flowers covering the grave told her others had paid their respects here today.

Luke sat with his back against a tree, looking away from the graves, out into the distance.  One long leg was bent at the knee, the other stretched fully out.  One hand aimlessly picked up tiny stones and threw them at some distant object in the horizon while his eyes stared unseeingly ahead.  Emotion so thick she could cut it with a knife surrounded him. 

Rachel came up quietly behind him.  There was no need to say anything.  Luke hadn't turned his head but Rachel knew he sensed her presence.  She looked out at the horizon.  This had to be the highest point in the Diamond Bar.  From here, one could get an eagle's eye view of almost all the land, and way out in the distance a clear view of the ocean. 

Instinct told her Jasper Summers had stood on this spot and been captured by the wild beauty of the land.  Here he must have realized that he had found his gold vein after all, and asked that his body be laid to rest in the spot where he had first felt a passion for the place.

Rachel sat down.  Her legs ached with the climb and nervousness seemed to infuse them with what was becoming a familiar weakness whenever Luke was nearby.

"Rae."

"Hello Luke."

She could see he hadn't shaved, that his eyes were sunken.  His lips were white, a warning that physically he wasn't doing too well either.  When had he last eaten?  Grief submerged physical needs.  Hunger intensified suffering.  It was a vicious circle.  Luke's pain was the kind that needed more than medical knowledge and skill to deal with it.  More than an impulse.  Nervously Rachel wet her lips and waited.

A scene exploded on her mental screen.  Bangladesh.  A funeral.  She had been on the outskirts of the crowd watching the mourners beat their chests and wail aloud.  That kind of outburst was better than this silent suffering.

Had Luke ever taken the time to grieve for Rob and Chris?  Always the comforter, never the comforted, had he overlooked his own need to mourn? 

Rachel thought of the strength she had drawn on since the first moment she had seen him, of the way he was with Hannah and Theresa.  Calm, gently teasing, talking to them about his work and the farm, listening to them go over their day, as if he sensed the well of loneliness Rob and Chris's deaths had plunged them into.  As if he wanted to make up to them for it.

Anyone could provide for another materially, but Luke nurtured souls. 

Rachel hauled in a deep breath, let it out slowly and lifted her chin.

"You shouldn't have come.  It's cold."

"I know."  Rubbing her hands together she blew on them.  Four and a half years in a warm climate had thinned her blood.  She huddled deeper inside her jacket, placing her numb hands under her armpits.

"Come here."  Luke held each hand between both of his and rubbed briskly.  Rachel struggled with the desire to lift his hands to her face.  The sudden flush that swept her body at the thought shamed her.  She was here to give if she could, not take.  Gently she removed her hands from his grasp and reached for the bag slung on her shoulders.  "I brought some lunch." 

The boiled egg sandwiches were Luke's favorite.  Theresa hadn't said a word as she'd watched Rachel make them and then wrap a generous slab of Hannah's fruit cake in foil, merely added a thermos of herbal tea, and told her to dress warm.

Luke didn't say a word.  Rachel consoled herself
that silence was better than an outright denial that he needed food. 

"They're not very good," she hurried on, hating to trick him, but desperate enough to try anything.  "I won't blame you for not finishing even one.  You'd think I could at least make a decent sandwich by now."

It worked.  He looked at her, reached for one of the sandwiches and said, "You did well with the quiche the other night."

Watching him take his first bite Rachel said, "Only because Theresa was right there telling me exactly what to do."

She kept up a flood of small talk, glad to see the gauntness leave his face as he ate, putting another sandwich into his hands as soon as he finished the first.  By the time the cake was gone; his lips had resumed their normal healthy color.

Rachel got to her feet brushing the crumbs from her clothes.  She had eaten a whole sandwich herself before remembering she didn't care for this particular filling. 

"Gordie must be up from his nap by now.  I'd better be getting back."

She held her breath.  Would Luke come with her or would he choose to linger here with his memories?
She had just tended to his hunger.  The way to his soul Rachel wasn't sure she would find so easily.

Her luck held.  He stirred and got to his feet.  "I'll walk back with you."

They didn't say much on the way back but close to the house Luke cleared his throat and said, "Thanks, Rae."

As soon as they got back Rachel gave Marie the rest of the afternoon off.  Step two of her impromptu plan was about to go into action.  When Luke came out of his bedroom, shaved and freshly showered, Rachel held Gordie out to him.

"Would you keep an eye on him for me?' she asked, "Marie wasn't feeling too good so I sent her home to rest.  I'm going to try out a new recipe for a lemon cake that requires all my concentration."

That part was plausible anyway.  Every recipe, even boiling eggs, needed her total concentration. 

Nap-refreshed Gordie's demands would keep Luke too busy to brood.  She watched him tuck his nephew under his arm and go towards his study.  Tiptoeing to the study door a while later, the sound of Gordie's chuckles informed her that they were mock-wrestling on the carpet.  Smiling Rachel hurried back to sprinkle some flour on the counter and leave some lemon rinds there as well, wondering what else went into a lemon cake.  If Luke ever thought to ask about the cake she could always say it had gone the way of her other culinary experiments:  feed for the garbage disposal.

While Luke gave Gordie his dinner, Rachel made a great show of cleaning up the kitchen.  Hannah's chicken casserole was being reheated in the oven and the aroma Rachel hoped would entice Luke into the kitchen.  It didn't. 

He bathed Gordie, tucked him into his crib for the night and went back into his study firmly shutting the door.  Rachel waited half an hour before she went into her plan of action.  Picking up the tray she had prepared she squared her shoulders.

The room was in darkness when she pushed it open with her foot, the wedge of light coming in through the open door the only source of illumination.  Luke's chair was turned towards the large window.  He didn't even turn his head when she set the tray down. 

Rachel swallowed and came up behind his chair.  This wasn't interference, she told herself.  Not when his pain needed to be assuaged.  Not when her heart ached to ease it. 

Raising both hands she put them on Luke's shoulders.  Gently Rachel began to knead his shoulders, moving up to the muscles of his neck.  Iron would have been more malleable.

"Tell me about Rob."

The words were stiff at first, but slowly the tempo picked up, the sentences became smoother.  Luke described escapade after escapade, surprised to find himself laughing over the mischief they had got into as boys.  Then later there had been girls and college.  A deep and abiding sibling friendship had enriched their lives.  They had always been able to talk to each other, count on each other.

When Luke stopped talking, Rachel simply said, "Good memories are their own strength aren't they?"

And Luke had to acknowledge they were.  As he had talked he had felt Rob's presence in the room and it had been like a shaft of sunlight aimed at his heart.  Warming, healing, erasing.

"If it had been you, and not Rob and Chris who had been killed," asked Rachel going straight for the jugular, "how would you have liked to be remembered?" 

He went so still she thought he wouldn't answer.  Then Luke said softly as if raising the curtain on a certain thought for the first time.  "I would have wanted to be remembered with love, with joy."

"By the way you were in life, not the manner of your death?"  Rachel prompted softly.

She didn't say anything more for quite a while. 
Didn't need to.  A clock ticked each passing moment.  She could sense the difference in Luke. 

Luke looked at the tray.  When had Rae stopped working on his shoulders and slipped into the chair pulled up to his desk?  She had pushed a plate towards him, nudged the wicker basket of crusty rolls in his direction but said nothing.  He had done justice to the meal while he had talked.  Now he had to do justice to his brother's memory. 

Rae was right.  There was so much happiness packed into his memories of Rob, so much to hold on to.  As reason drowned the pain, Luke knew he would never again allow bitterness to cloud his memories. 

The knowledge freed him from an iron ball and chain of his own making.  He felt drained, refreshed, whole.

Rachel stood up and reached for the tray.  Her work here was done.

Luke caught the hand she put out for the tray, meaning only to thank her.  But the feel of her small wrist ignited a voracious fire inside him.  A tug and she was in his lap.  He wanted her close to him, just for a few minutes, he told himself, just long enough to reassure him his angel was a flesh and blood human being. 

His senses reeled under the impact of her in his arms.  She fitted perfectly.  If she had been stiff he would have exercised caution but she snuggled up to him like Gordie might have.  Boneless, trusting, eager.  The scent of crushed roses teased his nostrils and they flared as he tried to rein in desire.