The Scarlet Thread (54 page)

waited however long it took. I asked him how

many children he expects to have and he laughed

and said one at a time, Mary Kathryn, and gave

me such a look I felt it down to my toes.

He is gone now and I can breathe freely without the wild drumming of my heart to get in the

way of my head. I sent him away so I could think

things through. I was surprised he did not try to

talk me out of my solitude. He is a strong man,

stronger than James in many ways. But there is

not the hardness in him I expected. James ran

roughshod over my heart. There was a wildness

in him that could never be tamed. It seems so odd

now I think about it. James, the farmer, the wild

one, and Kavanaugh, the mountain man, so settled inside himself. For all his buckskins and long

hair, Kavanaugh is a gentleman who will not take

advantage.

I do not want him here when Joshua comes

home. My son and I have things to settle between

us before I say yes to Kavanaugh.

You do not make things easy, do You, Lord?

Joshua is gone and I sit here wondering if I will

ever see him again. My heart aches so, and yet

I knew this would come. I have been fighting

against it for two thousand miles and it is no use

fighting it anymore. He thinks he is a man and he

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has made up his mind to go his own way. At least

he no longer believes Kavanaugh used him to get

close to me. Kavanaugh likes Joshua for himself

and understands the restlessness in him. Maybe

knowing that will bring him back again someday.

He made no promises.

He said he is going to ride back to Sutter’s Fort

and then head north to see what Oregon is like.

After that, he does not know where he will go or

what he will do.

I wept when he rode away. I kept thinking

about those Israelites wandering forty years in

the wilderness and dying within sight of the

Promised Land because they were so Contentious. If only they had trusted the Lord, they

would have lived out their lives in a land of milk

and honey.

I hope it will not take Joshua as long as it took

me to find his way through the wilderness to You.

I have been thinking about Aunt Martha so much

lately. Sometimes I wonder if our thoughts touch

one another across the miles. I wrote her a long

letter yesterday, but I do not know when I will

have the opportunity to send it.

I think Kavanaugh has changed his mind about

marrying a widow with four children. He has

been gone twenty-three days.

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are helping me while Beth minds America.

Together we will get a small crop in.

It is Terrible Hard Work, but I think I can manage with the children. We have enough to eat. We

have a cabin to keep us safe and dry. We have

good land and seed to plant. And we have You,

Jesus. Aunt Martha told me anything is possible

with God. So I am asking You to help us in this

Great Enterprise. We are stuck here, Lord. Help

us make the best of it.

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S I E R R A D I D N ’ T S E E A L E X T H E N E X T D A Y , A N D

he didn’t call the children. She thought it was because of what

had happened between them until Carolyn said, “I told Daddy

we were in the church pageant tonight. He said he was going

Christmas shopping.”

Then Clanton hit her with, “Can Dad spend Christmas with us?”

Sierra rebelled. “No, he cannot spend Christmas with us.”

“He’ll be all alone,” Carolyn said, clearly distressed by the

idea. “He’ll be lonely. Couldn’t we ask him? Please?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, hoping in the interim Alex

would be run over by a truck or kidnapped by terrorists. “Right

now, we have to get to church and into costume.”

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stage jitters and the excitement of getting ready to perform.

Once in costume, the choir members gathered together and

prayed that their performance would do more than entertain.

They prayed it would open the hearts of those listening to the

music and the reenactment of the birth of the Messiah.

Once the program started, her nervousness cooled. She had

practiced so much, her part all came back the moment she moved

onto the platform some parishioners had built to extend the choir

loft. She gave herself up to the music, singing from her heart, feeling the joy of the Christmas story and its meaning to the world.

Joseph traveled from the town of Nazareth in Galilee, on one side

of the church, to Judea, the city of David called Bethlehem, on the

platform, where he registered himself and his young wife, Mary, for

the Roman census ordered by Quirinius, governor of Syria.

“And it came about that while they were there, the days were

completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a

manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”

Clanton was one of the young shepherds who knelt before the

angel Gabriel as he sang his solo announcing the good news of

great joy: “For today in the city of David there has been born for

you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” The adult choir joined as

tiny pinpricks of light shone on the ceiling, and then the new,

bright star appeared in the “heavens.”

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men.”

Joining Gabriel was the heavenly host of children in white,

complete with wings and halos, their voices blending in sweet

harmony. Among them was Carolyn. The music expanded again

as the adult choir joined the children’s voices. Sierra’s heart beat

fast as the crescendo came, filling the church to the rafters with

praise-glory sounds for the newborn King. Jubilation!

Oh, Jesus, Jesus, would that I could feel this joy every day of the year.

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Her whole body felt alive and warm with the love and excitement of the Lord’s birthday. She forgot everything else, especially what the Lord expected of her.

The pastor gave a prayer following the pageant, and refreshments were served in the social hall. The last person she expected

to see was Alex. When she spotted him standing on the far side of

the room, looking handsome in black slacks, a gray silk designer

shirt, and black sports jacket, her heart dropped into the pit of her

stomach and bounced up into her throat. He was talking with

Dennis; it didn’t look like a casual conversation.

“Hey! Dad’s here,” Clanton said, still holding his shepherd’s staff.

“Yes, I see him.” The rat. The creep.

Deserting her, Clanton set his staff before him and parted the

sea of choir members and guests to get to his father. Carolyn spotted Alex soon afterward and fluttered over in her angel costume.

Little traitors.

Sierra was still reeling from what Alex had said to her in his

condo.
I never loved her the way I loved you.

Yeah, right! If he loved her so much, why had he walked out?

Why had he told her he despised her and couldn’t wait for a divorce? Why had he looked at her as though he hated her?

The way you’re looking at him right now, beloved?

She turned away, selecting a cookie from a large platter.

Chocolate, her favorite. It tasted like dirt. All the joy she’d felt

half an hour before while singing praises to the Lord evaporated, boiled away by resentment and anger.

He’s ruining my Christmas, Lord. Couldn’t you remove this ache I have

when I see him? He cheated on me! The least you could do is give him some

kind of awful disease.

“Daddy said he’s flying to San Francisco tomorrow,” Clanton

said. “He’s spending Christmas with
abuelo y abuela.”

Bitterness surged through Sierra. He didn’t even have the sensitivity to stay at home alone for Christmas and suffer! No. He

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Luís and María.

Of course, she completely disregarded the fact that they’d

invited her to come, too.

Carolyn sighed expressively. “I wish we could go.”

So did Sierra, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “We’ll go at

Easter.”

It was too expensive to fly three people north to San Francisco. Worse, she’d have to look at
him
over the dinner table and

face the hopes of Luís and María on top of it.

Besides, she couldn’t afford the time off work.

On top of that, it was too late to make reservations. All the

flights would be booked solid over the holidays.

Excuses flooded her mind as she waited for Alex to come over

and speak with her. Visions of him on his knees danced in her

head, but he didn’t come within twenty feet of her. Instead, he

left quietly, unseen.

When she realized he was gone, she told herself she didn’t

care. But it galled her nevertheless.

The telephone rang as soon as she walked through the door.

“Cooled off yet?” Alex said.

“Why would I be hot?”

“You tell me.”

She banged the receiver down, hoping she’d burst his eardrum. The telephone rang again. Snatching it up, she snarled, “I

don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to

hear about you. I want to forget you live on the same planet I do.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too!” Ron laughed.

Her face went hot. Covering it, she plunked down on a breakfast bar stool. “I’m sorry. I thought . . .”

“I was Alex. I take it you two are talking again.”

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She gave an unladylike snort. “If that’s what you call it.” The

doorbell rang. Carolyn
ran
to it. And guess who was standing under the porch light, his arms laden with Christmas packages, all

professionally wrapped? He couldn’t bother doing such menial

labor himself. Wrapping had always been her job, along with the

Christmas cards and shopping.

Sierra hissed when she inhaled. “I have to go, Ron. I need to

find some Raid.”

Alex didn’t stay long, and after one brief glance at her face, he

concentrated entirely on the children. “I’ll be back December

28th,” he said, kissing Carolyn. “Want to see me out?” he said to

Clanton.

“Sure.”

When the door closed behind father and son, Carolyn turned

and looked at her. “This is going to be the
worst
Christmas of my

life!” Tears streaming down her face, she ran to her room.

Sierra had a strong feeling it wasn’t going to be very joyful for

her either.

And she was right.

In years past, Alex had fixed the turkey. Her father had taught

him how. “It’s a Clanton tradition. The men cook the bird on

Thanksgiving and Christmas.” She fixed the bird this year and it

was dry as a bone. Gravy helped, but not much. Clanton and

Carolyn made no complaints, but she could tell they would have

preferred a Mickey D to her festive efforts. The best thing about

the turkey was the skin.

As soon as the dishes were in the dishwasher, presents were

distributed. The children were clearly more excited about what

Alex had given them than what she’d bought. Who could blame

them? His gifts were frivolous, hers practical.

She played Christmas music on the radio, but it sounded flat

and depressing. When she wasn’t fuming, she ached with loneliness, thinking about Alex laughing and having fun with his

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cousins, second cousins,
third
cousins. The neighbors would

probably come to join in, for heaven’s sake!

All through the evening, she kept remembering Christmases

past. While the children played, she sat watching television.

Dickens’s
Christmas Carol
was on. She identified with Scrooge.

Then, to cheer her up even more, she watched
It’s a Wonderful

Life.
She made it all the way to George Bailey jumping off the

bridge before she turned it off.

I’m a new Christian, Lord, and this is the worst Christmas of my life!

Who do you say that I am, beloved?

Lord. You are Lord.

Then obey me.

“Do you have a headache, Mom?” Carolyn said, coming

downstairs and seeing her rubbing her temples.

Headache, heartache, soul ache.

The last thing Sierra wanted to hear Sunday morning was a sermon on forgiveness. Peter’s denial. Jesus had known his disciples’ weaknesses. He had warned Peter. “The spirit is willing,

but the flesh is weak.” He had also known Peter would repent.

“When you turn . . .”

Like Alex saying he was sorry, saying he loved her.

I can’t, Lord. I can’t forgive him and go through it again!

But the words from the pulpit kept hammering the wall around

her heart. “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments . . .

love does not take into account a wrong suffered . . . love bears all

things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Sierra kept remembering the look on Alex’s face when she told

him she didn’t want to love him anymore. It hurt too much. It was

true, but that didn’t matter. She loved him whether she wanted to

or not. Still, what kind of love tore people apart inside?

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Nothing made sense to her anymore, least of all the war of

emotions going on inside her. All the while she had thought there

was no chance at all of reconciliation. She thought Alex hated

her. She’d finally seen her part in the disintegration of her marriage. She had accepted blame.

Now, he wanted forgiveness . . . and she wanted revenge.

Unsettled, her conscience pricking at her, she shut her eyes

tightly.

I’m not like you, Jesus.

“We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us,” the

pastor said.

I don’t feel strong, Lord. The only solid things I feel are anger and hurt.

How do I forget what he’s done to me? How do I stop thinking about him

with another woman? How do I ever trust him again?

“. . . whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right,

whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute,

if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let

your mind dwell on these things. . . .”

The way
he
did, Lord?

The way you’re doing, beloved?

She wanted to leave the church. She didn’t want to hear words

that opened her eyes to her own sin; she wanted the finger

pointed at Alex. She had come to be renewed, uplifted, enlightened. She hadn’t come to be convicted.

If you love Me, you will keep My commandments. Love one another, just

as I have loved you.

She wanted to cry out.
God, do you have to scrub an open wound? Do

you have to pour salt on it?

“Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord,” the

pastor said, continuing his message.

She winced. What
was
she doing?

How could she hold a grudge against Alex and call herself a

Christian? How could she expect to feel joy and peace in her life

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