Where Willows Grow (27 page)

It was quiet. Marjorie and Dorothy both napped. She sank down at the table, brushed a few crumbs from lunch aside, and used her thumb to pop loose the flap on the envelope.

Money spilled across the oilcloth. She reared back in surprise. Bills—several ones, a few fives, a ten . . . Her hands shook as she counted it. Money enough to pay the tax bill? Hope set up a patter in her heart. Among the bills was a sheet of paper torn from a note pad. She snatched it up.

Dear Mrs. Phipps,
   
Enclosed is a small token of affection collected in honor of
Harley and his family by the workers of the Coronado Heights
Castle project. It is our hope this will lighten your load as you
cope with Harley’s absence. Please use these funds as needed. If there is anything I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate
to contact me.

                  God bless you.
                  James Peterson

Anna Mae dropped the brief note. Holding the evidence of Harley’s death burned her fingers. She stared at the paper lying on top of the pile of bills, her mind racing. There was so much she wished to know—how the accident had happened, if Harley had suffered, where he was buried. None of that was addressed in the few lines of text.

But Mr. Peterson had invited her to contact him if she needed assistance. She sprang from the chair and raced to the parlor, to Mama’s bow-front secretary. Behind the fold-down desk lid she saw the writing paper and envelopes.

Mr. Peterson had offered to assist her. Anna Mae was going to ask.

Jack reached into the back of his wagon and lifted out the large crate. He grunted as he cleared the side of the wagon—the box was heavy. It smacked against his thighs, sending him backward a step. But he managed to keep his grip and his footing. With a muffled curse, he hefted the box a little higher and headed, in stumbling steps, toward the back porch of Anna Mae’s house.

Through the open kitchen doorway, he spotted her at the table, hunched forward over something. With no free hand to knock, he called through the screen, ‘‘Anna Mae? Come get the door, huh?’’

She straightened in the seat, scowling as she turned in his direction. Then the scowl turned to an expression of surprise. She dashed across the porch and swung the door wide, pressing herself backward to clear the way for his passage.

‘‘Ooph!’’ He thumped the box onto the table, covering several sheets of paper that were scattered across the tabletop.

Anna Mae stood at his elbow, her puzzled gaze aimed into the crate. ‘‘What’s all this?’’

Jack swiped his arm across his forehead, removing the beads of perspiration from his exertion. ‘‘Collection from town. Folks’ve been dropping stuff in this box when they shop at Martin’s. It got full, so Martin asked me to bring it on out.’’

Anna Mae rested her fingertips on the edge of the crate, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘‘That’s so nice of everyone.’’

Jack gave her shoulders a quick rub. ‘‘People care, Anna Mae.’’

She nodded. Stepping away from him, she rounded the table and tried to tug loose the papers from underneath the crate. He tipped it up to help her. She slid them all free, tamped them into a stack, then carried them into the parlor. She returned empty-handed. For several seconds, she stood across the table, staring at the crate, an unreadable expression in her gray-blue eyes.

‘‘Want me to help you put this all away?’’ Jack offered, taking out a five-pound sack of flour. ‘‘Looks like there’s enough to keep you goin’ for a while.’’

When she didn’t answer, he looked at her again. One lone tear slid down her cheek. She did nothing to stop it, just stood silent and staring, allowing the tear to fall. In those moments, Jack experienced a tiny niggle of regret that Harley wasn’t coming back. He hated to see Anna Mae so forlorn. ‘‘Hey? You okay?’’

She gave a start, and her gaze bounced up to meet his. ‘‘Yes. I . . . I was just thinking about Harley. His last day here, he carted in a crate like that—only smaller—full of groceries. I . . . I didn’t really thank him for it.’’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘‘And now I can’t.’’

Jack circled the table and put his arms loosely around her. She pressed her cheek to his chest. But when he tightened his grip, she pulled free and moved to the table.

‘‘I’ll need to post a thank-you note at the store—let people know how much this is appreciated.’’ She reached into the crate and began removing items, stacking them on the table.

Jack didn’t say anything, just helped unload, and then watched as she put things away in the cupboards.

When she’d placed the last can of beans on a shelf, she turned with a sigh. ‘‘Feels good to have full cupboards again. Especially since it looks like maybe I won’t have to move after all.’’

Jack’s brows jerked downward. ‘‘You won’t?’’

She shook her head, a slight smile tipped up her lips. ‘‘Harley’s boss—Mr. Peterson—took up a collection at the job site and sent it to me. If I can pay my taxes, surely the auction will be stopped, won’t it?’’

Jack’s legs turned to rubber. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

She crossed to the table and sat in the chair next to his. ‘‘I’ve got to at least try. Even if I can’t keep farming here, I need to have claim to the property. I may need to sell it for money to buy a place in town—maybe Hutchinson—where I can work and provide for the girls. With Harley gone for good . . .’’ The tears welled again, but she brushed them aside and continued. ‘‘The girls are depending on me now. I can’t let them down.’’

Jack shook his head. Hadn’t she listened to anything he’d said over the past few months? His voice grated out, ‘‘The girls don’t have to depend only on you. I told you, Anna Mae—you’ll be cared for.
I’ll
take care of you.’’

She ducked her head for a moment, making a steeple of her hands in her lap. ‘‘I know what you said, Jack, but we aren’t your responsibility. It shouldn’t be left to you to take care of us.’’

‘‘Didn’t I tell Harley I would?’’

Her gaze shot up. ‘‘Yes, but that was for the milk—not for his wife and children.’’

Jack took hold of her hand and squeezed gently. ‘‘Anna Mae, don’t you know my promise went deeper than taking care of the cow?’’ He leaned forward, bringing his face within inches of hers. ‘‘Why do you think I took over all the chores after you got hurt? Why did I put that oil pump out on your property? Why have I taken you and your girls to church and to the store and to the courthouse? It’s because I care about you. Haven’t you figured that out by now?’’

Anna Mae gave a little tug on her hand, slipping it from his grasp. She cupped the rounded curve of her stomach with both hands and released a sigh. ‘‘I know you care, Jack, but . . .’’

‘‘But what?’’ He tempered the fervency of his tone with a forced smile.

‘‘But it would be wrong for me to lean on you now. It would be out of desperation, not love.’’

Jack shot straight up, bringing his spine against the spindled back of the chair. He felt heat fill his face, and it was all he could do to keep a rein on his temper. After everything he’d done for her, her ingratitude was like a slap. All the time and money he’d poured into her since her husband headed off . . . She should be kissing his hands and thanking him.

He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. ‘‘I guess it’s no secret I love you.’’ He heard his own clipped, flat tone. He saw her face turn white, but he didn’t care. ‘‘And I won’t lie right now. I can’t imagine why you’re still clinging to Harley’s memory. But you’re going to have to let go. You think you can run this farm on your own? You’re wrong. You think you can find a job in town and still take care of your little girls? Wrong again. Whether you realize it or not, Anna Mae, you need somebody. You need
me
.’’

He rose, looking down at her pale face through narrowed eyes. ‘‘When you come to your senses, you’ll know where to find me—out in the barn, taking care of your cow. My offer stands—I’ll take you and the girls in, be a provider to all of you, including that new baby. I’ve got room, and I can afford to do it. But I won’t beg.’’

He started for the door but then turned back, deciding she needed to hear one more thing. ‘‘And I also won’t keep this up forever. You’re right—it’s not fair to me to keep hanging around here, seeing to your farm, when I don’t get anything in return. So decide what you really want, Anna Mae—to be taken care of, or to be on your own.’’ He stomped through the porch, allowing the screen door to slam behind him.

Back in the wagon, rolling out the gate, he felt a smile climb his cheeks. Laying out that ultimatum was the smartest thing he’d done so far. She’d come running now for sure. She’d never make it on that farm without him.

27

A
NNA
M
AE LEANED FORWARD
and kissed Dorothy’s cheek. She smoothed the hair from the child’s face, smiling as Dorothy’s eyes slipped closed and she nestled into her pillow. Turning from Dorothy, she peeked into Marjorie’s crib. Marjorie lay flat on her back, arms up over her head, her lower lip puckered out in a pout. A mixture of love and protectiveness welled up inside Anna Mae’s breast. The baby looked so innocent.

She crept from the room, pulled the door closed behind her, then headed to the parlor. Opening the drop-down desk on the secretary, she removed the letter she’d written to Mr. Peterson and scanned it, frowning a bit as Jack’s words interfered with her focus. Carrying the letter with her, she crossed to the sofa, tugged the chain on the standing lamp, and sank down in the soft circle of yellow light. She set the letter on the cushion beside her and rested her head against the high back of the sofa, replaying the afternoon conversation with Jack in her mind.

Although she had said little in response to his proclamations of love and his promise to care for her and the girls, he had certainly created a reaction in her heart. She had tried not to think about it over the years, but underneath she’d always suspected Jack still loved her. He’d never dated anyone after she turned down his proposal. When he’d come by the house, presumably to talk to Harley, he’d always made it a point to find her, greet her, ask how she was doing. She had kept her distance so she wouldn’t give him any encouragement, but over the past months she knew Jack had encouraged himself.

His time in her barn, her garden, her fields. His carting her to church, to Spencer, to Hutchinson. His fetching the doctor, the groceries, the mail. All of these things had combined to make him feel like he was part of her life. She couldn’t blame him for thinking it was right to step in now and assume responsibility for her permanently—he’d had a taste of family life, and he’d obviously found it pleasurable.

She shifted on the cushion as the baby moved, creating a pressure against her right side. This child was sure an active one. She rubbed her belly absently as memories continued to unfold. So many of her childhood remembrances included Jack. He’d been an annoyance much of the time, but they’d also had fun. Especially after Ben, Jr., went away, she’d relied on Jack for companionship. She cared for him as a dear friend, a brother in Christ, but she’d never loved him. Not the way he claimed to love her.

Now she wondered: Could she grow to love Jack in that way? It would solve so many problems. She would have no financial worries, and the girls would have someone to call Daddy. Ern Berkley would certainly welcome them into his family. She smiled as she recalled the older man’s delivery of muffins, his tender hug, and his fatherly words of advice. He would be a wonderful grandfather for the girls, something they’d never known.

A deep sigh escaped, and she opened her eyes. The wind had calmed, but a gentle breeze ruffled the lace curtains. In the distance, a coyote released one long howl. A second one replied, and then the two together gave a series of yips. Anna Mae imagined the two creatures frolicking in the empty field, happy for companionship. Her heart lurched. She needed companionship. Despite the presence of the girls, she felt so lonely. How she missed Harley.

She wouldn’t need to feel lonely if she did what Jack suggested. If she married him, she would have companionship again, other adults around. Even if she didn’t love him like she’d loved Harley, having a helpmate would be good, wouldn’t it?

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with both hands. She groaned. ‘‘Oh, what do I do?’’

Come to me, all ye who are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest
.

The words came as clearly as if uttered aloud. Anna Mae jerked upright and looked around the room. She was the only one there, yet she knew without doubt she was not alone. Tears flooded her eyes. Slipping from the cushion, she knelt beside the sofa and clasped her hands together beneath her chin.

‘‘Thank you, Lord, for reminding me that you are here. You’re trying to take care of me, aren’t you? By sending the money from Harley’s boss, and the groceries that came from town. I’m sorry I’ve been so focused on what I lost that I couldn’t see what I have—your presence in my life.’’ She swallowed, listening for a moment to the gentle whistle of the wind through the willow branches. ‘‘I told you I wouldn’t give up on my faith, but I need your strength right now. I’m scared, God. I don’t know what to do. Show me, please, where I should go.’’

She sat in silence for several minutes, absorbing the peacefulness of the moment, relishing being in God’s holy presence. Slowly, her muscles relaxed, a calm filling her soul. She knew what she would do.

She would send her letter to Mr. Peterson. When she had her answers, she would somehow travel to Harley’s grave site and say her good-byes. Before she could move forward, she needed to bring closure to her past.

Harley closed the book in his lap and sighed, a deep sigh of satisfaction. Still trapped in this bed, still battling pain, still far away from his farm, his girls, his wife, and yet, somehow, Harley was happier than he’d ever been before.

He wasn’t sure he understood the lightness in his heart. But he realized he didn’t need to understand it to celebrate it. The minister had been right: with the acceptance of Jesus into his heart, his perspective had changed. From the outside, everything was the same, but inside . . . Ah, inside Harley was a new man.