Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby

“So you decided to become an artist?”

“Not really. I just got more and more curious about the process of how you got a building from a picture. When the police brought me home, I spent every spare moment I could find at the library. I read about Frank Lloyd Wright, I studied the styles and I started to sketch.” He made a face. “You can imagine how that went over—a macho male sitting around drawing! I got into a few fights over it.”

“I’d like to see your drawings sometime,” she whispered, aching for the almost-man who’d searched so hard to find himself. “You have a real talent with building things, so I’m sure that’s where it came from.”

“Thank you.” He paused a moment as if reflecting, then his face hardened. “I was awful to Kendra. I was so focused on what I wanted, what I had to have, that I couldn’t see that she was upset by the parents, too. She needed someone to talk to, but I wasn’t there for her.”

“Wade, your parents had that responsibility. Not you. You were a child. You should have had the freedom to dream.”

He shook his head, his mouth tightening into a bitter line. “She was my sister and I was so selfish I wouldn’t even let her use my stuff.” He puffed out a scornful half laugh. “I’d decided, you see, that I was going to make myself into somebody the world had to notice, that people were going to sit up and pay attention to Wade Featherhawk. I was too good for the reservation, too smart for my mother’s plans and too old to bother with Kendra. As soon as I could, I took off and got a job, construction. I learned as I went how to do a good job. Kendra and Mom seemed okay then and I’d work away summers. Then Mom died.”

Clarissa nodded. She knew this part. “And you had Kendra.”

“Yeah, I had Kendra. There wasn’t anybody else. My dad had disappeared and the folks who wanted her were bad news. It was up to me, and I hated being the one dumped on.” He swallowed, his voice choked but insistent. “You had to know Kendra to understand how loving she was. It tears at me even now when the kids look at me in a special way and I see her. She didn’t care if I was rich or famous or not. She loved me. All the time. No matter what.”

“I guess that’s what sisters do.” Clarissa let the silence stretch between them as he remembered his sister’s joy.

“She was such a happy kid. Always chattering a mile a minute. I loved her so much. But I didn’t dare take her with me to the sites. We lived in bunkhouses a lot of the time. She was young and gorgeous, and the men I worked with weren’t the type for her to be around.”

Clarissa could tell from the hard chiseled lines his face had fallen into just what kind of men he’d worked with and was fiercely proud of the way he’d protected his sister.

“I tried to take care of her as best I could, but I had to leave and find work whenever we ran out of money. She’d stay with some friends.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She’d throw her arms around me when I got back and hug so hard my ribs ached.”

“She loved you.” Clarissa felt the sting of tears for that young girl burn in her chest.

Wade looked up. “Actually, you remind me of her sometimes. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, either. She was soft but so stubborn.” His eyes glinted reproof.

Clarissa grinned. “You have to stand up for something or you’ll fall for anything,” she teased.

He nodded slowly. “She should have stood up to me,” he muttered.

Clarissa wanted to ask why but he began speaking again.

“The building industry went into a slump right after I finished high school, and I couldn’t find work. I didn’t know what to do. I only had sixty-five dollars when I came home. I was scared stiff to tell her I’d have to leave again so soon. And I was fed up with grubbing along, just barely managing.” His fingers fisted until the knuckles grew white.

As Clarissa watched, he slowly straightened each finger, his jaw hard with the discipline of stifling his frustration. “She was so young and so innocent, I couldn’t imagine her leaving the reservation, getting a job. Then I had a better idea. Why didn’t she marry Roy? He’d been chasing her for years, she’d be eighteen in a couple of weeks. Everything would be wonderful.” He smiled but there was no joy in his face. “Or that’s what I thought.”

“It wasn’t?” Clarissa couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and feathering a hand through his hair, brushing it back, her fingers soothing against his scalp. “It sounds reasonable.”

Wade shook his head, leaning back so her hand fell away. It’s as if he can’t bear to accept kindness, she decided. As if he has to lash himself over and over with his faults.

“It was grasping at straws and I latched on to that one for all I was worth, eager to get rid of my burden. That’s what I thought of her. My own sister was a burden I had to get rid of.”

The recrimination and self-loathing she saw in his eyes tugged at Clarissa’s soft heart.

“I could hardly wait to be free of my own sister. Isn’t that sick? I had all these dreams of what I was going to do if I could just be on my own. I’d begun to earn my high school credits. I knew the college I wanted. Big man on campus, that’s who I wanted to be!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Wade. You were just trying to plan ahead.”

“Yeah. That’s what I told myself, too. I had to dump her on the first guy she liked for her own best interests. Because I couldn’t be bothered hanging around that reservation. I had to be free to find my dreams.”

There was nothing she could say. Nothing that would obliterate the sorrow he carried inside. All she could do was help him understand that God still loved him, as He loved them all in spite of their shortcomings. She whispered a prayer for guidance, then concentrated on Wade’s next words.

“I should have checked him out more, come home more often, paid attention to her letters. When she finally got hold of me in California, her life was a mess. Her marriage was on the rocks and her husband was dumping her and the kids, just like good old Dad.” He shoved his head into his hands, his fingers tugging on the glossy strands of black.

“But did I get her out of there, even then? No! All I could see were my selfish plans going down the tubes, my life getting put on hold, my dreams unfulfilled.” He kept his head bowed, his face averted. “I hurried home to talk her into trying to make it work, just a little longer. Just until I got what I wanted. That way, I could avoid my responsibility to take care of my sister. It was the one thing my mother made me promise I’d do and I failed her. Again.”

Wade’s face was carved into hard lines when he finally shifted in his chair, his bitter gaze pinning Clarissa where she sat.

“Kendra died in that car accident because I sent her there. She didn’t want to go with Roy, he’d been drinking. But I persuaded her that she could make it work if she just persisted. It’s my fault those kids have no father or mother.” His eyes shone like polished iron, his mouth tight.

“So you tell me, Clarissa. Am I the kind of person you want to be married to, the kind of man you want making decisions about your future?”

He lunged to his feet, his eyes blazing. “Don’t bother to answer. I know you only wanted to help the kids. So do I. You probably think they’d be better off without me messing up time and time again. You probably wish I’d take off for good and leave them in your capable hands.”

His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned away.

“And I would. God knows I’d leave in a minute if I could. But I promised her I’d raise them. It’s the last promise I ever made to her and I can’t break it. I just can’t.”

Clarissa sat stunned and immobilized by the heartrending grief that shredded his voice. She wanted to reach out, to assure him that he was doing the right thing.

But was he? Were they?

She watched him walk around the lake, a lonely solitary figure lost in a brooding silence that clearly stated Keep out. When he disappeared into a stand of towering blue spruce, Clarissa let the tears roll down her cheeks.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “what have I done? How can I help this hurting family?”

Though she sat there for an hour, the answer evaded her. Eventually she got up, picked up her and Wade’s empty mugs and returned to the cabin. She cleaned it, made some sandwiches for lunch and set a fresh jug of iced tea in the fridge. But Wade did not return.

As she lay at the side of the lake later that afternoon, Clarissa forced away the thought that Wade had run away, left her behind. Not this time, she told herself. He’s committed this time. And I intend to see that he doesn’t feel chained down. I’ll go on with my life as usual and he’ll realize that I’ve accepted him for exactly who and what he is. He won’t have to fulfill my expectations because I won’t have any.

She pulled off her cover-up and stretched out on the towel, allowing the hot sun to touch her sun-screened skin.

“’They that wait upon the Lord,’” she reminded herself. “Your timing is best.”

“You’re going to burn if you stay out here much longer.” Wade’s soft voice broke through her dream, the words tentative. “Maybe you should cover up?”

“I think I’ll try the water first.” Clarissa sat up, surprised to see him clad in his swimsuit, a towel looped over one arm. “Are you going in?”

He nodded. “I love swimming. The colder the better. We used to have an old swimming hole….” His voice trailed away. “Never mind.”

Clarissa let it go. “Well, I’ll try,” she mumbled doubtfully, accepting his outstretched hand as she got to her feet. “But if it’s cold, I’m outta here.”

He tilted up one arrogant eyebrow. “I never thought I’d see the day when Clarissa Cartwright would back down from a challenge,” he teased.

“Featherhawk,” she reminded him. “And I’m not backing down. I’ll go in. And then I’ll get out.”

He rolled his eyes when she tentatively toe-touched the clear water lapping against the white of the beach. “Uh-huh. Chicken. That’s what I said.”

Clarissa could feel the tension in him, knew he was trying to lighten things between them. Very well. She would help him. She untied her beach jacket and tossed it to the sand, then dashed into the water.

“Last one in is the biggest chicken,” she bellowed, then gurgled as she stepped off a ledge and the icy water closed around her sun-heated body and filled her gasping mouth. “Oh!”

“You live on the edge, don’t you?” Wade’s big hand wrapped itself around her arm and tugged her toward shore. “You don’t have to prove to me that you’re brave, Clarissa. I’m the guy you married, the fellow whose four crazy kids you took on. Remember?”

“I remember.” She hugged herself tightly, arms wrapped around her middle to conserve what little warmth still pulsed through her body. “Since you already know how brave I am and that I’m not a chicken, c-c-can I get out n-now?”

Wade threw back his head as he roared with amusement at her chattering teeth and shaking lips. Gently he led her out of the water, wrapped her beach coat around her and wrapped his own towel around her dripping head.

“You don’t back down, do you, lady?” he said, admiration lacing his voice.

Clarissa gathered her stuff into her bag and headed toward the cabin, fully aware that Wade was right beside her. “Feel the fear and do it anyway,” she mumbled. “That’s my motto.”

They walked toward the cabin and up the steps. At the top, Wade reached out a hand and stopped her. His eyes held a quizzical look that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Sometimes fear is a good thing, Clarissa. It makes us stay away from situations where we can get badly hurt.” His dark eyes bored into hers.

She held his gaze. “And sometimes hurt teaches us things we wouldn’t have learned if we hadn’t stepped out in faith, believing that God is always in control. ‘If God is for us, who can be against us?’” she quoted softly.

His hand dropped away, his face a study in conflicting emotions.

“I’m going to change,” she told him finally.

He nodded, wet hair drooping into his eyes. He slicked it back, his eyes on her. “In that bag of tricks, have you hidden the ability to cut hair?”

She winked. “I can cut it.” She shrugged. “It might end up a little shorter than you like, but I can cut it.”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Trying.” He opened the door. “After you, Mrs. Featherhawk.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, Mr. Featherhawk.”

As beginnings went, it was a start. A good start.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.