Brides of Iowa (55 page)

“That’s very kind of you, Ben.”

He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. “It’s a beautiful day. Just right for taking a walk.”

She forced a smile, and they set off down the road—the same road Everett had walked with her that first evening when the crickets and whippoorwills accompanied them.

Everett opened his eyes, surrounded by the sweet scent of meadow grass and autumn leaves. When the breeze died momentarily, he heard a faint gurgling sound. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he found a tiny trickle of water seeping from between the rocks a few feet away. A smile found his lips as he recalled the scripture he’d read from Proverbs about cold water to a thirsty soul. God found a way to minister to him even when he wasn’t looking for it. He scooted over and cupped his hand, capturing the flow and lifting it to his mouth. As he expected, the water was pure and sweet.

Everett carried handfuls of water to his lips and satisfied his thirst, then wiped his sleeve across his face. Dabbling his fingers in the cold spring, his thoughts wandered to Tillie and the times they’d enjoyed the creek water flowing over their toes. This tiny rivulet meandered down the slope, where it fed into a small branch that ran alongside the base of the hill. Everett assumed the branch emptied into Willow Creek. He wondered if Tillie knew about this spring. A tempting thought to bring her to this place taunted him, but he shook his head at the foolishness of the idea.

Dropping to his knees in the thick grass beside the spring, he tilted his head back and groaned to his heavenly Father. “God, I know it can never be. Please take these feelings for Tillie away from me. You are the God of all comfort. Every need I have, You’ve supplied. Father, I beg You to fill the dry, empty places of my soul with Your presence. Teach me to hide in You. I know You’ll take care of Tillie. Truly, my desire is for her to be happy, and that can’t happen with me. So, Lord, bring her happiness in whatever way You think is best.”

He rose and began walking down the slope in the direction of town. He might not have worshipped within the walls of the church this day, but he’d spent time at God’s footstool and had drunk in His refreshing presence. Grateful for the way God ministered to his spirit, he was determined to exercise his faith and leave the outcome to the One who gave cold water to his thirsty soul.

The sun was high overhead as he cut through the thick woods and crossed over grassy hills. The earlier nip in the air gave way to the warming rays. Everett removed his coat and loosened his tie. During the many evening walks he’d taken with Tillie over the past few months, he’d discovered he loved walking. Of course, walking with Tillie was different. They’d shared so much as they strolled among the willows. But Everett found this day’s solitude was not lonely. His walking partner today was God.

Refreshed by the communion he’d shared with his heavenly Father, he hiked up a rise and paused. Below, the road that led to town wove through cornfields and grazing pastures. A couple walked down the road. The young lady held a black book—a Bible?—snugly against her, and they appeared to be walking home from church. The lady’s familiar honey-blond hair was pinned up and tied with a green ribbon.
Tillie and Ben.

Ben stopped and bent to pick up a few colorful autumn leaves, and Tillie pointed across the meadow to a stand of maples aflame in seasonal dress. They appeared to be enjoying each other’s company. Neither of them looked in Everett’s direction.

The promise of God’s comfort and hiding place washed over him once again. So this was His answer. An ache stole into the pit of his stomach, but he knew even then that God wouldn’t leave him alone.

A
musement teased the corners of Tillie’s lips as she listened to Tessa patiently explain to her little daughter that they weren’t going to see the lambs today. Little Susan’s bottom lip pooched out, and her blue eyes filled. Tessa appeased her with a cookie.

“She sounds like Cory when he’s got his mind made up about something.” Tillie stroked the child’s hair.

Tessa sighed. “Susan, take your dolly and put her down for a nap. If she doesn’t go to sleep, you might have to lie down beside her until she does.”

Susan cradled her rag doll in her arms and trotted off toward the bedroom, crooning to her baby. As soon as she was out of earshot, Tessa chuckled.

“Gideon’s thinking about purchasing a half dozen head of sheep from Fletcher, but he hasn’t had time to go back out to the Hamilton ranch. When we were there last week, Susan got a look at the new lambs, and that’s all she’s talked about ever since.” Tessa shook her head and stirred a spoonful of sugar into her cup.

Tillie took a sip of tea and bit into a cookie. The little girl was so appealing that her parents surely must be hard-pressed to say no. A wistful pining squeezed her, and for the space of a heartbeat she experienced a tug of envy.

“But you didn’t come over here to talk about Susan and the lambs.”

Tillie ran her finger around the rim of her teacup and lifted her shoulders. “Truly? I’m not sure what I came to talk about.” She didn’t look at Tessa, but she knew her friend was smiling.

“Am I safe in assuming this is about Everett?”

Hearing his name spoken sent an arrow of regret through her breast. “Tessa, all I wanted was for God to use me. I’d hoped Everett would see himself the way God does. Just because he’s scarred doesn’t mean he has to spend the rest of his life hiding from people.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” Tessa’s expression indicated she didn’t understand Tillie’s low spirits. “Why are you so melancholy? Won’t Everett listen to you?”

Tillie rose from her chair and crossed the kitchen to look out the window. The trees had begun to give up their summer green in exchange for autumn yellows, russets, and oranges—changes ushered in by the season—a gift from God’s own hand. Strange, how such woeful thoughts could dim the brilliance of the Lord’s blessings.

“Everett and I, well…we were seeing each other. Going for walks and sitting by the creek in the evening after work.” The sweetness of the memories they’d made together ached within her, especially since she feared those memories might turn bitter. She turned and walked back to the table where Tessa sat. “Everett seemed so much more relaxed in the evening—you know, as it was getting dark. We’d talk and laugh.”

Tessa tipped her head to one side. “You
were
seeing each other?”

Tillie nodded, her fingers tracing the back of the chair. “Sometimes two or three times a week. I enjoyed our time together so much, and I thought Everett did, too. He told me funny stories about the stray cat he adopted, and I told him about my little brothers’ adventures. We discussed Pastor Witherspoon’s sermons, and sometimes we even sang whatever hymns came to mind. Being with him felt so right.” She slid back down on the chair she had vacated. “Then he started acting…different.”

“Different how?”

The words to describe the way Everett seemed to pull away failed her, and she wasn’t certain she even wanted to give definition to the fracture. If she could put it into words, did that make it so? How could she and Everett rediscover the closeness they’d shared? Was she simply supposed to accept the distance between them as inevitable and move on? She shook her head, stubbornness stiffening her spine.

“It was because of his scars—I’m sure of it. You know how he always pulls his hat lower or brings his hand up to hide his face?” She raised her hand and covered the right side of her own face, imitating Everett’s habit. “Every time he does that, it breaks my heart. Why can’t he see that his scars aren’t important? Not to God, and not to—”

One corner of Tessa’s mouth tipped up. “Not to you? So was I right? Are you in love with him?”

Oh, how she wanted to shout yes—yes, she was in love with Everett. Instead she looked away. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve ruined everything.”

Tessa gave a soft snort. “How do you figure that?”

“Because I did the exact opposite of what I told Everett he should do.” She tipped her head back and slid her eyes shut. “He and I talked about trust one evening, and I said how people should wait on God and let Him lead in situations that are too difficult to handle.” She leaned forward and popped her eyes open again. “So what did I do? Things weren’t going the way I wanted, so I barged ahead and took matters into my own hands.”

She stood again and began to pace, spilling out the story of her visit to the freight office and her argument with Everett. “We haven’t seen each other for more than a week. He’s cut off our friendship. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, and he thinks I’m foolish.”

Tessa rose and crossed the room, slipping an arm around Tillie. “You still haven’t answered my question. Are you in love with him?”

Her friend’s tender prodding released her hold on her emotions, and the tears began to flow. She nodded. “But it doesn’t matter what I feel. Everett has pushed me toward Ben and shut me out.” She wiped the moisture from her face.

“Pushed you toward Ben? What do you mean?”

Tillie sighed. “Ben asked me to the picnic, and Everett kept telling me I should go with him. All I wanted to do was make Everett see that his scars don’t change the man he is. But I’ve made such a mess of things. Why didn’t I wait on God?”

Everett handed his father the letter from Grandfather’s attorney and watched as he read it. The empty mercantile gave them a private moment to discuss the surprise Everett had received in the mail. “The last thing I expected was an offer from one of Grandfather’s former business constituents.”

His father laid the missive on the counter and scrunched his thick eyebrows together. “After the estate was settled and the creditors paid off, I assumed you’d never hear from any of those people again.” He played with one end of his mustache. “I’m guessing this man respected the way you handled the settlement, since he says he’s”—Father glanced down at the paper and ran his finger across one of the inked lines—“‘looking for a dependable man of integrity to manage his financial interests.’” He blew out a soft sigh. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Everett shook his head. “Grandfather’s attorney is a very trustworthy man, so I don’t doubt the validity of the offer.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If I’d received this letter last year, I wouldn’t have hesitated to respond in the affirmative.”

Father pulled the pencil from behind his ear. “The salary this man is proposing would certainly allow you to live quite comfortably.”

If Everett had learned anything over the past year, it was that money wasn’t everything. “I agree the offer is rather lucrative, but the money isn’t that important.” He picked up the letter and reread the description of everything the job entailed: overseeing accounts and expenditures, and keeping precise records, much like a comptroller. “The thing that attracts me most is having little contact with people other than the owner of the company. This is a job I could do behind a closed door.”

The furrow between his father’s brows deepened. “Is that truly what you want?”

Everett hated the indecision that lifted his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “In the past few months, I’ve established myself as a businessman, and people seem to appreciate the service I provide. But now…”

His father didn’t press him to finish his thought. The elder Behr’s insightful eyes fastened on him. The growing bond between them coaxed Everett to allow transparency.

“When I first arrived in Willow Creek, I couldn’t imagine myself living here. But after the fire…and the scars…I couldn’t imagine going back to live in Baltimore, looking the way I do. Life in Willow Creek is simple. I thought I no longer had the choice of hoping for anything more.”

A hint of sorrow clouded his father’s eyes. “I want to see you happy, son, but I’d be less than honest if I didn’t express my desire for you to stay in Willow Creek.” Father stroked his whiskered chin. “What about your business? Do you think you could find a buyer?”

Everett shrugged. “I might talk to Ben about it.”

“Does Ben have the capital?”

“I doubt it, but we could draw up an agreement whereby he could send me payments.” He steeled himself against the pain that clawed at him. If Ben bought the freight operation, he’d have the means to support Tillie comfortably.