[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years (26 page)

This time Grandpa did smile. He closed his eyes, his breath rattling in his chest. “It’s . . . easy. Just . . . ask.”

“I remember what you told me before. Ask for forgiveness and ask Jesus to take over my life. I did that before I came in here, Grandpa. But even if I allow God to help me forgive Mother, how can I ever forget what she’s done? I might never find Ethan again.”

“God . . . has . . . a . . . plan.”

A shadow passed across the window. Ashley straightened. Perhaps her mother and aunt were returning. She wanted to bar the door and never let her mother back in the house, but she knew she had to allow it—at least until Grandpa was gone.

“You will pray for me, won’t you, Grandpa?” Ashley whispered as she looked back to where he lay.

Grandpa said nothing. His breathing slowed, his chest barely moving with each strained gasp. Ashley knew he was fading away—leaving her behind and going to his heavenly mansion, as one of those lovely church hymns spoke of.

Stroking his hand, she began to sing, remembering the words of that hymn. “ ‘My heavenly home is bright and fair; no pain nor death can enter there. Its glittering towers the sun outshine; that heavenly mansion shall be mine.’ ” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her voice caught as she sang the chorus and Grandpa drew his final breath.

“ ‘I’m going home, I’m going home, I’m going home to die no more; to die no more, to die no more, I’m going home . . . to die no more.’ ”

She kissed his weathered cheek. “It’s all right, Grandpa. You go on home.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ashley was relieved to find it was not her mother who had returned to the house but rather Natalie.

“Sweetie, I have something to tell you,” Ashley said as she met her daughter in the hallway.

“Is it about Grandpa?” Natalie asked, seeming to know.

“Yes. He’s gone.”

Natalie’s lower lip quivered. “I know it’s a good thing because Grandpa suffered so much, but it feels so bad here inside.”

Ashley pulled her into her arms and held her tight. “I know. It hurts me too. But you know what? Grandpa died a happy man. I told him that I’d turned to God and that made him very happy.”

Natalie nodded as she looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes. “That’s the best news Grandpa could have had. He just wanted to be sure he’d see you again.”

“I know. Look, I need a big favor from you.”

“What?”

Ashley gently held her daughter’s chin. “I need you to run and fetch Mr. Watson. We’ll need him here when Grandmother Murphy gets back. You tell him about Grandpa. He’ll also know to get the funeral home to come.”

“Sure, Mama,” Natalie said, straightening. “That’s an important job.”

“It sure is and one that only you can do for me. I can’t leave and do it myself because Aunt Lavelle and Grandmother Murphy might come back and I’ll have to tell them about Grandpa.”

Natalie nodded somberly, the weight of responsibility combined with great pride. “It’s Saturday. Will he be at his office or should I go to his house?”

“Hmm . . . start at the office, since it’s so close. Then go
to his house if he’s not there. I think you should ride Penny,” her mother encouraged. “Mr. Watson’s house is clear on the other side of town, just off of Douglas.”

“I remember,” Natalie said. “I’ll come right back so you don’t have to be alone.” She embraced her mother once again, then ran through the house and out the back door.

Ashley fretted that her mother and aunt would return before Mr. Watson had a chance to come and offer his support. She found herself uneasily praying.

“I know I just started turning to you, Lord. And I know I’ve brought more than my share to you already, but please just get Mr. Watson here before Mother and Lavelle return. I can’t bear to face them alone.”

With each passing moment, Ashley jumped at every sound. She set out to straighten the living room, knowing that as soon as word got out about Grandpa, people would start showing up to bring food and offer comfort to the family.

When a knock sounded at the front door, Ashley nearly came undone. She hurried to see who had come and found a stranger. The stocky man lifted his hat in greeting. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Ashley was uncertain where she might have seen him.

“May I help you?”

“I hope so. You are Mrs. Reynolds, are you not?”

Ashley felt an uneasiness come over her. “Yes.”

“And you have a little girl. I believe her name is Natalie.”

It was then that Ashley remembered the man. He’d been following Natalie on the street. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’d just like to talk to you about your husband, Ethan Reynolds—about his war efforts and his death. See, I’m putting together a book . . .”

“I have no time for this,” Ashley declared. “We’ve just had a loss in the family. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She started to close the door, then pulled it back open. “Oh,
and leave my child alone. I’ve seen you following her and if I see you again, I’ll contact the police.”

She closed the door and leaned against it momentarily. How could she tell this man anything about Ethan? She didn’t know anything. Didn’t know where he was or why he was alive instead of dead as the army had told her. Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t help you, mister. I can’t even help myself.”

Half an hour passed and Ashley slowly recomposed herself. She heard a car pull up and stop in front of the house. Looking out the window, Ashley saw a black sedan, and behind it, another car also came to rest. Ashley recognized it as belonging to Pastor McGuire, and in the front seat Natalie sat all prim and proper. Penny was tied to the back. The scene brought a smile to Ashley’s face. Natalie seemed to take life and death in stride. She didn’t seem to bear any long-lasting grudge against her grandmother, and neither did she seem destined to despair over her great-grandfather’s passing. Perhaps she would handle the news of her father’s surviving the war as well.

Natalie jumped out and saw to Penny, while Pastor McGuire and Mr. Watson made their way past the wrought-iron gate and up the walkway. Ashley met them at the door. They took off their hats as they walked into the house.

“I’m so glad you’re both here.”

“Has your mother returned?” Watson asked, peering past Ashley toward the living room. Apparently Natalie had told him of the urgency involved.

“No,” Ashley said, taking the men’s hats. “I thought for sure she would be back by now. She and Lavelle have gone to the bank, forgetting that it’s Saturday. I suppose they’ve tried to locate the bank president and see what can be done about all this business of last week. I’ve asked my mother to move out of the house. She struck Natalie, and I have no intention of letting it happen again.”

“Struck her?” Watson questioned.

Ashley nodded. “Mother was upset by the telegram my brother sent. It had to do with the stock market troubles.”

“Ah, I see.” Watson nodded thoughtfully.

“Anyway, Natalie suggested we needed to pray about the matter, and my mother let her nerves get the best of her and she slapped Natalie. I told her to pack and get out. Perhaps that’s where they are now. Maybe my aunt is helping Mother arrange to move into the Harvey House.”

The men nodded. “We will just wait with you, then,” Simon Watson stated matter-of-factly.

Pastor McGuire gently touched her arm. “I know Grandpa’s passing is both a relief and a grief.”

“Yes, to be sure,” Ashley said, drawing a deep breath. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yes. Yes, I would,” McGuire responded. “Simon?”

“You go ahead. I’ll pay my respects later.”

Ashley led Pastor McGuire back to Grandpa’s room and closed the door quietly once they’d entered. “I need to tell you something,” she said softly, almost reverently, as if God’s spirit had settled over the room.

Pastor McGuire looked at her rather oddly. “Oh?”

“I . . . well . . . I prayed.” Ashley knew it sounded silly, but she felt completely flustered. “I’ve taken Jesus as my Savior.”

Pastor McGuire grinned. “No wonder Grandpa felt he could finally go. What a blessing that must have been to him—he did know, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he knew.” Ashley had a great sense of peace about being able to honestly come to God before Grandpa died. “I had thought of just telling him what he wanted to hear. After all, God would know the difference.”

“So would Russell Whitman. The man was no fool.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Like I said, I toyed with the idea, but I could never bring myself to do it. Then I thought of coming to God merely because my mother so thoroughly rejects Him. That hardly seemed right either.”

Pastor McGuire’s smile broadened. “No, it would never do
to come to God in order to spite someone else. It wouldn’t be genuine.”

“I know. It just seemed that the more trouble came, the less confidence I had in myself or anything else. It hurt to deal with the past and the present, and the future just seemed like a nightmare waiting to happen. I wanted nothing more than peace of mind and heart, but it eluded me at every turn.”

“And do you know that peace now, Ashley?”

She looked into his compassionate face and smiled. “I do.” She looked back to where she’d left Grandpa. She’d neatly combed his hair and pulled up the blanket to his chest. She’d carefully brought his arms together, and it looked as though he were simply taking his afternoon nap. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

“Nor can I,” the pastor replied. “Good men like Russell are hard to find. We need to cherish them when we come across them.”

For some reason Ashley thought of E. J. Carson. He seemed to be such a kind and considerate soul. Always so gentle and loving with Natalie. Perhaps that alone should have endeared him to Ashley. But then there was the issue of Ethan. Somehow she had to know the truth about him.

“Pastor McGuire, there’s something else.” Ashley swallowed her pride and self-reliance and explained the situation regarding Ethan. She noted the man’s expression as it changed from sympathetic to intense concern. “I don’t know,” Ashley continued, “how to go about finding him. He may be remarried, and how awful that would be, because we’re still married—I’m not dead.” She knew she stated the obvious, but she needed to hear the words aloud.

Pastor McGuire put his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll do what I can to help you. There are records the army keeps and people who can help in this. Don’t worry. But tell me, does Natalie know?”

Ashley shook her head. “I don’t want to tell her until I’m certain he’s still alive. She positively worships his memory.
It would be so hard for her to think he’d come back to her, only to lose him again.”

“I understand, and I think you’re wise. We’ll take care of matters with Grandpa, and then we’ll get right on this other.”

The unmistakable sound of voices in the hall confirmed that her mother and Lavelle had returned. She heard her mother saying something about taking over the matter of her father’s burial just before she opened the bedroom door and pushed past Ashley to Grandpa’s bedside.

“So he’s finally gone,” she stated, then looked to Ashley and the pastor as though she’d posed a question.

The pastor maintained his hold on Ashley, and she wondered if he did so out of fear of what she might do to her mother. He gave her a gentle squeeze of support before speaking. “Your father is in a better place now. He’s finally out of pain.”

“Be that as it may,” Leticia said, looking to them again and then to her sister and the lawyer, who had now joined them. “There are matters to be taken care of.”

“All the arrangements were made by your father,” Simon Watson stated.

Leticia’s expression changed to one of smug assurance. “But I am here now and have my own ideas of how things will be handled.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Murphy. Your father stated specifically that I was not to allow you to make any changes in the arrangements. You are, of course, free to return home and not participate in the plans he made. However, there will be no changes.”

“I am quite sure—”

“No changes, Mother,” Ashley stated, pulling away from the pastor.

“You are in no position to dictate to me.” Leticia arched her brow and squared her shoulders. She held the look of a tyrannical queen.

Ashley thought to demand that she leave, but instead she
stayed her anger. She didn’t know how she was supposed to act or respond as a Christian—not really, but she did know what Grandpa would want her to say, and he was a Christian. She could almost hear him saying, “Be a peacemaker, Ashley.”

“Mother, you need to respect Grandpa’s wishes. I think you should sit down with Mr. Watson and Pastor McGuire and listen to what they have to say. You too, Aunt Lavelle.”

Lavelle nodded and agreed. “I think we should, Letty. Why don’t we go out into the living room and talk about this.” Lavelle led her sister toward the door.

To her great surprise, Ashley watched as her mother allowed Lavelle to direct her down the hall. Simon Watson followed, with Pastor McGuire bringing up the rear. Ashley glanced back at Grandpa’s still figure.

“I wish you were still here to advise me,” she murmured.

****

Ashley listened to the lawyer quietly explain the situation surrounding Russell Whitman’s last requests and arrangements. Her mother often interrupted to dispute issues, but Simon Watson was no small-town lawyer to be bullied. The man had come to practice in Winslow after a long career in Chicago. Had his wife not needed the dry climate, he might be there still, he’d told Ashley previously.

Tiring of the details she already knew by heart, Ashley dismissed herself to make some refreshments for the group.

“Mama?” Natalie questioned quietly. “Oh, here you are. I thought you’d be out there with Mr. Watson.”

“I’m fixing a plate of cookies for our guests. Do you want to carry it out to them and then come back and have a couple for yourself?”

“Sure. Can Penny have something too?”

Ashley took an apple and cut it into four pieces. “You may give this to Penny when you get back.”

Natalie picked up the plate of cookies and started to leave. She paused, however, and turned back to Ashley. “We will be
all right, won’t we?” She dragged the toe of her shoe across the tiled floor.