[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years (4 page)

Russell perked up at the sight of his great-granddaughter. He’d often wondered if there’d been other great-grandchildren. Ashley had three brothers, after all. They had been headstrong businessmen when Ashley had left Baltimore. Family seemed unimportant to them at the time.

“Grandpa, I brought some berries and cream.”

Russell scooted up in the bed and swung his legs over the side. “Sounds delicious.” It did sound good, even if he had no appetite.

Natalie put the tray down and brought him a bowl and a spoon. “Mama said I could eat my berries back here with you.”

He thought she sounded sad. She looked up at him as he took the bowl and added, “Is that okay with you?”

“You know it is.” Russell pushed back an errant lock of hair, the same trademark lock his own mother and wife had spent a lifetime pushing back.

Natalie took up her bowl and sat in the chair beside the bed. “I . . . um . . . well, I was hoping we could talk.”

“What about?”

She glanced up momentarily, then lowered her gaze to the bowl. “Mama says you’re real sick.”

Russell heard her voice tremble. Ashley must have told her that he was dying. He’d wondered how long she would wait until telling the child the truth. He’d only mentioned it once before, but Ashley hadn’t been ready yet to deal with facing the truth herself, and sharing that knowledge with Natalie seemed impossibly hard.

Russell knew Natalie would need help dealing with this and so he asked, “And you wanted to talk about it?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her crossed legs swinging back and forth as she toyed with the berries.

“I’m sure the news has made you sad,” Russell said. He ate a spoonful of the berries and waited for her to respond.

“Grandpa, I don’t understand why God would do this.” She looked up, and Russell could see the glistening of tears in her dark brown eyes. “We need you here. What will we do when you’re gone?”

“Well, child, would it hurt any less if you understood the whys and hows?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you to die.” She sniffed back her tears and put aside her bowl.

Russell put his bowl aside as well and opened his arms to her. “Come here, Natalie.”

She did so and fell against him, sobbing. The pain in his side ripped through him, but Russell said nothing. He held her close and stroked her head, knowing there were no words that would make her understand or feel better.

After several minutes he said, “You know, God has His own way of doing things, Natalie. We don’t always see them as reasonable or understandable. We don’t always know what He has in mind, but it’s been my experience over the years that God never closes a door without opening a window.”

Natalie rose up, wiping at her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means that God may be calling me home, but at the same time He could be sending someone else into your life to help you in my place.”

“They could never take your place,” Natalie said, her lower lip quivering.

“I didn’t say they would. I was merely suggesting they would come to help in place of me. You never know what God has in mind, but it’s always better than what we have in mind for ourselves.”

“But even if someone else comes, Grandpa, I’ll miss you.
Who will go for walks with me and tell me stories about the old days?”

Russell laughed. “Child, there’s always someone around who will share stories about the old days. Look, we still have a bit of time. Only God knows the hours of man’s life. You have to trust that He knows best.”

“I do trust Him. I just wish that Mama trusted Him too.”

Russell nodded. Nothing would make him happier. “We’ll have to keep praying for her, Natalie. We’ll have to pray and wait for God to act. Maybe my sickness will make her realize what’s missing in her life.”

“Like getting married again?”

“Could be,” Russell said with a grin. “You just never know what God has in mind.”

“I want a new daddy,” Natalie said, her tears gone. She went back to her chair and picked up the bowl of dessert. “I’m still praying for one.”

Russell picked up his own bowl, not wanting the child to think he didn’t appreciate her efforts. He ate some more of the berries and pondered her desires. A father for Natalie and a husband for Ashley did seem like an answer to many problems. Of course, it still wouldn’t bring Ashley to an understanding of God. No, that was something God would have to do himself. No human could do it for her.

****

The food on Ashley’s plate served as a reminder that she’d eaten very little at supper. It was hard to think of eating when her world seemed to be falling apart. Ashley scraped the food into the garbage pail, then put the plate in the sink before going back for Natalie’s dishes. A knock on the door interrupted her duties, and Ashley glanced at the clock on the mantel. Seven o’clock. Perhaps someone had come to visit.

Exiling the remaining dirty dishes to the kitchen sink, Ashley pulled her apron off and went to see who had come to call.
Opening the door, she found Pastor McGuire, her grandfather’s minister.

“Good evening, Mrs. Reynolds. I’m wondering if your grandfather is up to receiving a visitor?”

“I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” Ashley said, adding, “Won’t you come in?”

The tall redheaded man removed his hat as he stepped through the doorway. His compassionate expression preceded his next question. “And how are you holding up? I know this news can’t have been easy on you.”

“No, it hasn’t been easy,” Ashley admitted. She took the man’s hat and hung it on a peg by the door, then motioned him toward the small living room. “My daughter is sharing dessert with Grandpa just now. He so seldom eats that I’m hoping her enthusiasm and company will at least get a few spoonfuls down him. If you don’t mind waiting just a little while, we can visit here.” Ashley led him through an arched opening to the living room. She really had no desire to answer the pastor’s questions or, worse still, to be preached to, but she knew she needed to put her own comfort aside and think of Grandpa.

“That would be fine. I so seldom get to share your company.” He unbuttoned the lower button on his suit coat and smiled.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Ashley offered.

“No, nothing just now. I’ve just come from our supper table.”

He waited for Ashley to lower herself into the rocker before he seated himself in the overstuffed chair. Stroking the patterned red fabric, he sighed. “Ah, this is so comfortable I just might not get back up.” He threw her a smile that seemed to light up his entire face.

Ashley nodded. “That’s Grandpa’s chair. He’s always said that a man who works hard all day deserves a good soft chair for the evening.”

“And he’s so right.” McGuire shifted as if to get even more
comfortable. Stretching out his legs, he crossed them at the knees and looked quite casual and comfortable.

The action put Ashley at ease for some reason. Maybe it was that he looked less threatening—less likely to start preaching hellfire and brimstone. Looking at her hands, Ashley searched for something to talk about. “So it looks like they’re making good progress on the new Harvey resort.” That topic seemed harmless enough.

“Yes, I do believe they are. Should be quite the place. I’m told the food will be even grander, if that’s possible. Are you still working at the Harvey House?”

“No, I took a leave so that I could be with Grandpa. The doctor said . . .” She let her words trail off. She really hadn’t wanted to get into this conversation, and now that she had, she didn’t seem to be able to stop it. “The doctor said his time would be very short. The cancer is quite progressed and very . . . aggressive.” Her heart ached to have to acknowledge this truth, yet it was undeniable. She’d watched the old man fail a little more each day.

“It’s hard to lose the people we love,” the pastor said, nodding. “I’m going to miss your grandfather greatly. Even the promise of heaven isn’t much of a comfort at times.”

Shocked by his words, Ashley looked at him for a moment and tried to gather her courage to question him. “How can you say that? You’re a man . . . of God. You believe that a Christian person goes to heaven.”

“True enough, but as you stated, I’m a man first and very human with my feelings. My spirit is at peace because I know Grandpa Whitman is going to heaven. I feel confident of what God has done in his life and what God holds in store for his future—after death. But I’ll miss my time with your grandfather. I’ll miss our checker games and coffee at the café. I’ll miss our talks. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

Ashley felt a warmth in the pastor’s loving words. “I’ll miss his company for sure. He’s so long been a staple in my life. I really have no one else, besides Natalie, of course.”

“Well, just know you’re welcome at our table anytime. My wife, Essie, would love to have you and Natalie over for supper sometime. She adores your daughter, and every time we’ve had her and Grandpa Whitman to our house for lunch after church, Natalie has always been such a help.”

“I suppose I didn’t realize that they’d ever come to lunch at your place.” Ashley felt guilty for admitting that, but it was the truth. “I generally work on Sundays at the Harvey House. People have to eat and travel just the same on Sunday as other days,” she added, almost defensively.

“Well, you’re always welcome to come to service when you can. I know your work has kept you away.” He leaned forward and his expression grew quite serious. “Ashley, I’m not of the mind to make this uncomfortable for you, if that’s what you’re worried about. People have to make their own decisions and choices. Grandpa’s told me some of the issues you’ve faced. Frankly, given your youth back then and the responsibilities of a new baby, I completely admire your ability to overcome your widowhood. Just know that we care about you, and we’d be glad for you to join us when you can.”

There was nothing condemning in his tone. Nothing that suggested he knew Ashley for the heathen she thought herself to be. And yet she didn’t doubt that Grandpa had spoken the truth to the man on more than one occasion. No doubt he’d even asked the pastor to pray for Ashley.

About that time Natalie came skipping down the hall carrying two empty dishes. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Grandpa ate his berries and cream.”

Ashley saw the look of triumph on her daughter’s face. “Good for you, Natalie. I think that’s the first thing he’s eaten all day.”

“Oh, hello, Pastor McGuire,” Natalie said, catching sight of the man. “Are you here to visit Grandpa?”

“I sure am,” Pastor McGuire said, getting to his feet. “Would you like to let him know I’m here?”

Ashley got up quickly and took the empty bowls from her
daughter’s hands. “I’ll see to these. You go ahead and take Pastor McGuire on back.”

Ashley set the bowls to soak with the other dishes. She still needed to take down the laundry from the line, and it needed to be done before the light was completely gone. The dishes could wait.

Taking up her basket, Ashley slipped out the back door. Her mind reflected back to what the pastor had said. It somehow comforted her to know he’d miss her grandfather nearly as much as she would. She had been so afraid he’d come at her with all sorts of religious nonsense about how much better off Grandpa would be in heaven and how life up there couldn’t compare to life down here.

“That may well be true,” she muttered, “but it doesn’t mean our lives will be better.” She knew the sentiment was selfish, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want him to die. She didn’t want God taking away yet one more person she loved.

CHAPTER THREE

E. J. Carson studied the blueprints before him as if they were battle plans for an invasion. Helping with the many architectural designs created by Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter, architect and interior designer for the Fred Harvey Company, gave his life purpose and occupied his mind. This project in particular gave E. J. the opportunity to utilize the training and interest he had in Spanish architecture.

Mary Colter worked for the Harvey Company, having been hired at the turn of the century to help invent a personality and vision for the Fred Harvey hotels, restaurants, and tourist attractions. She was a diligent, demanding woman, but she was also brilliant. At least in E. J. Carson’s opinion.

Colter’s ability to look at the raw bones of a project and breathe life into it amazed E. J. every single time. Too bad she couldn’t breathe life into him as well.

He frowned at the thought and forced his attention back to the blueprints. They were building what was to be the cream of Harvey’s hotels. A grand resort that would draw in the rich and famous from far and wide. A resort so magnificent that people would have to book months in advance just to take lodging. The project was ambitious to be sure, but certainly no more so than the dynamite little woman who planned and arranged it all.

Mary Colter was undaunted by the prospects of taking a piece of land where a roundhouse had once existed and turning it into a lush and exotic playground for the wealthy. Considering Mary’s vision for landscaping and construction, E. J. had to admit the woman was positively inspired. Her plan was to raise up a resort hotel to look as if it had been there for hundreds of years. She even created her own myths and legends to surround it—giving history to what had just months ago been nothing.

The task wouldn’t be easy. It would take more than average attention to detail to build this hacienda-style hotel. It would demand a tremendous amount of work and the highest quality of craftsmanship. It was easy to slap together a square of bricks and windows but something entirely different to fashion a dream.

And it was harder still when your ability to dream had been destroyed in the wake of man’s fury.

E. J. pulled his wire-rimmed glasses off and rubbed his closed eyes momentarily. The haunting images of his past were never further away than a thought. The nightmarish vision of men dying was always with him. Blood and decay filled his thoughts as permanent reminders of all that he’d lost. For most Americans, the Great War was over and done with. They seldom gave it consideration. But for E. J., he truly wondered if the war would ever end. Would the ghostly faces of his dying friends ever fade?