Lonely In Longtree (4 page)

Myles shook his head. His expression seemed to blend emotional strain with spiritual peace. “Water under the bridge, Monte. You can't undo past mistakes, and blaming yourself does no one any good. The Lord had other plans for all of us. I, for one, do not regret the loss of the business, unless it was for Gram's sake. But she lived out her final years in great joy, surrounded by her great-grandchildren.”

Silence fell, broken only by Tim's soft snore.

“Guess I'd better escort this young lady back to her parents,” Monte said softly, scooting back his chair.

Young?
Marva gave him a sharp look, suspecting the flattering remark, but he appeared unaware of having said anything questionable.

Beulah took Tim into her arms, freeing Myles to escort his brother to the door. “Good night, Monte, and welcome back to the family. Marva. . .” She paused. “Thank you.”

Marva slipped around the table to give her friend a kiss on the top of her head. “You try to get some sleep, darlin'. I'm glad I could help.”

Monte and Myles shook hands, then gave each other an awkward embrace. “We'll talk more tomorrow,” Myles said. “Too many years to catch up on in one evening.”

Monte nodded and offered Marva his arm. “Miss Obermeier?”

Four

Trust in the
Lord
with all thine heart;

and lean not unto thine own understanding.

Proverbs 3:5

Moonlight scattered shadows in confusing patterns across the path as wind rustled in the trees. A loon's haunting cry floated through the night. In spite of herself, Marva shivered. Monte pressed his elbow and her hand close against his side, as if to assure her of his protection, and set a slow walking pace.

“So you're an author,” she said to make conversation. That feeling of being protected was too pleasant for her emotional comfort.

“Some people think so. Others would dispute that title,” he said with an undertone of amusement. “I don't claim to write great literature, by any means.”

“When do you find time to write? I assume you work here at the lodge. Are you a hunting and fishing guide?”

A short pause, then he said, “I do some guiding, yes. I do most of my writing during the evenings and in winter. What do you do with your time, Miss Obermeier?”

“Mostly I help my father run the farm and help my mother run the household.”

“Who's running the farm and household while you're all away?” he asked.

“My father hired a man to look after the farm, a Mr. Parker, who—
Aaack
!”

A huge, panting creature emerged from the darkness and leaped upon Monte's chest, knocking him back a step. Just as Marva drew breath for another shriek, Monte clapped his hand over her mouth, holding the back of her head with his other hand. “Hush!” he said, his voice full of laughter. “You'll have every guest in the place panicked! It's just my dog, Ralph.”

She looked up at him and caught the glint of moonlight in his eyes. Humiliation rolled over her like a wave. He must think her an utter fool.

“Calm now? No more screams?”

She nodded, and he released her head. “I'm sorry I grabbed you that way. All I could think of was our sleeping guests. It's late, you know.”

The dog panted and huffed around their feet, sniffed at a nearby tree, and then plunged down the slope toward the lake. “He probably caught scent of the raccoons that frightened you earlier,” Monte said.

Marva's overtired brain projected images of her being clasped against this man's broad chest, his hand stroking her hair. She drew a deep breath and forged ahead on the dark trail.

He caught up with her in a few strides. “Are you all right? Miss Obermeier, I'm sorry Ralph startled you.”

“I am very tired, Mr. Van Huysen.”

“Call me Monte, please. Are you angry?” He seemed genuinely concerned, watching her face as he kept pace at her side. Large lanterns framing the lodge doorway guided her steps.

“I'm not angry; I'm exhausted, Mr. Van Huysen. If I awakened any of your guests, I am truly sorry. A good night's sleep should restore my good sense, but. . .how do I locate my parents' room?”

“You haven't been to your room yet?”

“No, I was helping Beulah and Myles with the children.”

“We'll check at the desk.” When she tripped over something on the path, he said, “Won't you please take my arm again? I know this path like I know my own face. Too many roots and rocks lying in wait to trip you up in the dark.”

She laid her hand on his forearm and sensed his satisfaction. She would have to guard her heart closely against this charmer. He was nothing like serious Myles, she realized. And she liked the differences.

While Monte scanned the lodge ledger for her parents' room number, Marva studied the expansive foyer built entirely of polished logs. The antlered head of a huge deer surmounted a rock fireplace, and a standing black bear waited in the dining room doorway, its mouth open in a snarl. Thick rugs lay scattered about on the gleaming hardwood floor. Oil chandeliers made from deer antlers hung from the square-beamed ceiling, casting a romantic glow over the room. Birch boughs lined the arched doorway into what might be the dining hall. A grandfather clock located between two doors indicated ten minutes past eleven.

“The halls should be lit, but you might need a lamp once you get into your room. Wait a moment and I'll find one for you.” He tapped her elbow.

She nodded. From any other man she would have resented this frequent touching, but somehow from him it seemed appropriate. She gave her head a little shake. As if rules of propriety should not apply equally to every man.

He disappeared through a door behind the desk. She suddenly felt very alone in this strange place and rubbed her arms.

“Cold?” He reappeared, a glowing lamp in hand. “I imagine it's cooler here than in your part of the state. Wish I had a jacket to offer.”

“I'll be fine, thank you.” Was he this solicitous of every female guest? She could imagine women of all ages swooning over his chivalrous manners.

He offered his arm again. She looked from it to his face. “I'm sure I can find my way if you give me directions.”

“Why take chances?” He opened one of the doors near the clock and indicated that she should enter first. “Quietly, please.” As soon as the door closed behind him, he set the lamp on the floor, took her hand and tucked it through the crook of his elbow, and then retrieved the lamp.

Oil sconces turned low lined the hallway. “Your room is near the end on the left,” he said softly.

Marva nodded and followed his lead.

Outside room 21, he stopped and turned to face her. “Take the lamp now, and keep it as long as you like. I'll see you in the morning, Miss Obermeier.”

Did she imagine anticipation and warmth in his voice and eyes? He certainly had an enthusiastic personality.

“Good night, and thank you, Mr. Van Huysen.” He reached behind her to open the door, and she stepped inside. After the door closed with a soft clank of the latch, she heard his footsteps fade away along the hall.

❧

As he left the lodge, Monte found himself grinning uncontrollably. What luck! No, not luck. What a blessing! Unless he was greatly mistaken, Marva Obermeier was his Lonely in Longtree. She must be! How many Christian women of her age lived alone with elderly parents and ran a farm? Well, probably hundreds did, but how many in Longtree, Wisconsin? That she and her parents should be not only acquainted but close friends with his long-lost brother defied probability. That Miss Obermeier was strikingly attractive? This fact utterly boggled his mind. Only God could arrange things so well.

Ralph approached at a gallop, panting noisily. Remembering Marva's squeals at the dog's “attack” provoked a chuckle. “Tonight you were a bear or wolf, old man,” he told the dog. “Come.” He slapped his leg, and Ralph heeled.

Light glowed in the window of Myles and Beulah's cabin. He looked forward to becoming acquainted with his brother's large family. Myles was a blessed man. A busy man, for certain. Six children! Monte laughed softly. If all six children proved to be as charming as young Tim, these next few weeks promised to be pleasantly entertaining.

Myles and Beulah were most likely discussing the day's surprising revelations. Remembering the friendly warmth in Beulah's eyes, Monte felt reassured. And Myles had seemed pleased, though also decidedly stunned and disturbed. How would he feel about the situation, about his brother, once he'd had time to fully consider facts? Monte knew he had plenty-more explaining to do. He felt his smile change to a frown at the worry that twisted his gut.

All this time, he had thought Myles was ashamed to acknowledge him, while in truth, Myles had thought him dead. Had he known that Myles had reconciled with God, he might have attempted a reunion sooner. But who could tell?

He entered his own cabin and flopped into his favorite chair, staring into the darkness. Ralph dropped to the floor nearby, heaving a contented sigh.

“If I had really trusted You, God, I would have approached Myles years ago,” he prayed aloud.

Ralph rose and shoved his muzzle into Monte's hand. He petted the dog absently, lost in regret. All those years he might have spent with his brother—forever lost. And never again would he see dear old Gram alive on earth.

He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with both hands. So many empty years of aimless wandering. Sure, he'd been serving God here and there, spreading the gospel message, writing his books, befriending needy people. But the longing for home and family had driven him on, never entirely at peace with himself, never satisfied.

“I suppose it could be worse, God. I could have waited until Myles and I were both doddering old codgers.” He grimaced. If the church group from Longtree had not conveniently decided to vacation at his lodge, he might have waited yet another twenty years for the “right time.” Shame weighted his heart.

The dog laid his head and one large paw on Monte's knee. “I'm a coward, Ralph.” He gently pulled the dog's soft ears, letting them slide through his fingers. “You've got a yellow-bellied marmot for a master.” Ralph's tail whacked the footstool on one side and thumped the table leg on the other.

“No more.”

Ralph pricked his ears at the harsh tone of his master's voice.

“No more cowardice. I've let fear rob me of love and family. I'm forty years old and going gray, Ralph. I don't want to live out my days alone. There's a woman who might consider marrying me if I'm ever brave enough to ask. If she's the woman I think she is. . .” Sudden doubt made him falter. “I'd better make sure before I stick my neck out too far.”

Even if Marva Obermeier did turn out to be his newspaper sweetheart, what if she turned up her nose at the thought of. . .of his past? Had she been able to overhear his confession from her position on the cabin porch? Her manner had been reserved rather than friendly.

He had better advance cautiously.

❧

“Push me, Miss Marba.” Trixie kicked her dangling legs, red curls in chaos around her shoulders, little hands clutching the swing's ropes.

“Say please,” Marva reminded.

“Pwease.”

While hitching baby Ginny higher on her hip, Marva gently pushed the swing suspended from a sturdy oak branch. Trixie laughed in excitement, although she swung back and forth a total of only three feet. Watching the child's joy, Marva smiled. It took so little to please these small ones. . .yet they constantly demanded attention.

Joey played with a friend in the sandbox, content to dig and dump. The three older Van Huysen boys were off playing with friends, exploring the grounds, with strict orders from their fathers not to stray into the surrounding forest or venture into the lake. Judging by the
clank
of horseshoes and the ripples of laughter from the clearing, the other young people were finding ways to amuse themselves. The lodge seemed to be nearly filled with guests. Where had they all come from?

A breeze rustled through branches overhead—Marva was learning to love that restful sound. Blue sky and puffy clouds played backdrop to the dancing oak and maple leaves. The vivid colors nearly took Marva's breath away whenever she sneaked a glance upward. And the lake! She loved its every mood—serene, playful, agitated, intent—always in shades of blue and gray.

Myles, Beulah, and Monte were somewhere, not too far away, catching up on the past.

Again.

Still.

Twenty years was a long time, but in how much detail must it be recounted?
That Monte is a talker, for sure.
A smile twitched her lips at the thought. But then, of all people to criticize. . . She had once been notorious for being able to talk the hind legs off a donkey.

Age had brought with it an awareness of how ridiculous she'd often made herself in the sight of her friends. More than one man she had frightened away with her wagging tongue and almost frenetic energy. Not that men found her any more attractive since she withdrew into herself.

Except for Mr. Stowell, who was even now strolling down the path from the lodge. As she caught his eye, a wide smile brightened the lodge owner's face. “Miss Obermeier, how good to see you. You're looking lovely, as always.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stowell. Finished in the office for the afternoon?”

“I wish it were so. I'm looking for Monte—Mr. Van Huysen. Have you seen him?” He paused before her. Although his
words were businesslike, his eyes roved her face with an
almost-rapt expression.

Was Monte in trouble with the boss for neglecting his work?

“I believe he and the other Van Huysens are down by the lake.”

“Thank you. I—I hope to see you later.” Mr. Stowell's face turned pink. “At supper. Perhaps you. . . Might you have time for a stroll this evening?”

“I might.” It would be a good opportunity to sound him out concerning the
Longtree Enquirer.
But then again, Beulah might need help with the children.

Mr. Stowell beamed. “Thank you.” He started to say something else, stopped, and repeated, “Thank you,” before moving on toward the shore.

At last, the prospect of a social moment for herself. Not that Mr. Stowell was her ideal man, but he seemed steady and pleasant, and he owned the lodge. If he did turn out to be “Lucky,” he would probably make her a good, dependable husband.