The Brides of Chance Collection (56 page)

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. What’re you thinking, Delilah?”

“Mama always told me, ‘Delilah, if you don’t have anything nice to say—’ ”

“Don’t say anything?” Paul finished. She looked at him in astonishment.

“What kind of advice is that?” she asked incredulously. “If someone asks you a question, you can’t just ignore them!”

“It’s an old proverb. If you only have unpleasant things to say, some people think it best not to voice them.” His forehead creased as he gazed back. “What were you taught? If you don’t have anything nice to say…”

“Say something vague.” Delilah jumped when he burst into laughter. “Hush! You’ll wake the girls!”

He cast a glance at the snoozing bundle and sobered up a bit—his wide grin still bearing witness to his mirth.

“What’s so funny, anyway?”

“Oh, I was just remembering how you dealt with the MacPherson brothers.” He peered at her curiously. “You really do live by that rule, don’t you?”

“To each her own.” She shrugged.

“Aha! See, you just did it again. Not giving a real answer but being vague. Look at me.” Paul waited until she stared into his blue eyes before speaking again. “You don’t ever have to be vague with me. I want to know exactly how you feel and why you feel it.”

“Can’t I just try out your way and not say anything?” She gave a weak laugh.

“I never said it’s my way—it’s an old saying. I tell you what’s on my mind, and I hope you feel comfortable enough with me to do the same.”

His steady gaze told her he meant every word of it. She sighed and gave in. “I was thinking about how every time the two of us start talking, you always bring up God. Do you remember how I noticed it on our last picnic?”

“Of course I do.” With anyone else, the words would have sounded defensive, but Paul remained utterly sincere. “Do you remember what I explained?”

“You said that God made everything beautiful, so whenever you admire something, you think of Him,” she recited dully.

“So what’s wrong?” He waited, obviously at a loss.

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since you said it,” she began hesitantly, her words gathering strength as she finished. “And I think there’s something you left out.”

“What’s that?”

“You say God created everything, right?” There was nothing she could do but walk him through it.

“Unto the heavens and the earth,” he agreed.

“Then what about everything hurtful and ugly and mean? Why did He make those things if He loves us as much as you say?” She blurted out the questions, half-hoping Paul would have an answer but knowing the miserable truth that she was right.

He stayed silent for a long while.

“I should’ve just let it be. I’m sorry, Paul.” She hated to have devastated something so much a part of who he was.

“I’m not. I’m just trying to think of how to put it into words. I stand by what I said—God created everything—but at the same time, the ugly things that cause pain weren’t in His plan.”

“How do you know? What other reason is there?”

“This is why I was thinking.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate to make a mess of explaining, but here goes: Everything God made was beautiful in the beginning, but evil has a way of turning things sour, taking something good and using it for the bad.”

“So you’re saying that God made the milk, but evil made it go sour?” She couldn’t keep the scorn from her tone. “There are worse things than spoiled milk, Paul.”

“I know. And I never said anything about milk. Take this example: Knives are incredibly useful tools—they help us cut meat, slice bread, shape leather, skin fish, whittle wood, and more. You even use yours to great effect for protection. These are all noble purposes for the blade, but it can also be used for harm.

“If you’ve ever read in the paper about someone being taken hostage, you know that a criminal can easily put that same knife to the throat of another human being to hurt or even kill. Either way, that’s not why the knife was made, and it doesn’t mean the blade itself is evil. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“So you mean that we can all be tools for good or evil?”

“Exactly.” Paul beamed, looking very satisfied with himself for explaining his point.

And I just don’t have the heart to ask him my next question. Some things shouldn’t be said, but I have to wonder, if we’re tools, then who’s using us?

Chapter 15

D
elilah ignored the twinge in her arm and kept mixing flapjack batter. Miriam and Alisa deserved to sleep late for once. Besides, she wanted to do something, anything, for the Chance family to show how much she appreciated their hospitality and generosity, and the entire Chance family had voted her down when she’d insisted on transferring the store credit Reba had paid her for the painting.

The twinge grew to a full-fledged ache, and Delilah realized she’d been taking her frustrations out on the batter. She set down the bowl and began ladling the goopy stuff onto the skillet, still somewhat amazed to see it become a soft, solid pancake.

The truth of the matter was, she’d finally found a home complete with friends and even family, but it hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.

I want a home and family of my own
. She flipped a flapjack perfectly and smiled in satisfaction.
I’ve learned so much here that I’d make a good wife and mother. As long as I stay here, I’ll just be kind of an extra without a say in family business
. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Delilah wiped them away furiously and went after the last pancake.

Spluchh
. The source of the disheartening sound was one half-cooked flapjack now dangling from the ceiling. Delilah grabbed the mop, swiped the useless mess to the floor, and wiped up the sticky traces, then bent down to find the ornery little thing.

“Oh! Shortstack!” Delilah couldn’t suppress a giggle as the kitten gave a mighty shake to dislodge the well-traveled pancake, then daintily trotted around it, sniffing and mewing plaintively.

“I know, that’s not your breakfast.” Delilah set down a saucer of cream. “Don’t be so upset. You’re just lucky it didn’t land sticky side down on top of you. We’d never have gotten the batter out of your fur!”

“How much time have you been spending with Bryce?” Logan queried, obviously biting back a grin.

“As though you don’t talk to your horse,” Delilah shot back, knowing Logan shared Paul’s fondness for his mount.

“All right, all right. You’ve got me.” Everyone else wandered in and took their seats.

“Sure smells good.” Titus eyed the platter with interest.

“Flapjacks, bacon, and coffee. Can’t think of anything better.” Paul slid onto the bench beside Delilah. Logan said grace, then began passing around the food.

“Miriam, looks like you outdid yourself this morning,” Daniel praised, chopping Ginny Mae’s breakfast into tiny bites.

“We didn’t help.” Alisa drizzled syrup on her plate. “Delilah made all this by herself.” She stabbed a forkful and brought it to her lips, chewed for a moment, and proclaimed, “And it’s absolutely wo—” Turning faintly green, she clapped her hands over her mouth and ran out of the room.

Titus shot after her an instant later, followed by Miriam, who grabbed a damp towel. Everyone else stared suspiciously at their plates.

“I don’t understand,” Delilah spluttered. “I know the recipe by heart.” She frowned at the table, puzzled.

“I’m sure it’s something else.” Paul gallantly speared a bite and made as if to eat it when Delilah snatched it from his hand. Despite his bravado, even he seemed slightly relieved when Delilah swallowed with no apparent difficulty.

“They taste just fine to me.” The door opened, and Miriam walked in, holding the damp towel to Alisa’s forehead.

“Do you want to tell them?” Miriam tried to whisper, but her soft voice carried throughout the silent room. Alisa gave a faint shake of her head, apparently still not trusting herself to speak.

“That’s just fine.” Miriam patted Alisa’s shoulder and looked around. “Titus didn’t get back before we did?”

Just then, Titus banged the door and all but flew into the room. “I’m gonna be a daddy!” His smile could’ve lit the entire cabin, so brightly did his joy and pride shine.

After a chorus of congratulations, Miriam and Titus took a still-green Alisa back to her cabin to lie down for a bit.

“Hey! That means the food really is good!” At Bryce’s comment, the men grabbed their forks and dug in with gusto.

“I can’t believe Reba’s friend saw my painting and commissioned another one,” Delilah exclaimed as they drove toward the fishing hole. “I’m so excited, I can scarcely contain myself.”

“You’re a talented woman, Delilah. It doesn’t surprise me at all.” Paul watched with pleasure as Delilah expertly turned the horse around the last bend and brought them to a halt.

“Well done,” he praised.

“Thanks to you.” She smiled warmly as he helped her off the buckboard and they carried their supplies back to the fishing hole. “You’re an excellent teacher, Paul.”

Maybe in driving, but I haven’t gotten the real lesson across yet. We’ve spent so much time together, and every moment I grow to love her more. Lord, why do I feel as though time is running out? Miriam let me take the sling off the other day, and it won’t be long at all before I’m back out on the ranch with the other men. I’ll only see Delilah at meals or evening devotions. How do Gideon and Titus stand being away from Miriam and Alisa for so much of every day?

As soon as he’d asked the question, he knew the answer.

They knew their women would be waiting for them when they came back. Delilah liked it at Chance Ranch, but Paul could sense she didn’t see it as a permanent home. Besides that, Gideon and Titus could look forward to eternity with their mates, but Delilah still didn’t believe.

Lord, help me to reach her today. Please
.

“It’s amazing how different everything looks from just a few weeks ago.” Delilah set up her sketch pad, and her pencil fairly flew across the page.

The light green of spring had given way to deeper, richer shades. Wildflowers peeked out from the fresh-scented grass. Birds no longer fluttered around scavenging for twigs but rather sat cozily in their egg-filled nests, unseen but trilling sweetly. The leaves on the trees had grown and filled out the branches, blocking more of the sunlight and adding an air of cool mystery.

“In My time.”
The words rustled through the leaves in the breeze, and Paul knew he’d received his answer. Delilah might not accept the Lord today, but Paul needed to trust in his Creator’s plan.

He bowed his head.
Lord, what of the desires of my heart? Thou knowest it’s difficult for me to stand by. Forgive me for my doubts, Jesus. Give me words as Thou wouldst have me use them, and grant me patience to see them come to fruition. Give me strength to trust in Thy will. Amen
.

He’d been lost in his own thoughts for so long, Delilah had finished her sketch and was peering at him, looking concerned.

“What’s running through that head of yours, Paul?”

“How everything comes down to choices.”

“True.” She seemed to begin saying something but hesitated.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to be silent or vague,” he gently teased.

“I wanted to say that that’s one of the reasons I can’t put my trust in your God.” She spoke the words softly, seeming almost ashamed.

“When you give your life to the Lord, Delilah, He doesn’t make your choices for you. That’s why He gave mankind free will. It’s why we have to choose to accept His love in the first place.”

“And that’s why some people choose to do harm to others?”

“Yes.”

“Why would He even allow that to happen, then?” Her frustration showed in the way she clutched her pencil in her fist.

“If He just made us all to love Him immediately, it wouldn’t be a choice. It wouldn’t mean as much. Love has to be freely given, not forced.”

She stayed silent for a while, mulling that over.

“So our choices are to take His love or go to hell? Seems to me like He’s stacked the deck, Paul. Love Me or else—not much of a choice, is it?”

Oh, Father, how lost Delilah is! Help me to show her the way into Thy arms. She’s been hurt and sees things so differently
.

“That’s not the way to look at it. The truth of the matter is we’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, so we deserve death. God sent His Son to be the sacrifice so that if we choose to accept the magnitude of His love, we can live with Him forever and share His joy.”

“How have you sinned?” She looked at him shrewdly. “You’re a good man.”

“Every time I think a mean thought about another. Every time I shirked a chore to come to this fishing hole when I was young. Anytime I said anything less than the honest truth. How we live day to day is filled with small choices. No one chooses the right thing every single time. The Lord doesn’t call us to be perfect; He calls us to be the very best we can be. To look at ourselves and admit our faults and to actively try to be better.”