Worthy of Riches (5 page)

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

“I'm game.”

“After we get our room, can we go for a short ride? It would be a nice way to see some of the park.”

“Sure. If that's what you want.” Adam sounded disappointed, but he gave Laurel a gentle squeeze. “We'll do whatever you want.” He glanced at the log house and row of tents. “First we need to find our room.”

After getting their room assignment, Adam and Laurel walked hand in hand between the row of tents. Adam glanced at a piece of paper he'd been given. “Number 8,” he said, stopping in front of the one with a number eight painted on it. He set down his suitcase and stepped up to the door. Pulling open the flap, he peeked inside. “Not bad.” He caught Laurel in an embrace and kissed her. “Do you think we might postpone that ride? Just for a little while?”

“Maybe,” Laurel said, quaking inwardly. She was innocent and not quite sure what to expect. Should she be frightened?

He lifted her in his arms.

Laughing, Laurel dropped her suitcase with a loud thump. “What are you doing?”

“You're my bride, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I'm carrying my bride over the threshold. Isn't that how it's supposed to be done?” Circling her arms around his neck, Laurel leaned against Adam as he carried her into their temporary home.

The room was simple but comfortable. It contained two cots, each with a brightly colored quilt, a chest of drawers, a small table with two chairs, and a woodstove radiating heat. “How is this, Mrs. Dunnavant?” Adam asked.

“Fine. Just fine.”

Adam looked at the beds. “I guess they'll have to do.” Still holding Laurel, he crossed the room and sat on one.

Laurel remained in his arms. She'd wondered how she would feel at this moment. Now that it was here, she was aware of a deep longing for and devotion to her husband. This is how it was meant to be, man and woman together. A covenant created and blessed by God.

Looking into Adam's warm, blue eyes, she felt as if she were swimming in his love. She kissed him gently, slowly. Searching his face, she said, “I love you, Adam Dunnavant.”

“I love you.” Adam's voice trembled slightly. He held her tighter. “It scares me to think I almost lost you.”

“I'm not lost,” Laurel said smiling. “I've been found.”

“I'll be a good husband. I'll never hurt you.”

“You will. And I'll hurt you too. But after the hurts, we'll forgive and love.” Laurel kissed him again and again. “Maybe we can ride horses tomorrow. Would that be all right with you?”

Adam answered with a hungry kiss.

ADAM WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN AND SET A PAIL OF MILK ON THE COUNTER. “I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of milking. Seems the harder I try, the less milk comes out. Your father can milk four cows in the time it takes me to do one.”

Laurel kissed him. “You worry too much. It takes time to learn. You'll figure it out.” She set a plate of toast and eggs, along with a pitcher of milk, on the table. “Hope you're hungry. The hens have been busy.”

“I'm starved.” Adam sat at the table. “I figure I'll finish most of the plowing today. Might even get some of the vegetables in the ground.”

Laurel filled a glass with milk and set it in front of Adam. “Great, but eat first.” She pushed the platter of food toward him.

Adam slid three eggs onto his plate and took two pieces of buttered toast. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Laurel asked as she filled another glass with milk and sat across from Adam.

“Planting.”

“We need to think about frost. It's still early.” She took a bite of toast. “We can plant peas. The rutabagas and carrots are hardy, but we should wait another week or two before we put the cabbage and cauliflower starts in the ground.”

“I doubt we'll have any more freezes. Why don't we go ahead and plant them?”

Wearing an understanding smile, Laurel slowly shook her head no. “We could lose all of them if we get a freeze. We can't take the chance.”

“What about potatoes?”

“They should be all right.”

Adam ate in silence, then asked, “Has that bear been back to your parents' place?”

“I talked to Mama day before yesterday, and she said she hasn't seen it. Hopefully he won't visit again.”

“I haven't heard of any recent kills. Maybe the bear that was doing the damage has moved on. I hope so. It wouldn't take much to wipe out the few animals we have.”

Laurel returned the milk to the icebox. “Maybe you can start planting after lunch.”

Adam didn't respond. He stared at his plate. “I'll need you to show me how. I've never actually done it before.” He drained the last of his milk.

“I was planning to help. It'll be fun doing it together.”

“I'm beginning to think I wasn't cut out to be a farmer. I like being outdoors, and I like the physical labor, but I'm ignorant. I can't make a move without asking for help. You and your father have to show me the simplest things. I feel like a fool. I'm supposed to be helping your father, but I feel more like a nuisance.”

Laurel walked up behind Adam and draped her arms around his neck, resting her hands on his chest. “Why do you think you should know farming? You've never done it before.” Laurel moved to the chair beside him. “When you started working for the paper, did you begin as a reporter?”

“No.”

“So why would this be different?” She leaned against his arm. “Adam, I've lived on a farm since the day I was born. It's all I've ever known. Of course I know more than you.”

Adam took Laurel's hand and rested it against his cheek, then kissed it. “I know. It's just that for a long time I've been good at what I do.”

“I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry.” Laurel brushed back a strand of hair that had found its way onto Adam's forehead.

“I've got to go over to your folks' house this afternoon. Your dad needs help with the tractor.” He gave her a wry grin. “I'm not all that much help. I can't seem to make straight rows.”

Laurel patted his arm. “I just wish you didn't have to do so much. You've got work to do here. What about Luke? Can't he help?”

“He's swamped.”

She sighed. “It doesn't seem right—you having to work both places.”

“It's not for long. The doctor said your dad ought to get his cast off soon. I don't really mind. I just wish I were better at this.”

“Why don't I take care of the planting?”

“No. I want us to do it together, and I want to start this morning. I can finish the last of the plowing tomorrow.” He scooted his chair away from the table and carried his empty coffee mug to the sink. “I'll get the seed and tools and meet you outside.” He gave Laurel a lingering kiss. “Maybe we can have a picnic this afternoon before I go to help your dad?”

“Hmm. Sounds nice. I'll make sandwiches.”

“I don't know if we'll have time to eat them,” he said with a grin.

Exhausted and dirty, Adam came in from working long after supper time. He washed up, then sat at the table.

“I missed you at lunch.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” He downed a glass of water. “I had more to do than I thought. Dinner smells good.”

“It's not much. Just rabbit stew and biscuits.” Laurel set a bowl of stew and two biscuits in front of him.

“Looks good,” Adam said, dipping a spoon into the mix of meat and vegetables. He said little while he ate.

“Is something wrong, Adam? You look worried.”

“No. I'm fine,” Adam said, but he wasn't. He missed working for the
Tribune
—the busyness, the excitement of chasing down a story and then writing it. And as much as he hated to admit it, he missed the recognition that came with the job.

“No, you're not all right. I can see it in your face. Adam Dunnavant, you can't fool me.” Laurel folded her arms over her chest.

Adam set his spoon in his bowl. “All right. I didn't want to say anything. I know everything will work out. I just need a little time.”

“What is it?”

Adam took a slow breath. “You know I love it here, and I love being married to you. But… well, I miss writing. I feel like part of me is missing.” Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'm no good at
farming. I don't know anything about it. And even if I did, all our hard work could be lost in a day.”

“I thought we already talked about this.”

Adam gazed at Laurel. “We did. And I know it's going to take time, but…I'm afraid. What if I do it wrong and the crop is no good? What if the weather turns bad?”

Laurel circled her arms around her husband's waist. “We have to trust God. He hasn't taken his eyes off us. We aren't alone.”

Adam hugged her. “I'm trying, but it's not so easy. I can't even make a straight row with the tractor.”

“You're getting better. Your furrows are mostly straight these days.” Laurel grinned.

“It's not funny.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” She gave Adam a quick hug. “And I'm sorry you miss your writing.”

“What will I do if I can't adjust? Sometimes I'm not sure how I'll live without writing.”

Laurel was silent for a long moment, and Adam wished he hadn't said anything. Talking about how he felt wouldn't change anything. He'd chosen this life; now he needed to make the best of it.

Softly Laurel said, “I suppose you could try living without it, but if it's part of who you are …” She stepped back and averted her eyes. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“I'm sorry I said anything. Everything will work out just like you said. I'm too impatient, that's all. I'll get used to it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I will.”

“Have you thought about putting out a paper of your own right here in Palmer?”

“We already have one, the
Matanuska Valley Pioneer.”

“Well, you could have another one, a better one.”

“This town is too small for two papers.”

“Could you do any other kind of writing?”

“I've been doing some journaling, but it's not the same.” Adam pushed away the last of his stew. “I've thought about writing a novel.”

“A novel? Do you know how?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What would it be about?”

“I don't know exactly. I haven't gotten that far.”

“I think it's a wonderful idea. It could be about a very handsome man who leaves the city to live in the Alaskan wilderness where he meets the woman of his dreams.”

“Hmm, sounds like a good story. How does it end?”

“It has a happy ending, of course. The hero becomes a real Alaskan pioneer, and he and his wife live happily ever after with their five children.”

“Sounds nice.” Adam yawned. “I'm beat.” He kissed Laurel gently. “I'm going to bed. I'm supposed to go fishing with Luke in the morning.”

“Oh, Adam. You're already so tired.”

He shrugged. “I told him I had to work, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so we're going early—four o'clock.”

“I'll set the alarm, and I'll make a basket of food for you and set it on the back porch.”

“Thanks.” Adam headed up the stairs.

The night passed too quickly. Still exhausted, Adam rolled over and shut off the clanging alarm. Longing for a couple more hours of sleep, he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling while he waited for his mind to wake up. Glancing out the window, he could see sunlight-touched clouds and wondered if he'd ever adjust to the long summer days. Yawning, he stretched, rolled onto his side, and dropped his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Are you going now?”

“Uh-huh. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Do you want breakfast? I can make you some.” Laurel pushed back the blanket.

“No. Go back to sleep. I'll grab something.”

“How about coffee?”

“Is there some left from last night?”

“Uh-huh,” Laurel said groggily.

“I'll warm it up.”

Laurel pulled the blanket up under her chin. “Don't forget the basket.”

“I won't.” Adam crossed the cold floor and grabbed his pants off the back of a chair. He pulled them on, then put on a work shirt. Taking a pair of socks from his drawer, he sat on the edge of the bed and dragged them over his feet, then stepped into boots, quickly lacing them.

He stared at Laurel. She was beautiful, even this early in the morning. Auburn hair spilled over her pillow and onto her shoulders. Long lashes caressed her cheeks, and a half smile touched her lips. He bent and kissed her cheek, then brushed the hair off her forehead and pressed his lips against her cool skin, longing to stay with her.

She smiled and murmured, “I love you.”

“I'll be back soon,” Adam said, straightening and pulling on his jacket. He glanced out the window. “Looks cold. I'll be expecting a pot of coffee when I get home,” he teased and headed for the stairs.

He stopped in the kitchen just long enough to add wood to the embers in the stove, then grabbed the basket and walked out into a chilly morning. The grasses and spindly willows growing alongside the porch glistened with dew. After getting his rod and reel from the barn, Adam set them in the back of his pickup and headed for the Haspers'.

A disheveled, sleepy-eyed Luke met him at the door. “You ready?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” Luke said, sounding uncertain. He dropped onto the bench beside the door and pulled on boots and laced them. He glanced at Adam, scrubbed his face with his hands, then stood and lifted his jacket off its hook and shrugged into it. He yawned broadly. Stepping outside, he gazed at the gray sky. “Perfect weather for fishing. No rain, no sun.” Pulling the door closed, he followed Adam to the truck.