The baby pounded his spoon eagerly against the countertop, and Layla took that as an affirmation. As she moved around the room, she glanced at the back door. The sun was low in the sky, but it hadn’t set yet. It was just about when Mark would be coming home, and she hurried to get the cake cooking.
Once that chore was done, she pulled items from the fire and plated them. She arranged Heath’s meal first, as she always allowed it cool so he wouldn’t burn himself when he dug into it. Once his plate was ready with bite-sized pieces of chicken, potatoes, and a spoonful of vegetables, Layla carried it to the table.
When she came back into the kitchen, she announced to Heath, “All right, little man. Let’s get you in the dining room to eat. Your daddy should be home at any moment, and Layla wants everything to be perfect.”
“Dada! LaLa!” Heath shouted exuberantly. Layla gently took the wooden spoon from his tiny hand as he waved it about wildly.
“We’ll just move you into the next room, and Dada should arrive before long. We’ll take supper to my daddy a little later. He’s still in bed, but I’m hoping he’ll be up and around soon. What do you think, Heath?”
Heath made small sounds to agree in his own way. Layla moved Heath and his chair back to the dining room then brought him his plate so he could start eating. She didn’t like to leave him alone very long, so she worked quickly in the kitchen, getting all the food plated for Mark and herself.
Finally, sat and folded her hands in her lap. “This smells good,” Layla told Heath as she dipped her head and took a long whiff of the chicken with the gravy ladled over it.
Heath picked up a small piece of potato and put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. His expression was severe as he ate, and Layla giggled at him. She was positively giddy, waiting for Mark. It seemed that Heath was enjoying his meal, and she hoped that Mark would like it, too.
After watching Heath eat for a few minutes, her giddiness subsided, replaced with unease. “Where’s Daddy?” Layla asked Heath, who didn’t respond, busying picking up a pea with his little fingers. “I’ll be right back,” Layla called over her shoulder to Heath as she walked toward the kitchen. She opened the back door to peer around the yard, but Mark wasn’t in the garden and wasn’t striding across the expanse that separated the homestead from the farm area.
“Mark!” Layla called out, hoping that he might hear her and respond. As the sun was almost nearly set now, the light was low, and she struggled to see anything. She knew she very well could be missing him. Shouting his name again, the wind whipped around her, moving sand over her boots. She shivered. Standing in the doorway a moment, she tried to listen closely just in case he answered her.
When no response came, Layla shrugged her shoulders. She resigned to return to Heath, who had moved on to eating his carrots. Slumped into her chair, she sighed. “Where can he be? I wonder if he’s still coming?” Layla told Heath, and for a moment, the baby stopped eating. He tipped his head as though he heard something in the distance but then reached for his plate again to eat a small, cut piece of the chicken.
As the baby chewed noisily, she stared down at her plate. “No point letting all this go to waste,” she said, disappointed. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she prayed. “Thank you for the food I am about to receive and for all your generous gifts. Please continue to watch over this family. In your name, we pray, Amen.” She hesitated once more for Mark as Heath made smacking noises with his lips as he tasted the salty roasted potatoes. Layla took a bite of her potatoes, and they were delicious. Peeking over at Mark’s empty chair, she couldn’t help but wonder what had become of him. He was so particular about observing proper mealtimes; it wasn’t like him to be late.
She ran another potato through the gravy. “Yum,” Layla murmured. The peppery sauce tickled her tongue, and she thought of how much Mark would have loved this meal. Her dark eyebrows were contracting when Heath made a sound.
“Yum,” Heath mimicked. Layla giggled, and Heath echoed her in that way, too. She scooped Heath’s food into a mound so he could pick at it a little more easily, but even as she enjoyed her meal with the baby, her mind returned to Mark.Where can he be?she thought. It was so unlike him to be this late.
Heath continued picking through the food, and Layla did the same to her own plate. She was famished, but her stomach was twisted into knots. Part of her felt like she needed to go out searching for Mark, but the other part knew that it was best to stay here with Heath and keep their routine intact. “What do you say we finish our supper, and then we check on that cake, Heath?”
“Yum,” the little boy answered back.
“Hopefully, by then, your daddy will be home,” Layla added quietly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mark breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth, forcing himself to control his temper. Mr. Calhoun, the store proprietor that was supposed to supply Mark with equipment, waited behind the counter as Mark tried his best to compose himself. Mr. Calhoun, like Mark, was a transplant to the area. Whereas Mark had matriculated from Ohio, Mr. Calhoun had left Texas to come to Arizona. He had been in business for about two and a half years, and Mark had, until this very moment, trusted the man implicitly.
Taking off his black hat, Mark ran a hand through his dark hair. He needed an extra second to calm down. “The way I see it, Mr. Calhoun, you and I had a deal. I agreed to pay you the amount you requested today, Monday, December seventeenth, as long as you presented me with the equipment I need for my farm.”
“Yahsir, Mista Flint,” Mr. Calhoun said, and his accent more pronounced as he became more agitated. “We did ‘ave an agreement, as you stated just now. You came in here-ah on the first of December, and you tole me whatcha wanted and how much you was willin’ to pay—”
“Yes,” Mark said, unable to stop himself from interjecting. “We made a deal, and I shook your hand. You said the equipment would come in today, and I made a special trip into town so I could pick it up.”
“Tha’s right, Mistah Flint. Tha’s what happened back on December the first. But I got a letta from you a week later. In the letta, you tole me that you ‘ad decided to take ya business elsewhere. I hafta tell ya, Mistah Flint, I was mighty angry. I hadda rush to cancel ya order on time and avoid bein’ charged.”
“But I didn’t cancel that order,” Mark protested furiously, pounding his fist on the countertop, and the little nuts and bolts resting on top rattled in their containers.
Mr. Calhoun eyed Mark dubiously. With his thick fingers, he adjusted the jars that held the nuts and bolts. He shifted his large white hat before speaking. “I don’t know what ta tell ya, Mistah Flint. I got a letta from ya, and I had to scramble ta—”
“The letter. The letter you say I sent you. Show it to me,” Mark was exasperated. “I know I never wrote such a thing, and if I can just get a look at it, then I will be able to—”
“I’m ‘fraid I don’ have that letta anymo’, sir. I threw it out once I managed to get everythin’ squared away with the supplia.” Mr. Calhoun lifted his head proudly as though this was the only logical thing to do with Mark’s correspondence and challenged Mark to disagree.
Mark shook his head vigorously, trying to decide what he would have done if it had been him. He looked Mr. Calhoun straight in the eye as he wasn’t sure. “But what I am supposed to do now? I’ve got animals that need tending and fields that need to be sown. I needed that equipment you promised.”
“I’ma sorry ‘bout all this, Mistah Flint. I can try ta order it all again, but it’ll take a coupla weeks afore the supplia down at the station can get it here.”
Mark made a disgruntled face and rubbed his hand roughly over the back of his neck. He rocked his head from side to side, trying to force himself to relax. “That would be fine, Mr. Calhoun. I’d appreciate it if you could get those items as soon as possible,” Mark said. He pushed away from the counter to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and Mr. Calhoun, do me a favor—don’t cancel that order unless I come into this store and tell you directly that I no longer want the equipment.”
