“I can’t. I can’t.” She wrenched the door open and rushed inside, closing it and then collapsing against it.
Father Stone entered the kitchen and drew to a halt. “Addie, is something wrong?”
Wrong? Yes, more than she could fathom. Nash was right in thinking something warm and special had developed between them in those sweet, innocent days before the truth had been revealed. Now those moments had been snatched away. Gone the way of her parents. Nothing left but memories both good and sad.
She straightened. “Mr. Burns brought the news that the murdering man was hung last night.” Each word stung her tongue. “Excuse me.” She crossed to her room and closed the door.
Why did Nash have to be Morton Sturm’s son? That fact built an impenetrable wall between them.
She pulled her journal out and opened the pages. Then she closed it and put it away without writing anything. What could she say to her parents? And what did she expect they would say? They weren’t able toanswer. To comfort and guide her. Thanks to Nash’s father.
As she returned to the kitchen, her shoulders sagged despite her best efforts to hold them up. Mother was already busy at the stove. So Addie set the table and helped with breakfast preparation. The familiar work did little to ease her.
With Mary at her side, rubbing her eyes and yawning, Mrs. Hammel emerged. “Thank you for washing and mending my dress.” Her hands smoothed down the fabric. “And taking care of—” She jabbed a finger toward the wound in her side. “And us.”
Mother flew to her side. “No one would fault you if you stayed in bed today.”
“No. I have things to take care of.” Mrs. Hammel glanced toward Father Stone where he sat at the head of the table nursing a cup of coffee. “A funeral?”
“I’ll take care of the details,” Father assured her.
Her nervous fingers worried her bodice. “I’ll need something else to wear.”
“I must go to the mining camps today. Can I bring you something?”
Mrs. Hammel hesitated, then shook her head. “This is something I must do on my own. But if I may leave Mary here?—”
Mother didn’t let her finish. “We’d be happy to entertain Mary.”
A few minutes later, they gathered around the table for the meal.
As was his custom, Father opened his Bible to read a Scripture when they’d finished eating. “I think this is timely. ‘To console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment ofpraise for the spirit of heaviness.’” His expression gentle, his eyes kind, he spoke to Mrs. Hammel. “I know it’s too early for you to see how this is possible—joy for mourning, praise instead of heaviness—but it is because of God’s unfailing love. Look for it, reach for it, expect it, and welcome it.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Hammel murmured. “I will do my best.” She choked back a sob as she squeezed Mary’s hand. “I have a very good reason to move forward.”
A reason to move forward. That’s what Addie wanted…needed. Something besides helping the Stones with their charity work.
Her insides wailed as she thought of the house Nash had described. She pushed aside the idea and bowed her head as Father prayed.
Then she lost herself in an active day—unpacking and sorting out the kitchen to familiarize themselves with the contents and preparing food for the funeral. Ladies came by to welcome them to the community and to express their condolences to Mrs. Hammel. And they brought food.
Mrs. Hammel arranged for someone to take her to her cabin and returned with her belongings. “I brought everything. Do you mind if I keep it here while I decide what I’m going to do?”
Mother said, of course, she didn’t mind. “Don’t be hasty to make decisions. You need to allow yourself time to mourn.”
Mrs. Hammel’s eyes grew watery. “I’ll do my mourning in private.”
The funeral was the next day. Mrs. Hammel put on a brave face for her little daughter but carried a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
Addie sat near the front of the church beside Mother. People crowded into the sanctuary. Many of thoseattending probably came out of curiosity. They wanted to see how a woman whose husband had been murdered looked. Addie could have informed them that the changes were on the inside. Like anger and sorrow and pain and regret and?—
Unforgiveness?
Was she guilty of that?
The service ended, and she followed Mrs. Hammel down the aisle. She glanced at the crowd as they left, wondering if she’d see a familiar face.
Nash wasn’t there. Well, she didn’t expect he would be. No doubt he’d gone to his ranch and the horses he expected to be delivered.
