“Why is that?” She almost feared his answer.
He put the stool down and took a seat. He held his hands out to the fire. “I’m not young anymore. Try as I might to be just as limber and active as I was ten years ... even five years ago, my body is less inclined to cooperate with me.”
“Is that why you’ve been talking about settling down?”
Her father gave a sigh. “That and other reasons.”
He glanced around, causing Eleanor to do likewise. Mr. Stanton and the boys were seeing to their final check on the horses, and Mr. Grinnell had already gone to his tent. From the illumination shining through the canvas flaps, it looked like he was probably reading or writing.
Eleanor looked at her father. “Is something wrong?”
He sighed again. “Not really, and yet...” He said nothing for several minutes. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but I received another telegram as we left.” He sighed. “It’s best to just come out with it. We’ve had some bad investments, Ellie. We’re not without funds, so don’t worry overmuch, but we need to be reasonable. I think it would be wise for us to buy a little house before there are any more financial downturns. And I do want to write. I’ve had several offers from publishers in New York, and one in London. I couldmake a decent wage and perhaps make up for some of the loss.”
Finally, an explanation for his strange behavior. Why hadn’t he shared this burden sooner? “Are you worried, Father?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression impossible to read. “Only for you. I have done you no favor in keeping you from a normal life of marriage and children.”
Eleanor picked a leaf off her skirt. Father’s concern made sense in light of his confession, but still. Why was everyone so fixated on her marital state? “You haven’t kept me from that. I’ve chosen to delay it, but I haven’t given up the idea of a family of my own. I’m only twenty-four.”
“I suppose it was your former beau marrying that gave me pause.”
When Father sat back, Eleanor got a good look at his face in the firelight. Her breath caught in her throat. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, making him look wearier than she’d ever seen him.
“My child, I want to see you happily settled with someone and feel that perhaps you’ve told yourself that you can’t do that just yet. Because of taking care of me ... working at my side.”
She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. How could she help him understand that these years with him were treasured memories that she would always hold dear? “Traveling and enjoying the chance to experience amazing things?” She laughed and let go of his hand. “Father, I’ve had a wonderful life with you. When I think of all that I’ve had achance to do and see, I know that I’m blessed beyond what most people experience.”
“Blessed.” He whispered the word like a prayer. “Your mother always used that word. She talked all the time of how blessed she was. Even on her deathbed.”
That had never made sense to her. “I couldn’t understand how a woman in such dire pain could call herself blessed.”
“I’m beginning to think that perhaps she had the secrets to it all, Ellie. Perhaps I’ve been blind. Blinded by my own desires and ambitions. I didn’t want there to be any restrictions to what I could or couldn’t do. Having a relationship with God definitely restricts.”
Another memory of her mother made its way to the forefront of her mind. “Mama said it was liberating to belong to God. I never understood her logic and reasoning. After she was gone, it was hard to grasp. It seemed that, if you accepted God’s ways and rules, you were bound to a regimen that required constant scrutiny and precision.”
Father nodded. “I felt the same. I must admit we had many discussions about it, but your mother never got angry. I’ve seen grown men come to blows over religious views, but your mother was at peace. I told her once that I had trouble believing there was a God, and she only promised to pray harder for me that God would help me in my unbelief. She wasn’t oppressive or difficult. Never threatening as some could be.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze fixed on some far-off spot in the sky.
Eleanor looked away, Father’s wistful expression tugging at her heart. Even now, the love he had for Mama permeated his features. Eleanor plucked a blade of grass from the ground, threading it through her fingers. “Mama was gentlein her faith. I suppose the last few days have caused me to ponder Him all the more. Ever since Mama died, I felt He was harsh and unfeeling—unkind, and yet I always felt He was there ... somewhere.”
Father fell silent, then looked at her. “Yes. I agree. Your mother helped me to feel it too. With her absence ... I pushed Him away. I was so angry I gave it my best to be a full-fledged atheist.” He chuckled. “It didn’t work. How could it when I was angry at Him? So I did the next best thing and declared that I didn’t need God.”
Eleanor understood those feelings all too well. Except, being here in the mountains, and reading Marvella’s letter almost every day, the anger was abating. Still, her heart ached for understanding. “When Mother got sick, I prayed for her healing, but it seemed so hollow—so empty. I watched her grow worse and worse. I couldn’t fathom why a good and loving God would allow for such a thing, and then ... she was gone.”
The silence stretched between them. Had she shared too much? Been too honest? She worried her lip and waited for Father to say something. Anything.
Finally, he let out a long breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your grief during that time. And to be honest, I didn’t know what to do. Your mother was so good with you, helping you with your emotions and feelings. Especially about God. I was completely lost.” Her father’s voice was barely audible.
Thick cotton seemed to have coated her throat. Grief over her mother’s death and thankfulness for her father’s vulnerability sat heavy in her heart. “But you did help me, Father.” Her smile trembled. “You showed me how to putone foot in front of the other and move forward, even when our hearts were breaking.”
His expression softened as he gazed at her. “Have I told you lately that you grow more lovely, more like her every day?”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes. It had been a long time since he’d complimented her like that. “Thank you, Father.”
“In personality, too. Your mother was sweet and loving, but she was also full of life and didn’t mind sharing her opinion.”
Really? Eleanor couldn’t remember that side of her mother. She’d welcome a memory like that rather than the memories of Mother on her sickbed. That he saw bits of Mama’s personality in her was a compliment she would cherish.
Silence fell between them again, but this time it felt a bit lighter. Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, and the sounds of the forest came to life. The chirp of crickets was like a symphony surrounding camp. In the distance, owls hooted back and forth, their call and response echoing to the sky. The heat of the fire was waning, a sure sign they should be readying for bed, but she didn’t want this conversation to end.
