Chapter Thirteen
Erna perched on the edge of a wooden chair by the window, her gaze drifting over the vast expanse of rolling plains that stretched beyond Faith and Kane’s homestead. The landscape, usually so comforting with its endless waves of golden grass, seemed today to accentuate the chasm between her and Joel.
“Erna, honey, you’ll wear a hole in that floor if you keep pacing,” Faith’s gentle voice cut through the stillness, laced with concern.
Erna offered a faint smile, her eyes never leaving the horizon. “Just thinking is all,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the delicate patterns on the glass pane.
“Joel’s just as lost without you, I’m sure,” Faith said, sitting beside her twin with a quilt square in hand, the needle gliding effortlessly through the fabric.
A sigh escaped Erna’s lips, a whisper of the ache that clung to her chest. “I miss him, Faith. More than I thought possible.”
Meanwhile, a short distance away, Joel leaned against a sturdy fence post, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of solitude. The ranch, once a symbol of his dreams fulfilled, now felt like an empty shell.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he muttered to himself, the words rough around the edges but steeped in regret. His calloused hands clenched into fists, then relaxed as he remembered her laughter, bright and clear like the tinkling of a bell.
Joel straightened up and wiped the back of his hand across his brow. He turned and gazed at the small house, each window reflecting the setting sun like a beacon of hope.
ERNA BROWN SAT AT THEedge of her sister’s bed, fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery of the quilt covering it.
“Joel’s smile,” she murmured, allowing herself a small smile in return. That grin of his could cut through any worry, make the world seem right for a while.
At the ranch, miles apart from Erna, Joel Trinity stood alone in what remained of their ranch. His eyes traced the charred remains where his cattle had thrived. He thought for a moment about asking for help from Erna’s sisters’ husbands, but he knew they were stretched thin helping Aaron while he was in the hospital. He ran a hand over the rough wood of the fence.
“She always had the gentlest touch,” he thought, recalling how Erna’s fingers felt against his skin—soft, caring, bringing joy into simple moments. Their small crafts scattered around the house had been tokens of that tenderness. She was gone, but he knew she’d be back because she couldn’t leave anything half-done. Not his Erna!
“Did she think I saw her as fragile?” Joel wondered, his thoughts drifting back to the day the fires came, licking at the edges of their land, consuming everything in its path. He’d been off trying to help Aaron, and he’d let his own lands burn.
“Could I have protected her better?” Joel asked, kicking at the scorched earth. His past, filled with hardship, had taught him to be tough. But providing for Erna meant more than just hard work—it meant creating a sanctuary for them both. Had his hands, so accustomed to the struggle, failed to build the security she deserved?
He let out a sigh that stirred the dust at his feet, pondering the distance between them—not just the physical distance, but the spaces in their hearts. “I should’ve told her more... about how she made this place a home.”
As the last rays of sunlight faded, Erna rose from the bed, her resolve strengthening like the evening stars appearing one by one. “I won’t be the delicate flower,” she whispered, daring to believe they could weather any storm together.
Joel lifted his gaze to the emerging night sky, a quiet promise forming in his chest. “I’ll rebuild, for us,” he vowed, the spark of hope flickering anew.
“I’VE GOT TO FIX THIS,” Erna whispered to herself, the determination in her words stronger than the doubt that shadowed them. She loved her husband, and there was no real reason for them to be apart.
Meanwhile, Joel leaned on an old fence post, the wood rough against his calloused palm. The setting sun cast long shadows across the land, painting everything in hues of orange and purple. It was quiet without Erna’s presence. He closed his eyes, letting the memories flood in. He could almost hear her laughter. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, but it soon faded, the reality of their separation settling back in.
“Can’t let pride stand in the way anymore,” he said out loud to the open fields, as if speaking the words might make them more real.
Back at Faith’s house, Erna’s heart ached with each beat. Why couldn’t he see she was strong enough to be there working to get the ranch back in order with him?
“Enough of this nonsense,” she resolved, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, just as Joel liked it.
Joel rubbed his forehead, his thoughts turning inward. “Time to talk, really talk,” he decided, his voice firm against the whispering wind.
ERNA PERCHED ON THEedge of a quilt-covered bed. Faith had always been the one with an eye for sewing. It was nice to be with her sister, but not under these circumstances. She needed to go home.
Erna’s heart ached, yearning for the familiar cadence of Joel’s footsteps approaching, a sound that promised the end of another day’s labor and the beginning of an evening’s peace.
JOEL LOOKED OUT OVERhis land. The ranch, once teeming with life and laughter, now stood desolate. He cast a glance at the scorched fields, the charred remains of their hard work and shared hopes. Regret sat heavy on his shoulders, a burden that bowed his head and furrowed his brow.
A gust of wind stirred the air, carrying whispers of sorrow across the plains. Joel closed his eyes. The longing for Erna’s presence, the gentle caress of her hand against his cheek, gnawed at his insides like a hunger he could never satisfy.
“Erna,” he said, the name coming out like a prayer. Without Erna, the ranch was just land, the house just timber and nails. She was the heartbeat of it all.
ERNA’S FINGERS PAUSEDon the damp cloth she had been using to dab at her eyes. She took a deep breath, the kindthat reached down to her very soul, and let it out slowly, as if expelling the doubt that had clouded her heart. The Texas sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft pink, a daily masterpiece that whispered promises of new beginnings.
