Except sitting here brought memories of the many times he’d watched Ma in this place.
“The barn door was open, and as I moved about inside the building, brushing the horse and talking to him, I glanced out and saw Ma and Mrs. Morrow bent forward, their hands clasped in front of them. I knew they were praying. Knew, too, that praying with Ma would ease her burden, whatever it was.”
“That’s a wonderful tribute to your mother. She sounds like she had a strong faith, one that others could count on.” Amelia held the delicate blush-colored blossom to her nose, and the color reflected in her cheeks.
Oops, he was staring. Zach shifted his attention to the flowers strewn across the hillside. Some reason existed that compelled him to tell Amelia of this incident. Of course. Now he remembered.
“I was cleaning up in the barn when I heard them. They sat on the hill singing loudly, exuberantly, as if they couldn’t contain their excitement. Or perhaps it was joy.”
“What did they sing?” Amelia considered him over the flower the breeze tapped to her nose.
“I don’t recall everything, but I’m pretty sure they sang that song, you know the one. ‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow.’” The words ended up sung. Satisfaction—or was it trust?—rose inside him. “Mrs. Morrow went back to town a changed and encouraged woman.” Could he do less than honor his mother by resting in God’s promises to take care of them all?
Even through trying times.
Or should he say, especially in hard times.
Amelia focused on the flowers,the bright patch of bluebells, little white trumpet-shaped flowers, yellow daisylike flowers, and pink ones with five flat petals. “I wish I knew the names of all of these.” She kept her head down, not wanting him to see the ache in her eyes. Hearing about his mother had filled her with a sense of missing and longing. To belong, yes. To be safe and secure, yes. But more. To be loved as she had been as a child. But Poppy’s needs came first. She had to give the child a permanent home even if it meant marrying a farmer from the Dakotas.
“I made the best of life at Grandmother’s. I’ll do the same in the Dakotas.” She murmured the words to herself. Tears stungher eyes, and she picked another pink flower in order to keep her gaze away from Zach. He didn’t need to know how much she missed her own ma. She didn’t need sympathy.
What she wanted—all she wanted—was a permanent, safe home.
Zach was not prepared to offer that. She’d seen his intent to put his arm around her and had shied away. She didn’t welcome such advances if they meant nothing.
She’d come west expecting to enter into marriage with him, knowing full well that it involved physical intimacy. But she wasn’t prepared to offer any favors outside of marriage. No matter how desperate her situation became, she would not follow Callie’s example.
Nor Debra’s. She would not run away from disappointment and pain.
“What do you remember of your ma?”
His question shattered her intention of putting the past behind her. Memory after memory swept over her. The details poured forth as if from an overturned water bucket.
“One of my earliest memories is of Mama praying by my bedside. I’d been sick. Mama told me afterward that they feared for my life. Every night, she’d knelt by my bed and asked God to spare my life.” Her heart warmed to a smile. “That night, the one I remember, I touched her face. She jerked up and stared at me, and then started hugging me and crying. Pa came in to see what was going on, and he hugged us both and kept saying, ‘Praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.’”
Now it was Amelia’s turn to cry over the memory of such love. She wiped away the tears before Zach noticed and hurried on with another memory.
“I remember Mama sitting up late one Saturday night as she finished a dress for Debra. It was such pretty fabric. Blue with sprigs of white flowers. She was going to wear it to churchand then go to a friend’s place. That was her twelfth birthday.” Amelia sat up. “My parents were dead a few months later.”
She breathed deeply to calm her trembling and focused again on better memories. “Mama made the best socks and mittens. Her needles clicked away the winter hours as Pa read aloud to us. I can almost hear her laughing at the funny parts of a story. She tsked when a character did something foolish. I’d even catch her wiping away a tear when something sad happened.”
“Do you recall any of the books your pa read?”
She laughed. “I do. We all enjoyedSwiss Family Robinson, butGoody Two-Shoeswas a favorite of mine. I asked to have it read over and over.” She turned to him, her eyes brimming with warmth. “It’s a fable about Goody Two-Shoes, the nickname of a poor orphan Margery Meanwell, who has only one shoe. When a rich man gives her a complete pair, she is so happy that she tells everyone that she has ‘two shoes.’ Later, she becomes a teacher and marries a rich widower.” A sigh breathed from Amelia’s churning insides. “She had such a happy-ever-after ending.” Her throat clogged, so she couldn’t continue. Amelia Pressly had led a good life. Didn’t she deserve her own happy ending?
But she would settle for Poppy’s acceptance and security for them both. Something she’d thought to find here with Zach and his family.
To divert herself, she knelt amongst the flowers, admiring them one by one.
In the time it took to do so, the sunset streaked the sky with a riot of colors. At length, she pushed to her feet.
Zach sat on the slope, watching her.
“We need to get back.” She crossed to his side. She’d lingered too long and enjoyed the time far too much. She couldn’t be building dreams in the clouds here. They must be saved for the Dakota farmer, should he be interested.
They fell into step as they returned to the house. She thanked Kat for watching Poppy.
“Gil and Pa have both gone to bed.” Kat yawned.
