Amethyst (19 page)

Once inside again he pushed a rolled-up rug tight against the door to keep out the wind and blowing snow. The windows were all frost-covered, as bad inside as out. Dark had fallen by three o’clock, not that there’d been much daylight. While he and Joel had slept in the soddy last night, he was grateful he’d not insisted they set out again. Besides, this way there was someone else in the house to help keep the fires burning.

When he crawled into bed with a hot rock at his feet and the warming pan had proved its worth, he wished he’d brought his Bible from the soddy.
Lord God, thou who seest all, protect us by the power of your mighty hand. Thank you for this snug house to keep us from the storm. Please take care of Opal and her family
.

“Pa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I call her Auntie Colleen like I always have?”

“Not at all.” Jacob still thrilled every time his son referred to him as Pa. Since they’d known of each other less than a year, there had been a lot of adjustments to be made. When he left his parish in Pennsylvania and fled west with his newfound son at his side, they’d not talked much. They’d not liked each other too well at first, but their new life had been good for both of them. And God put them here at the Robertsons’ at a time when they were sorely needed after Ward Robertson’s death.

“Good. I’m glad she’s staying. You’ll like her when you get to know her.”

“I’m sure I will.” Talk about a surprise—Miss O’Shaunasy showing up like that to claim his son for her nephew.
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!”
The couplet floated through his mind. One of these days Joel was going to start asking some rather embarrassing questions, and he needed to be ready with some honest answers. Ah, the consequences of a thoughtless night of passion. Well, not thoughtless. Before it happened, he’d thought of nothing else. Then he spent the rest of his years after Melody disappeared trying to ignore what he’d done.

Lord God, I know Melody is with you. How desperate she was and in such terrible pain. I cannot blame her for what she did, and I thank you that she had the presence of mind to bring this boy to me first. I never thought I would say that, but then, I do not pretend to understand your ways. Bless us, Father, in Jesus’ name. Amen
. He rolled onto his side, listening to the wind and straining to hear the gentle breaths of his son beside him. How was Joel feeling this first Christmas without his mother? He had grown up so much, but he never mentioned her.

He woke some time later and, pulling his pants on over his long johns, headed for the kitchen to stoke the stoves again. He’d just finished turning down the dampers so that the wood would burn more slowly when Mrs. Robertson joined him.

“You didn’t need to get up,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t sure if I heard you out here or if it was the storm. Thank you.” She walked before him back to the cold bedrooms.

Grateful for his son’s warmth, Jacob crawled back under the covers.
Lord, please wake me again. This was just the right time
.

The next time he woke, he fed the fires again and decided to stay up. He checked the shelves, and sure enough, the Robertson family Bible held a place of honor. After lighting a kerosene lamp, he pulled a rocker close to the kitchen stove, opened the oven, put his feet up on the door, and basked in the warmth. Even hot as his feet soon were, the cold drafts on the back of his neck made him fetch his muffler and throw it over his shoulders. He turned to the Gospels, reading the miracles that Jesus performed, and then stopped at the verse, “Greater works than these will you do because I go to the Father.”
He made the blind see, the lame walk, drove out demons, and yet He says greater works are we to do. Lord, what am I missing here? You say all things come by faith
. He flipped to another passage. “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say to this mountain, remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.”
Heavenly Father, I want to take you at your word. I want that kind of faith, but where do I find it?
He leaned his head against the back of the rocker.
I’m sure, like everything, it grows, so I ask for faith seeds. I feel you are calling me, that you brought me here to Medora for a reason. Well, for many reasons, most likely. If I am to pastor this group of people, I need more—more knowledge, more wisdom, and most of all, more faith. I ran before. I will not run again
.

The picture of Opal in her glorious blue gown flashed before his eyes. How that sight had set his heart to hammering.
But I cannot hurry time either. Rand made it clear I can say nothing to her of how I feel until she turns sixteen, a full year from May
. Plenty of time to learn discipline—and to love her more each day. He refused to allow thoughts of her not loving him back to take up residence in his mind.
If she is to be my wife, I have to leave it all in your hands. I want to trust you
. In spite of Atticus. He’d overheard her telling one of the girls that she’d told her friend Atticus she would be here when he returned.

Nothing like a little competition.

Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with Edith? She so obviously was willing for me to court her.
He had told Mrs. Robertson that he had no romantic feelings for Edith and didn’t want to hurt her feelings any more than he already had. He knew the girl had been sent off to help her older sister as a means to make things easier on her in the long run.

So he had to wait for Opal to grow up.

“You didn’t stay out here all night?” Mrs. Robertson entered the room, tying on her apron.

“No, not at all, but the last time I added wood to the stove, I thought I could use the time more wisely than sleeping it away.”

“Ah yes. Any time spent in the Word is more valuable than sleeping. That’s what saved my life after Ward was killed. I’d sit here just like you are and find the comfort our Father promises. I memorized Psalm 91 so that I would always remember I am safe in the shadow of His wings. He orders our footsteps. He decides how many days we have on this earth. My job is to give Him praise and glory.”

“And to love one another. Thank you for the reminder.”

“That too.”

“You have shown that love to Joel and me, making us part of your family. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Hard as you work is more than sufficient thanks. I was hoping to be able to pay you wages by now, but with this storm—blizzards and cold like this are hard on range cattle. I thank God I listened to Rand and sold off the steers rather than keeping some of them another year.”

“He’s a wise man and listens to God’s prompting.” Jacob recognized wisdom when he saw it.

Mrs. Robertson poured the coffee into the pot, then added water and two whole eggs in the shells.

“Why do you add the eggs?”

“So we have something to eat along with our coffee. They’ll be done when the coffee is.”

“I see. My mother used to throw in eggshells when she took the boiling coffee off the stove. Said it made the grounds settle.”

“I’ve heard that.” Cora set a frying pan on the stove and, taking a pan of cornmeal cooked the night before and left to set in loaf pans, removed a loaf and sliced it to fry. With a dollop of bacon grease from the canister on the warming shelf, she moved the frying pan to the hotter part of the stove and laid the slices of mush in the pan to sizzle and snap.

“As soon as it dies down some, I’ll get on out to the barn with water for the animals.”

“The animals are not nearly as important as your life.”

The words lay there, an edict or a challenge. Jacob watched Mrs. Robertson go about her cooking as if the matter were settled.

“I can’t see letting them die for lack of water.” He smiled when she poured him a cup of coffee and handed him a shelled boiled egg in a bowl. “Thanks.”
Surely I can get to the barn and back with the rope. Please, Lord, calm these winds as you did on the sea
.

“Ma, Emily won’t let me wear her sweater. Mine’s too small, and she has two.” Ada Mae made a beeline for the stove front.

“You girls settle your own differences.” Mrs. Robertson turned the browning cornmeal slices. “Breakfast is nearly ready.”

“I’ll get Joel up.” Jacob heaved himself to his feet. Why did he feel as though the fate of all the Robertson livestock rested on his shoulders? How did one find prayer time with all these children running in and out? Not that the older girls could be called children anymore. And the arguing—could they never get along? He closed the door behind him and entered the room where Joel hardly made a mound under the covers.

“Breakfast, son.” He shook the boy’s shoulder.

“All right.”

Jacob tucked Joel’s pants and shirt under the covers. “You’re going to want to dress where you are. The girls are all in by the stove.” He’d heard the sound of their feet padding toward the kitchen. They’d most likely dressed under the covers too. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. His breath hung in a white cloud.

“Blizzard still blowing?” His son’s voice came from the depths of the bed, where the bumping of the covers showed he was doing what his father said.

“Yes.”

“Second day.”

“I know.”

Joel’s head popped out of the covers. “It’s cold in here.”

“I know.” Jacob could feel the cold penetrating his woolen shirt, right through his woolen long johns. Now he understood why men wore sheepskin vests in this part of the country, or those made of deer hide with the hair left on. He’d read of people wearing buffalo, elk, or deer robes, since most of the cattle hides were tanned to be used for shoes, chaps, and harness and tack repairs. He had two down at the barn that he wished he’d brought up to the house so they could be put to good use—like covering the window.

Winter in Pennsylvania had not prepared him for weather like this—that was for sure.

After breakfast he brought in more wood and emptied the slop pail off the back porch. Filling the boiler, a tub, and the big kettles with snow, he hauled them back inside to set on the stove to melt.

“That should give us plenty of water.” Mrs. Robertson nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll do extra in case we get a break and can take it to the barn.”

“Mr. Chandler…”

“I know. I just want to be prepared for when God answers our prayers.”

She huffed a sigh but said no more about that. She turned to her daughters. “Once you girls have finished the dishes, bring your schoolbooks in here by the stove.”

“But, Ma, there’s no school now anyway.” Emily’s eyes widened in horror.

“This way you’ll get ahead. Bring your knitting too. Virginia, you can help with the mending. That basket has plumb gotten away from me. Seems to me that if you have time to get in arguments, you have too much time on your hands.”

“But Joel’s books are down at the soddy.”

“You can share yours.”

Joel looked to his father, who just nodded. Giving Jacob a disgusted look, Joel set aside the piece of wood and knife Mrs. Robertson had given him for Christmas. She’d said Mr. Robertson got a whole lot of pleasure out of carving and perhaps Joel might too. So far he’d made a pile of woodchips.

When the wind failed to mitigate its howling, Jacob caught himself pacing from the window to the door to the stove and back.

“You planning on wearing out your boots or the floor first?”

“Sorry. Guess I know what a caged lion feels like about now. What did Ward do when a blizzard hit?”

“He always worked on things that needed fixing here at the house. Like that chair leg.” She nodded to one of the chairs that was missing a rung. “I should have warned you.” She laid the shirt she was mending in her lap. “He slept or whittled, or we played games. When the schoolwork is finished, we’ll get out the cards.”

“I see.” Jacob set the chair up on the table so he could see better. He’d never repaired a chair before, but now was as good a time as any to start. The rung had shattered when someone stood on it to reach something out of the cupboard.

The saw was down at the barn, as was the plane. He picked up the smallest chunk of wood and started paring it down.

“Ma, my ears hurt from all that noise.” Ada Mae clapped her hands over her ears.

“Some people go out of their mind from the howling wind. I read that in one of the books.” Emily glared at her sister, then hissed, “Could be you.”

“Emily, there’ll be no more of that. You apologize, and you will do the dishes after dinner.”

“But it’s not my turn.”

“It is now.”

Jacob heard her mutter, “You always take Ada Mae’s side,” as she stomped down the hall. He could understand how people went insane if the wind howled like this day after day. The girls’ arguing set his teeth on edge. He’d never lived in a house with this many females in one place. He glanced around the kitchen area. In this small space.

Lord, please give us a break
. Would his and Opal’s children squabble like these girls?
Please, Lord, I pray not
.

“Mr. Chandler. Mr. Chandler.”