High Plains Hearts (56 page)

Hayden folded the dish towel and hung it on the rack by the sink. Lunch had been a thrown-together meal, lunch meat and cheese on bread, with pudding for desert. Afterward, Gramps had retired to his recliner, where he promptly fell asleep.

His grandfather was snoring softly and evenly, but Hayden was still concerned. Reluctant to leave Gramps alone, he tiptoed back into the living room and sat on the old green sofa. In the light that filtered through the windows, he saw how threadbare it was.

It had been there for as long as he could remember. What was the lifespan of a sofa anyway? This one had been a bed when he’d been a small boy.

It was odd, he thought, how he’d never noticed how loudly and how relentlessly the old anniversary clock on the mantel ticked. The sound seemed to fill the living room.

He wiped away a thin layer of dust on the table beside him. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way to keep the place clean, not with the wind that seemed to find every crack and gap in the house. It was amazing that the Badlands hadn’t been reduced to nubs with the seemingly constant wind.

He crossed his legs and crossed his arms and uncrossed his legs and uncrossed his arms. How did people do this sitting-quietly thing? In church it was easy enough, but here, with nothing to look at but the Norman Rockwell painting by the fireplace and the little stuffed Teddy Roosevelt bear propped against the lamp on the end table, it was impossible.

He was forced to think. First about Gramps—how could he ever go on without him at his side? His grandfather had been woven into his life from his birth. For as long as he could remember, Gramps had been there for him. It had been Gramps who’d taught him about baiting a hook—that it wasn’t a simple matter of sticking a worm on the barb and dropping the line into the water.

He smiled at the memory of floating on the little lake in the boat—the same boat that he and Gramps had taken Livvy out in, except it had been newer and its paint fresher. That afternoon had been filled with root beer and peanuts. Gramps insisted the turtles liked peanuts, although Hayden never saw a turtle eat a peanut. Instead, he and Gramps swigged root beer and tossed the peanuts in the air, trying to catch them in their mouths and usually failing.

Gramps had shown him the fine art of choosing a lure based upon what he wanted to catch. “Minnows, worms, or leeches for crappies, sunnies, or perch. Watch the water temperature. Warm water, you can use a lure.”

He’d opened the tackle box and showed Hayden the contents. The lures were as fascinating as a treasure chest. Silvery jointed metal fish were laid neatly next to feathery hand-tied creations. Delicate flies were adjacent to brightly tasseled jigs. Lifelike frogs and ribbony strings—he had never seen anything as intriguing as this tackle box.

“This one’s neat,” Hayden had said, lifting up a bright orange jig, the tassels dancing in the sunlight. “I like it.”

“It’s pretty but it’s not worth much here. You want the lure to be as close to the color of the natural bait as possible. Is there anything orange here that a fish might eat?”

Hayden recalled how sad he’d felt that the brilliant lure was basically worthless, and apparently his grandfather had noticed, because he’d squeezed the boy’s shoulder and said, “You’ll have a lot of shiny orange lures in your life, Grub. Just remember that a shiny orange lure may not be what you want or what you need.”

It hadn’t made sense then, but over the years, he’d come across many shiny orange lures, and Gramps’s wisdom had come through.

He looked over at him, asleep in the chair.

Livvy wasn’t a bright orange shiny lure.

His mind danced around the vision of Livvy in church, and Gramps’s words came back to him.
The one
. Was Gramps right again? Was Livvy the one for him, the one with whom he could spend a lifetime?

How would he know?

He’d always heard Gramps tell how when he first met Gran, she thought he was boring and dull, definitely not a bright orange jig. If anyone had told him they’d end up married and loving each other with each breath, right up until she drew her last, he’d have said they were nuts.

But so it had happened, and a great love had been born and endured.

Was it Hayden’s time for an equally great love?

He had no idea. It was too early to know any of this.

The clock ticked, and his grandfather snored, and he realized that they were creating a rhythm together. His toes tapped silently, the left foot marking time with the clock and the right foot keeping pace with Gramps.

Was it possible? Was the clock ticking louder?

He couldn’t stand it. He stood and crept back into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of root beer, wincing as it hissed when he opened it.

The
Bismarck Tribune
was on the front seat of the car. He could read that.

The loose board on the kitchen floor creaked when he stepped on it, and he paused, but Gramps snored on. He went outside, catching the screen door before it could slam, and reached into the truck through the open window to retrieve the newspaper.

He repeated his silent path back to the living room, and sat down once again on the green sofa. Martha Washington, who had somehow managed to sneak inside, leaped up next to him and began to purr so loudly Hayden thought for sure that Gramps would awaken, but he slept on.

The paper had never sounded as crinkly. He spread the open paper on the coffee table and tried to turn the page, slowly, carefully, and he thought he had almost made it when his grandfather sat up and said, “Why are you being so sneaky quiet?”

“As soon as I scrape myself off the ceiling, I’ll answer you. You nearly scared the wits out of me.”

“Sorry,” his grandfather said. “But why are you tiptoeing around like a thief?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up. Gramps, are you feeling all right?”

Martha Washington sprang from the sofa to Gramps’s lap, and the old man smoothed the cat’s fur. “I’m fine. I was feeling a bit rocky this morning, but I think it was just because I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

Hayden crossed the room quickly and leaned over his grandfather, solicitously feeling his forehead for a fever. “You didn’t sleep well?” he fretted. “You usually sleep like an absolute rock.”

“An absolute rock, huh?” Gramps asked, his lips twitching in amusement. “Compared to a non-absolute rock? An inabsolute rock? What?”

Hayden knew the teasing was an attempt to divert him from pursuing the subject further. His grandfather did look better after his nap. He also knew better than to pursue the issue at the moment. When Gramps didn’t want to talk about something, he shut down the topic.

Instead, Hayden would have to watch Gramps closely to see if he could pick up any clues about what had happened. Maybe it was nothing, but he didn’t want to take the chance of dismissing something major.

He matched his grandfather’s light tone. “Plymouth Rock. A moon rock. Rock of Ages. I don’t know. But I should tell you I debated throwing that clock into the lake. That thing ticks so loudly it almost blew out my eardrums.”

Gramps laughed. The sound was like music to Hayden’s ears. It meant he was truly feeling stronger and better. “Once you’re aware of it, it does seem to get extremely loud. Your grandmother put it out on the porch one time when she was trying to read. She could still hear it, so she put it out in the middle of the road by the mailbox. She said it made such a racket, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lucky the thing didn’t get run over.”

Hayden wasn’t convinced that
lucky
was the appropriate word for such an obnoxious creation, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Church was good today, wasn’t it?” Gramps asked. “That Reverend Carlisle sure can dig out a deep meaning from the gospel. I dare say he’s so good he could have one of those big congregations in Chicago or Minneapolis.”

“We are truly blessed to have him here in Obsidian.”

“Livvy seemed to enjoy the service, wouldn’t you say?” Gramps looked directly at him. “She seemed to drink it up like a thirsty woman at an oasis.”

Hayden folded the newspaper and leaned back. “She did. You know, Gramps, we were born into the church and we stayed. You and Gran made sure of that, and that’s part of the heritage that Reverend Carlisle was talking about.”

“I’m as old as Luke?” His grandfather’s eyes twinkled.

“Pretty much,” Hayden answered, grinning. “But I think that part of what the lesson was about is that our religious legacy goes back to the very beginning of Christianity—and before—so that even if we have a few years when we stray, we’ve got the path already prepared for us to step right back onto.”

“That’s an interesting extension of what we learned today.” Gramps stroked Martha Washington’s fur. “We tried to make sure you knew where the path was, Grub, so that if you did step off, you could be sure that it was there, ready and waiting for you. But we were fortunate that you stayed on it, and you’ve lived a life that was honorable to our Lord.”

“I’ve tried.” As Hayden said the words, he knew they were true. “I don’t think that Livvy has done anything wrong, even if she hasn’t been going to church.”

His grandfather raised his eyebrows in question, and Hayden hastily amended his statement. “I mean that she hasn’t murdered anyone, at least as near as I know.”

Gramps laughed. “I think we can safely presume that she hasn’t. She doesn’t seem the type to be a felon. But going to church is an important part of being a Christian. And I think she realized that.”

“She seemed to get a lot out of the message this morning. I’m glad she went with us.”

“I suspect she needed it. We’ll make sure to invite her to come with us next week, too.” His grandfather studied him. “You know I’m not one to meddle in your life, Grub, but I do need to say something.”

Hayden took a deep breath. Whenever Gramps started a discussion like that, the conversation was going to be intense—and honest.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Meddle away.”

His grandfather bent toward him, his face etched with concern. “I want to talk about Livvy.”

Hayden’s stomach plummeted. Did Gramps have second thoughts about turning Sunshine over to her? It was too late. The papers were signed, and she was already invested in the property, both financially and emotionally.

“What about her?” he asked cautiously.

“I may be old, but I can still see what’s right in front of my face. There’s something between the two of you.”

Hayden rubbed his forehead. “Something between us? How can you say that? I’ve only known her a few weeks!”

“How long do you think it would take?” Gramps looked at him quizzically.

Hayden cleared his throat, which had inexplicably developed some kind of frog. “Well,” he said at last, “a year or two.”

“And when do you think it starts?”

Gramps was not going to let him off easily. Hayden parried with another question. “Do you mean when does love start?”

“Sure. When do you think people fall in love? What is the first moment? Does it hit you like a two-by-four upside the head? Or is it a gentle thing that comes over you, so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening until one day you find yourself in front of a preacher saying, ‘I do’?”

Gramps’s tone was teasing, but underneath it was a serious note, and Hayden waited a moment before answering. “I’m not sure, Gramps. I’ve never been in love.”

His grandfather nodded sagely. “It happens both ways. Love takes awhile to develop, and I’m not saying this is love that I see. Not yet. But given enough time, and enough care, I believe that this attraction between you two has the power to grow. Not all relationships do, but this one, I believe, does.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Hayden asked.

“I do, but with a rider. There is love at first sight, but love has to prove itself—no, wait. That’s not right. Love never has to prove anything. Love is perfect and ideal. Let me try again. There is such a thing as an immediate attraction.”

Gramps’s eyes took on a faraway, dreamy look. “When I first saw Ellie I was a gas jockey in Bismarck. I was in that never-never land after school, not knowing what I wanted to do, and thinking that maybe I’d end up enlisting in the army. All my friends were doing it. And then one day, she drove into the station in a brand new 1957 Chevy. Grub, that thing was a magnificent piece of automotive history. Turquoise and white, and absolutely spotless.”

Hayden settled back against the cushions of the couch. He’d heard the story before, but it was a great one.

“I looked at it, and I was going to say all the usual gas station things about the car. Ramjet fuel injection, triple turbines, V-8, rear fins, hood rockets—and then I looked at her, and all of that just flew out of my head. She may have been sitting in the most stunning car to grace America’s roads, but all I could think was that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and, bam, I was in love.”

“So it was love at first sight.”

“It was. But it wasn’t the love that developed over the years. We had to learn to love each other, and, perhaps just as importantly, learn to be loved in an equal relationship. In order for a marriage to work, you need to have the same set of values. You can’t be unequally partnered. If you believe in God, and I know you do, then she has to believe in Him, too. That’s vital. Without that, there really won’t be love. Marriage has to have some basis or else it won’t last. Grub, you know where the silver is, don’t you?”

Hayden laughed. “Well that was an abrupt switch. From love to silver.”

“Don’t be fresh. Go get it. But first go get me a spoon from the kitchen.”

From the strength of his grandfather’s voice, he knew that there would be some meaning in this lesson, so he did as Gramps requested. From the kitchen he got a spoon from the drawer, and then he entered the dining area.

He crossed the room to the old Hoosier cabinet that still stood in the corner, just as it had for as long as he had been alive, and from one of the drawers, he withdrew a polished walnut box and carried it back to his grandfather.

Gramps carefully balanced it on his thin knees and opened it. He removed the cloth that covered the silverware, and took one of the spoons from its slot.