Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles) (25 page)

minute, and I'm really not hungry."

Stacy fell silent then and continued to watch her son eat.

He was working on bread with jam. A cup of milk sat at his

elbow, and he already sported a milk mustache. Completely unconscious of the adorable picture he presented, Drew sat

staring out the kitchen window at the half-dozen ducks that

waddled complacently across the grass.

"You look miles away," Mercy commented as she sat down

beside Stacy and studied the younger woman's face. Stacy

knew that this type of familiarity with servants was unheard

of at Winslow or even at Roddy and Luanda's, but this was all

Stacy had ever known.

"I just can't believe he's two," she told Mercy with a voice

of wonder. "I don't wish the months back, but I do wonder

where the time has gone."

"It flies, it certainly does. Did you say Lord Andrew is

going with you today?"

"Yes. Drew misses him terribly when he doesn't come to

the pond, and that was all Grandfather had to hear to be

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r~ed Anyway, Papa claims that you don't need eyes to t fish, only the feel of them tugging on your line."

rfercy chuckled Having Stacy and the child with them had i like a tonic for the old viscount and his entire household y had no trouble believing that the old man would do

Liing the boy wished. Andrew's sight had been completely

,j for months now, but his face was constantly wreathed in

lies since his great-grandson was always at his side.

"Are we ready to go then?"

Peters had led Lord Andrew into the kitchen just then, and

pfore anyone could answer the viscount, Drew was out of his

iair and running to embrace those long legs.

"Drew, you're getting jam on Grandpapa," Stacy said to

young son as she stood readying to leave.

Mercy moved toward Drew with a damp cloth. The little ~/ obediently removed his arms from Andrew and held his

Jliands out for Mercy's attention. Andrew nearly protested, but

file, as well as the rest of the household, had found out during

Drew's first year what it had finally taken to make Stacy a

fighter. She would brook no interference with the discipline

of her son.

This did not make her impossible to live with; in fact,

quite the opposite. Everyone concerned was thrilled with the

outcome. Lord Andrew Tanner Richardson, whose status as

the future Duke of Cambridge outranked everyone's at Morgan,

was the sweetest, most obedient child any of them had

ever encountered He was not perfect, but Stacy dealt with all

willfulness swiftly and effectively, thus showing Drew his

boundaries and his mother's love.

"Well, are we ready?" Andrew asked again, peering down

as though he could actually see the small child at his feet.

"Ready," Drew said and reached for Andrew's weathered

hand.

Stacy led the way with the poles and then came Peters,

walking a step ahead for Andrew, the older man's arm tucked

in his. Drew skipped along with childish ease, chattering all

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the while. It was a bit of a jaunt to the pond, but he didn't S(

to notice.

"I saw the ducks," Drew said to Andrew, catching his h;

again.

"Did you now? How many were there?"

"I think 200."1

Everyone walking to the pond smiled. It was Drew's stan-1

dard number. Stacy was in the habit of saying, "I have at least I 200 things to do today." So the little boy was only mimicking

his mother.

Just ten minutes later the three fishermen were seated on

the banks of the pond, their lines in the water. Drew's string

did not have a hook on the end, which was for everyone's

Gaff*t\r Kill-hdnmf

^-,. .: '*

_-- w u iUiMi* lv 1113 giaiiuiauier ana the

older man's hook and line. His own pole was poised over the

water, but he spent all of his time watching for a tug on

Andrew's line.

"I think I've got one," Stacy called just a few minutes after

her pole went into the water.

"Oh, Mumma," Drew jumped with excitement, dropping

his own pole. "Can I help? Can I?"

"May I," Stacy corrected automatically, "and, yes, you may.

Here you go." She passed him her pole and kept he-hands ready to assist. She laughed out loud when Drew couldn't lift

the heavy catch from the water and ended up backing up the

bank and dragging the poor dying fish from the pond.

"Drew." The little boy had no more finished with Stacy's

fish when Andrew needed him. Drew was swift to attend. So that her grandfather could enjoy the moment, Stacy, out of

habit, quietly described everything she was seeing.

They fished on in such a fashion for more than an hour,

until Peters came to retrieve Drew. It was the boy's naptime

and indeed he was beginning to flag. They had talked that

morning about the fact that Drew would go to nap with Peters

that day, but still there was some protest.

"No, Mumma, not yet."

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*t)rew." Stacy's voice was stern without being loud "You

go with Peters immediately, and you will not fuss about

F

\' Drew stood for just a moment, and Stacy watched a look of

jptance come over his face. She spoke again. "Kiss Grand-a

and then come and kiss me."

Drew did as he was told, and just moments later he was

jping off with Peters, chattering fifteen to a dozen. The two

raining fishermen were quiet for a time, but Stacy was

_rly certain she knew what her grandfather was thinking.

ie was correct of course, and when he spoke, it was con-

plrmed

"You should have let the boy stay."

"I appreciate your not saying that in front of Drew, but ; you're wrong. He needs his nap."

Andrew chuckled. "I wouldn't have believed anything

could change you so much, but becoming a mother certainly

has."

"I will admit that becoming a mother alters everything,

but the greatest changes in me have little to do with motherhood"

"You mean this thing between you and God?" Andrew's

skeptical voice spoke volumes.

Stacy sighed very quietly. Her grandfather refused to

believe that a person could have a personal relationship with

God or his Son, but at least he was talking. This was the first

time he'd brought the subject up. Stacy was usually the initiator,

and when she did talk of her beliefs Andrew changed the

subject very quickly. Seeing an open door for the first time,

Stacy chose her words carefully.

"I believe the Bible, God's Word, to be true. And in His

rf *

Word, I've read how much I mean to God and how much He

wants to mean to me. My belief is a choice, Papa, one that I'm

more than satisfied with."

"What about the church?" It was a sore subject between

them.

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"The bishop never has answers to my questions," Stac

explained as she had before. "I don't think he studies the Bib!

at all. I haven't given up on the bishop, but it concerns me thafl

he only stares at me in dismay when I ask questions and tellsl

me that I must not take the Bible too literally. Well, that's!

absolute rubbish." Stacy's voice was very earnest, but not

accusing or angry. "Noel and Elena have spent enough time in

God's Word to help me. If they don't have an answer to my

questions, they at least know where to look.

"The Bible is our standard and if we shift our foundation,

we're going to fall. It was in the Bible that I read that because I

was a sinner without a Savior, I was headed to a lost eternity, i

But I've now met that Savior, and I know where I'm headed 1

"I love you, Papa, but I think the very reason you argue

with me is that you're afraid. You have no peace about your

eternity, and that terrifies you; it would me also. I have peace,

and if you would let me read the verses to you, I could show

you how to have it too."

"Does your Bible also teach you how to speak disrespectfully

to your elders?"

Stacy wanted to cry, but now was not the time. She hadn't

been disrespectful, and they both knew it. Her voice was

gentle when she went on, and unbeknownst to her, somewhat

defeated.

"I'm sorry if you find me disrespectful, but if that's all you

got out of what I just said, I'm even more sorry for what the

future holds for you."

A heavy silence fell between them, and Stacy prayed. She

asked God to give her patience and not to say things that

would antagonize her Papa or drive him further from the

truth. She loved him so much, and it was at times like this that

she had to remind herself that God loved him more.

You are not the one who saves, Stacy, she said to herself.

"I'm ready to go in now," Andrew said then.

"All right," Stacy answered simply and rose to help him. In

the past she would have apologized for what she said, but just

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ffche last few days she had realized that was a mistake. She

to be bold for Christ. She had spoken the truth, and

, couldn't possibly be sorry for that.

That her grandfather expected an apology was more than

nous by the time they arrived at the house. He stood just

ide the kitchen, his face turned toward her, a look of

ifused anticipation in his eyes. Stacy did not satisfy him.

"Would you like me to get Peters or ask Mercy to fix you

nething?"

Andrew was silent for a moment, and Stacy knew he would

3t to go to his room.

"Peters, please." His voice was low, and Stacy had all she

,ould do not to throw her arms around him and beg his

I forgiveness. It was so hard to admit that the man you have

always loved and respected was wrong. She swiftly moved

from the room before she could change her mind

"Does Grandpapa love Jesus?"

Stacy smiled. It was bedtime, and Stacy had just read Drew

a Bible story about Jesus and His disciples. What a question to

come from her son the very day she'd laid things on the line to

her grandfather!

"I'm not certain how he feels right now, Drew, but we can

pray that he'll understand how much God loves him."

"God loves me."

"Yes, He does," Stacy agreed and wrapped her arms around

his sturdy little form.

He was the image of his father, and at times it pained Stacy

to look at him. He was tall for his age, which was no surprise,

and other than Stacy's straight, thick, honey-blonde hair, he

was every inch Tanner Richardson's child

Because Drew lived in a houseful of adults, his speech

habits and vocabulary were rather advanced She read to him

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from the Bible every night and was amazed at how much 1

retained, and how excited he became whenever Jesus was

the story. Stacy believed his understandng of the Script!

was a gift from the Lord.;

It had been a temptation to sugarcoat the truth of Christ'^

death and resurrection, but Stacy had not yielded. She knew: