Sixteen
Two days later, just as she finished with the breakfast dishes, Sara came by on her way to Ingrid’s house.
“Cade sent for me a bit ago,” she said from her wagon seat, her words rushed. “Ingrid’s time has come. Cade says she’s afraid. Would you pray for her?”
Sara was asking her to pray? “Why, yes, I’ll, uh—sure I will.”
“Thanks!” Sara snapped the reins, setting the horses in motion. “I’ll let you know when the little one arrives!” she called as she sped away.
“May I pray with you, Miss Lawton?”
She’d forgotten Beth was at her side. “Certainly.”
They sat on the porch steps, and Beth took her hand. They bowed their heads, and Mara waited for Beth to pray. Silence spread awkwardly around them, and Mara realized Beth was waiting for her to pray. She cleared her throat.
“Uh, God? Ingrid’s time has come, and well, I guess You know that already. She’s afraid, so please calm her down and—and help everything to go all right.” Her mind blanked, so she ended the prayer. “Amen.”
Mara peeked at Beth, but the girl’s eyes were still closed, and she began praying.
“Jesus, please keep Mrs. Manning and her baby safe. Help her know You’re with her all the time and not to be afraid. Help Mr. Manning not to faint the way Clay did when I was born—”
Mara stifled a giggle that rose in her throat.
“And help Doc Hathaway do everything right. Amen.”
Mara squeezed her hand, and they looked at one another.
“Did Clay really swoon when you were born?”
“Uh-huh.” Beth giggled. “Ma said he walked in when he wasn’t s’posed to and keeled over.”
“My! I hope Mr. Manning doesn’t do that.”
“He’s a grown-up. He knows he’s not allowed in the room.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” Mara stood and stretched. “Well, we’ve got a heap of work waiting, so we’d better start.”
The day dragged on. Would they ever hear how the birthing went? She wondered if it would be a boy the way Cade thought. What would it feel like to share such an experience with the one you loved? She couldn’t imagine anything more special than having a baby that was a blend of you and the one you loved. She wondered what a baby of hers and Clay’s would look like. Would he have dark hair and skin like his pa? Would he have Mara’s blue eyes?
She shook her head. She shouldn’t even be thinking like this. The man wouldn’t even kiss her, much less—
She heard a wagon approaching and looked up from the garden where she was pulling weeds. Dropping the straggly plant in her hand, she walked to the front of the house.
It was Sara. Mara could see even from where she stood that Sara’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
Dread ripped through Mara. “What—what is it?”
Sara pulled the reins as the horses drew to a halt. “It’s Ingrid.” Tears swelled in her eyes and tumbled down her pale face. “She—she’s gone.” Sara covered her face with her hands, her body quaking with sobs.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t mean Ingrid had—
“After she had—the baby—she just kept—bleeding.” The words were choked out between sobs. “We did everything we could, but she just kept—”
Her words stopped as realization sank into Mara’s heart. “The baby?”
Sara wiped her face. “The baby’s fine. It’s a sweet little boy.” Her lips turned up in a wobbly smile. “Ingrid got to hold him, before she—” Sara looked at her. “She knew. She knew she was dying. And she had such peace.” More tears spilled down her cheeks. “She kept saying to Cade, ‘You have to let me go. Jesus is calling me home.’ ” Sobs wracked her body again.
Mara reached up and took Sara’s hand. “Do you want to come inside?”
Sara squeezed her hand. “Thanks, but I need to get home to Caroline.”
“I’m so sorry, Sara. I know you were close.” Mara felt her own eyes stinging with tears. “Ingrid was a special woman.”
Sara nodded. “Pray for Cade. He’s beside himself.”
“I will.”
Numbly Mara watched Sara ride away. She had hardly known Ingrid, but the woman had reached out to her, knowing the terrible things Mara had done. Ingrid was a godly woman. She didn’t deserve to die so young. And what about this baby that would grow up without a mother? Why, God? Didn’t we ask You to keep her safe? Why didn’t You answer? A lump lodged in Mara’s throat. How could Ingrid have such peace about dying? Why wasn’t she angry at being cheated out of life? That’s the way Mara would feel.
She looked up at the sky as if she might find God there. If You’re there, God, and if You care at all, please help Cade. He’s going to need it.
❧
The weather was exactly as it should be for a funeral. Gray overcast skies looked ominously dark beyond the bright fall foliage. The wind whipped angrily at the leafy branches and swept across the deadened grass, tugging at skirts.
Mara looked at the mourners gathered around the hollow spot in the ground that would soon house Ingrid’s body. It isn’t fair. What did Ingrid ever do wrong? She was a sweet, unassuming woman who cared for others. If anyone deserves to be lowered into that pit—she stopped the scary thought. If the thought of her body rotting in the ground didn’t terrify her, the thought of what lay beyond the grave did. The words Ingrid had spoken on her deathbed played over and over in her mind. “You have to let me go. Jesus is calling me home.” Mara knew she wouldn’t have been at peace if she had been dying. She would have been terrified.
Pastor Hill stepped forward, a somber expression on his weathered face. “Today we gather to mourn the loss of a dear friend, wife, and mother. Yet, in our faith, we also celebrate her home going.”
Folks around her nodded their heads in agreement. How could they be so secure, so sure there was a heaven? So sure they were going there when they died?
The words of the minister faded to a distant hum as Mara’s gaze settled on Ingrid’s husband. Cade stood beside his brother on the gently sloping hillside, a tiny bundle cradled in his arms. She could hear the baby’s fussing over the rustling of the leaves. Wind whipped Cade’s hair in front of his face, but he did nothing about it. Sara, at his side, whispered something and held out her hands, but Cade shook his head.
The minister was talking about heaven now and reading from the Scriptures. “But as it is written, ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’ ” He looked up at the people gathered. “Ingrid Manning loved the Lord—you know that. And God has already prepared a place for her, for all of His children. A place that is beyond our imaginings.”
He looked at Cade. “I know we have questions in our hearts. Why did our Father call Ingrid home so early in her life? Why has this child been left motherless? I don’t know the answers to these questions, but we can rest assured God has not made a mistake. He is not punishing us or Ingrid by taking her home. Indeed God has a plan in all this. In Romans 8:28 we read, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ”
Mara watched those around her carefully. “Amens” were sprinkled throughout the minister’s words, and heads nodded in agreement. Could it be as he said?
Pastor Hill continued. “Perhaps at some later date we will be able to look back and catch a glimpse of God’s plan in all this. Perhaps not.”
He opened his Bible and read, “ ‘Therefore, we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord: (For we walk by faith, not by sight:) We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.’ ” He closed his Bible and surveyed the crowd. “Let us mourn the absence of Ingrid Manning’s physical presence, and let us rejoice that she is now present with the Lord.”
Then he quoted the Twenty-third Psalm that she had heard at every funeral.
After that, Mara watched as Cade Manning stepped up to the burial spot and sprinkled dust on top of Ingrid’s casket. She saw tears on the faces of everyone there as Cade, with his newborn son, knelt by the grave. Then she and the others turned to leave, allowing a husband to grieve in private.
❧
Mara tossed and turned in bed that night. Her mind spun in every direction but always returned to the funeral. She couldn’t shake the reality that one day her body would lie stiffly in a box. Where would her soul go? The thought frightened her beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She believed in God, but was that enough? Pastor Hill had talked in church about the free gift of Jesus. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it?
She finally fell into an exhausted sleep long after midnight.
The next day, after serving breakfast and cleaning up, she and Beth started working on her dress again. As she made tiny stitches, Mara’s thoughts returned to Ingrid’s death. How could the church folk be so sure they were going to heaven? She didn’t understand what Jesus’ death on the cross had to do with going to heaven.
She glanced at Beth and wondered if an eight-year-old child could give her the answers she needed. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“May I ask you a question, Beth?”
Beth shrugged. “Sure.”
Mara pushed the needle through the fabric and pulled the thread. “I don’t understand all this about Jesus dying on the cross. What was the purpose in that? How does that get a person to heaven?”
When the words were out, Mara realized she was asking a question a child couldn’t possibly understand, much less explain.
“Oh, that’s easy. My ma ’splained it like this. If I did something bad, you know, told a fib or stole a licorice stick from the mercantile, I’d deserve a whuping, right?”
Mara nodded.
“Well, this is how it is. God is perfect, and He can’t stand sin, so He sent Jesus to take my place, my whuping.”
A glimmer of understanding brightened the corners of Mara’s heart. “But what about the free gift the minister always talks about?”
“It’s hard to ’splain.” Her brows crinkled low over her chocolate-colored eyes. “Getting to heaven is free, like a present. But you gotta accept it. If I handed you a box, wrapped all pretty-like, but you didn’t reach out and take it, well, you wouldn’t have it.”
“I see. So I have to accept God’s gift of heaven?”
“Sorta.” Beth played with her doll’s hair. “But God doesn’t like sin, so you gotta be clean, and the only way to be clean is to ask Jesus to forgive you.”
Everything suddenly seemed clear. She knew what Pastor Hill had been talking about all these weeks. Who would’ve thought that a child could make things clear?
“Do you wanna be a Christian? ’Cause I know how. Ma helped me do it when I was six.”
Yes, yes, she wanted that—very much. She wanted what Beth and Clay had. She wanted the peace Ingrid had. “What do I have to do?”
“If you believe Jesus died for your sins and res’rected, just pray and ask Jesus to forgive you and tell Him you want to live like He wants you to.”
“I’d like to do that.”
Beth smiled. “Oh, good, Miss Lawton! You can pray out loud or quiet-like—it doesn’t matter which way. God hears you.”
Mara bowed her head and closed her eyes. “God, I believe about Your sending Jesus to die on the cross. I believe He did it to pay for my sins and that He was resurrected. I want to accept Your free gift. Amen.” Mara opened her eyes to see Beth smiling at her. “That’s all?”
“Yep, told you it was easy.”
Mara couldn’t believe how easy it was. She was one of God’s children now. A child of the King, as Beth had said weeks ago. The thought put a bounce in her step the whole day.
❧
Clay finished washing up at the pump and walked into the house. The wonderful aroma of pot roast reached him, and his stomach growled.
Before he could shut the door, Beth burst through the kitchen door. “Clay, guess what! You’ll never guess!”
Clay tousled her hair. He hadn’t seen Beth this excited in weeks. “Your doll grew wings and flew away!”
She giggled. “No, Silly!”
“Miss Lawton grew wings and flew away?”
“Clay—! It is about Miss Lawton, though.” Her eyes sparkled like the reflection of the sun shimmering on the creek. “She asked Jesus into her heart, and I got to show her how!”
As if summoned, Mara came through the kitchen door, the platter of roast beef in her hands. She stopped short when Beth made her announcement, and he saw a flush spread over her cheeks.
Could it be true? He glanced from Beth to Mara. “Mara?”
Her lids lowered, and she set the plate on the table as if to cover her embarrassment. “It’s true.”
She turned and looked at him. With her eyes she asked for his opinion and approval.
He was quick to respond. “That’s great, really great.” And it was for more reasons than she knew. Not only was she now a child of God, she was no longer off-limits to him. He felt like kicking up his heels and yelling, “Yeehahh!”
Whoa, Clay! Slow down. Just because she’s a Christian now doesn’t mean you can barge right in and claim her.
True, she’d been pretty open about her feelings. That in itself amazed him—that of all the men in Cedar Springs, she would want him.
Suddenly he noticed that Mara and Beth had taken their seats. He sat down quickly, and they joined hands.
With a contented smile relaxing his face he prayed, “Father, we thank You for this food, for the hands that prepared it.” He paused, wondering if he should say what was on his mind. “And, Lord, thank You for showing Yourself to Mara. May You use her for Your purposes, in Jesus’ name, amen.” He squeezed Mara’s hand.
Her eyes opened wide as her gaze met his. Of course. She hadn’t any way of knowing what her decision meant to him. To them. He had never told her what had held him back.
He winked, and Mara lowered her gaze.
“What are we waiting on?” Beth asked, her gaze swinging back and forth between her brother and Mara.
Clay reached out for a slice of pot roast. “Not a thing, Beth—not a thing.”
❧
During the next week Mara asked Clay and Beth many questions. She was already growing in her faith and had learned so much in only seven days. She had tried to explain to her parents what had happened in her life, but they didn’t understand.
Mara noticed a change in Clay’s behavior too. Though they hadn’t been alone since the night he helped her saddle a horse, she saw something new in his eyes. It was only one week before Clay’s aunt Martha would come home, and Mara dreaded the end of her time here on the Stedman ranch. She would miss spending her days with Beth. But she wouldn’t miss the stubborn cookstove or the privy!
When Mara stood to clear the table one night, Clay put his napkin on his plate.
“Mara, may I speak with you?”
Mara blinked. She started to sit back down, but Clay glanced uneasily at Beth.
“I mean alone.”
“Oh.” She tried to read his eyes but couldn’t. “Of course, let me just finish up here—”
“Beth, why don’t you take care of cleaning up tonight?”
She made a face. “All right.”
Clay stood, and Mara followed him to the door. He allowed her to pass through first.
What was going on? Was he displeased with something she had done? Her meals had improved, or so she thought. She had even figured out how to make decent coffee.
Clay closed the door and turned toward her. He walked to the rail and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Mara could stand it no longer. “What is it, Clay? Have I done something wrong?”
He turned. “No, it isn’t that at all.”
“Then what is it?”
He leaned against the rail and studied her face. “I’m not sure how to say it.”
Her heart softened at his uncertainty. The sun’s last rays shone on his face, and she longed to reach out and touch it. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
He smiled, and her legs grew weak. How would she manage without seeing him every day?
“Remember when we first met?”
Though his gaze was warm, Mara cringed at the words. She remembered all too well, but she would rather forget.
“I saw you at the dance and watched you from across the barn.”
Why was he talking about this? Didn’t he know she had changed?
“I was determined as a mule you wouldn’t sink your claws into me.”
He smiled as if the memory was a fond one, but it wasn’t fond for her at all.
“You reminded me of someone I wanted to forget—someone I was promised to.”
“You were engaged?” Just the thought cut off her breath.
“I fell fast and hard for her. Victoria was her name. She was wealthy and comely like you.”
Why was he telling her this? Didn’t he know it hurt her?
“Little did I know she was using me to make another man jealous—someone who could support her expensive lifestyle. As soon as she had him, she dropped me cold.”
Though it hurt to think of him with another, her heart ached at the thought of his pain.
“I thought you were just like her.” He leaned forward and took her hand.
Her breath ceased as hope blossomed in her heart.
“Since you’ve come here, you’ve changed.”
She nodded. Her hand grew damp in his.
“It’s as if you had to lose all you had depended on before you could see the woman beneath it all.”
Yes. That’s exactly what it was.
“I think God had a part in all that.”
“Yes, me too.”
“He used it to draw you closer to Him.”
“I never thought I’d be grateful for everything that’s happened in the past few months, but I am now.”
“I’ve come to care deeply for you, you know.”
Her heart danced, even while her mouth went dry. She searched his eyes, afraid to hope.
“I wasn’t free to act on my feelings until a week ago.”
Confusion swirled in her head. She couldn’t seem to put two thoughts together.
“You’re a believer now. We share a common faith, and that means everything to me.” He pulled her closer.
She took in his words and understood. He cared for her. He wanted—
“So many times I wanted to kiss you,” he whispered.
He touched her face, and she grew dizzy at the joy. He drew closer. He was going to kiss her if she didn’t faint first.
His lips settled on hers, tentative, testing. Every thought evaporated; every sound hushed. All that existed in that moment were she and Clay. His touch brought sweet ecstasy. This was the way it was meant to be.
He pulled back, and she felt as if half of her had been torn away. She opened her eyes and nearly passed out at his expression.
“Will you go to the harvest social with me?” he whispered.
“Yes.” Her heart sang. She would be leaving in a week, but he wanted to court her.
As they said good-bye, Mara was in a daze. He hadn’t said the words, but he loved her. She could see it in his eyes. He had held nothing back tonight.
Mara wasn’t sure how she reached home. When she arrived there, she realized she didn’t remember anything at all. Her mind was still in a daze when she walked through the front door.
“Mara,” her mother said when she came through the door, “I’d like a word with you, please.”
“What is it, Mother?” Mara followed her into the parlor where her father sat smoking a cigar.
“Have a seat,” her mother said.
Mara sank onto the davenport, but her mother remained standing.
“I was at the mercantile today and overheard the most distressing news.” She began pacing and mumbling. “The nerve of him—going to church—deceiving us all—”
“Mother, what’s this about?”
“That Clay Stedman, that’s what! He’s an Indian, a savage! Not fit for decent company. He slithered his way into our town, subjected my own daughter to who knows what, and I’ll not have it!”
Mara’s stomach churned. She had found out; it was bound to happen. But—
“Has he harmed you in any way, Darling?” She sat beside Mara and took her hand. “Touched you? You must tell me the truth.”
Anger stirred in the depths of her soul. How could her mother think such things? He would never harm her or anyone else. “Of course not, Mother—don’t be ridiculous.”
Mrs. Lawton drew back.
“He’s just a man, like any other, and—”
“You knew!” Her mother’s eyes widened. “You’ve been going to his house every day for months, and you knew? Haven’t you any thought for what people think? For your own reputation?” She reached for her fan and began fluttering it before her face.
Mara was ashamed of her mother’s behavior. She acted as if being an Indian was a crime, as if Clay were human garbage. It hurt and angered her deeply. She felt her heart pounding in her ears.
“People will talk,” her mother said. “Everyone will find out he’s a savage, and your name will be associated with his!”
“Now, Letitia, no real harm has been—”
“He’s been alone with our child every day for weeks!”
Disgust rose from the depths of her heart. “I’m no child, Mother, and Clay is no savage!”
“Clay! Since when did you come to be on a first-name basis, young lady?”
Mara knew her mother’s sister had been killed by Indians, but was that legitimate cause for her prejudice? It would be like thinking all white men were murderers if only one had committed the crime.
Suddenly she knew what she had to do. Her mother would be appalled, but she wouldn’t hide her feelings.
“Mother.” She gave her father a beseeching look. “Father, I’m afraid I have more news that might come as a shock.”
Her mother’s hand fluttered faster. “Oh, my—”
“Clay and I—what I mean to say is, well, we have feelings for each other.”
The fan fell to the floor. Her mother’s face went from flushed to pasty white in a matter of moments. She swayed. “Oh dear—!”
Her father jumped up from his chair and ran to support his wife’s weight. She wavered, and her eyes glazed.
Mara touched her mother’s arm and made eye contact. “Mother.”
She didn’t respond.
“Letitia, snap out of it.”
Her mother blinked and seemed to gather her faculties. “Oh, no! No, it won’t happen. I simply will not allow it!”
“Mother, you can’t disallow feelings. I needn’t have your permission to care for someone. It’s something that can’t be helped!”
“Be that as it may, young woman—you will not continue with this relationship! I forbid it!” Her father retrieved the fan, and her mother started fluttering again, this time with sharp, angry jerks. “What has this family come to?” She brought her hand to her chest as if her heart were pained. Her eyes spouted tears. “We’ve lost our money, we’ve lost our standing, and now we’ll be associated with the lowest of the low, the scourge of our nation, absolute savages. Why, you wouldn’t be able to turn your head, Mara, without wondering if the heathen was going to take your scalp!”
Mara rose with a sharp breath. How dare she categorize Clay that way! “You are wrong, Mother! You know nothing of Clay, you know nothing of his people, and it’s unfair of you to say he’s a savage!”
Her mother also stood. “Your own aunt is a tragic example of his kind! Why, they burned the house to the ground with her family in it. If that’s not savage, I don’t know what is!”
“Clay is a gentle, caring man—a Christian!” Her head felt light, and her body trembled.
“Ha! His people worship Satan! They work voodoo and cast spells and conjure spirits!”
“You have no idea what—”
“Ladies—ladies.” Mr. Lawton stepped between his wife and his daughter, holding out his hands. “Shush!”
His command echoed in the sudden silence of the room. Mara’s mother took the opportunity to assert herself.
“He may not court you, and that’s final!”
Mara’s stomach was churning. Her mother could not stop the feelings she felt for Clay. Nor could Mara imagine denying the relationship a chance to develop now that it had finally begun. “Mother, I’m a grown woman. You haven’t the—”
“You are my daughter, you live under my roof, and you eat my food. I have every right to forbid this relationship, and I do! There will be no arguing that point! And you will stop going to his house every day. Enough damage has been done.”
How could her mother do it? She had finally found someone to care for—someone who cared about her. Not because of her beauty but in spite of it. And she was committed to continue her work until his aunt returned. She took up the easier of the two demands. “I have to finish my work there. Clay’s aunt returns in a week, and there’s no one to watch Beth or cook or clean.”
Her mother appeared to be getting control of her temper. She breathed deeply and cast a glance at her husband. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Now, Letitia, it’s only a week. She’s been over there every day for three months—”
“What will people think?” her mother muttered.
“If people are going to get their hackles up over this, the damage is already done. What can one more week matter?”
“Please, Mother.” She was willing to plead and beg. She would do the same for Clay’s right to call.
Her mother snapped her fan closed, her color now closer to its usual shade. “All right—I’ll allow it. But after that it stops—do you hear me? I don’t want that man to come calling, and if he does, I’ll chase him out of here with a shotgun myself!”
Mara decided to choose her battles. She could fight this one later. “Yes, Mother.”
Her mother turned and walked across the room. At the door she stopped and looked back. “One week, Mara, and not one day more.”