Ben paused his mare Ginger at the top of a hill and surveyed the countryside about thirty miles west of Little Falls. At the bottom of the hill, a tarpaper shack sat puffing black smoke into the clear blue sky. Not a cloud marred the expanse overheard, giving Ben a good look at the home of Reginald Trask, the man Abram believed was the boys’ grandfather.
A soft wind blew across the snow-covered prairie and Ben pulled his coat tighter around his neck to prevent the chill from seeping inside. He nudged his mare into motion and followed the road down the hill, past a fence in need of repair and around a pile of discarded wood.
Knowing Levi and Zeb were tucked away safely at the school with Emmy, learning their numbers and letters, gave him the nudge he needed to approach this stranger.
His horse whinnied and he leaned down and patted her neck. “Feels good to be out again, doesn’t it, Ginger?” Their days of circuit riding were over for now, but Ben would never give up on the idea of returning all together. He knew he was where he needed to be for the time being, but he was always willing to do what the Lord called him to do.
Right now, He was calling Ben to find the boys’ kin.
A dog barked at Ben’s arrival and the door to the shack opened. An older man stood at the open door in his stained long underwear and dirty socks. His stringy gray hair was in need of a cut and his whiskered face looked as if it hadn’t seen a razor in months. “Who are you?”
“I’m Reverend Benjamin Lahaye.” Ben stopped Ginger and dismounted. He held her reins and walked the rest of the way to the house. “Are you Mr. Trask?”
“I don’t got no need for a preacher.” He started to close the door.
“Please,” Ben said quickly. “I’m here to ask about your son, Malachi Trask, and tell you about your grandsons.”
Mr. Trask paused, his eyes narrowing. “My son?”
“Are you Reginald Trask?”
“How do you know who I am?”
Ben tried to be patient. “I have your grandsons in my care. Their mother died, leaving them with her sister who recently brought them to me.”
“How do you know Clara?”
“Clara?”
“My son’s wife.”
“I didn’t know Clara. Her sister brought the boys.”
“Clara’s dead?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Mr. Trask looked beyond Ben for a second. “It’s a pity. She was the only good thing that ever happened to Malachi.”
Ben gave the man a moment to absorb all the information and then he continued. “Do you know where your son might be?”
Mr. Trask’s attention came back to Ben and anger filled his face. “No, and good riddance. That boy was nothing but trouble from the moment his mama told me he was on his way. Took her life when he was born and hasn’t done nothing respectable since—except marry Clara. I haven’t seen him in six or seven years, not since he turned me out of his house when he was drunk and I tried to defend his wife.”
“Did you know he and Clara had a set of twin boys?”
Mr. Trask studied Ben. “Who’d you say you were?”
“Reverend Ben Lahaye, of Little Falls.”
Mr. Trask paused again and then said, “Care to get out of the wind, Reverend?”
“I’d like that.” Ben tied Ginger’s reins to the porch railing, hoping the mare wouldn’t try to bolt. The lopsided porch looked like it could be pulled down with little effort.
Ben followed Mr. Trask into his home. The rotten stench of filth made Ben’s eyes water. A small stove stood in one corner of the room, with dirty pots and pans stacked around it. In the other corner, a cot was held up by several logs and a pile of soiled blankets lay haphazardly on top.
Mr. Trask didn’t seem to pay any of this too much attention as he pointed to a rickety bench against a wall. “Have yourself a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Ben moved aside a pile of old newspapers to find a place to sit.
“Suit yourself.” Mr. Trask sat on a rocking chair near the stove, scratching his whiskers. “What’s this you say about Clara having twins?”
“They are five years old. Their names are Levi and Zebulun. I’ve been trying to locate their next of kin. I learned about you through a friend who recalled doing business with you a while back. He said I’d find you here.”
Mr. Trask rocked his chair. “And what do you want from me?”
“I’d like to find their father. The boys need a permanent home and I was hoping it could be with him.”
The old man shook his head. “If Malachi’s the same as before, the children are better off with someone else.”
Ben glanced around the man’s shack. If Reginald Trask made a claim on the boys, he’d have the right to take them from Ben—but Ben couldn’t imagine them living in such squalid conditions. But what if their father was worse? The debate tore at Ben’s conscience. He felt obligated to find the boys’ father, yet worried that he wouldn’t be fit to raise them. Malachi Trask needed to at least know where his boys were, didn’t he?
“Do you know where I might locate your son?” Ben asked.
Mr. Trask continued to study Ben. “If I was you, I wouldn’t go poking a rattlesnake and getting him all stirred up. Leave well enough alone and keep those boys as far away from their father as possible.”
If it was that simple, Ben would agree—but it wasn’t. Something compelled him to find Malachi. His voice became serious. “Do you know where he is, Mr. Trask?”
“You’re wasting your time here, Reverend Lahaye.”
Ben didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he stood. “If you’d like to meet the boys, please come and see us sometime. I live at the parsonage next to the church.”
Mr. Trask didn’t bother to stand. “They’re better off not meeting me, either. I’m not proud of my life and I wouldn’t want to saddle those children with my baggage.”
“My door is always open to you,” Ben said. “Our church is full of sinners saved by grace. Not one of us is perfect or without sin.”
“The only Christian I ever liked was Clara—and God saw fit to take her away from us. I figure He’s like that. Takin’ the good ones and leaving the bad ones here to cause heartache for everyone else.”
Ben was disappointed that he felt that way, but he could see by the look in Mr. Trask’s eyes that he had made up his mind and it wouldn’t easily be changed. “Maybe one day I’ll prove that theory wrong, Mr. Trask.”
The man scowled and didn’t meet Ben’s gaze.
“Good day and thank you for your time.”
His only response was a grunt.
Ben put on his hat and walked out of the shack. Ginger hadn’t moved from her spot and Ben patted her shoulder when he reached her. “Sure wish I had more time to talk to him,” he said to his mare as he stepped into the saddle. “If I was still on my circuit, I’d be sure to stop in and see him every chance I could get.”
Ginger tossed her head and whinnied as if to agree.
Ben led her out of the Trask yard and pointed her toward home.
Frustration sat heavy on his chest. He was nowhere closer to finding the boys’ father than when he had begun—yet, the revelation was bittersweet. From all accounts, Malachi Trask wasn’t a good man, but Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to know where his sons were.
Maybe, it was because Ben’s father had never come looking for him. Ben had lain awake as a child, hoping and praying his father would one day return for him. When he had left the mission at Pokegama, he feared his father would never find him at Belle Prairie. He begged the missionaries to write to his father and tell him that he had moved, but his father never responded to the letters.
“Lord.” Ben looked up into the clear blue sky. “You know the end from the beginning. You knew those boys would come into my home, and You know when they’ll leave. Help me do Your will in this and all things. Amen.”
He nudged Ginger into a gallop, eager to be home.
* * *
That evening, Emmy sat at her desk, a lantern offering a soft glow for her to read by. She had spent so much of her week planning the Friday Frolic, she had gotten behind on her personal studies. But tonight she feared she wouldn’t get any studying done, either. She couldn’t stay focused on A Pictorial History of the United States because her mind continued to wander to Ben and how quiet he had been earlier that evening.
It wasn’t her practice to intrude on people’s private thoughts, so she hadn’t asked him what was wrong. But it still troubled her to see him so unsettled.
The door creaked open and Emmy turned to find Mrs. Carver entering the room. “I hate to bother you, dearie, but I have a sick headache and I need to lie down.”
Emmy stood quickly. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I wasn’t able to concentrate tonight, anyway.” She walked across the room. “Do you need help getting ready for bed?”
Mrs. Carver patted her hand. “Thank you, but no. I’ve had more sick headaches than I care to recount, and I know what I need is a dark, quiet room, and lots of sleep.”
“Then I’ll go and not bother you.”
Mrs. Carver was already unbuttoning her blouse in preparation for her nightgown. “Thank you, dearie.”
Emmy picked up her book and left the room, tiptoeing along the hall so she wouldn’t disturb the boys who had already gone to sleep. Maybe she could get in some studying in the front room.
A lantern was glowing as she came to the foot of the stairs. Was Ben still awake? The thought of having a few moments alone with him was more appealing than she would have suspected. They hadn’t been alone since that first day when she arrived by mistake.
She walked into the front room and found him sitting in a rocking chair near the fireplace, a book in his lap—but he wasn’t reading. Instead, his gaze was lost in the flames.
He looked up at her approach, a genuine smile of pleasure tilting his lips. “Emmy.”
Her heart filled with warmth at the familiarity in his greeting. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Here, have my rocker.” He stood, but she shook her head.
“You stay there. I’ll pull up a chair.”
“I insist.” He turned the rocker toward her and offered such a welcoming smile, she couldn’t refuse. She sat on his favorite chair and watched as he pulled another chair from the corner of the room.
The fireplace put off a gentle heat and filled the space with a warm light. It was a cozy room with a large rug, comfortable chairs and several stacks of books. The rocker looked well-worn and she couldn’t stop herself from running her hand along the smooth armrests, wondering how many hours Ben had sat quietly in this room, passing the long evenings alone. It still puzzled her that a man as handsome and kind as Ben wasn’t married—but then, there were so many unmarried men in town, it shouldn’t be all that surprising. Yet, it was hard to believe that he hadn’t caught someone’s eye long before now.
“Is Mrs. Carver still unwell?” Ben asked, taking his seat across from Emmy and interrupting her wayward thoughts. “She tried to wait as long as she could to give you some time to study.”
Dismay filled Emmy’s chest. “She didn’t have to do that.”
“I told her you wouldn’t mind, but she insisted.”
Emmy shook her head. “She’s such a dear, isn’t she?”
“I’m very happy she agreed to come and help with the boys.” His countenance fell once again and he looked into the flames.
She couldn’t hold back her question any longer. “Is everything all right?”
He didn’t answer her at first, but eventually looked away from the fireplace and met her gaze. “I visited the boys’ grandfather this morning.”
Emmy stopped rocking and leaned forward. “And?”
Ben rose and rubbed the back of his neck. “The man is living in deplorable conditions—but worse than that, he had nothing good to say about the boys’ father.”
“Did you find out where the father is living?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What will you do?”
Ben paced over to the window and back to Emmy. “I’m wrestling with that very question. I might have to make a trip to St. Paul and ask around for him there. I’ve considered placing some ads in newspapers around the state, but I don’t know if it will help.”
“What if you don’t ever find him? What will happen to the boys then?”
Ben’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he studied Emmy. “I don’t know.”
“Will you keep them?”
“Mrs. Carver can only stay until after Christmas. I couldn’t raise two boys on my own without her.”
“Is there someone else who could help?”
Ben sighed and took the poker from the nail next to the fireplace. He readjusted the logs and sparks flew up the chimney. “I don’t know of anyone right now.” He set the poker back on the nail and faced her again. “But I do know that God brought them here for a purpose and He’s not going to leave me guessing forever. Eventually I’ll know what to do.”
A funny thought came to her and she lowered her eyes, heat filling her cheeks at the thought.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“What is it?” he asked again, sitting in his chair.
“It’s just a thought I had.” She shook her head and waved her hand aside. “It’s not worth sharing.”
His eyes filled with amusement. “It made your cheeks turn pink.”
Her hands flew up to her cheeks as mortification filled her chest.
Ben’s laughter was rich and hearty. “I believe you’re embarrassed, Miss Emmy.”
Emmy wanted to leave the room, afraid he’d get the truth out of her.
“You must tell me now.” He came to the edge of his seat. “I promise there’s nothing you could say that would be as embarrassing as you think.”
She tried to laugh it off. “I just thought of another way you could keep the boys without finding a housekeeper—but it’s just a silly notion.”
“Try me.”
She did laugh this time. “You won’t let it rest, will you?”
He shook his head, a grin on his face. “I’m usually pretty persistent.”
“Fine.” She might as well get it over with. “I simply thought you could keep the boys if you found a wife.”
His smile fell and his face became very serious. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
Emmy suddenly felt overly warm sitting by the fire. She and Ben had been friendly from the start, but she always felt a little different in his presence, as if her heart was aware of something her mind could not conceive. The feeling struck her again, leaving her shaky and uncertain of herself.
The silence dragged on and she felt the need to say something, so she started to ramble. “It’s not a bad idea—if the boys need a permanent home. They’d be very blessed to have you as a father and they couldn’t ask for a better life.” More heat filled her cheeks. “I mean, they could do a lot worse.”
Ben’s smile returned and he finally looked away from her. “I suppose you’re right.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” He turned his smile back to her, amused at her ramblings, no doubt. “Thank you.”
She bit her lip, lest she start prattling on again.
“Have you found everyone you need for the spelling contest?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said a bit too quickly, thankful he’d changed the subject, and then went on more calmly. “I have ten gentlemen who have agreed to participate.”
“I think it will be good for the community to come together this way.”
“I hope so.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You’re doing a good job, Emmy. The parents are happy, the children are eager to go to school and the school board is pleased.”
His words made her cheeks fill with heat once again, but this time she wasn’t embarrassed. This time the heat came from the pleasure of his compliment. “Thank you.”
“I’m happy we made a mistake—or rather, I’m happy God knew what He was doing when He sent you.”
Emmy sat up a bit straighter under his praise, hoping and praying she could continue to find favor with Reverend Lahaye—and the rest of the school board, of course.