78 
In the Chicken Shed

As Geoffrey had little interest at present in any of the animals at the Hall other than horses, Jocelyn and Catharine and Amanda, with Hector’s help, had transferred their chickens, a few goats, as well as four of Heathersleigh’s seven horses to Maggie’s cottage. They planned also to raise a few sheep and add several cows. Thus Rune and Stirling would be kept busy for some months as their time permitted, not only with the road and stables, but clearing space for grazing as well as enlarging the barn and adding several new pens and enclosures.

As Amanda stepped out of the cottage a week and a half after Maggie’s funeral, the morning sun seemed especially warm and cheery. She stood on the doorstep and basked for a moment or two in its pleasant warmth, vaguely aware of shouts and pounding coming from the direction of Rune and Stirling’s work in the distance. With basket in hand, she set out for the chicken shed, thinking of Geoffrey and the changes that were so apparent about him. How could she have once felt so differently about him, and now consider him—strange as it was even to think it!—as a friend?

It was truly remarkable, Amanda thought, how real and tangible and down-to-earth God’s grace actually was. It really could get inside people and change them . . . transform them . . . make new people of them.

Geoffrey, her cousin, had actually become a kind, gracious, and likeable young man.

And what about her? She knew she had changed under the influence of God’s grace too.

Yet she knew that there was still something missing. Something was still wrong deep inside her. She could see Geoffrey through different eyes . . . but could she ever see herself through different eyes?

She opened the door to the old and dilapidated chicken shed and went inside. Cackling and squawking greeted her entry as several of the hens scurried about in front of her. She stooped down to gather the eggs one by one and began setting them into her basket. When she rose and turned toward the next row of nests, she saw a figure standing in the doorway.

“Stirling!” exclaimed Amanda, laughing as she gave an involuntary jump. “You gave me a fright. I didn’t hear you!”

“I am sorry,” he smiled. “I saw you coming this way and followed you in. I was on my way to ask you something. I must say, you handle those eggs with great care.”

A strange smile came over Amanda’s face.

“Someone at the chalet said that to me too,” she said. “I had nearly forgotten, it had been so long since I had gathered eggs. It made me realize how much of my childhood and homelife I had blotted from my memory.”

“They had chickens there too?” asked Stirling, looking about and probing in the straw to see if he could find any eggs.

“And cows and goats and donkeys,” said Amanda, continuing to work her way around the small enclosure.

“Here’s one,” said Stirling, handing Amanda his find. “Is that why you want so many animals around here?” he asked. “It seems like it will be a lot of work.”

“You’re right,” agreed Amanda. “But it is such good and wholesome work. There is nothing quite like animals to help get in touch with one’s feelings and with the world. That’s how the sisters at the chalet keep busy, and I know it certainly helped me begin to think a little more clearly.”

“What was it like at the chalet?”

“It was wonderful,” replied Amanda. “Making butter and cheese and tending goats and cows and donkeys—it gives the people who come to the chalet, like me, a sense of responsibility that forces them to think about something other than their own problems. And of course the most important thing of all was the love that was present from all the sisters. Yes . . . it was a wonderful experience. Yet I hardly realized just how wonderful during the time I was there.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was like my years at home when I was young,” Amanda answered. “I was too full of my own self to appreciate all I had until I was gone.”

Stirling smiled. “I am sorry, Amanda. I didn’t mean to bring out painful memories.”

“They are becoming less painful every day,” she said, returning his smile. “God used the chalet, just like he is using my memories of my past to teach me what I need to learn.”

Amanda finished gathering the eggs. Stirling handed her another two or three, and they left the shed and began walking back to the cottage together.

“What were you going to ask me?” said Amanda.

“Oh, right . . . my father and I were thinking that you probably need a new chicken house too.”

“I suppose that old one is falling apart,” laughed Amanda, looking back over her shoulder. “I never really thought about it. It’s been there and looked just the same all my life. I suppose you should talk to my mother.”

“I will. My father has an idea for a new spot next to the barn that he thinks will be better than this.”

“What will you do now, Stirling?” asked Amanda as they neared the cottage.

“Well . . . we’ll finish the stable first, then—”

“No!” laughed Amanda. “I mean, what are your plans now that you are through at university? I can’t imagine you gaining all that knowledge just to fix barns and build stables.”

“Maybe in a way that’s not so far off,” Stirling replied.

Amanda glanced over at him with a curious expression.

“I want to do something for people,” Stirling added. “I want my life to count for something permanent, something that makes a difference in people’s lives—like how you hope God uses this cottage.”

“Tutoring again, perhaps?”

Stirling smiled. “I doubt it,” he said. “But though I don’t know exactly what it is I will do, I am sure it will have something to do with helping people.”