A Mother at Heart Page 9

  She blinked some more and then climbed off. Before she’d fed the cows, she had filled her jerry can with gas, and Tilly had now left to pick up Taryn. Miriam could leave right away.

  With a smile, she turned—and almost ran smack into Jake.

  Miriam swallowed and took a step back. “Hello,” she said quietly, wiping her hands on her pants. “I fed your cows for you.”

  “I see that,” he replied, not moving. “Thanks.”

  “I came to get gas for my lawn mower, so I figured I would do it. Tilly seemed quite worried about them.”

  “I was just coming home to do it.”

  He sounded defensive, and Miriam felt that once again she had done the wrong thing.

  “Whatever,” she said, dismissing his comment. She went to walk past him, and as she did, he caught her arm.

  She turned to him and unconsciously pulled her arm back.

  “Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. “I just wanted to say thanks. I really appreciate the help.”

  Miriam sensed a discord between them that came up with each encounter. She knew it had as much to do with their past as their present, but she didn’t know how to work through it.

  Or even if she wanted to. What would it accomplish?

  “You’re welcome,” she said. Then she turned and left.

  Back at home Miriam threw herself back into her work. She mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedge, pruned the apple trees; and when the shower she’d talked of came, she found other things to do.

  The next morning, the sun was shining and birds trilled their songs, calling her out.

  She had a few other things to do, and then planned to go over to Fred and Tilly’s. It was beautiful weather, so she could probably avoid Jake. Most likely, he was out in the field.

  She had spent most of last night and part of this morning sorting through things, deciding what she wanted to keep and what to throw out.

  She managed to put aside about two boxes’ worth of keepsakes and mementos for herself—the photo albums, a few old books and records, a set of baby booties her mother had saved.

  Miriam turned her head to look out the living room window, smiling at the sight of the lawn. It was a neatly clipped sweep of green, broken by a single maple tree dominating the front yard. Tall aspen trees, holding a hint of spring green, surrounded and protected it. Beyond them a double row of spruce trees stood guard, sheltering the yard on all sides from wind.

  Outside had always been Miriam’s sanctuary. Outside was where she went to get away from her mother and her constant demands.

  Miriam pushed herself off the couch and got up. She needed to get away from the house…and the memories.

  She found her jacket, zipped it up and stepped outside with the same sense of freedom she had felt as a young girl whenever she managed to get away.

  Inhaling the warm scent of spring, she started walking briskly down the driveway. She didn’t have any destination in mind, just a desire to get away from the cobwebs, the dust and the past.

  The driveway was shielded by double rows of trees, and by the time Miriam saw the road, she felt better. As she walked down the familiar route, she felt the peace that had seemed to elude her in the house float down over her weary soul.

  The land was open here, rolling and friendly. She let her eyes drift over the fields, the trees. Memories of her life in New York became overlaid with the combed-looking fields that had already been cultivated, the pastures that were already green. The soft, spring wind sifted through the trees alongside the road, and from the power line above came the sweet song of a sparrow.

  Spring in the country.

  Miriam felt a gentle stirring of her heart as the atmosphere surrounded her, drawing out happy memories, moments of utter abandon and freedom.

  How often had she and her friends sat, hunkered over the ditches, floating sticks and leaves in the spring runoff? How often had they taken her horse and, doubling up, ridden off in whichever direction the day took them?

  Paula’s face came to her mind, and Miriam bit back a sudden cry. Paula, her good friend. Paula, who had listened to Miriam’s adolescent complaints about her looks. Paula, who had been her confidante when Miriam had discovered her growing love for Jake Steele, the boy so many girls liked. Paula, who had ended up with the prize, after all.

  Now Paula was dead. Sorrow tightened her throat, pressed on her heart.

  Miriam couldn’t stop the tears drifting down her cheeks, cooled by the spring breeze. She couldn’t help but remember the sight of Taryn pointing out her own mother’s gravestone. Seeing Paula’s name etched in the granite slab had made her death so definite, so real.

  She wondered if Paula and Jake had been happy for those few years they had been together. She wondered if Jake mourned her very much.

  Once again Miriam felt jealousy.

  Shaking her head, she tried to pull herself away from these maudlin thoughts. “Just enjoy the day,” she said aloud. “Just enjoy the day.”

  A thicket of spruce and aspen trees beckoned, and as she walked through the moldering undergrowth, the spicy scent of freshly opened aspen leaves teased her nose. Willow branches caught at her, but she finally found the game trail that led her deeper into the bush.

  And there it was, high up in the boughs of a large pine tree—the remnants of her old tree house. A few boards speckled with lichen and moss hung from a couple of nails, and the platform was still in place. On the tree beside her were nailed the single boards that provided a shaky ladder to her old retreat.

  She smiled, remembering how many fantasies had been spun here. When she was older, she and Paula had come here…until Paula declared herself “too big” for games like this.

  Then when she and Jake started dating, this fort had become a haven for them. Here they could sit and talk of the future, make plans, dream.

  Miriam smiled lightly, then turned away. It seemed memories of her past romance with Jake would come to her no matter what she did or where she went.

  She walked back the way she had come and returned to the road. Once there, she set out for nowhere in particular. She just wanted to walk and to enjoy the fact that today she had no other obligations, no concerns.

  As she walked, she looked around, seeing the spread of the land, the various hues of green that told her summer was almost here. Soon the cows would be out on pasture.

  “And all the trees of the field will clap their hands…” The quote came to her lips as she paused, looking out over the land. She couldn’t even remember where that was found—only that it came from the Bible.

  She stood, looking out and smiling, and for the first time since she had come, felt peace. A soft breeze swirled around her like a benediction, rustling through the leaves of the trees above as if they were indeed clapping their hands.

  There was joy in the air, and Miriam pulled it to herself and let it flow through her.

  She tried to memorize each line of trees, each glade, the flow of the fields, the pastures, the farmyards she could see and the barns and grain bins that filled them. This was where she had come from. She wanted to remember this moment, this very place. In future, when she was stuck in the oppressive heat of summer in New York, when she sweltered outside or shivered in air-conditioned cool inside, she would return to this place in her mind, and know that somewhere life flowed instead of jerking and jumping around.

  Miriam hadn’t prayed in years, but now the words came to her lips unbidden. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. “Thanks for this moment, for this part of the world.”

  She waited a moment as if to acknowledge a certain holiness to the moment.

  Then she began walking again.

  She had walked for about fifteen minutes when she heard a car coming up behind her. She moved to the side of the road, hoping it would slow down. The road was still wet in spots, and she stood a good chance of getting splashed.

  The car slowed, all right, and then came to a complete halt, the engine running. Miriam turned to
see Tilly Prins rolling down the window of her midsize car, smiling at her. Fred was on the seat beside her, Taryn in the back.

  “Hello, Miriam,” she called out. “Out for a walk on this beautiful day?”

  “Yes, I am.” Miriam couldn’t hide her smile as she walked over. “How are you doing, Uncle Fred?” Yesterday he had looked a little better.

  Fred opened his eyes and smiled wanly at her, and then closed them again. Tilly shook her head, her lips pursed. “He’s running a high fever, so I’m bringing him in to the doctor. Fred fell when he got out of bed this morning, he was feeling so weak,” Tilly added, turning back to Miriam, her head tilted up to look at her, her blue eyes looking tired. “Jake was gone. Otherwise, I would have asked him to take Taryn.”

  Taryn leaned forward, a frown puckering her forehead. “I can’t go to play school ’cause there’s not play school today.”

  “That’s too bad,” Miriam said, giving her a gentle smile. Today Taryn wore blue jeans and a pink wind-breaker. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail high up on her head, tied up with a matching pink ribbon. She looked adorable.

  Tilly paused, glancing sidelong at Taryn, then back up at Miriam, beckoning to her to come closer. Tilly lowered her voice. “I know you’re on a holiday, but I was wondering if you would be willing to take Taryn for the day.”

  “Please,” Taryn pleaded, her hands curled into fists pressed under her chin. “Please let me come to your place.”

  “It would really help me out a lot,” Tilly said.

  Miriam looked down at Tilly, noting the wrinkles around her face. Yes, Tilly had grown older while Miriam had been gone. She looked tired and care-worn.

  She bit her lip, remembering countless times she had sat in Tilly’s kitchen, eating cookies and talking. Countless times she had complained to Tilly about her mother’s unfair treatment. Hugs and kisses she had received from this dear woman who was as much of a mother to her as she had been to Jake. Helping her out now would be but a drop of kindness compared to the gallons of love Tilly had given her.

  “Sure,” Miriam said, unsure of what she was expected to do with a little girl all day. “I’ll take her.”

  “Thank you so much,” Tilly breathed, and as Miriam saw some of the strain leave Tilly’s face, she knew she had done the right thing. She would just have to take her chances with Jake.

  “Oh goody, goody.” With quick movements, Taryn unclipped her seat belt and jumped out of the car.

  “You behave, now,” Tilly said with a warning frown. Of course Taryn nodded. She turned back to Miriam. “Thanks again, my dear. You’ve really helped me out a lot.” Tilly smiled with relief, put the car in gear, then paused. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be, but if I’m not home by suppertime, can I ask another favor of you?”

  “Anything, Tilly,” Miriam said with heartfelt sincerity.

  “Jake is going to be working your fields sometime today, and I usually bring him supper so he can keep going. If I don’t come back on time, I made a casserole for him. Can you see that he gets it?”

  Miriam felt her heart slow at the thought of seeing the very man she hoped to avoid.

  “I’ll probably be home,” Tilly said, acknowledging her hesitation. “But just in case.”

  “If you’re not around, I’ll see that he gets something to eat.” Miriam shrugged fatalistically. What would be would be.

  “Thanks again, Miriam.” Tilly smiled at Taryn, then back at Miriam, and with a wave, drove away, dust billowing up behind her.

  Miriam and Taryn stood on the road, waving back as the cloud receded farther and farther, until it disappeared around a curve.

  Miriam felt Taryn slip her hand into hers. She couldn’t stop her own from tightening around the smaller one as she looked down at Jake’s daughter. For a moment she indulged in a dangerous “what if.”

  What if…she and Jake had stayed together? What if…this precious child had been hers and Jake’s?

  “Do you want to keep walking?” Taryn asked, grinning up at her, swinging her hand. “I like walking.”

  “Then let’s keep going.” Miriam gently eased her hand out of Taryn’s. She felt uneasy pulling back from Taryn’s obvious affection, but knew it was better if she didn’t allow this young child to get too attached to her.

  Just as Jake had warned.

  Chapter Seven

  “My daddy is workin’ on the tractor today and then he has to move the cows.” Taryn hopped across a puddle and flashed a grin at Miriam. “He’s gonna be busy, he told me. But when he’s done, we’re going to go to the city and buy me some pretty gloves. He promised me.”

  “You really love your daddy, don’t you?” Miriam asked as she strolled along, hands in her pockets. She knew she shouldn’t pry, but some part of her wanted to know more about Jake and his relationship with his daughter.

  “I love my daddy the bestest. I love my mommy, too, but she died,” Taryn stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “My friend Suzy Adams has two mommies and two daddies.”

  “That’s a lot of mommies and daddies,” Miriam said with a shake of her head, wondering how often poor Suzy Adams was shunted from place to place.

  “I just want one mommy,” Taryn said, as if this were the most reasonable request in the world.

  Miriam instinctively knew she had to change the subject. “Do you want to make a water wheel?” she asked, scanning the area for some cattails. She saw some on the other side of the road, their brown heads tilting slightly in the breeze.

  “What’s a water wheel?”

  “You make it out of two cattail stems.” Grinning, Miriam walked over to the cattails and reached into her back pocket for a pocketknife.

  “Oops,” she said, laughing and looking sheepishly back at Taryn. “I don’t have a pocketknife.” Funny that she would do that, she thought. “I forgot I don’t carry one anymore.”

  “That’s okay. My daddy always has a pocketknife. It has a tweezer and a scissor. It’s a red pocketknife and has J.S. on it. That means Jake Steele. He told me that. He got it as a present from someone special—not from my mommy though.” Taryn chattered on as she bent over to look at a rock, poking it with one finger.

  Miriam’s feet slowed, a spark kindling within her. After all these years, Jake still had the pocketknife she had given him, the one she had saved up her meager allowance for. She allowed herself a moment of wondering why.

  Don’t be silly, girl. Miriam pulled her thoughts up short. He’s always been careful with the things he has, that’s all.

  “We should probably go back. It’s quite some ways to walk yet,” she said to Taryn, who now had three rocks clutched in her hands.

  Though Miriam didn’t encourage her, Taryn chattered while they walked, bringing Miriam up to date on what was happening in her life, her father’s life and Tilly’s and Fred’s lives. It was a bittersweet pleasure to Miriam to hear about Jake—how much he was at home, how often he slept in the recliner in the evening, how he liked to read Taryn stories.

  They had come to the top of the hill, just a few hundred feet from her driveway, when they heard the familiar growl of a tractor coming down the road. Her heart skipped. Tilly had said Jake was coming to work the fields by her house. It was probably him right now.

  “My daddy,” Taryn called out as soon as the tractor topped the hill. She grinned up at Miriam. “That’s my daddy. Let’s run and we can catch him.”

  Still clutching her rocks, Taryn took off, her ponytail bobbing with each step. She was heading straight for the lumbering tractor.

  Miriam’s heart jumped, and she sprinted after the little girl, catching her by the shoulder. “Don’t, Taryn. What if he can’t see you? He’ll run right over you.”

  Taryn frowned up at Miriam. “Not my daddy. He sees everything.”

  As the tractor came closer, Miriam realized from Jake’s glower that Taryn was right.

  Jake slammed the throttle lever back, hit the clutch and braked. Why was Taryn with Miriam? And w
here was Tilly? He put the tractor in park, took in a deep breath and climbed out of the cab.

  “Daddy, Daddy, look at the rocks I found.” Taryn came running up to him, waiting, as he had taught her, a safe distance away from the wheels of the huge tractor.

  He walked closer, pointedly ignoring Miriam as he took a moment to squat down and look at the rocks in his daughter’s dirty hands. “They are very nice,” he said, turning one over in his hand, then handing it back to Taryn.

  “And Miriam was going to make a water wheel, but she didn’t have her pocketknife.” Taryn bestowed an innocent smile on him, clutching her rocks back to her chest. “I said you have one. Can we use it?”

  “Sure you can,” Jake said absently as he straightened, finally looking over at Miriam, who stood a distance away. A safe distance away, he thought, reaching automatically into the front pocket of his jeans to pull out his pocketknife. He walked over and handed it to her. “Taryn said you needed this?”

  Miriam took it, avoiding his gaze. “We were going to make water wheels just after Tilly met me on the road.” Miriam looked down at the knife, then up at him. “Fred isn’t feeling good, and Tilly had to bring him into town. She asked me to watch Taryn for her.”

  Jake heard Miriam’s words, his heart tightening. Fred, sick again? It must be serious if Tilly was taking the time to bring him in, and Fred was letting her.

  He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a quick prayer. Please, Lord. Don’t let it be serious. He opened his eyes and caught Miriam looking at him with that same wistful expression he had seen before. He felt a sudden desire to touch her, to reassure her himself. He had to stop himself from pulling her into his arms.

  “You still have this,” she said quietly, holding up his pocketknife. She looked up at him again, the spring breeze lifting strands of her hair.

  “Yeah. It was the first birthday present I had gotten in a few years.” He shrugged, willing away the attraction he felt for her.