Woman of Grace (7 page)

“Go on,” Abby whispered. “I think she needs to say good-bye.”

Instantly, an urge to turn and run flooded Hannah. She was no good at such heart-wrenching times. She knew no words of consolation that might ease Ella’s way.

But Ella was her friend. No matter how desperately she wished to do it, she couldn’t run away. Hannah dragged in a steadying breath, then walked over to sit beside her. “Yes?” She laid a hand over Ella’s. “I’m here.”

“Th-the children …” The woman forced out the words with great difficulty. “H-help take care of them … for me. L-love them.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And D-Devlin,” the dying woman whispered. “F-forgive him.” Tears filled her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “He needs … forgiveness … so b-badly.”

Frantically, Hannah looked to Abby. Concern and understanding gleamed in her tear-bright eyes. She gave a slight nod. Hannah knew she was urging her to acquiesce.

But to render such a promise, when Hannah harbored no illusions about how Devlin still felt about her …

Forgive him.

What had Ella said, just before she had gotten her to fetch Devlin from the kitchen that day? Something about how truly loving God was to love and forgive as He did? Even those who didn’t seem to deserve it, like Devlin MacKay.

Such was also the gift of God’s grace, she recalled Ella saying, that unearned, undeserved favor He had bestowed on all. God only asked the same as He gave.

“Gr-grace, Hannah.” As if she had seen into her innermost thoughts, Ella reached up and clung to her, gasping out the words. “Grace … ”

“Yes, Ella,” Hannah repeated softly, leaning close. “Grace. It’s what I need, what I’ll pray for, in order to find some way to forgive Devlin. I promise to try.”

Ella smiled and nodded, then fell back onto her pillows. Her grip on Hannah loosened; her eyes slid shut. A few minutes later, she was gone.

4

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.

Job 1:21

Two days later, on a bright, balmy, late April morn, Ella’s funeral took place. She was buried near Sally MacKay, Conor’s first wife and Evan’s mother, in Grand View’s pine-studded cemetery. As he had for Sally, the Reverend Noah Starr presided at the internment ceremony.

Afterwards, as Hannah helped Abby load the children into the buckboard, the young priest walked over. Watching him approach, she had to admit she found his dark blond, wavy hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, well-molded mouth, and finely hewn features quite attractive. Though only of moderate height, Noah Starr moved with an athletic grace that bespoke great power and strength.

That physical presence, however, was only enhanced by his personality, which was gentle, patient, and seemingly very compassionate. Though only twenty-four and out of seminary just six months, he already promised to be a far more impressive pastor than his aging, infirm uncle under whom he currently served. But he also seemed, to Hannah’s way of thinking, too good to be true. She always felt uneasy in his presence.

She couldn’t pretend to ignore him, though, when the Episcopal priest finally drew up beside her. Abby was busy helping Beth settle Devlin Jr., Mary, and Jackson in a snug little nest of quilts and blankets behind the buckboard’s front seat, while Hannah, with only baby Bonnie to hold, stood there relatively unencumbered. There seemed no polite way to escape Noah Starr, so she plastered on her most welcoming, social smile and faced him down.

“Is there something more we can do for you, Father?”

He returned her smile with one Hannah wagered was far more natural and sincere than hers had been.

“Is there anything else needed for Mr. MacKay and his family?” the blond man asked. “The ladies of the church have offered their services—cooking meals, taking in the children for a time, mending clothes … you know … things like that.”

Did this priest seriously think they weren’t capable of taking care of Devlin and his family? Or was it something more, Hannah wondered, perhaps involving some prejudice against her because of her past? She could well imagine the furor in Grand View that news of her helping with Devlin’s children would cause.

Nonetheless, Hannah clamped down on her immediate swell of anger. She shot Abby, who had joined them after finishing with the children, a quick, sideways glance.

“Can’t say as I know of anything we need right now,” she finally replied. “I’ve been doing the cooking and cleaning for Devlin’s family since Ella delivered, as well as caring for his children. Perhaps you’d do better to ask him if he still finds anything lacking.”

Noah’s gaze moved to where Devlin stood at the gravesite, head bowed, hands fisted at his sides, his stance rigid and angry. For a fleeting instant, the young priest’s features softened. “I would,” he said, a pensive note in his voice, “but right now he hardly seems open to any assistance, especially from the religious domain.”

“Please thank the ladies, will you, Father?” Abby interjected briskly. “We’re managing as best as we can right now. In time Devlin might be open to speaking with you, but for now”—she sighed and nodded in affirmation of his words—“for now I don’t think any offer from the church would be well accepted.”

“He’s blessed to have a strong, supportive family.” Once more the Reverend Starr’s gaze swung back to the two women, and settled finally on Hannah. “And good friends, too.”

“Ella was my friend. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Devlin and me.”

At Hannah’s blunt reply Noah Starr’s eyes momentarily widened. He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Still, Devlin will need friends to help him get through the pain and loss. Frequently, losing a loved one changes a person and opens his heart to the truly important things in life.”

Though Hannah couldn’t ever conceive of being Devlin’s friend, she
could
feel some compassion for his grief. He didn’t deserve a wife like Ella. Still, for all his faults, Devlin
had
deeply loved her and had lost much with her death.

“Perhaps,” she conceded grudgingly. “I never said I wouldn’t continue to offer him my assistance, no matter how I feel about him. For Ella’s sake I
will
be there for her children.”

The priest smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, Hannah.” He cocked his head. “Can I hope that we might see you in church someday? I’m sure Abby—”

“With two babies to care for”—blushing furiously, Hannah quickly cut him off—“both of us can’t be gone from the ranch at the same time. And it’s just too hard to bring all the children along to town very often.”

“Well, in time as the babies grow older,” Noah persisted, “things might change. Then—”

“Things will never change!” she blurted, at the end of her patience. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to speak her mind so forcefully, but she was tired of pretending she didn’t care how people thought of her. “I know you’re new to Grand View and to the ministry, but it’s time you faced facts. The townspeople know about my past all too well. They’d never hold with having me in their precious church.”

“God’s house is meant for all, Hannah.” The priest’s words were gentle, softly spoken now. “In time, the congregation would accept that.”

“No.” She firmly shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t. You’d probably lose most of your congregation if I dared step foot in church.”

Fervent zeal burning in his eyes, Noah opened his mouth to reply as Abby laid a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Though I’m sure Hannah appreciates your intentions as much as I, Father,” she interjected with quiet emphasis, “this isn’t the time or place for such a discussion. We need to get the children home.”

He flushed, nodded, then stepped back. “Yes, of course you’re right, Mrs. MacKay. Sometimes my good intentions do overstep themselves.” Noah turned back to Hannah. “We’ll talk again soon. The Lord always prevails, and I know He wishes for you to join us.”

Gazing up at him, Hannah suddenly knew why the Reverend Starr made her feel so uneasy. Not only did he seem too good to be true, but he was also extremely naïve in the ways of people and the deep-seated prejudices they held. Because of that, he possessed the potential to do her great harm.

He could bring fresh attention to her. He could inadvertently stir up public resentment, causing problems for Conor and Abby. Even if only indirectly, he could, Hannah realized with a ripple of fear, threaten her secure life at Culdee Creek.

But the young and idealistic priest could and would not see it that way. Only time would remove the blinders from his eyes. Meanwhile, Hannah didn’t intend to be anyone’s sacrificial lamb.

She turned and climbed into the buckboard. “Good day, Father Starr.”

The priest recognized the dismissal and rendered them both a quick nod. “Good day, ladies.” He turned and walked away.

The ride back to the ranch was somber and sad. Conor and Evan rode on ahead with Devlin, one man on either side of him. Abby and Hannah—Bonnie in her arms—followed a short distance behind with the children. A small group of ranch hands brought up the rear.

Beside her, Abby drove the team of horses pulling the buckboard with calm expertise. Hannah studied her covertly. She knew her friend deeply grieved Ella’s passing. Ella had been the one to welcome Abby when she had first arrived at Culdee Creek to work as Conor’s cook, housekeeper, and tutor for his then nine-year-old daughter, Beth. Ella had been the one who had supported her through the difficult months with an embittered, irascible employer and his love-starved, troubled daughter. The bond between the two women had grown deep and strong.

The strain of the past month showed on Abby. She looked pale and exhausted, and had lost weight. Though she had never contracted a full case of the influenza in the weeks of caring for those stricken, Hannah knew Abby had been fighting nausea and feeling poorly almost the whole time. She imagined her friend was near sick to death with grief, too.

Hannah vowed to make more time to help Abby. It was the least she could do for a good and true friend.

The day had turned cool but remained sunny, and a brisk spring breeze rattled the winter-browned grass. At the ground, Hannah could see tiny flashes of green. It made her smile.

Spring was definitely upon them. Another few weeks and everything would brighten with color. Another few weeks and the risk of winter would finally be over.

It was strange, though, to anticipate nature’s rebirth on this day. Ella had died. Her life was over, yet the world went on around them as if seemingly unaffected.

Somehow, that seemed callous and cruel. But then why should she be surprised? Hannah asked herself, her mood taking a dark, painful turn. In the end they were all destined for suffering and death. Only Abby’s unwavering faith in God seemed to hold out hope for something better. Yet some days, Hannah wasn’t so sure she would ever possess a faith as strong as that.

Movement behind her pulled Hannah from her thoughts. For the first time in the past few days the children began to giggle. Hannah glanced over her shoulder.

A feather had worked free from one of the old quilts and had somehow stuck to the tip of her son’s nose. He looked at it cross-eyed and swatted awkwardly at it, but kept missing.

Mary and Devlin Jr. pointed, but did nothing to aid him. Beth smiled in amused tolerance. Finally, when Jackson’s frustration level reached its limits and tears filled his eyes, Hannah leaned back and sent the feather flying with a quick flick of her thumb and middle finger.

“Funny thing, isn’t it, how just when you think life is the most dismal, hopeless fate a person could endure,” Abby observed with a backward glance and smile, “something funny or endearing happens to make you think twice. Then you remember all the blessings you still have, and thank the dear Lord for reminding you.”

“I just hope Devlin can remember that when he sees his children,” Hannah muttered, turning her attention once more to the three men riding ahead. “I fear they’ll be all he has to cling to for a long while to come.”