A Cowboy's Heart (15 page)

“I'm not cheating. Did I not say that I could build a fire?” She piled charcoal under a few twigs of wood and one larger piece. After dousing them with starter fluid she waited a few seconds and struck a match. The charcoal blazed, and the wood sparked, crackled and caught fire.

“Tah-dah.”

“You win.” Clint stood next to her. “I still say you cheated, but you win.”

Willow handed him her stick. “I like mine well-done. And my marshmallows light brown, so that they're just hot enough to melt the chocolate.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Clint hugged her waist, one arm around her, and his shoulder brushing hers. When he let her go she backed into her chair to watch.

The boys sat one on each side of him and he helped them
skewer the hot dogs. Willow's heart ached for the three of them. Their faint conversation drifted back to her and she strained to hear, wiping away tears that trickled down her cheeks.

“Can't we have marshmallows first?” David asked.

“Nope, buddy, we have to eat something good for us.”

“Hot dogs aren't good for us,” Timmy informed him with a slight shake of his head. “They're full of servatives.”

“
Pre
servatives,” Clint corrected.

“Yes, those.” Timmy lifted his nearly black hot dog out of the fire.

“Here, Timmy, let me help you get that on a bun.” Willow walked to the table that held their condiments, chips and bottled water. “Do you want ketchup?”

Timmy shook his head. He looked up at her, eyes watery. “I want my mom, 'cause she knows that I don't like buns, and I just like mustard.”

Willow actually felt her heart break. It cracked into a million pieces and flooded her eyes with tears she couldn't blink back fast enough. Timmy was staring at her with a thousand questions in his little eyes, and what could she do?

“Tim, buddy, that isn't fair.” Clint's face was a mask of control that Willow knew he couldn't be feeling.

“It's okay.” Willow smiled and brushed Timmy's hair back, patting him on the back rather than giving him the hug that she wanted to give, but knew that he didn't want at that moment. She could see it in his stiff little shoulders and the challenge in his eyes.

“Come on, guys, let's eat fast so we can have s'mores. I love s'mores.” Willow squirted mustard on a plate and let Timmy push his hotdog next to it. He reached for a small bag of chips and walked off, still hurting.

David inched closer to her side. He tugged on her hand and she looked down, smiling because he was smiling. “I like my hot dog on a bun.”

“Do you like mustard or ketchup?”

He pointed to the ketchup. Willow fixed his plate, and he picked the seat next to hers.

Clint was still facing the fire. Willow wanted to tell him it would be okay. She couldn't. How could she make that promise? Especially when his back was to her, and his shoulders were as stiff as Timmy's, a sign that he was trying too hard to be strong.

 

The fire flickered, orange and blue flames dancing in the light breeze and shooting sparks into the air that fluttered and died out. It kept Clint in a trance for a few minutes, thinking, praying. The boys were behind him, talking to Willow in soft tones about the sound of the crickets that she couldn't hear, and why they loved s'mores the best, but hot dogs were okay, too.

Kid talk, like everything was okay. And they had no idea that their world hinged on a group of guys thousands of miles away searching for their mother. He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the heat from the fire blending with the warm summer night and a light breeze.

“Do you want one, Uncle Clint?” Timmy tugged at his hand, looking up at him with eyes that still questioned.

“Yes, I do want a s'more.” He wrapped an arm around his nephew's shoulder and thought back to his own childhood, before his mother died.

A lump of emotion rose from his heart to his throat, and he swallowed it down because he had to make this work for the boys, for their sake. Timmy leaned in close, his hand tighter on Clint's.

“Can we call my mom?” The little boy asked.

“Let's sit down and pray for her instead.” Clint sat down in the lawn chair and pulled Timmy onto his lap. “We can't call her right now, but we can say a prayer for her.”

“Do you think she will know that we're praying?” Timmy whispered.

“I think she will. And she definitely knows we love her.” Clint's silent prayer was that his sister would find faith. Now more than ever.

Timmy nodded against his shoulder, leaning in close and wrapping sticky-marshmallow arms around his neck. Clint couldn't look at Willow. He knew that in the dark there would be tears in her eyes.

He wanted to hold them all. He wanted to hold Jenna, too. A hand touched his arm. Willow. She smiled at him and nodded. He was doing okay.

He prayed, and David climbed onto his lap with Timmy. Willow pulled her chair closer. As the fire burned down to coals, they sat together, singing “Jesus Loves Me.”

Clint prayed his own prayers, silent prayers for wisdom. He hadn't hurt this bad since his mother's death. He remembered that day, and the following year, dealing with the pain and no one to really lean on. He hadn't known how to tell anyone how bad it hurt. Willow was sitting next to him, her hand on his arm, and he didn't know how to let her in.

S
unday evening the church parking lot was full of people. Willow stopped her truck, parking at the edge of the road, the only space left. The tiny community church, far from town and any real housing development, didn't have need of a big parking area, not on a normal Sunday.

Today wasn't just any Sunday. Today was the day after they had learned that Jenna Cameron was MIA. Today was a day of prayer that she would come home to her sons and her family.

Clint had come early with Janie and the boys. The boys would be in the nursery, far from the service and prayer. Clint had taken Willow's and Janie's advice. The boys didn't need to know.

How would the boys survive this, if Jenna didn't come home? And Clint? Last night sitting next to that fire with the boys, she had watched him struggle. Even after the boys had gone to bed he had insisted that everything was okay. He was fine.

He wasn't fine. He was hanging on to pride, using it as a lifeline. She recognized it because she knew that it had been her stumbling block from time to time.

Janie stood on the steps of the church, waiting for her. Willow
smiled at her aunt, who had put off her trip to Florida. Indefinitely. She couldn't go anywhere with Jenna missing.

And then there was Mr. Cameron in the nursing home. He thought Jenna had run away again, like she did every time she didn't like the rules. Willow wiped at her eyes and smiled for her aunt.

“I'm glad you're here. Clint needs you.” Janie slipped an arm through Willow's as they walked up the steps.

Willow wanted to disagree about Clint needing her. Clint was so used to being needed, he had a difficult time letting others be strong for him. He was still trying to protect and rescue. This morning she had caught him returning phone calls for her.

For now it didn't matter. He needed the distraction. He couldn't go to Iraq and find his sister. He couldn't make things right. So he was walking around in a stupor, rescuing everyone in sight.

She saw him at the front of the church, no longer himself. He wore khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. She compared him to that cowboy she had met back in May, with the toothpaste smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners.

Today he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was a burden he needed to give to God. She knew it was easier said than done.

“She's coming home, Clint.” Willow squeezed his hand and let it go.

He touched his lips with his fingers and lowered his hand. T
HANK YOU
. His gray eyes watered, and he looked away.

The pastor walked through a door at the side of the sanctuary, a kind man in his sixties who loved his congregation and treated them all like family. His family. And the compassion in his eyes said that he hurt when they hurt.

Pastor Gray smiled out at the gathering. Willow turned, seeing people she'd never seen before. The pews were crowded. People were lining the walls.

As the pastor spoke, Clint signed the words for Willow. And
she let him, because she had to accept what was happening to her hearing. She was learning to let go of pride.

“When we pray, we're to pray believing that God in heaven hears our prayers, and answers our prayers. Sometimes we say we're ‘just going to pray about it.' And we make ‘just' sound like a last resort. But the word
just
means something very different. It means ‘immediately.' It means ‘now.'

“‘I'm just going to pray' is sometimes our way of saying, ‘well, nothing else has worked, I'm just going to pray.' But add the word
immediately
in place of
just
. ‘I'm immediately going to pray.' That's what we should do in every situation. Every time we stumble, doubt, or fear, we should ‘just pray.'” He paused and smiled. Clint continued to sign, catching up. “And that's what we're going to do now for Jenna Cameron. We're just going to pray.”

He stepped out from behind the pulpit. “And we're going to pray, believing our God in heaven hears and answers. We're not going to pray thinking that God might or might not answer. We're going to be the woman who touched the hem of Jesus's garment, knowing in faith that to touch Him would bring healing.”

“Amen.” Clint whispered the word.

Amen.

Clint stood and Willow walked with him to the altar, aware that others were pushing in around them to pray. It was warm and close. Willow knelt next to Clint, aware that someone had knelt next to her.

I'
M TRYING TO HAVE FAITH
, Clint signed.

Willow swallowed, nodding, because she understood “trying to have faith.” She understood moving forward one day at a time, waiting for that moment when a person realized the meaning, the purpose of a situation and knew they could make it.

W
E HAVE TO ASK FOR MORE FAITH
. She moved her fingers, silently, words for Clint alone.

M
ORE FAITH
. Clint bowed his head and nodded.

 

Walking out of the church with the boys, Clint saw Willow standing off to the side waiting for him, her expression soft as her gaze settled on them.

“Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Willow asked as they walked across the lawn to the parking lot. He noticed her truck at the edge of the road. Janie had ridden with him.

Janie rounded up the boys, smiling and talking like everything was normal and that tomorrow would be a fun day. She told them they would even get out the garden hose again. If it didn't rain.

Willow had asked him about dinner. “No, not tonight.”

“Clint, you should come to the house. There's no reason to be alone.”

“I'm not alone.” He looked away.

“There are ways of being alone without being alone.” She smiled, but the gesture was weak. “I know from experience. And I know all about using pride to close out the world. I know…”

“I know you do.” He wanted to hold her, because she knew how it felt to lose things important to her. Someone important to her. He couldn't imagine her pain in that hospital, alone. He couldn't imagine complete silence.

He felt pretty weak compared to her.

“Don't shut us out, then.” That determined lift of her chin.

“I won't shut you out. But I'm going to get the boys to bed early. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Willow, I'm fine.”

“Of course you are. We women are the only ones who need someone to lean on, right?”

“Something like that,” he teased, hoping she'd smile and let it go.

“I'm here if you need me.” She let it go, that easily.

“I know you're here.”

He watched her walk away, and he was sorry that he'd spent a lifetime hiding his own pain and handling things alone. Janie had always just known, without him telling her.

From the looks of things, her niece didn't think he was a closed book, either. He'd sure never thought of himself as transparent.

 

On Thursday afternoon the military chaplain called with news. Clint listened to the man on the other end, faceless and practically nameless, telling him that they had leads. They were hopefully optimistic that they would recover Jenna Cameron.

Hopefully optimistic
and
recover.
Clint tried to push the terms aside, to not think too deeply about what they meant. He was pretty sure the military had meant to give him hope. He reached down deep for faith, because it felt buried by the emotion of the last few days.

Sunday and the prayer meeting felt like a lifetime ago.

The boys were in the barn with Willow. Clint walked through the double doors and headed in the direction of the office. He could hear the boys laughing and Willow talking to them.

He stopped short of entering the office. He couldn't go in there like this, because he knew the boys would see it in his eyes. If they didn't, Willow would.

Deep breath, and he ran a hand through his hair. The smile he plastered on was for the boys, to keep them smiling. They looked up when he stepped into the room.

They were on the floor, coloring pictures of Black Beauty. Willow was sitting at her desk, a catalogue in front of her.

“What's going on in here?” He sat down opposite Willow.

“The boys are coloring.” She smiled at Timmy and David. “I'm picking an Arabian mare from this catalogue.”

“You know the guys at the feed store are going to tease you.”

She smiled. “They tease me about everything. The feed I buy, the vitamins I give my animals, and I think they make fun of my truck.”

He laughed because they did make fun of her truck. “You drive a purple diesel around the country. And then there's your Ford. You have fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror.”

“A little girl gave me those dice.”

“Tell that to the guys, not me.”

“Nope, let them talk.” She opened the catalogue and pushed it across the desk. “I like this mare.” Eye contact. “Have you heard anything?”

“Yes.”

She looked down at her hands, the mood slipping from easy laughter to serious. She glanced at the boys, and he followed the look.

T
HEY HAVE LEADS AND ARE “HOPEFULLY OPTIMISTIC
.” Clint signed, I
DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS
. B
UT LAST NIGHT
D
AVID ASKED WHEN HIS MOM WILL CALL
. Willow's eyes filled with tears. W
HAT DO
I
SAY TO A QUESTION LIKE THAT
?

She shook her head and her hands moved in silent communication. I
DON'T KNOW
. I'
M SORRY
.

T
HEY NEED NORMAL
. T
HEY NEED CHURCH AND THE PARK
. I
NEED TO TAKE THEM TO THE ZOO OR THE LAKE
.

T
HEN DO IT
. K
EEP THEM BUSY
. She smiled. K
EEP YOURSELF BUSY
. T
AKE THEM BACK TO CHURCH
.

Clint glanced back at the boys. They were still coloring, ignoring the silent communication between adults. They had accepted that sometimes signs were used for words.

I'
M AFRAID THAT THEY'LL HEAR SOMETHING AT CHURCH
.

I
KNOW
. B
UT
, C
LINT
,
YOU CAN'T HIDE THEM AWAY HERE
. H
IDING IS JUST THAT
,
HIDING
. I
T'S FEAR AND LACK OF TRUST
.

She was right, he signed. He didn't tell her the rest. If he couldn't handle this situation, how would he handle the next fifteen or so years, trying to raise them alone, trying to make the right choices?

W
E'RE HAVING FAITH THAT SHE'S COMING HOME
. Willow
signed with determination. Determined, the way she approached everything in life.

She was facing profound deafness, and yet she didn't seem to waver in her convictions, in her determination and her faith.

“You're right.” He stood up, but another catalogue caught his attention. “What's that?”

“Independence.” She smiled, her eyes bright, maybe with tears. “I'm facing my future and letting go of pride. There are ways I can help myself to be independent. New phones. Answering machines that change a voice message to a typed message, and a few other gizmos.”

“I think that's great. And don't forget, you have friends.”

“I won't forget.” She smiled up at him, winking in a way that made him want to forget everything. “And don't you forget either.”

“Hey guys, let's go riding.” He turned back to Willow. “Want to go?”

She did. Smiling, she stood and held a hand out to David. Clint didn't know what he would do without her.

And that thought brought a lot of other questions he wasn't ready to deal with. Questions like—where did she fit into the rest of his life? Did she even want to be there, or were they just friends?

He pushed those questions aside and walked to the tack room to pull out bridles and saddles.

 

After a long ride, Willow slid to the ground and pulled a groggy David down. He wrapped his arms around her neck and she held him for a minute. When he didn't move, she glanced down and he smiled up, his eyes heavy.

“You need a nap.” She pulled him close and held him for another minute before setting him down.

Timmy seemed a little more alert, but not much. Willow smiled at Clint, and he winked. Her heart couldn't take much more of his charm. Cowboys either didn't know their power over
women, or else used it so effectively that it came off as innocent and unknowing.