A Mother at Heart (8 page)

Curious, she walked past the barn and to the corrals beyond. Climbing up on the fence, she saw the
herd of cows hanging around the two huge metal feeders—they were empty.

Cows probably need to get fed, she thought, stepping down. She walked back to the house and knocked on the door. No answer. Puzzled, she pushed open the door and put her head in.

“Hello, anybody home?”

“I'm in the living room, Miriam,” Tilly called out. Miriam stepped inside, kicked her shoes off and walked in.

Tilly was sitting on the recliner, reading. She looked up when Miriam came in. “Hello, dear. So good to see you again.” She put the footrest down and got up. “Come in, sit down.”

“I can't stay long. I was just wondering if I could get some gas. I need to mow that lawn.”

“Oh, I'm sure you can. Do you remember which tank is diesel and which one is regular?” Tilly asked with a frown. “I know I don't.”

“I can probably figure it out.” Miriam glanced around. “Where are Fred and Taryn?”

“Taryn is at play school, and Fred is sleeping. He took a bad spell right after Jake left. Do you want something to drink?”

“No. I should get back to the house. It looks like there's a rain shower coming, and I want to get the lawn mowed before that. I'll probably stop by tomorrow.”

“You do that, dear.”

“What's wrong with the cows? They're sure making a lot of noise. Are they hungry?”

Tilly's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. Fred was supposed to feed the cows this morning. Jake told
him not to, that they could wait, but Fred was insistent. Now he won't be able to.” She shook her head. “I guess they'll have to wait until Jake comes home. And he'll be so tired.”

Miriam hesitated. It was none of her business what happened to Jake's cows. Yet, she could see how genuinely distressed Tilly was.

Tilly got up and put her book down. “I'll just have to feed them myself. I'll have to phone the school to tell them I'll be late picking up Taryn.”

Miriam had to smile at the thought of Tilly sitting in a tractor, wearing her ever-present skirt and blouse.

“Don't be silly,” she said suddenly. “I remember helping Jake feed the cows. I can do it.”

“No, dear. You don't have to do that. You're here for a holiday.”

“Feeding the cows is hardly a huge chore,” Miriam said with a laugh. “It will be a nice break for me.”

“Are you sure?”

Miriam could see obvious relief on Tilly's face, and nodded. “Think of it as payment for the gas I have to borrow.”

“Hardly seems fair. But as long as you don't mind. It will work out really well for me. I have to pick up Taryn in half an hour, and I know Fred can't do it. Not now.”

“Then that settles it. We don't want her waiting for you.” Miriam patted Tilly on the shoulder. “You just sit down and take it easy. I'll get those cows fed.”

An hour later, Miriam jumped out of the gate and
closed it behind her. The tractor with the bale forks had no cab, and she was still picking hay out of her hair and wiping dust out of her eyes. She figured she looked a fright, but didn't care. It was fun driving the tractor, dumping the huge round bales into the feeder and trying to avoid running over cows or calves. After depositing the last bale, she had backed up and simply sat and watched the calves racing around, their tails up in the air, then stopping suddenly and coming back to check out who this strange person was.

She still had to smile, thinking of how clean and fresh they looked compared to the cows. She had forgotten how cute they could be and how much fun they were to watch. For a moment she was the Miriam of old, helping Jake with his chores, hoping her mother wouldn't find out.

She walked back to the tractor and climbed on, put it in gear and then drove it to where it had originally been parked. She had to stand up to turn the wheel; the steering was tight and the front-end loader made it that much more difficult to maneuver.

But she'd done it, she thought proudly as she shut off the roaring engine.

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.