Chasing Clovers (16 page)

"
How are things going with Miss Green?" she asked, her light blues eyes showing a hint of mirth.

"
She had a little accident a few days back, but she's fine now. Why don't we go on in and have a cold drink."

"
That would be lovely."

Livy was in the sitting room when he came in. The surviving crutch was tucked under one arm while she stretched for a book high on the shelf. When she noticed them standing there, her eyes lit up and she limped toward them.

"
Alice, have you come for a visit?" Livy's thin lips opened to display a brilliant smile. Hank extended his hand, and she shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"
We've come to see how you're getting along," Alice said, glancing sympathetically at Livy's injured leg.

"
Oh, I'm fine. Had a little accident is all. I'll be as good as new in no time."

He
stood back staring at Livy, dumbfounded by her ability to be so kind. Not twenty minutes ago she tore a strip off of him for firing Rusty.

"
Yup, Livy's a tough one that's for sure," he said, winking at her. He watched as her spine went rigid, a sign that she was still mad at him.

"
Ezekiel made some lemonade earlier. Let's go into the kitchen and have a glass," she said.

John stepped
back to let the elderly couple pass, then reluctantly followed behind. The kitchen was clean, and he could see that someone had tidied the counter. Ezekiel wasn't there, and John assumed he was at the cook shack preparing supper for the hands.

He inhaled. Something sure smelled good.
He lifted the lids and peeked inside the pots. Potatoes and carrots were cooking on top of the stove. He opened the oven door and peered inside. Surprised to see a chicken nestled in a black roaster, its skin sizzling he glanced up at Livy. "You made this?"

"
Ezekiel helped," she said, handing Alice and Hank each a glass of lemonade before giving him one.

"
Well, I can see you're coming along," Alice smiled.

"
Mr. Taylor thought it would help to have Ezekiel show me a few things." Livy said and sat down at the table across from John.

He smiled at her.
"Well, I'm sure by the end of the week Livy won't need Ezekiel's help anymore." John was surprised to see her cheeks go red. "You should taste her pancakes, they're mighty good too."

"
I can teach you how to make the best apple pie in the west," Alice offered.

Livy's eyes lit up. "That would be wonderful."

"
You folks are welcome to stay for supper," John said, grateful that Livy seemed to open up when Alice was around.

"
We'd like that. It will give me some time to pick out a few of your calves to buy," Hank said.

Livy smiled
.

John couldn
't help but smile too.

They finished their drinks, and the men headed outside. Alice and Livy sent Ben and Emily off to pick apples, and while they were waiting, Alice showed her how to make the crust for the pie. It seemed an easy task to Livy, but she wrote the recipe down anyway.

"
The thing with the crust," Alice explained, "is to handle it as little as possible, so the crust is flaky, not tough."

When the children came back, they proudly lugged a bucket filled with shiny red apples into the kitchen. She gave an apple to Ben, and forcing herself to pay attention to the girl, handed Emily one as well. The women went about peeling and slicing the apples, filling the two pie shells they had prepared. Alice put the pies in the oven while she continued preparing supper.

The kitchen was hot, so Alice suggested they eat their meal outside at the table on the back porch. A red and white checkered table cloth and some matching blue plates made the rustic table look inviting
.

While Livy sat beside John, eating the bountiful feast, she was astonished at how good it all tasted. Everyone congratulated her on what a
fine meal she had made, and she couldn't keep from smiling. She'd done it. She made a real supper, and there wasn't too much salt.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Livy cleared the table after Alice and Hank left. The calm that had settled over the ranch distracted her from the task. She pressed her waist against the table's edge. The sun, descending behind the rolling hills, highlighted the green and gold fields with an orange glow. She lifted her face toward the sun and let the heat soak through her, warming her insides.

The cattle had stopped lowing, and the squawking of the chickens had ceased. A light breeze grazed her face, and
she watched the trees sway back and forth, lost in their rhythmic dance. The river gurgled as it rushed by, and above her, chickadees and house wrens chirped loudly from the trees. She had begun to enjoy life on the ranch, and she could now take solace in the little wonders that surrounded her. She relished these peaceful moments. But a shadow still loomed over her, reminding her of the burden she carried.

"
It has a tendency to put one to sleep," John said from behind her.

She
flinched at the sound of his voice. She placed her hands on the wooden table and quieted the rattling dishes.

"
Sorry, I seem to have startled you."

He had crept up on her again, and she was sure she looked like an idiot leaning up against the table in a daze. Her face was warm, and she knew she was blushing. Thankful her back was to him,
she cleared her throat before she spoke. "It is calming."

He came around the table to face her, and smiled. His hat was off and his hair, black and wavy, fell on either side of his face to hang at his chin. He was a handsome man, and she couldn't stop from staring.

"
I've gone to sleep many nights out in the field listening to the sounds of God's creations," he said, picking up a bowl.

Her heart dropped, and she could feel her body grow rigid at the mention of God.
Her face became tight and stiff.

"
Why the frown?" His finger nudged her chin.

She squeezed the edge of the table. "You talk about Him as if He did something for you."

"
Him?" John's eyebrow rose.

"
God." She all but shouted the word.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she thought he wasn't going to answer her. Any talk about God usually got her in a huff anyway. Busy with clearing the table, she thought the conversation was over, when he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

"
He did do something for me. He gave me all of this." John spread his arms out, as if to embrace the vista before them that made up his ranch.

She
took in the land before her, the barns, the corrals, and the trees surrounding them. "Humph, He didn't give you this. You worked for it." She pointed her finger at him. "You did this."

"
No. He helped me."

"
I don't see how." She grabbed the rest of the forks and spoons off the table and placed them on her plate with a loud clatter.

"
Well, He let it rain so I could grow food for my family and my livestock."

"
That was Mother Nature."

He
rolled his eyes. "No such thing exists. That was God." He crossed his arms. "He gave me Ben and Emily."

She laughed. It was a bitter and harsh sound
.

"
If you believe that, then you have to believe He took your wife from you too."

He
put down the bowl he held and went to stand in front of her. "No."

"
You make no sense. If you believe in God and think He gave you all of this, then He's to blame for your wife dying!"

"
No, He isn't."

"
Yes, He is."

John
blew out an exasperated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look Livy, God doesn't take your loved ones from you."

"
Oh yes he does, Mr. Taylor."

He
placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. "God loves us and would never hurt us."

She stepped back, putting some distance between them and his touch. "Really, then how come people die?"

"
I can't answer that. But I do know that if it wasn't for Him, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed each day and do what I do. I couldn't make it through if I didn't have Him to lean on or talk to. He gives me hope."

"
You are wrong. When you do something bad, He punishes you by taking away the ones you love." Her voice shook.

John stared at her. The silence overwhelming, she went for her crutch.

"
Who did you lose, Livy?" he whispered.

She took a step back. The stabbing pain in her chest came sudd
enly. The weight so heavy and painful she held her breath as she tugged at the suppressed emotions now starting to surface.

"
No one," her voice was barely a whisper. She turned from him, grabbed her crutch and limped into the house. She was standing with both hands pressed into the counter when she heard him come up behind her.

"
Did someone you love die, Livy?"

She didn't turn from the sink, didn't want to. How many times had she seen the pity and the sadness on the faces of those who did not understand? How many times had she heard
'I'm sorry'
when they didn't even know what happened, or what she'd done.

"
I don't want to talk about it."

He placed the bowl in the sink and stood beside her. "Well, I do."

Angry at his persistence, she glared up at him. "I don't care what you want."

"
Sometimes it helps to talk these things out."

"
Why?" She grabbed the bucket of lukewarm water beside her, and dumped it into the sink before adding some soap. "Is it going to bring them back, Mr. Taylor?"

"
No, but it does offer some comfort."

"
I can't see how." She tossed the rest of the plates into the soapy water.

"
Maybe I can help, even if I listen."

"
So, now you want to help me?" She scrubbed the dishes as if they had glue on them. "Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Taylor. I do not need your help."

"
I think you need my help. In fact, I think you
want
my help."

She
slammed the plate she'd been washing onto the counter. The force sent suds flying through the air. Hands wet, she gave him a little shove.

"
No," her voice cracked, "I don't want, nor do I need your help." She pushed at him again, as the barrier around her soul started to crumble. "You don't even know me. You know nothing about me. You have no idea how I feel, or what I feel." Her arms flailed wildly. "You sit here, in your nice house, with your healthy children and you presume to tell me I need to talk to someone, least of all you? I need no one!" she screamed, her chest starting to constrict. "No one." Tears fell down her cheeks.

"
I… need…no…one." She tried to push past him, but he wouldn't let her by.

"
Livy, please tell me what's wrong." His strong hands held her arms.

"
Why do you want to help me?" She exploded, and her puny fists pounded into his chest. "Why me, why me? You can't make it better. No one can." Despair filled her, and she started to sob. Her hands crashed into him again and again and again. The fury that simmered inside of her for so long erupted, bursting out of her to drip onto the floor in a puddle of misery and hopelessness.

John's arms came around her, holding her close.

"
I…can't…breathe," she cried, her chest tight. "I… can't… breathe."

John rocked her back and forth, whispering soothing words into her ear. But she heard nothing except the sounds of her own demon screaming to be released.

"
It hurts… too much." Bitter sobs wracked her body. The control she'd fought so hard to maintain had started to crack and break. Unable to hold on any longer, she shattered. Pieces of shame, guilt, and agony spewed out of her, and her body trembled. Emma. She saw her lying still and cold… her baby.

Livy
's knees gave out. "Emma," she wailed. "Emma."

He
caught her before she fell to the floor. He carried her to the sitting room, sat down in his reading chair and cradled her on his lap. He smoothed back the wet tendrils of hair that had fallen into her eyes and felt helpless as he listened to her cry.

"
Livy, who's Emma?" John felt her stiffen in his arms, and her desolate sobs faded to silence. "Livy?"