Love Finds You in Groom, Texas (22 page)

“I won’t tell a soul,” Pauline said as she gave his hand a squeeze.

“Neither will I,” Ruth added.

“You know me, Jake.” Cora sighed. “I’m not very good at keeping secrets…but I promise to do my best. Will that do?”

“For now.” Jake turned his gaze to Emily and Kate. “Okay, now…what about the two of you?”

Emily nodded. “As long as I can write about it in my book afterward.”

“Will you change the names of the characters?”

She grinned. “Of course. I always do.”

“Fine.” He looked at Kate. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Tell them what?” she asked and then winked.

“Perfect.”

As he took those first few steps across the porch toward the front door, Jake couldn’t help but hum “The Yellow Rose of Texas” once more.

As Anne climbed into bed Wednesday night, her mind reeled. First the beautiful yellow roses from Jake. Then the cryptic hints from her little sisters. She’d gotten the message, of course.

He cares about me.

And I care about him too.

She pulled the covers up and rested her head against the pillow. The more she thought about Jake, the more conflicted she felt. How could she possibly give her heart—even a piece of it—to someone she would likely never see again?

Anne tried to sleep. Ironically, the sound of a train off in the distance roused her from a near slumber. A train?

Oh yes. The track. Workers had finished the repairs on it. Not that she planned to board a train tonight, but the very idea that she could leave now if she chose to sent a thousand thoughts running through her mind. Just a few short days ago she had considered turning around and going back to Colorado. But now…

She sat up in bed, her thoughts shifting to the one person who had caused both her heart and her mind to shift gears—Jake.

Jake, with those captivating dimples. Jake, with his boy-next-door charm. Jake, the one who always seemed to put others first. Jake, the one who’d given her the yellow roses that now sat in the vase on her bedside table.

How could she leave Groom now, knowing he cared about her?

Anne tossed and turned, yanking on the covers until they came loose at the foot of the bed. About a half hour later, she’d come up with a plan. Dallas and Groom weren’t that far apart, were they? Of course not. If the Lord had somehow arranged all of this, then surely He could arrange a plan for them to see each other, at least on occasion.

Anne finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. She awoke some time later to a loud cry. Sitting up in bed, Anne attempted to get her bearings. Through the shadows she made out the room. Everything seemed fine.

Only, someone wasn’t fine. Beyond the closed door, she heard her younger sister’s cries.

“Emily.”

Anne leaped from the bed and reached for her housecoat. She opened the door and stepped into the dark hallway. To her right, she still heard Emily’s wails. Anne felt her way along, keeping one hand on the wall until she reached the door to Emily’s room. She’d just started to open it when Maggie’s soothing voice spoke.

“There, there, honey. It’s going to be fine now. Did you have a nightmare?”

“I dreamed that Mama was still alive.” Emily’s voice trembled as she responded. Gone was the rough and tough rapscallion who told stories of Indian scalpings and bank robberies.

At these words, Anne stepped into the room. Unable to make out anything in the darkness, she took a tentative step forward and bumped into the rolltop desk.

Emily and Maggie gasped in unison.

“It’s just me. Annie.”

“Annie!” Emily’s voice took on a tearful tone. “Oh, Annie, I dreamed about Mama. She was wearing a white dress and looked so beautiful, almost like an angel. But when I tried to reach out and touch her, she wasn’t there. She disappeared like a vapor.”

“Oh, honey.” Anne made her way to the bed and sat at Emily’s feet. She reached for her sister’s hand.

“I wanted to touch her so badly, Annie. And I thought I could…but she wasn’t really there. Why would I dream that? I barely remember Mama.”

“I have to wonder if these nightmares are a result of those stories you write. Or maybe they were triggered because you buried your dolls.”

“I have yet to figure out why you’ve done that,” Maggie said.

Emily shrugged. “Oh, I buried them for a reason. I plan to dig them up before we leave and then interview them. That’s the whole purpose.”

“Interview them?”

“Yes. I want to ask them what it’s like to come back to life. If anyone would know, they would.”

“Ah.” Anne grew silent.

“We won’t really know what life in heaven is like until we get there,” Maggie said. “But from what I’ve read in the Bible, it’s a wonderful place. I’m sure your parents are both very happy.”

“And they would want us to be happy too,” Anne said. “If I know Mama, she would want us to get back to the business of living.”

Maggie gave Emily’s hand a squeeze. “You’re such a brave girl when it comes to the stories you write. I know that, if you pray, God will help you get through this difficult season.”

“It’s easy to be brave on paper.” Emily sighed. “It helps me pretend I can be brave in real life too. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Anne said. “But don’t you think it’s time to lay down the stories about massacres and blood and so forth? Maybe you could write something poetic or sweet.”

Emily sighed. “That’s just so boring, Annie. If I’m ever going to sell my stories, they have to grab people by the throat.”

“Then write adventurous tales but leave out some of the blood and guts. I’m afraid it’s affecting your sleep.”

Emily yawned and leaned against her pillows.

“Think you can sleep now?” Maggie asked, running her hand over Emily’s hair.

“Mm-hmm.” Emily offered a hint of a nod, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Anne watched as Maggie rested her hand on Emily’s arm and prayed aloud. “Father, watch over this precious girl while she’s sleeping. Give her sweet dreams and peaceful rest.”

At once Anne’s eyes filled with tears. She turned away, unable to watch the gentle motions Maggie made as she tucked Emily in. Memories of her mother washed over her.

“I’ll just…wait out here.” Anne took a couple of steps into the hallway, hoping Maggie hadn’t witnessed her tears.

Seconds later, the older woman appeared and took Anne’s arm. “I’m wide awake. What about you?”

Anne nodded. It would probably take her hours to fall back asleep, in fact.

“Let’s go into the living room and have a little chat, shall we?”

Though she wasn’t sure she felt up to it, Anne followed Maggie down the dark hallway. Arriving in the living room, the older woman announced that she needed a glass of water. “I’ll fetch it from the kitchen and come right back. Would you like one?”

“That would be nice.”

As Maggie left for the kitchen, Anne took a couple of steps into the shadowy darkness of the living room and bumped into something. Or rather, someone.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jake’s breath felt warm against her cheek. His nearness brought comfort, and she leaned into him.

“Emily had a nightmare,” she whispered.

Anne felt his arm slip across her shoulders.

“Ah. Is she going to be all right?” he asked.

“I think so.” Anne welled up with tears again. “I’m so worried about her, Jake. She’s hiding so much pain, but I don’t know what to do for her.”

He stroked Anne’s hair. “You’re doing it already, Anne. You’re there for her, setting the perfect example.”

Anne began to cry and he held her tight. When the tears finally gave way to silence, Anne sighed. “Some example I’m setting,” she whispered.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he whispered in response. “I’ve learned a thing or two from you since you arrived.”

He ran his fingers through her hair once again, and she resisted the urge to reach up and kiss him for saying such a sweet thing.

Just about that time, a light came on the room. Anne took a giant step backward, bumping into the end table and almost knocking over a picture frame. She grabbed it to keep it from falling.

Across the room, Maggie looked at the both of them with a half smile on her face. Thankfully, she didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she handed Anne a glass of water and a handkerchief, rested a hand on her shoulder, and said, “Emily’s a strong little girl inside and out. There’s just something about the middle of the night that makes us more vulnerable.”

“Indeed.” Anne whispered the word and then realized how vulnerable she’d felt in Jake’s arms. Not that he seemed disturbed by the idea. In fact, a boyish smile lit his face as he glanced her way.

“Well, don’t let me disturb you ladies,” he said with a nod. “I’ve got to be up early. Just wanted to check on you.”

“Th–thank you.” Anne offered a nod. As he turned back toward the hallway, she said, “Oh, Jake?”

“Yes?” He turned to face her.

“Thank you again for the roses. They mean so much to me.”

He gave her a quick nod, a quiet, “You’re so welcome,” then disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Chapter Seventeen

One thing I’ve observed about folks in the Texas Panhandle—they have a resilient spirit. I’ve known many a person who turned their grief and heartache into something good. Perhaps I’m more keenly aware of this because we’ve recently faced a death in our family. My dear mother—God rest her soul—left us this past week. And though our hearts are heavy, I can think of no place I’d rather be than in Texas, with my friends gathered around me. Perhaps that’s what makes us so strong. Here in the Panhandle, we bear one another’s burdens. This week I’m so grateful for folks willing to stand alongside me with hands extended, ready to carry my load.
—“Tex” Morgan, reporting for the
Panhandle Primer

After holding Anne in his arms, Jake returned to his room. He got into bed with the memory of that moment still fresh—not that he could sleep. Oh no. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Anne in his arms. He could feel her cries, sense her pain. He replayed the event at least a dozen times before finally growing weary. His sleep was light, and when he awoke at six o’clock to rise for work, images of Anne flittered through his mind again.

She had captivated him. No doubt about it.

Jake sat on the side of the bed knowing he should pray but feeling conflicted. The only words that wanted to cross his lips were, “Lord, please don’t take her away.” After several minutes of wrestling through his emotions, he managed a different prayer, one he knew the Lord would answer.

“Father, not my will…but Yours be done.”

Truly they were the hardest words Jake O’Farrell had ever spoken.

Anne awoke on Thursday morning with a headache. She’d been up half the night wrestling with the sheets. But with morning’s light—headache or no headache—she had work to do. Virginia and Amaryllis would be by at nine to begin their flower picking for the garlands. There was no time to give in to her emotions. Not with so much work to be done.

Maggie prepared breakfast and gazed at Anne from time to time. Anne half-expected her to ask about what she’d witnessed last night but was relieved when she did not. Instead, Maggie offered up occasional tidbits about Jake, which Anne eventually found humorous.