Love's Story (46 page)

Rachel entered the living room after supper to see Maria staring intently into a painting on the wall. “Are you okay?”

“I'm just missing my old home. This painting was done by my uncle. It's
Rancho de Estrella, Ranch of the Stars,
my only home before coming to Searsville. I remember it as such a place of love, free of gossip and the secrets that seem to shroud Searsville. There was always so much going on with all my brothers and sisters; how difficult it has been to get used to the deafening silence in our small home. On the rancho, families live together for generations, and each family member has an expected role. When I moved here, with Robert at work during the day, I was completely independent. I had to create my own direction and duties. It was such an adjustment.”

Rachel moved toward the wall and studied the picture closely. Nestled in the rich, fertile, green valley was a collection of wooden buildings surrounded by rustic fences and great oak trees. The sun radiated light off the center structure, which Maria had indicated was her home.

“It's so beautiful there. I can see why you miss it.” Rachel looked into Maria's dark eyes and for the first time knew she was not alone. Maria had lost her family, too. She had a husband and child, a family to call her own, but like Rachel, she must have understood the pain of leaving her mother for an unknown place. “It's not the home you miss, is it?”

“No, but I realize now I've been very selfish to sit here moping, staring into a painting and remembering how things were.”

“Selfish? I hardly see how wanting to go back where you're loved is selfish.”

“The Lord has given me a new family—a husband and a beautiful child, with another on the way.” Maria rubbed her belly. “This is my home now, but I've been wishing for something that doesn't exist, nor should it.”

“How can you say that? You were taken away from the only family you've ever known. A new family doesn't replace a mother or a father.” Rachel was enraged at her friend's seemingly blind submission.

“I
chose
to leave my parents. I fell in love with a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and
he
became my family. Just like the Bible says: We are to leave and cleave.”

Rachel now felt Maria's and her backgrounds were not at all alike. Maria had been given a choice. For Rachel, there had been no such luxury. She had been forced to leave her mother and little brother to live in this forsaken logging village. “Well, I didn't choose
anything,
my stepfather did it for me,” Rachel spat out.

“Rachel, it sounds like you were determined to be unhappy here to prove your stepfather was wrong in his actions. The gossip mill has only allowed you to justify your anger. Why didn't you ever tell me you didn't want to be here?”

“It's not the sort of thing you share with your employer,” Rachel said, feeling relief that the burden of her secret had finally been lifted.

“I thought you enjoyed teaching….”

“I do, but—”

Maria picked up a framed photograph that was on the table with the lamp and brought it toward Rachel.
“Abuelo, Abuela.”

“Pardon me?” Rachel looked at the photo which included a large number of men, women, and children solemnly staring into the camera in full traditional Mexican dress. Rachel had entered the parlor many times before, but she had never taken time to study its treasures.

“That means ‘grandmother' and ‘grandfather' in my native tongue. My parents have never met Seth. I will teach him the words Abuelo and Abuela before we travel to the rancho this summer to meet his only grandparents.”

“I don't understand what this has to do with me.” Rachel looked into the photograph and felt only pain for her friend who had come to Searsville and remained isolated due to her heritage.

“This is my home now.” Maria held her palms open and looked around. “My family may be much smaller, but that only makes my place here more important. Marshall Winsome didn't bring you here, Rachel, God did. So you might as well make the best of it.”

Rachel said goodnight to Maria and headed for her room, still visibly upset by their conversation. She reached for her Bible and a piece of writing paper and took out a pen to write a letter. She placed the sheet on her Bible and began the words she had sorted through all evening.

Rachel was sniffing, trying desperately to keep her tears from falling on the letter. She knew that her mother was probably aware of the statewide drought, but hoped her reasoning would not be questioned. With graceful hands, she folded the letter and placed it in a small envelope.
Mother, if only I could tell you what my life is like here. I am the source of constant gossip and I am completely alone. I've been sent away from my beautiful lakeside room to live with a couple that preaches at me day and night. God has abandoned me and the only one who cares is a tiny little boy who shares my room.
Rachel looked tenderly at the sleeping toddler lying in the bed next to her and laughed at the precious sight. He had kicked free of his quilt, his knees tucked up under his chest and his round little bottom pointing skyward.

Rachel went to his bed and smoothed his hair. “My sweet bear,” she whispered.

“Rachel?” Maria's glossy dark hair glistened in the light from the lamp she carried as she stood in the doorway. Her large brown eyes softened at the sight of the schoolteacher with her son.

“He sleeps this way every night. Mouth open, rump high in the air.” Rachel delighted in the growth and progress of Seth and relished the sight of his nightly sleeping position. Rachel smiled happily for the first time all evening, and laughing through her tears felt wonderful.

“Yes, I know. He's done that since he was a tiny baby.” Maria's head tilted to the side.

“He said a new word today: piggy,” Rachel beamed.

“Piggy? Oh yes. I showed him a picture of a pig in the portrait of my parents' rancho. He must have remembered.

“I'm sorry about our talk earlier. I hope you're not upset.” Maria placed her hand on Rachel's slim shoulder. “But this is our home now. Searsville may not be as we expected, but the Lord has us here for a reason.”

The gentle words immediately threw Rachel into her recent pattern of self-pity.
Here it comes,
Rachel thought.
The sermon. If I hear one more time about the Lord wanting me to be here, I'll be sick. It's Marshall Winsome who wants me here and that's as far as it goes.
Rachel crossed her long slender arms in front of her as she rolled her eyes and looked away.

“I'll prove to you He wants you here,” Maria began. She bent over with effort and picked up a large black Bible that lay upon the table next to the lamp. She fumbled through the pages, tilting the book toward the light. “Here it is, Proverbs sixteen, verse nine: ‘A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.' You see, your stepfather may have brought you here, but God—”

Rachel lifted up her hand in protest; the last thing she wanted to hear was a quote from the Bible. Maria's faith seemed so blind to Rachel; for easy answers, all one had to do was just open the Bible. Rachel had seen enough. “Maria, please don't take offense, but I'm afraid I just don't believe that anymore. I'm very tired; I think I'll turn in for the night. I would love to hear more about the rancho later though,” Rachel offered. She had wanted to end on a positive note, for she understood that Maria really was a friend to her.

One thing was obvious from their conversation: Maria truly cared about Rachel, and for that Rachel was truly grateful. Rachel changed into her night clothes and unconsciously fell into old habits, saying the first prayer she had uttered for over a month,
Thank You for Maria.

C
hristmas came quickly, and yet still the much-needed heavy rains had not come. The logging industry and its wagons, oxen, men, and recreation continued throughout the winter season as though nothing had changed, for it hadn't. The Christmas Eve air was cold and crisp, but the stars in the sky were clearly visible and they painted a glorious canvas of light. Rachel planned to attend church services with the Lathrop's at the personal request of Seth.

Rachel put the finishing touches on her hair, which was pinned up loosely under a new hat, with her auburn ringlets gently surrounding her delicate ivory face. Her hat and gown were a rich, deep green, a perfect match with her eyes. Her dress was sleek, with long, tailored sleeves, a fitted bodice, and an exaggerated, full skirt that required a multitiered hoop.

The entire collection was a gift from her mother and stepfather. The seamstress who had prepared Rachel's trousseau when she left San Francisco had kept her measurements and created the gown from a fabric Peg Winsome had personally selected to match her daughter's Irish-green eyes.

Rachel felt like the princess her father always said she was as she left her bedroom, carrying her lamp before her. As she approached the kitchen from the extended hallway, the Lathrop family beamed with happiness.

“Rachel, you look radiant. I'm so pleased you've decided to join us for worship services.” Maria's protruding stomach made it impossible for her to hug Rachel, so she patted her back as she came closer and they laughed in acknowledgment.

“I think the dress is a tad fancy for Searsville's Christmas service, but I was so excited when I opened the package, I just had to try it. I can't imagine where Mother expected me to wear this gown, but I plan to enjoy every moment in it.” Rachel lifted the sides of her skirt slightly, dancing from side to side to the make-believe music that played in her heart.

“Up?” Seth's chubby arms reached up toward Rachel so that he could join in her waltz.

“No, Seth. Rachel is dressed far too nicely for your dirty boots to kick her gown.” Robert's voice was stern, and Rachel resisted the urge to pick up her favorite little friend. The foursome enjoyed a sumptuous supper of roasted lamb and potatoes before joining hands and walking to the church, happily singing Christmas carols.

Chase Dylan entered the festively decorated church on the arms of two women, Mrs. Hopper and Mrs. Williams. The repairs on the American House were still going on, but Chase had been assured that his services were no longer needed. The other sawmills hadn't stopped operating for the winter and Chase's obligation to his men made being in Portola a priority. Since no one would be working on Christmas Day, Chase decided to stop in Searsville for the service and to check on Mrs. Williams as a favor to her husband.

Chase welcomed having excuses to be in the small village, but truthfully, he was anxious to see Rachel. He had been praying for her constantly since they had been apart—praying that her faith had been restored and that the gossip had died down. It had taken all of his might to resist writing her a letter. But he knew that if Rachel were to receive a letter from Portola, the post would be abuzz of the correspondence within moments of its arrival.

Chase escorted Mrs. Hopper and Mrs. Williams to the front of the church and directed them into an empty pew. He saw them seated comfortably and went toward the altar to greet Pastor Swayles after his long absence from the church. The two men exchanged handshakes and congratulated each other on the excellent match they had made.

“Those two have been inseparable since Mrs. Williams arrived. They've attended nearly every church social on the calendar,” Pastor Swayles noted. The minister was most delighted with the changes he'd seen in Mrs. Hopper. She had always been an excellent servant, but something was different now: She did everything with delight, not because it might be expected of an older woman living alone in town.

“Well, I'd say we have a gift for matchmaking.” Chase's expression broke into laughter as he surveyed the women joyfully engaged in conversation.

“Look there, the town schoolteacher. Why, I haven't seen her in worship service since the Smiths got married. That gives me an idea…”

Pastor Swayles nodded toward the door where Rachel had just come in, looking resplendent in the dark green dress that matched her eyes. For a moment, Chase was so overwhelmed by the exquisite appearance Rachel made in her winter gown that the comment went unnoticed.