Song of Her Heart (17 page)

“I'm not sure. If I leave here, I'll contact you. Otherwise, just mail them to the address you've used all summer.”

N
orah returned from Valentine a half hour before Paul and Mason got back to the Flying K. The answering machine light was blinking, but having a good idea what the message was, she waited for Mason to receive it. She changed into blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and was starting supper when saw them turn off the highway onto the Flying K road. She waited for Mason on the porch. Lines of fatigue etched his face, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure.

“I got along all right today,” he said when he reached Norah. “For the first time I'm hopeful that I'll make a full recovery.”

“Of course you'll make a full recovery. I've never doubted that.”

“But I
am
tired,” he said. “Do I have time for a nap before supper?”

“Yes. I don't have the food ready yet.”

She waved to Paul, who was heading toward the stable. “I'll check on things before I go.”

“Want to eat supper with us?”

“No, thanks. Mary will be looking for me.”

“Thanks a lot,” Norah said.

Norah didn't call attention to the blinking light on the answering machine, for she thought Mason needed rest. He slept for an hour, breathing deeply, and when she thought he'd had sufficient rest, but not too much to ruin his night's sleep, she started rattling the kitchen utensils. He roused, swung his feet off the bed, yawning and threading his fingers through his hair.

“I've been dead to the world.” When he saw the time, he said, “You should have called me.”

As he started toward the bathroom, he said, “We apparently have a message,” and he pushed the play button on the answering machine.

Norah's hands tightened on the edge of the sink where she was preparing salad.

“Hey, Mason,” the voice of the Valentine Realtor sounded in the room. “I have a buyer for the Bar 8. I took a two months' option today for the sale of the property. Give me a call if you're home before five o'clock, and we can talk over details.”

“At last!” Mason said joyfully. “I wondered if I'd ever sell the place. It's too late to telephone him
tonight, but I'll sleep better knowing I'm out of the woods financially.”

“But what happens to Sheila and Doug when you've sold the ranch?” Norah asked, for she'd been concerned about them.

“Doug is buying a ranch that adjoins Paul's. I've helped him by furnishing a house and hiring him to keep an eye on the Bar 8. He's been saving all the money I've paid him so he can build a house on their property. They'll be okay.”

Norah dallied with the cleaning-up chores as long as she could, but finally she went to her bedroom and came back with an envelope. She waited quietly until the newscast Mason was watching had finished, before she said, “Mason, we need to have a serious talk.”

He clicked the off button on the remote. Turning to face her, he said, “You're not planning to leave!”

Smiling slightly, she said, “No, I'm not. I'm buying the Bar 8.”

He stared at her, speechless. When he did speak, he said angrily, “I won't sell it to you. It's a poor investment. I won't let you sink money in a ranch that I can't even make a profit on. It's out of the question.”

“But, Mason, I awakened this morning with the overwhelming conviction that God is nudging me in that direction. I'll buy the ranch and lease it to the
H & H year-round. The amount Jim Hanson said they would pay seems like a good return on my investment. Besides, don't you see? This
is
my missionary work—to provide therapy for those who are mentally and physically impaired.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, Norah, I won't have it! I know why you're doing this. And I won't have you risk your inheritance to solve my financial problems.”

“Didn't you listen to what I said? This will be my missionary work, serving in the way God can use me.”

“And you'd be staying in the Sand Hills.”

“Yes.”

“You've never spent a winter up here. You might not like it.”

Norah was hurt that he was finding fault with her plan. She'd thought he would be overjoyed that she'd found her mission field in the Sand Hills.

“I thought you'd be pleased to have me for your neighbor.”

“I don't want you for a neighbor. I want you for my wife.” His anger surprised the words right out of his mouth. “And I don't want to be under obligation to my wife for saving me financially. I'd feel as if I was marrying you for your money.”

“You can't keep me from buying the Bar 8,” Norah said stubbornly. “This is a business deal and
has nothing to do with marriage. If that's a proposal, it sure is a poor one, and I won't demean myself by replying to it.”

Norah ran down the hallway into her bedroom and slammed the door—the first time the door had been closed since he'd come home from the hospital. Norah wasn't normally a weepy woman, but she lay facedown on the bed and reached for a tissue to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

When she'd left the bedroom this morning, she'd been convinced that this was the answer to her relationship with Mason. Her dream of a mission field would be realized, while at the same time, she and Mason could be together. He said he wanted her to be his wife, but why would he expect her to give up the divine calling she'd nurtured all of these years? He'd seemed so happy the past few weeks when she'd been at his instant beck and call. As his wife, would Mason resent her involvement in the H & H program?

 

Norah's reaction to his refusal stunned Mason. He was only trying to protect her investment. Obviously she didn't have the foggiest idea about running a ranch, or any kind of business for that matter. Her family involvement had sheltered Norah from the work-a-day world, and what kind of a man would he be if he took advantage of her inexperience and
sold the Bar 8 to her? Would she buy the ranch if he didn't own it, if she didn't know he needed to sell that ranch to hang on to the Flying K? He had a sneaky suspicion that she wouldn't, and if she lost her money, he didn't want that on his conscience.

But he did feel low to have hurt her when she wanted to help him. He limped down the hallway, but when he was confronted with the closed door, he returned to the living room. They could work out the situation tomorrow.

Norah heard Mason's steps at the door, and she was tempted to go to him, but she knew she couldn't talk to him without crying, so she changed into her nightclothes and went to bed. Ashamed of her behavior, she didn't look forward to facing him in the morning.

 

An awkward silence stretched between them when Mason sat at the table for his breakfast. Norah placed his plate before him and sat beside him with only a cup of coffee. Feeling like a hypocrite, he prayed for God's blessing on the food, but he was dumbstruck. Although he and Norah had never had any difficulty conversing before, he couldn't think of anything to say, and she didn't seem inclined to talk. He ate the oatmeal and toast in silence while she occasionally sipped her coffee. Her eyes were downcast.

Clearing his throat, Mason said, “I didn't mean to make you mad.”

“I'm not mad. You have your opinion and I have mine.” Standing, she said, “Do you want anything else to eat or drink?”

“No.”

“We must leave for your therapy session in an hour,” she reminded Mason.

He telephoned the Realtor, in Norah's hearing, saying, “I heard your message about the option, but I'm not sure I'll go through with the sale. Put a hold on that option until I'm in touch.”

Mason listened to the Realtor's remarks.

“Perhaps I am being foolish, but there are other matters I'm considering right now. I'll contact you in a few days.”

Try as she might, on the trip to the hospital, Norah couldn't think of anything to say, and the ride was made mostly in silence. Always before, the time had passed quickly, but with a silent Mason beside her, Norah was miserable. Even though they hadn't talked constantly during their time together, she'd never sensed the restraint that bound their lips now.

They couldn't even rejoice together over the doctor's report that Mason wouldn't require any further therapy at the hospital. The therapist gave instructions for exercises that he should continue to do at
home, and with a sinking feeling, Mason realized he wouldn't need a nurse any longer.

“I want to see you again in two months, and at that time,” the surgeon instructed, “I'll expect you to walk into my office without a limp. Continue your work now, but at a slower pace. Start out working a few hours a day, driving short distances at first, and by the end of those months, you should be back on your normal schedule.”

“I'm really pleased for you, Mason,” Norah said as they left the hospital. “You've been a good patient.”

He shook his head. “Not very. I had a good nurse.”

Tears misted her eyes, but Norah said, “Do you want to drive part of the way home?”

“I'd like that. I may have forgotten how to drive.”

She handed him the key. “Be sure and tell me if you have any pain.”

“I'll drive about half the way. I've suffered enough already—I'm not going to jeopardize my recovery now.”

The ice had been broken by these exchanges, and they talked sporadically as they traveled, but only about the scenery and the many migratory birds they saw. They didn't mention the things that mattered most because their easy camaraderie was gone, and
Norah mourned the passing of that as if she'd lost a loved one.

During supper, Norah turned the television on so they could watch the evening news, and that made the time more bearable. After they ate, Mason walked around the room several times, and the way he eased down in his chair, Norah could tell the long ride had been difficult for him.

She was preparing the coffeemaker for breakfast when the phone rang. The majority of the calls were for Mason, so Norah was surprised when he said, “Just a minute,” and held the phone toward her.

Norah walked to him and took the phone. “Sheila?”

“No. A man.”

“Norah.” Her brother Sam's voice sounded in her ear, and Norah sat quickly in the chair beside Mason.

Lifting her eyebrows in Mason's direction, Norah said, “Hello, Sam—good to hear from you,” wondering if it was good. It was the first time she'd talked to Sam since he'd accused her of being “a foolish old maid.” She mouthed, “My brother,” to Mason, and pushed the speaker phone button so he could hear the conversation.

“I thought you intended to come home at the end of summer. It's almost November, and you still aren't here.”

“The therapy program has ended, but I have another job now. I'm taking care of a rancher who's been involved in an accident. I don't know when I'll return to Missouri, if I ever do.”

“I hear you've sold our home.”

“I've agreed to, if the deal goes through as planned.”

“Oh, it will. The new development is the greatest topic of conversation in Springfield these days. There's no doubt about it. How much money did you get for the house?”

“Sorry, Sam, but that's confidential information.”

“I've heard rumors that you're getting lots of money. Are you going to divide with the rest of us?”

“Why, no, I hadn't considered it! The rest of you got Father's money—the house is my only inheritance.”

“But we didn't get as much as you'll receive from the sale of the house. I think you owe us.”

Recriminations rushed to Norah's lips, but she brushed them aside. “It may seem a bit uneven, but don't forget that Father paid for college for you and the girls. The cost of four years of higher education for each of you was quite expensive.”

“What are you going to do with the money?”

“I've taken an option on a piece of property,”
Norah said evenly, and changed the subject. “How are our sisters getting along?”

“All right, I guess. I haven't seen them for several days. Norah, this isn't the last you've heard about that money.” And without saying goodbye, he hung up the phone.

With a trembling voice, Norah said, “You've asked me several times why I haven't contacted my family. Now do you understand why?”

“Yes. How can they be so different from you?”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid I haven't been very good company today, Mason. I'm going to bed.”

He let her go, for what could he say to ease the pain he knew she must feel over this kind of treatment from the siblings she'd served for most of her adult life? And he knew his attitude about the Bar 8 hadn't helped her situation. Maybe it
was
God's will for Nora to own the ranch and provide a haven for the therapy program. If so, where did that leave their relationship?

As he thought of the situation, it seemed the perfect solution to both their problems. She needed a mission field. He needed a barn. He wanted to marry her, but had feared she might not want to remain in the Sand Hills. She'd made the decision to stay here independently of marriage to him, so he wouldn't
have to wonder if she'd ever blame him for asking her to stay.

So why had he reacted so negatively? Because he didn't like the idea of his wife being independent? Even though he loved Norah, did he still think he should marry a younger woman who could give him an heir for the Flying K? He knew women today, well into their forties, gave birth without any problems. But would the idea appeal to Norah? He'd made an idol out of his ranch—putting it before his own happiness. He was convinced he could be happy living anywhere with Norah at his side, so didn't that prove that an heir was no longer important to him? When he got too old to operate the ranch, he could sell it to Doug, who was like a son to him anyway. Should he go to Norah now and let her know? He was sure she wasn't sleeping, for she hadn't closed her door tonight, and he could often hear her turning in bed. But he stayed in the living room.