Where the Wild Rose Blooms (25 page)

"No need to knock, Jackie," he spoke kindly to her in his thick brogue. "Just go on in."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Brien." Jackie smiled with genuine relief and slipped inside.

The living room was empty, and surprisingly, so was the kitchen. Jackie could hear voices in the rooms upstairs, but she couldn't make herself go up those steps. She was casting her
eyes
around the room, still praying for help, when she spied the coffeepot. It was cold to the touch and not very full.

Jackie fought back tears of relief.
This
she could do.
This
she could handle. With simple movements and an efficiency born of years of practice, she made the coffee. From there she searched for food and began to cut vegetables for a soup. She had just started it in a big pot on the stove when she heard someone on the stairs. Milly came partway into the room and stopped in surprise when she saw her.

"Hello, Milly."

"Hi, Jackie." Her voice told of her wonder.

"I ... um ... just came to see if I could help. I took it upon myself to make some coffee and start some dinner. It's just soup, vegetable soup."

"Thank you."

"Would you like some coffee?"

Milly could only nod before she sank into a kitchen chair. Jackie poured her some coffee and sat across from her.

"Is your father going to be all right, Milly?"

"They don't know," she whispered. "His horse stumbled and rolled. It rolled right on top of him." Tears filled her eyes. "He can't feel his legs."

"Oh, Milly."

"He says he wishes he were in pain. He said it wouldn't be so scary that way." With that, Milly buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Jackie fought her own tears and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt. She pressed it into Millys hands. Milly worked at controlling herself, but it took a moment. After that they sat in silence with their coffee, a bit uncomfortable, but not as strained as usual.

Addy and Elaine came down the stairs a little later. The girls heard them talking as they came.

"He hasn't eaten for two days, but the doctor says to take it easy. No meat, and maybe a little bit of soup."

"I'll start that for you, Elaine," Addy offered.

"Jackie put soup on," Milly said, breaking into their conversation. Both women stopped and looked at Milly first and then Jackie. Jackie felt herself go red.

"It's not very fancy." Her hands moved nervously.

"Thank you, Jackie," Elaine told her sincerely.

Jackie looked over to see her mother smiling. It was a proud smile, and once again Jackie fought her tears.

She hadn't felt this emotional since Eddie and Roberts departure or Uncle Mitch's death.

As soon as the Fontaine women were certain that everything was under control, they left. Addy explained to Jackie on the walk home that all they could do was wait. It was everyone's prayer that Kevin would regain some sensation in his legs, but right now, they waited.

Jackie fretted about how she could help, but almost of its own course, a pattern had been started. Jackie could be found at the Taggart home morning, noon, and evening. If she found dishes, she washed them. If coffee was needed, she made it, along with breakfast, lunch, or dinner. And when she wasn't in the Taggart kitchen baking or cleaning, she was home in her own kitchen baking cookies or bread to take to them. If she arrived and there was nothing to be done, she left as quietly as she had come. The Taggart family rarely saw her, only evidence that she'd been there.

One evening, about ten days into this schedule, Jackie was still finishing up in the kitchen when Elaine and Clayton arrived on the scene. They'd both been upstairs, and Jackie was a bit flustered in Clayton's presence. She was glad to be able to say she was on her way out the door.

"Please walk Jackie home, Clay," Elaine said after she'd thanked the young woman.

"Oh, no," Jackie protested softly. "I'll be fine."

But Clayton was already reaching for his hat, and Jackie did not want to make a scene. They walked silently out the front door. Jackie felt a little silly. It wasn't even dark yet.

There really isn't a need, Clay. I know you want to be close to your family, and I can get home alone."

Clayton suddenly stopped on the road, and Jackie stopped beside him. He looked down at her. Jackie wished she could read his thoughts.

"I haven't thanked you," he said with surprise.

"For what?"

"For all your
help at
the house."

Embarrassed, Jackie shrugged and started to turn away. Clayton caught her arm. He held it for just a moment, and then let his hand drop. His eyes now lifted to the craggy, snow—topped mountains.

"I never dreamed of how it might feel to see my father laid up. I mean, he's always been the strong one/' He looked back at Jackie. "My world has become that bedroom, Jackie. I sit in there most of the day, and when I go downstairs to my bedroom I think about being in there most of the night."

Jackie saw for the first time how tired he looked.

"He teaches me so much. He may never walk again, but he still has a smile on his face and praise for God when he speaks. Do you know what he said to me last night?"

Jackie was forced to shake her head, but her eyes encouraged him.

"He said, 'I may have lost the use of my legs, Clay, but my soul still has wings/ Tears filled Claytons eyes. "Why didn't we take the time before to really study God's Word, Jackie? I mean, we've always had Bible time before breakfast, but not like this, not with such depth and meaning." A tear spilled over. "Why did it take his getting hurt for me to see how important it is?"

Claytons hand came to his face as he tried to quell the flood, but his tears would not be stopped. Jackie wanted to die with the pain of it. Her friend was hurting, and she couldn't do a thing. She reached for his hand but pulled back, afraid that her gesture would be taken wrong. A moment later, Clayton's tears subsided, but his breathing was still hoarse and deep.

He hadn't looked at Jackie, but now he did. To his amazement, he felt no shame. She stood looking at him, her expression tender and tears filling her own lovely eyes.

"You're a good friend, Jackie Fontaine."

"You are too, Clay. I just wish I could do more."

"You've been a great help."

Jackie nodded. "Please tell your father that I'm praying for him."

"I'll do that."

"Go on home now, Clay. I'll get myself home."

"All right."

Jackie turned and started away and didn't look back. However, she knew that Clayton stood on the road and watched until she reached her own yard.

Jackie wasn't the least bit hungry when she arrived so she begged off from dinner and went to her room. She took time to pray for Mr. Taggart, but her mind kept going back to what Clayton had said.

Her family never read the Bible together. In their family spending time with Gods Word was up to each person, and the truth was, Jackie had never taken an interest in her Bible. Not like her mother and Eddie always did, and certainly not like Clayton and his father. For the first time in years she pulled it out and turned to a place in Jeremiah. There was a little marker at that spot, and she tried to remember why it was there. She read it to see if she could find a clue.

Starting in chapter 23, verse 19, she read softly aloud, "Behold, a whirlwind of the Lord is gone forth in fury, even a grievous whirlwind; it shall fall grievously upon the head of the wicked. The anger of the Lord shall not return, until he have executed, and till he have performed the thoughts of his heart; in the latter days ye shall consider it perfectly. I have not sent these prophets, yet they ran; I have not spoken to them, yet they prophesied. But if they had stood in my counsel, and
had
caused my people to hear my words, then they should have turned them from their evil way, and from the evil of their doings. Am I a God at hand, saith the Lord, and not a God afar off? Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see Him? saith the Lord. Do not I fill heaven and earth? saith the Lord."

Jackie did not understand much of what she read, but one thing had jumped out at her. Was God a far-off

God, or was He near? Most times she would say He was very far off, but she closed her Bible and went to join her family before she could really gain an answer.

"I want you to go to school."

"No." For the first time in his life Clayton out-and-out defied his father.

"I'm not asking you, Clay. I'm telling you. Go to school."

"Absolutely not."

"It starts next week, Clay. I'm sure I won't be laid up here forever, and you've got to get there."

Clayton shook his head. His voice was gentle, but he held his jaw at a stubborn angle. "I'm going back to work tomorrow, and that's the end of it."

"We don't need the money," Kevin said, but he knew it was a half-truth.

Clayton looked clearly skeptical.

"We're good for a time, Clay. Please do as I ask you."

Clayton shook is head. "Its foolish to deplete your savings account when I'm capable of supporting this family."

"You're not touching your money for school, Clay." Kevin's voice went up a notch. "Do you hear me?"

"I'm not going to, but I am going out on the job with Cormac tomorrow, and that's final."

Kevin opened his mouth to say more, but Clayton turned away. He didn't look at his mother or father, but both heard him on the stairs and then closing the front door.

"Elaine." Kevin was reaching for her, panic on his face. "Make him go to Denver, Elaine." She saw the tears in his eyes. "He's waited for so long. Make him see. He's got to go. Please, Elaine."

Elaine sat down on the bed and leaned over to put her arms around him. She had never seen Kevin like this—so helpless and weak. It had been six weeks since he'd been put in this bed, and he hadn't moved from it. However, this was a blow that was harder to take than the accident itself. It had never occurred to Kevin that Clayton would change his mind about school. Elaine waited until she thought he might be a little calmer, but when she looked into his eyes, he still looked desperate. Tears came to Elaine's own eyes as she slowly shook her head.

"I can't tell him to go, Kevin, anymore than I could leave you myself."

"Oh, Elaine."

This was too much for him. Tears racked the body that was already becoming flaccid and weak, and Elaine held onto him with all her strength.

"He's dreamed for so long," Kevin cried, "and stayed to work long past the time he first knew he wanted to teach. I just can't stand the thought that he's staying for me."

Elaine smoothed the hair off his brow. They had washed his hair just that morning, and the effort had exhausted him.

Not many hours later, Clayton had come to say he was going back out to work.

"It's not forever, Kevin," Elaine soothed. "If God wants him at school, God will show us the way."

"But he could go—" Kevin began. Elaine cut him off. "No, Kevin, you're not thinking clearly. If he goes, then Milly and I must go to work, or we'll be forced to use up all the money in the savings account. What will we do after it's gone? It would be even harder to call Clayton home, I think, than for him not to go at all."