Page 18 of Wagon Train Promises
“That day, I realized it’s better to laugh at trials than to let them weigh you down.”
Her elbows jutted to her knees as she leaned forward. The fire crackled and sent out a spray of sparks.
“I like that. Me. I learned to pray.”
“Out loud, if I remember correctly.” And he did.
The breeze shifted, blowing the smoke in her direction, and she moved closer to him to avoid it. “I suppose it seems silly, but hearing my words when I pray helps.”
“Have you always done so?” Was it something her parents taught her?
She grabbed a twig and stirred the coals.
Perhaps she didn’t intend to answer his question.
Then she tossed the twig to one side. “I’m trying to remember when I started doing it. Maybe when I held baby Sharon. I knew she was too tiny to live, but I didn’t want her to suffer. So I prayed aloud for her. Though it was mostly a whisper. Maybe I thought it would comfort her. But—” She turned to Cecil, faith glowing in her eyes. “I discovered it comforted me. And so I started doing it more often.”
He waited, holding her gaze, sensing she was digging deep into her past.
“Like when I said goodbye to Mama.” Her throat worked. Her eyes glistened. “That was hard.”
He nodded. It had been hard to say goodbye to his grandparents, but he was a grown man and knew for months that they were failing. It wasn’t the same.
“Then having to take care of Sammy and Eddie. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I would whisper a prayer, and God was so faithful. He’d always send comfort or company or something.”
“Like Hazel?”
“Yes, and like Mrs. Sears, who lived next door. She was very helpful and encouraging.”
Did he detect a faltering in her voice? He craned forward, searching her eyes.
She blinked and turned away.
“What happened at Mrs. Sears’s place?”
The wind hadn’t shifted, but she edged over as if avoiding smoke. “What makes you think something did?”
“Are you saying nothing did?” He wasn’t ready to believe it.
A spot of mud on her skirt caught her attention, and she rubbed at it.
“It was something that hurt you…upset you, wasn’t it?” Why was he probing at her wound? It wasn’t like him. But he couldn’t think of one single thing to say that would make her laugh or even smile. Something about the way the skin around her eyes tightened made him want to?—
No. He wasn’t thinking the best way to comfort her was to pull her into his arms. No siree. He hadn’t thought that for even one moment.
Air sucked into her chest, drawing smoke toward them. “I guess you could say that. Mrs. Sears had a younger brother, George. He was kind to me.” She shrugged, though it didn’t seemto lighten her mood. “I thought it meant more than it did. He took me for tea before I left for Toronto to begin my nurses’ training. He said he’d be anxious to see me when I got back.” Another half-hearted shrug. “I admit it was little to go on. He wrote me a few times. Then his letters dropped off. In my final year, I learned he was planning to marry a girl he had met in Winnipeg.” Her voice softened to a whisper.
He could almost hear the moan in her throat.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. This time with both shoulders. “In hindsight, I realize he’d never allow me to be a nurse. He said a woman should be content in her own home.”
Her hair had fallen loose from her normal roll and hid her face. He brushed it back.
She turned to him, startled.
He immediately lowered his hand. “He probably wouldn’t see the need to cross the vast territories either.”
