Page 70 of Wagon Train Dreams
Where was Hazel? Not that he’d ask.
Louise made asking unnecessary. “She went to the store a bit ago.”
A nod was his only response. He strode in that direction without undue haste and stepped into the store. Familiar scents wafted over him. Leather items and oiled floors. Dust motes hovered above his head. Hazel wasn’t there, but he surveyed the shelves, noting the absence of a few things but the addition of others.
“Can I be of assistance?”
“Looking for someone.” He hurried out before the man recognized him. Outside, he paused to look around. Was Hazel back with the others? But he didn’t see her and turned his steps toward the orphanage. Ma might be busy with the children, but he’d wait.
The main room was empty, but he expected that. The children would be at their classes.
He crossed to the kitchen. No one. Again, not a surprise. Ma’s desk stood in the corner next to the china cupboard. He stared at it. Write a letter, Mose had said.
Wasn’t it too late for the things he’d once dreamed of? Didn’t he have to accept the fact that none of his dreams would ever happen?
He counted his losses. His pa. The store. He’d learned to live with those. But Hazel. How could he settle down anywhere when his heart was so restless? So lost? He would spend the rest of his life trying to outrun his memories of her.
A piece of paper on the table caught his attention, and he moved closer. When he recognized his name, he picked up the paper and read the note.
Joe. Please go to the bottom of the garden by the big tree.
No indication of who had written it, though it might’ve been Ma’s handwriting.
Very well, he’d go. He left the house and followed the path past the garden to the tree he remembered so well. The branches grew close to the ground, creating a sheltered area under the leaves. He parted the branches. A basket rested by the trunk. A blue cloth was spread on the ground. Just like?—
Hazel stepped into sight. “Please”—she indicated the basket and blanket—“join me.”
“What’s going on?”
She moved closer. “I’ve been foolish. Cowardly even.”
“What?” Cowardly was not a word he would have used to describe her. Stubborn, maybe.
“Joe, I’m trying to tell you that if you’re willing to face the challenges of living with me, I am willing to face the challenges of living with you. Like your mother says, the joys of sharing life with a man you love are worth everything.”
“My ma said that?”
“Something similar.” She now stood inches away.
“Wait.” He swallowed hard. “Did you say you love me?”
“Is that what you heard?” She lowered her eyes shyly.
“I love you too.” He enclosed her in his arms.
She lifted her face to his, and they kissed.
It was somewhat later that they sat side by side to enjoy the picnic she’d brought, though it was mostly cookies and candy.
“I caught fish for the camp.”
“Is that a complaint about the food I’ve packed?” She tried to look annoyed but only succeeded in looking kissable, and he didn’t ignore the invitation.
She sighed in his arms. “This is where I belong. My home sweet home.”
“Fort Qu’Appelle?” He guessed he knew the answer but wanted to hear it from her.
“No, silly. Here.” She tapped his chest. “Next to you.” She looked into his face. “Joe, wherever you go, I will go. I will rejoice to make my home with you.”
