Page 46 of Montana Groom of Convenience
“I do it for me. Because I wish I could really give her flowers and talk to her.”
“That’s stupid.” She kicked at a clump of grass,sending a shower of dirt over Mother’s grave. Then she dashed from the little plot, running full speed away from the house up the rise beyond the cemetery, and stood staring into the distance.
“Oh God, how am I to show her love and care when she runs from it?”
The answer came into her silent heart. Love one another. As I have loved you. God loved her through good times and bad. Through mistakes, rebellion and disobedience. Because of His unfailing love, she could show love to this child whether or not she received it.
Sawyer trotted up to the gate. “Where’s Jill? I thought she was with you?”
“She went that way.” She blinked.
The child had disappeared.
Sawyer tookin the little cemetery. Four wooden crosses and a granite marker with the bowl of flowers before it. Pain ripped through his heart. His mama and Johnny were buried far away. Pa and Judith lay at rest by the church in Libby, Kansas. He understood none of them were there. They had been taken into glory. But seeing these physical reminders of each of Carly’s dead family members made him long to be able to visit the graves of his loved ones. He reached for something to hold on to. But changed his mind before he took Carly’s hand and grabbed the top rail of the metal gate instead.
He’d been talking to Mr. Morrison after Carly left.
“Son, ye can’t keep calling me Mister. It’s much too formal. Either call me Father or Robert.”
“Okay.” He liked the old man. Wouldn’t mind if he’d been his father but was he ready to put someone else in Pa’s place? Course, no one had suggested Sawyer call him Pa. Father felt different. Comfortable even.
“And the little one can call me Granddad. That okay with you, Jill?”
Jill had nodded but didn’t try out the word.
Sawyer had given his opinion on the calves showing the breeding of the English stock. Then, the conversation had turned to the need to get the crop in the ground. When he next looked in Jill’s direction, she was gone.
He glanced out the door and saw she made her way toward Carly, so he wasn’t concerned. But by the time he’d pulled on his boots and grabbed his hat, she’d disappeared.
“I’ll go find her,” he said.
Carly touched his arm and pointed. “No need. Here she comes.”
Jill’s head appeared over the rise and then her body. Her hands were full of weeds. As she drew closer, he made out crocuses and little bluebells.
She stomped past them and went to the far corner of the yard, where she knelt and arranged the flowers on the ground.
Carly leaned close to whisper in his ear. “I told her I bring flowers to my mother’s grave because it makes me feel close to her.”
“But her mother isn’t buried here.”
Carly shrugged. “Let her pretend. It doesn’t hurt anything.”
“I guess not.” Carly surprised him. One minute insisting Jill ride the horse even after it had bolted and the next so aware of Jill’s heart.
Jill sat back on her heels. She glanced at the headstone to her left. Then and there, a plan was born in Sawyer’s mind.
Carly took Sawyer’s arms and led him through the gate. “Let’s give her some time alone.” They went as far as the barn where they could keep an eye on Jill without intruding on her moment.
“Your father would like me to get started on the planting.”
She dropped his arm, leaving him cold and alone. “You met Big Harry. The harnessing is in the barn. The plow is over there.” She pointed. “What else do you need to know?”
“Your father said you would show me where the wheat is to be planted and the oats.”
“Come along then.” She strode away.
Jill left the graveyard and trotted down the hill. She sat on the step, and pulled rocks from her pockets and was soon intent on some kind of play.
