Page 47 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes
The kitten stirred, stretched then curled up again and like little Susie, returned to sleep.
Bryn pulled the quilt over Susie and stepped back to stand beside Flint. “It’s been a long day for her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Did she mean it as a warning? Maybe he shouldn’t have kept them out all afternoon.
“But such a lovely one. I think she’ll remember it forever.” Bryn faced him and touched his arm. “Thank you for giving us such a wonderful day.”
His tongue refused to work. He’d done nothing to earn such gratitude. But he’d gladly accept her thanks.
They tiptoed to the living room where they stood in the middle of the floor. He longed to sit on the sofa, side by side and— and do what? Nothing came to mind. At least nothing he dared put into words.
“Ya wanna see the book my pa left me?” If’n she said yes, it would give them a reason to sit side by side on the sofa.
“I’d like that very much.”
He went to the bedroom. The one he’d shared with Bryn last night. The covers were pulled neatly over the mattress. No indication of the joy they’d shared. Would they come together again tonight? A smile turned his lips up and just as quickly left him staring at the bed. Had she found him acceptable? Or— He would not think of his past. When Mrs. Murphy had told him about God and forgiveness, she’d said God forgave and forgot our sins.As far as the east is from the west.She’d shown him that verse in the Bible and underlined it with a pencil. He’d found the verse many times and managed to read the words.
The book lay in the bottom drawer of the dresser. He pulled it out and returned to where Bryn sat on the sofa leaving plenty of room for him beside her. The fabric whispered beneath him as he sat in the space she’d left.
His hands rested on the book. It was battered and the cover stained. He spread his fingers, trying to cover it completely. “It ain’t much. Kinda worn. Carryin’ around in a saddle bag ain’t good for a book.”
“I’d say that only reveals how loved it was.”
Loved? “Never thought of it that a way.” His forefinger rubbed up and down the spine. “It’s about all I got left of my pa. Never could figure out why he carried it with him. He often looked up birds in it though.”
“May I?” She reached for the book.
His fingers stiff, as if he’d been out in the cold too long, he lifted the book to her. Their hands brushed, erasing all stiffness and cold.
She stroked the cover, her finger bumping over the damage where the front cover had been bent. The corners were worn so bad they showed layers of thick paper. Once she opened it, she would see that some pages had coffee stains and others were torn.
He should never have brought the book out of hiding. It only revealed his poverty in the learning area. Maybe spoke of his foolishness in keeping the book. “It’s old and half ruined.” He reached for it. “I’ll put it away. Shouldn’t a bothered ya with it.”
“I’d like to look if you don’t mind.” She held his gaze, waiting for his permission.
“Suit yerself.” His fingers coiled into his palms as he sat back to watch her.
She tipped back the cover, her touch gentle and cautious. One by one she turned the pages, bending over to study the pictures.
“Flint, the illustrations are beautiful.”
“I kinda enjoy them.” Simple sketches of birds. In some, the birds were flying. In some, they perched on branches. Others showed them pulling at berries or feeding baby birds. He knew the names printed below only from Pa reading them.
The section on birds ended and then she saw the flowers.
“Beautiful.” She breathed the word. “I can understand why your pa treasured this and now why you do.” She came to the page that had a blotch of coffee staining the picture. “You or your pa do this?”
“Pa. Sort of.” The memory returned in shining detail. “There was this cantankerous cowboy workin’ in our outfit. Always pushin’ for a fight. Pa always ignored him until that day he purposely bumped Pa’s elbow causin’ him ta splash coffee on this page.” Flint ran his finger along the outline of the stain. “Pa set the book aside as careful as could be. He said ta me, ‘Dab it up with a towel as best ya can.’ Then Pa stood up and grabbed the man by his collar. Surprised the man some seein’ as Pa always walked away from a fight.” Flint’s chuckle maybe revealed his pride in his pa. “He put his face right close and said, ‘I’ll tolerate yer rudeness and yer constant badgerin’ but I won’t abide ya deliberately destroyin’ somethin’ of value that can’t be replaced.’Then he shoved the man away so hard he stumbled 'round tryin’ ta get his balance.” His lungs expanded to their fullest and released in a long sigh.
“Never been more proud of my pa than I was then.”
“Flint, no wonder you treasure this book. From cover to cover it’s full of memories of your father.”
“That it is.” He took the book, cradling it in his palms and smoothing his thumbs along the top. The air in the room had grown heavy, making it impossible for him to fill his lungs again. “Shoulda grown used to missin’ him by now.”
Bryn’s warm hand covered one of his. Stilling his restless thumb. “Memories of our loved ones are the sweetest thing we have. I’d never want to lose the few I have of my mother.” She paused. “Or my sister.”
