Woman of Grace (13 page)

“Well, prayer has wrought greater miracles than that, I suppose,” she muttered in a sort of backhanded apology, as she carried the second loaf to the cookstove to rise. “I thank you for your concern.”

“Think nothing of it.” The young priest stepped back and turned toward the door. “I guess I’d best be going.”

“Yes, I guess you should.”

Noah gave her a farewell nod, then began to walk away.

“Uh, one thing more, Father.” Hannah didn’t know from whence the sudden impulse came, but nonetheless it seemed right.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes, Hannah?”

“Please pray for Devlin, too, if you would. If anyone needs God’s help right now, that man surely does.”

As much as Devlin hated to admit it, Hannah had been right. So had his son, for that matter, when he had told him the Widow Ashley was too busy with other things to ever play with him and Mary. Still, Devlin could’ve kicked himself for the weeks that had already passed, weeks his children had been neglected save for their basic physical needs.

A bewildering mix of remorse and righteous anger roiling within him, he strode up the porch steps to his house, intent on a long overdue confrontation. She’d be surprised to see him this early in the afternoon, Martha Ashley would, but after talking with Conor and Evan, Devlin knew he couldn’t ignore the problems a moment longer. They were problems even the other two men hadn’t helped but notice. They were also the same problems Hannah hadn’t minced any words informing him of barely two weeks ago.

All their words had been painful to hear, especially when Devlin knew he was as much to blame as the woman he had hired. Not only had he been so immersed in his grief he hardly had the energy or patience for his children, but he had all but ignored the signs of the widow’s negligence.

Once again, Hannah had spoken true. He
had
been more concerned with a spotless house, meals on the table, and orderly, obedient children. Once again, Devlin admitted sadly, he had failed Ella.

There was nothing, though, to be done for what had already happened, he reminded himself as he entered the house and headed for the kitchen. All he could do now was deal with the present. A present that demanded a long overdue talk with the Widow Ashley.

She glanced up from a kettle of soup she had simmering on the cookstove. At sight of him her dark eyes widened momentarily with surprise, before a speculative look shuttered her gaze. She smiled, her cheeks dimpling prettily.

“Why, Mr. MacKay,” the woman cooed, “what brings you here at this time of day? Did you come back for another slice of my luscious, fresh cherry pie?”

“No, Martha, I didn’t.” He motioned toward the table. “Please, have a seat. We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” Her slender brows arched with coy amusement.

“Yes, we do.” Once again, Devlin indicated the table.

With a toss of her head and thrust of her ample bosom, the Widow Ashley sashayed to the table. Devlin watched her go, well aware the exhibition was for his benefit. As before, though, her seductive behaviors left him cold. Did she truly imagine he could, so soon after his wife’s death, look at another woman with desire?

Once the widow was settled at the table, Devlin pulled up his own chair. Folding his hands before him, he leaned toward her. “Some things have been brought to my attention. Things I hope we can mutually and satisfactorily resolve.”

“And those things might be?” She made a big show of fluttering her thick, dark lashes at him.

“My children. I’d like you to spend more time with them.”

A tiny frown creased her brow. “Really, Mr. MacKay. I already spend far more time than I should with them, if I’m ever to complete all the day-to-day chores you’ve set for me to do. I’m a hard-working woman, but two young children and two babies, plus a house to manage, isn’t as easy as a man like you might imagine it to be.”

“I’m not saying you’re not a hard worker, Mrs. Ashley.” Frustration filled Devlin. How was he to make it clear to the woman without offending her what he wanted from her? “All I’m saying is the children come first, the house second. This is a ranch, for heaven’s sake. No one expects you to keep things spotless.”

She inhaled a tremulous breath, and a suspicious moisture flooded her eyes. “I try, Mr. MacKay. Truly I do.” She pulled out a snow-white lace hankie and dabbed delicately at her eyes. “Ah, but I feel so sorry for your dear little children, motherless and all.”

“That’s why I hired you. You seemed a motherly sort.”

“Oh, I am. I really am.” The widow straightened suddenly, the handkerchief and tears apparently forgotten. “I’m also a warm and giving woman. I could do more for you, Mr. MacKay, if only you’d let me. A man has needs just as much as do children.”

Devlin went very still. Was the woman proposing what she seemed to be proposing? He considered that question briefly, then tossed it aside. No, she couldn’t be.

“My needs aren’t the issue here,” he said, making a great effort to keep the tone of his voice cool and distant. “All I’m asking is that you mother my children.”

“Yes, your poor little children do need mothering.” The woman lowered her gaze, but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I know it hasn’t been very long since your dear wife died, but have you given any thought to taking a new wife—for the sake of your children?”

Take a new wife? Even the consideration chilled Devlin to the marrow of his bones. “No,” he said flatly. “It’s out of the question. Ella’s been dead just six weeks. Even the thought of taking another woman to wife sickens me.”

“And well it should, for a man as loving and devoted as you were,” the Widow Ashley crooned. “It unsettles me, as well, to make mention of it. My dear husband only passed away just recently, too. But times are hard for us widows and widowers, Mr. MacKay, especially when there are children involved. Sometimes, for the sake of those little ones, we adults must overcome our own selfish desires.”

Devlin stared at her, flabbergasted at the turn the conversation had suddenly taken. One moment they were talking about his children and her lack of attention toward them. In the next, the discussion had swung to the need for him to wed quickly for the sake of those children.

He was well aware customs out West were far more relaxed than in the East, where formal mourning lasted at least a year. The widow herself still wore dresses of black bombazine and added black gloves, and a mourning bonnet with a veil, when she went to town. Yet for some out here, such customs were considered excessive. For some out here, the harsh demands of Colorado living mandated remarrying soon—very soon—after losing a spouse.

Devlin, however, refused to consider such a thing, especially so soon after Ella’s death. Still, he had the uneasy feeling the widow had not only considered it, but had set her sights specifically on him. She was just too practical and efficient not to have done so. She was also, he belatedly realized, far too practical to waste much time on such inefficient emotions as love and grief.

He could almost imagine her fulfilling her marital duties as quickly and competently as possible, then bounding out of bed to hem a tablecloth or dust the furniture. There’d be no warmth, no comfort, and certainly no love to be found in that woman’s arms. Not for any man foolish enough to marry her, nor for any children trapped between them in the bargain.

Her words came back to him now, but stripped of the widow’s self-serving intentions, Devlin saw them in a new light.

Sometimes, for the sake of those little ones, we adults must overcome our own selfish desires.

His
selfish desires, unfair grudges, and cruel vindictiveness had been heaped on Hannah Cutler for over a year now. It had been bad enough when the battle had raged solely between them. But when he had finally sought to punish her by separating her from his children, he realized now he had gone too far.

Hannah had always treated his children as her own. She had given them love, warmth, and comfort. No matter what unresolved issues remained between them, she was the one his children needed—not Martha Ashley.

Devlin bowed his head and closed his eyes, cursing himself for his stupid, foolish pride. Then he looked up, meeting the widow’s eager gaze. “You’re right, ma’am,” he said. “It’s past time I overcame my own selfish desires for the sake of my children. I only pray it’s not already too late.”

8

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

Proverbs 3:5

It was a beautiful early summer evening, the warm breeze a velvet whisper against the cheek, the stars bright in the night sky, the little peeper frogs down by the creek croaking in raspy chorus. As Hannah walked with Evan, she savored the sweet, strong sense of being enfolded in God’s loving arms.

So much was right with her life. Jackson grew strong and healthy, safe amidst the loving community of Culdee Creek. Abby and her unborn baby now flourished. She had good, honest work, priceless friendships, and a peaceful, happy existence. She had also begun to discover, if only a little more each day, a growing relationship with and love for the Lord.

There was so much right about her life Hannah refused to allow the few problems, such as Devlin MacKay and the Widow Ashley, to unsettle her anymore. She had resolved to accept what she couldn’t change and, as Abby urged, place it in God’s hands. God was, after all, the only One who could truly touch Devlin MacKay’s heart.

“Do you know how wonderful it is to have you all to myself again?” Evan asked softly, intruding at last into her thoughts.

As they strolled along, Hannah turned to glance up at him. He smiled at her, and she was struck once more with how handsome he was. His beauty, though, went far deeper than just his mortal frame. He was a good, kind man, a man who had weathered his own time of trial. At age seventeen, he had stolen a substantial amount of money from his father and run away to the gold mining towns of the Gunnison area. After a year of profligate living and poor investments, Evan had found himself a lot wiser but destitute.

He had come home to Culdee Creek to beg his father’s forgiveness and offer to work off the money he had taken. If not for Abby’s influence, Conor would’ve immediately turned him away. But Abby was engaged to Conor by then, and Conor’s own embittered heart had begun to soften. Slowly but surely, father and son rebuilt a new, more adult relationship, one that was able to weather the trials that came their way.

“It does seem like months since we’ve been able to spend much time with each other,” she replied finally. “I’ve missed our talks and walks very much.”

“You’re winning everyone’s hearts here at Culdee Creek. What with all the sickness and tragedy that we’ve been through, I don’t know how we would’ve made it without you. Even Pa can’t find enough kind words to say about you nowadays.”

“It took him a while,” she admitted, “but I never faulted him for taking things slowly.”

“Too bad Devlin’s never come around.” Evan shook his head in disgust. “You’ve done as much for him and his family as you’ve ever done for ours, and still that pigheaded—”

Hannah halted beside the base of an enormous old cottonwood and turned to face Evan. “Hush,” she admonished. “Tonight’s too perfect to spoil it berating Devlin. Besides, I’ve finally made peace with the fact he may never become my friend. I’ve too many wonderful things to be thankful for to bemoan something I can’t seem to change.”

Evan pulled her to him, then leaned back against the tree’s gnarled bark. “And dare I hope I number among those wonderful things you’re so thankful for?”

Hannah laughed. “Oh, Evan, you know you do. You’ve been a good and true—”

Before she could finish her sentence and call him a friend, the young man lowered his head and kissed her. Hannah went still. His mouth was soft, gentle, and tenderly searching. His hands clasped her arms, pulling her closer.