Mike, page 10
Beth joined them. She gasped.
He shot her a warning look and she nodded.
“Dakota, let me help you wash.” He spoke softly so as to not frighten the boy.
A shudder shook the boy.
And repeated in Mike’s body.
Beth pressed a hand to his back, her touch calming him.
Mike took the piece of soap and rubbed it gently over Dakota’s back. “I remember being in the orphanage.” His voice was low and, he hoped, calming.
“You liked it?”
“Nope. Can’t say that I did. But the Arbuckles came and got me and two other boys and took us to the Circle A Ranch. It’s a nice place.”
“They nice people?” Dakota kept his face pressed to his knees, muffling his words.
“They are.”
“They whip you?”
“Not ever. If Maude or John isn’t happy with something we do, they say so. Only once was I punished.”
Beth pressed her hand more firmly to Mike’s back. He couldn’t explain why but the touch steadied him.
Dakota shuddered.
“You know what they did?”
“No.”
“Well, there was a garden that needed hoeing. I got sent out there to hoe. I was pretty angry about it. You see, I wasn’t willing to admit I was wrong. Then Maude brought out a hoe and she worked right next to me. And she talked. Told me that life wasn’t always fair, but it was a lot fairer if we were kind and honest. She kind of let that set for a while. Then she bent over a tomato plant. A weed had grown up around it. ‘See this weed. It’s choking out the tomato. What do you think I should do?’ Well, I thought that was pretty obvious. ‘Pull out the weed,’ I said. ‘But won’t it pull up the tomato plant too?’ I wondered how she could be so dumb about gardening when she did it all the time. So, I told her to do it carefully and gently. And she did. She held the weed up and shook the dirt off. She looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Mike, bad habits are like weeds. They’ll choke out the good if we don’t get rid of them.’ Then she threw the weed out of the garden.”
Dakota sat up a little. “What bad habits you got?”
Beth chuckled and flicked her fingers to his back. “This I gotta hear.” She moved so she could watch him as he answered. She stood with her arms crossed and a gleam in her eye.
He raised his eyebrows and did his best to look high and mighty. “I’d say my worst bad habit is…hmm…. nope, can’t think of anything.”
His insides filled with pleasure when Beth hooted with laughter.
Dakota finished washing himself and Mike scrubbed his hair then took a towel Ilsa handed him and wrapped it around the boy and held him in his arms. “Nothing smells better than a clean boy.”
His throat closed off. He stared at Beth, knowing his eyes were wide.
“Mike? What’s wrong?”
* * *
Beth fought the urge to rush forward and offer comfort to Mike. But at the level of shock in his eyes, she feared anything she did would be the wrong thing.
Ilsa and Abner stood in the doorway.
Ilsa blinked twice as if tears threatened then hurried to Mike’s side. “You know who used to say that?”
He didn’t move. His eyes didn’t so much as flicker.
“Mama. When she took you from the tub, she always said those words. From the time you were a baby. She’d nuzzle against your neck and say, ‘Nothing smells better than a clean boy.” I’d forgotten that.”
The moment froze and time ceased as sister and brother stood, remembering their past.
Beth didn’t dare breathe for fear of disturbing the fragile air. She didn’t know Mike well and yet, from the first, she’d felt like she understood him. The little boy who felt abandoned, who was abused and frightened and was now a man who didn’t want anything to do with his past. She knew he could never be all he was meant to be unless he allowed the past and present both to exist for him. So, she held her breath and prayed he would open his heart and mind to memories Ilsa could share with him.
“You donna bathe Pal?” Dakota said.
Mike blinked twice. “We sure are. Might be a good idea to do it before you put on your clean clothes.” He put Dakota down and scooped up the muddy puppy to set him in the bathwater.
The towel fixed about his waist, Dakota leaned over the tub and scrubbed at the fur. “I got clean clothes?”
“Brand new from the store.”
Dakota grinned from ear to ear. Beth figured she did too as Mike and Dakota smiled at each other.
Pal was washed and taken from the tub. He headed for the grass.
Mike caught him. “You’re staying right here.”
Pal shook himself, spraying man and boy who both ducked away and laughed.
Mike would make a good father. He was a good man.
Beth didn’t look at Ilsa even though she was curious about the other woman’s reaction, but she worried her own expression might give away far too much.
Too much of what? she silently demanded.
But she wasn’t prepared to answer her own question.
She had to keep her goals before her. Be free to ride and thanks to Mike that would happen soon. Then find a place where she could live the life she’d always dreamed of. One of freedom. Free to follow her heart.
Ilsa went inside to help Abner in the store and Mike helped Dakota into his new clothes.
“New boots too?” Dakota stared at the black leather boots Mike handed to him.
“Can’t have you running around in worn out shoes.” Mike held up the footwear, revealing holes in the soles.
“Good enough for the likes of me.” Dakota reached for the old shoes.
Mike tossed them aside and pulled the boy to his knee. “Who told you that?”
“They did.”
“The Morrows?”
Dakota nodded, his eyes clinging to Mike. “I a bad boy.”
Dakota looked up, his jaw working back and forth.
Beth shifted to her left to bring herself into his line of vision. The pain and anger and despair she saw in his eyes made her knees wobble.
He met her gaze. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t let her own feelings control her reaction. He needed to know someone cared about what he and Dakota had endured, and she meant to give him that.
His nostrils flared and then he drew in a deep breath. He pulled Dakota to his chest. “If I told you the sky was always pink, would you believe me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?” Mike continued to look at Beth as he spoke.
“I seen it. It’s mostly blue. Sometimes pink at sunset.”
“So, because you know it’s not true you don’t believe it?”
“Yeah.”
“And me saying it was pink wouldn’t make it pink?”
“Nope. It would be dumb to say.”
Mike eased Dakota far enough away he could look into the boy’s eyes. “Then listen up. You are a good boy. You are smart. You are worth more than all the gold in the world. And someone saying otherwise doesn’t make you anything less even like saying the sky is pink makes it so.”
Beth couldn’t breathe as boy and man studied each other.
“You got it?” Mike said after a moment.
“I got it.”
Mike chuckled. “Now go take care of Pal.”
Dakota jumped down and ran to get the dog.
Beth sucked air into her starving lungs. “Mike, that was beautiful.” She pressed her hand to his arm though she would have hugged him if she thought he’d allow it.
“Every child should be valued.” He covered her hand with his own.
“So should every adult.”
His fingers tightened on her hand.
She couldn’t explain why she’d said that or what she meant by it.
“Are you referring to Ilsa? If so, I believe she’s enjoying Abner’s company. Must make her feel special.” He pulled his hand away and moved so that her arm fell to her side.
“I’m glad for her. Aren’t you?” she said.
“Sure, of course, I am.”
“But?” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from prodding him.
“Who says there’s a but?”
“Mike, you need to forgive her for what happened in the past.” What in creation had made her think it was wise to blurt out those words? She’d already suggested he should forgive, and he’d ignored her.
He stepped back. Jammed his fists on his hips and glowered at her.
She waited, prepared to defend the statement.
But he strode away, across the muddy path behind the store, his steps eating up the distance.
“Where he going?” Dakota asked.
“He didn’t say.”
“He come back?” The boy rocked back and forth.
Beth’s heart clenched so hard her chest hurt. This little boy was so afraid of being abandoned. Mike felt he had been abandoned by his sister. And frankly, there wasn’t any other way of looking at it. Perhaps he was right in thinking it was best to forget the past and only think of the present and the future. And yet, somehow, she knew that one couldn’t pretend the past didn’t exist.
Besides, Ilsa was the only family he had. Could he disregard that and not hurt both himself and Ilsa? She didn’t think so. And she cared enough for both of them to want to see them become friends.
“He’ll be back,” she said in answer to Dakota’s question.
“How you know?”
She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I just do.” And it was more than the fact the only place he would go was the ranch and that was cut off at the moment.
10
Mike went as far as the blacksmith shop. He fed the horses and talked to the blacksmith for a few minutes then sat on the top rail of the fence. Anyone seeing him would think he watched the horses but in reality, he was lost in his thoughts as he fought an inner battle. Beth thought he needed to forgive Ilsa. Maude would say the same thing. And so did God. But how could he forgive?
He was ten when she left him to choose an easier life while he suffered mistreatment at the orphanage. And like Dakota, he’d been told he was worthless. Those words had done more damage than the whippings.
But he’d been plucked from that place. He now belonged at the Circle A Ranch. He had a home there. Had a purpose. A future.
Was it the future he wanted?
Where had that question come from?
Of course, it was.
Except it wasn’t completely and solely what he wanted.
He wanted a home and family such as he’d had as a child.
But how could he want that when he didn’t even know what it was? He had no memory of his childhood home.
There was one way to find out, but it meant swallowing his stubborn pride—
Wait a minute. When did it become pride?
He sighed. That’s exactly what it was. It was the reason he didn’t want to forgive Ilsa. Didn’t want to hear about his parents. Stubborn pride had enabled him to survive life in the orphanage, but did he really need it any longer?
Maude would tell him to pray about the problem. He’d known that from the start and the reason he hadn’t prayed was because he knew what God wanted.
Seems it was time to stop fighting what he knew was right.
He lifted his eyes to the sky. Thin gray clouds filtered the sunlight. Sort of like the way his stubbornness made God’s love seem faded. But God hadn’t grown faint and distant. Mike’s own choices were at fault.
God, I know what I have to do but it’s hard. For eleven years I’ve blamed Ilsa. How could she have left me there? Alone.
Apart from God.
Why didn’t God end the abuse?
But He did. He sent Maude to get you.
Sure wish she’d come sooner. But how many other boys from the orphanage had ended up in such a pleasant situation besides himself, and Adam and Pete, the two boys who had gone to the ranch at the same time? According to the Mountie who’d taken him back to the orphanage one time when he ran away, lots of the boys ended up as bums or criminals. “You get to choose,” the Mountie had said.
I choose forgiveness.
A knot he hadn’t been aware existed let go of his insides.
He sat on the fence for a spell. Part of the time he enjoyed the peace of choosing forgiveness. Part of the time he tried to think about what he was going to do now. How did he approach this subject? Seems it would take words he didn’t have. As he made his way back to the store, he prayed for the right way to deal with revealing his decision.
After dinner, Dakota went outside to play with Pal. The boy and dog rolled around together on the grass. Mike chuckled at their play. He turned to face the room. It was time to make good on his decision. But where to start?
“Ilsa, what happened to our parents?”
She stopped drying the plate she held and stared at him. “Don’t you remember?”
Beth was washing dishes and her hands grew still. “Do you want me to leave so you two can talk?”
“I have no objection to you staying,” Mike said. In fact, he wouldn’t mind if she heard the conversation.
“I’ll leave ya.” Abner headed for the door to the store.
“You’re welcome to stay too,” Ilsa said. “You might as well hear.”
A thought flitted through Mike’s head. Why did she want Abner George to be present? Not that he cared.
Abner leaned against the door frame.
Mike’s thoughts returned to Ilsa’s question. “I don’t remember anything. Except being left at the orphanage.”
Ilsa closed her eyes and Beth put an arm around her and hugged her. Ilsa smiled at her though Mike figured the smile was a little shaky.
“They were shopping. Mama and Papa liked to do things together. Mama had her hand on Papa’s arm, and they were crossing the street when some rowdies started yelling and shouting. They spooked a team. Mama and Papa never had time to get out of the way of the wagon. I remember how they lay in the street, their arms still entwined. But they weren’t moving.”
Beth continued to hold Ilsa by the shoulders.
Mike swallowed hard. “You saw it?” He couldn’t imagine the shock of seeing his parents run over and killed. Even thinking of it turned his insides to shattered glass. “Where was I?”
“You had stopped to look at something in the store window. I think it spared you from witnessing the accident.”
“A pocketknife,” he whispered. “Papa told me I could have it if I fed the chickens every night.”
“You remember that? I can’t believe it.”
“I don’t recall what happened after that.” Or anything else. “Seems my mind erased it all.”
“Maybe it’s a mercy,” she said. “They were laid away and then”—she swallowed audibly—“Mr. Fieldberg informed me that the house belonged to him and was to be sold. He offered me a position as his wife. I agreed and we were married. It was afterward that I learned he wouldn’t have you.” Her voice broke and she sobbed.
Beth gave Mike a desperate look.
He strode forward and took Ilsa in his arms. “I never stopped to consider how hard it must have been for you.” She was hardly more than a child herself. It must have been overwhelmingly scary.
She cried against his shoulder and he did the only thing he knew to do. He rubbed her back and made shh-shhing noises as he did when he held baby Neil.
Her crying ended and she stepped from his arms. “I’m sorry for leaving you there. I didn’t know what else to do. I was sixteen. I had no one to turn to.”
“I forgive you.” The words that had taken so long to form came out easily and erased years of blaming Ilsa. “I see now that you were doing the best you could.” He leaned back to look in her face. “I hope you were at least happy.”
She smiled through the tears lingering in her eyes. “I had Bethany. She made my days enjoyable. I love her.” Ilsa pressed a hand to Mike’s cheek. “I love you too. Always have. Always will.”
He almost choked on the lump in his throat. He kept his gaze lowered, not wanting anyone to see the tears that pressed to the back of his eyes.
“I don’t remember either of them,” he managed to get out.
“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” Ilsa led him to the table. Beth brought them each a cup of tea and Abner set out some cookies then he slipped away to the store.
Beth was about to leave too when Mike caught her hand. “It’s because of you I got to this place. Why not hear everything?”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t want you to know,” Ilsa said. “You’re part of my family,”
Of course, she would feel that way. And Mike didn’t mind.
Beth sat to his right. Ilsa was to his left. He liked having them at his sides.
“Papa was a carpenter.”
Mike felt a start of recognition. “That’s why I like building things.”
“Papa used to take you with him. You had your own little hammer and saw.”
“I remember that. I always thought it was from a dream.”
“Mama liked to sew and bake. She was a good housekeeper. I’ve tried to be like her.”
Beth squeezed Ilsa’s hands. “I think you must be.”
“Mama liked to read. That book of poems but so many other things.”
Mike wanted more. He wanted to know his parents like Ilsa did. “Did we go to church?”
“Oh my, yes. Mama played the organ. And she sang beautifully. Papa said it was like an angel had come down to visit him. She had eyes like yours. Papa called them angel eyes.”
Beth laughed softly. “That’s what I called Mike’s.”
Angel eyes inherited from his mother. A woman loved by her husband. To have eyes like hers and to have Beth call them the same name his father had was like honey to his heart.
Ilsa talked for an hour or more, telling him about his parents and the life they lived near Fort Calgary. She squeezed Mike’s hand.
“I am so happy to have my little brother back.”
He pretended to be huffy. “Little?”
She patted his cheek, the touch as healing as any ointment. “You will always be my little brother. Now if you don’t mind, I’m in need of a rest.”
