The Brides of Chance Collection Part 39

Paul smiled as he remembered the service that morning. His lovely little lady couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but somehow that added to her charm. After all, no one was perfect. And if he wasn't mistaken, the Lord had begun answering his prayer about softening her heart to the truth. He'd watched her reaction to the hymns and the Bible reading and seen a woman lost in deep thought and longing. It was too much to think she'd already come completely to G.o.d, but the seed was planted. Thank You, Father.

"Hey! It's your turn, Paul!" t.i.tus called.

Logan waved a horseshoe as his brother walked across the barn.

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so eager to lose first place," Paul joked.

"What?" Logan joined in the good-natured ribbing. "I know you always said you could beat us with one hand tied behind your back, but I never thought to see it tested!"

Paul stifled a groan as he remembered his arrogant boast from last month. He hadn't expected to have to prove it! Pulling his good arm back, he tossed the horseshoe at the spike, only opening his eyes when he heard a promising clang.

"Well, I'll be." Gideon laughed. "I reckon he was right after all. Don't suppose you'd care to repeat that performance?"

"What, and lose my moment of victory?" Paul protested. "Nope. I think I'll just stroll inside for some cool water and see how supper is coming along." He headed for the house, ignoring the taunts aimed at him by his brothers about how he just didn't think he could make that shot twice in a row.

Truthfully, he probably couldn't. But he had a powerful thirst to quench. He opened the door to a mix of tantalizing smells.

"Need some water?" Miriam handed him a cupful.

"How's supper coming along? Smells good enough in here to tempt the angels."

"We just put the roast in the oven. The biscuits are rising and the apples are ready for baking, but we'll put them in later so they don't get cold." Alisa smiled. "Did t.i.tus put you up to throwing horseshoes regardless of your arm?"

Holding back a grin at how well Alisa knew her husband, Paul tried to think of an answer that wouldn't get them both in trouble.

"Just one to defend my place. Besides, it's not my throwing arm."

"I warned you to take it easy!" Miriam chided, but she couldn't hide the laughter in her tone. "You'd think first place in an ongoing horseshoes compet.i.tion wouldn't be as important as your health."

"Are you all right?" Delilah gently adjusted his sling, her fingers brus.h.i.+ng his forearm when she made sure his sleeve was still rolled up. He knew she meant to keep his sling as dry as possible in the rainy weather, but the heat following her touch succeeded more than she knew.

"Fine." He turned to Polly to mask the gruffness of his voice. "What do you have there, baby girl?"

"Lilah's going to teach me a game!" She held up a pack of cards.

"Cards?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I said it would be fine to have a hand of Old Maid," Miriam cut in. "Would you like to join Delilah and Polly? I'm sure Polly would love to have you on her team."

"I got Unca Paul!" Polly crowed, then her face fell. "But who have you got, Lilah?"

He saw a flash of sadness cross Delilah's face and knew she thought about her parents again. He stepped in. "Ginny Mae, of course. Come on and take a seat."

Delilah had Ginny Mae on her lap and held the cards, taking out all the queens but one. She held up the remaining female face card. "All right, Polly. This is the Old Maid. Every other card has a match-fours go together, nines go together, and so on. You want to find a match to all of your cards, because the first one who does, wins. The Old Maid doesn't have a match, though, so whoever has her in their hand at the end of the game loses, all right?"

"Okay. How do we get the matches?" Polly's tiny brow furrowed in serious concentration as she dangled her feet off the edge of the bench.

"First, I'm going to split the cards." Delilah dealt the hand. "Now you need to look at your deck with Uncle Paul and take out all the matches while Ginny Mae and I do the same thing."

There was silence as Paul helped Polly match cards while Delilah's partner helpfully stuck peas in the box with the extra queens and waved it in the air.

"I gotta question. What if we got three cards that are the same number? Like these?" Polly held up two sixes and a nine.

"Well, honey, that's close, but not quite. Do you remember how Auntie Miriam's been teaching you numbers? Well, you haven't gotten to these yet, but a six looks like an upside-down nine. See?" He turned the cards for her inspection.

"Oh." Polly nodded sagely, her braids bouncing. "That's why there's more spots on this one, right?"

He and Delilah shared grins over that astute observation as Polly waved the nine of clubs.

"Right. But see, here we have three fours. So we'll take out the two with the same color," he plunked two down on the table, "and keep this one until we get another four. Got it?"

"Got it." Polly beamed at him. "We got rid of lots of cards, so"-she lowered her voice-"we're gonna win, right? 'Cause we don't have the one with the lady on it?"

"That's where it gets tricky," Paul warned. "See, Delilah should have the same number of cards we do, so we have to pick one from her to try and make another match. But if we pick the Old Maid, and we still have it by the end, we'll lose. Are you ready?"

Polly stretched across the table toward Delilah's hand, and the game began. The Old Maid traveled from team to team until finally, Polly sat with one card while Delilah held two.

"All right, Polly. You've got to pick one. We're looking for a two, but if you get the Old Maid, Delilah might still win."

Polly grasped a card and turned it around. "We won, Unca Paul! Look! Lilah's an oaold maaaid, Lilah's the oaold maaaid," she singsonged, then stopped suddenly to tug on his sleeve. "Whatsa old maid?"

"Well..." Paul was at a loss for words.

"It's a lady who's not married even though she's been old enough to be for a while, Polly." Delilah's tremulous smile twisted something inside him.

"So you really are an old maid!" Delighted, Polly scooted off the bench to go tell Miriam.

"No, you aren't," Paul stated firmly, holding Delilah's gaze.

"Yes, I am. It's all right," she a.s.sured him as she picked up Ginny Mae and went after Polly.

Not for long, if the Lord's will and mine are the same.

Chapter 7.

Later that week, Delilah looked at the small plot of land she and Paul had been working on. Together, they'd watered the soil for three days before Logan and Bryce could hoe it up easily and turn the dirt to let in air. Her nose wrinkled at the memory of the fertilizer they'd used the previous morning.

Today would make it all worthwhile. Today they'd finally begin planting the seeds and bulbs.

I wonder whether I'll be here long enough to see them bloom. I hope so. It will be beautiful next year with all those colors. And Polly and Ginny Mae want to help me water and weed. They may pull up the plants when they begin sprouting, so I'll have to teach them which ones are flowers.

Delilah went to her cabin to fetch the flower seeds. She stepped around the cabin to find Paul playing patty-cake with the girls. Ginny Mae followed the pattern as Polly sat in Paul's lap and tried to fill in for his left arm. As giggles floated through the air, Delilah's breath caught at the homey scene.

"No, Unca Paul. You forgot this one!" Polly gestured in the air.

Delilah let loose a peal of laughter at Paul's abashed expression, catching everyone's attention. His handsome face broke into a grin.

"Looks like Delilah's here just in time to save me from any more mistakes." He stood up. "Are you ready to plant the flowers?"

"Yea!" Polly grabbed Ginny Mae's hand, and they both raced toward the garden.

Paul fell in step beside Delilah. "Have you decided where you want everything?"

The humor in his tone almost made her blush. She'd written lists of every kind of flower they had, then sketched where she would plant each variety. She'd taken some jokes about how many times she'd changed her mind but knew they meant no harm by it. Honestly, there were so many things to consider! She didn't want to clump all of the same color together but instead wanted to spread them out so it looked like a rainbow touched the earth. Also, some of the flowers would bloom in different months, and she couldn't leave patches bare while others sprang in glorious blossoms.

Maybe she was going a bit overboard, but the Chances just couldn't understand why she wanted this garden to be absolutely perfect. Even after she left, this garden should stay beautiful, a lasting testament that she'd made a difference somewhere.

"I think so." Delilah smiled up at Paul, the only person who'd been patient enough to help her throughout her quest. Well, Miriam had helped her know when each plant would blossom, but Paul spent hours helping her remove all the rocks and prepare the land. He'd actually chosen the plot for having plenty of sunlight with adequate protection against winter winds. His smile and able advice helped make this project such a joy. Not that she knew how to tell him!

"Do you have the markers?" His deep voice broke into her thoughts.

"Right here." She brandished the small pieces of wood on which she'd painstakingly written the name of each flower she would plant. The clever folding desk in her room had been much used lately.

"All right. I've numbered each stick, and here's a little map for where each number goes, so the flowers will be planted there." The morning whirled by as Paul helped Ginny Mae dig shallow holes while Polly practiced her numbers counting out seeds to drop inside. Delilah gently dusted them again with dirt.

"What will these look like?" Polly's oft-repeated question let Delilah describe the pretty flowers.

"From March to May, we'll see white evening primroses and blue wild hyacinths," she described, pointing to the areas where they'd planted the seeds. "April will bring lavender G.o.detias, spring beauties, and live-forever."

"Like we're going to in heaben?" Ginny Mae's question sent pangs through Delilah's heart. How could she explain now that a flower called "live-forever" didn't really live forever-and neither could she.

"That's right, ladybug." Paul stepped in. "In a lot of ways, flowers are just like we are. They need food and water and suns.h.i.+ne and love and all the good things G.o.d made for us. But you won't always be able to see the flowers. You have to know that they bloom and fade away, but they make seeds. See, that's the really important part that makes it so this special flower can bloom again later."

Polly frowned in concentration. "So how's that like us? You can always see me."

"Do you remember what we told you about heaven, Polly?"

"Yes, it's a beautiful place where I'll see Mommy again, and we'll live forever with Jesus!" Her face brightened.

"Do you remember how you have to leave here first?" At the little girl's nod, he continued. "It's just the same as this flower. See, Mommy faded away and left here, but her soul, just like the seeds, is made of something stronger, and it's that part that goes to heaven and makes it so we'll see her again if we believe in Jesus."

" 'Cause she had Jesus in her heart," Polly finished, taking her sister's hand.

Tears p.r.i.c.ked Delilah's eyes as she watched the tender scene. If all that was true- and she was by no means certain it was-then Mama would be in heaven because she believed in Christ. But I won't be there to see her because I can't believe. The helplessness of it all washed over her in a suffocating wave. Paul's words from the day before echoed in her mind. "The only way to gain eternal life is by giving Christ this one."

Polly's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We can't 'member Mama, but she loves us, Ginny Mae."

"Jesus gots Mama," Ginny Mae stated firmly, then reached up to tug on the end of Polly's braid. "Daddy gots us."

Delilah's heart ached. Jesus has my mama, too.

"Yep. And we've got lotsa people: Unca Paul, Unca t.i.tus, Unca Logan, Unca Bryce, Auntie Miriam, Auntie Alisa-" Polly grabbed Paul's hand.

"And Lilah, too." Ginny Mae grabbed a handful of Delilah's dress.

Touched at the little girl's gesture, Delilah smiled. "We've all got each other," she agreed.

"And now we're gonna have flowers." Polly brushed some dirt over another batch of bulbs. "So what'll these be?"

"Those will be mariposa lilies. They'll be white, and we'll see them in May with the daisies."

"What color are daisies?"

"They'll be white or yellow. I don't know which!" Delilah confessed. "These'll be wild roses. I don't know what color they'll be, either. The dog roses over here will be pink like the end of Ginny Mae's nose when she's cold." Polly smiled at that, and Delilah pressed on. "The saxifrages are tiny white bunches of flowers that we'll see around the same time. After those, in July or so, the larkspurs will come-they're white and blue. The last flowers to stay will be the red farewell-to-springs, and then we'll have to wait until the next year to plant them again."

"That oughta do it." Paul stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. The bell jangled from the kitchen. "And just in time for lunch, too." He deftly swiped a wriggling worm from Ginny Mae's pudgy grasp and scooped her into his arms.

"Let's go get washed up." Polly slipped her hand into Delilah's and marched toward the house.

Delilah dipped a rag in the washbasin and bent down to wipe Polly's hands and face.

"I can do it," Polly protested, tugging the makes.h.i.+ft washcloth away from Delilah. "But you can help Unca Paul." She gestured toward the washstand with the towel, flinging drops of water down the front of Delilah's dress.

"All right." Suppressing a smile at how quickly little Polly was growing up, Delilah turned to find Paul bouncing Ginny Mae with his good arm. Delilah grabbed another rag to clean Ginny Mae.

"Impressive amount of dirt for such a tiny thing, isn't it?" Paul's voice rumbled with good humor as Delilah grimaced at the dirty towel.

"I'll say. If we covered the seeds with this much, they'd never make it to the surface!"

"Daddy!" Polly skipped to the door as Daniel walked in. Ginny Mae wiggled and held out her arms.

"h.e.l.lo, sugar dumpling. Let me wash up a minute." He affectionately rumpled her hair.

A few moments later, everyone was gathered at the table. Looking around, Delilah marveled at the fact she knew each and every name and face around her. A sense of contentment at the familiarity of joining hands to say grace washed away her discomfort at the religious practice. She almost felt like family. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw t.i.tus give Alisa's hand one last squeeze before letting go. The obvious comfort they found in one another tugged at Delilah's heart.

Will I ever share that closeness with someone?

"Of course." Paul's deep voice startled her.

Hope and horror warred within her as she stammered, "I-I beg your pardon?"

"Logan asked if you'd like some biscuits, and I said, *Of course.' " He smiled as he held the basket for her. "There you go."

"Thanks." She somehow managed a smile as she grabbed one of Miriam's warm, flaky biscuits, her heart still thumping wildly. She was grateful when Alisa spoke, drawing Paul's attention.

"Tomorrow morning before you men set off, we'd appreciate if you'd help move the furniture in Gideon and Miriam's cabin so we can whitewash it."

"Sure," Bryce agreed immediately.

"If the weather's fine," Daniel conceded.