08 Heart of the Wilderness Page 20

  “Oh,” said Kendra. It really didn’t sound complicated. “But you don’t do that anymore?”

  “Not anymore.” Reynard stopped to pick up a flat stone and skip it across the small pond formed by a beaver dam in the stream.

  “Ever watched beavers work?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” said Kendra softly.

  “Kind of neat little fellows,” Reynard remarked.

  Kendra nodded. She did not say that she had not only watched them work, she had worked over them, skinning them out, stretching and tacking their hides on the forms, taking their pelts to the trading post. The thoughts racing through her mind made her shiver. Perhaps Reynard wouldn’t think much of her occupation either.

  “Are you cold?” asked Reynard and slipped out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before she could even answer.

  They walked on together. It was easy to chat with Reynard. Kendra felt that she had gotten to know him quite well over the week she had spent at the Prestons. Although he was gone for work during the day, he seemed to slip so easily into the family circle at night when he returned. He always stopped to wash in fresh water at the family basin, then proceeded to the table where the family was usually waiting for him. Always he stopped on the way to his chair to bend over and press a kiss on his mother’s brow or cheek or hair with an easy, “Good evening, Mama.”

  Kendra often wondered about this little ritual, but it seemed so sincere, so simple, that she couldn’t question it. If she had a mother, she would want to do the very same thing.

  “Are you enjoying university?” Reynard’s question brought Kendra’s attention back to the present.

  “I—I guess so,” began Kendra. Then she went on. “It hasn’t been what I had expected—to be truthful. In fact, the answers that I was really looking for—about nature, creation, my inner longings, God—I wouldn’t have even found them if I hadn’t met Amy. University really doesn’t give you the answers for all of that. There is so—so much taught about things. Knowledge. All for the head. Nothing for the heart.”

  Reynard nodded in understanding.

  “But it’s good—if one wants to be something—like a teacher—or a doctor—or . . .”

  Kendra finished lamely, giving her shoulder a slight shrug.

  “And you don’t plan to be any of those things?”

  “No. No, I just came because I wanted to learn. I’d never been to school—except for a few horrible months. Papa Mac—Grandfather— taught me, and then when I was old enough I studied on my own. And I had all of these—these unanswered questions. Nonie—the Indian woman who took care of me—tried to answer some of them with her Indian tales. I—I think I could have believed her, but Papa Mac said they were only myths. Totally untrue.”

  Kendra stopped. She still felt a sadness deep down inside. Sadness for all people who did not know or believe the truth.

  “Nonie’s close,” she went on. “She really is. She just doesn’t know who God really is—or that there’s only one God—who made and controls everything.”

  Reynard nodded again. “You care deeply for Nonie, don’t you?”

  Kendra drew a breath. It was hard to put into words. She stood there, gazing out over the rippling pond water. Her thoughts traveled back to a very young, terrified child being held in comforting arms, breathing in the smell of woodsmoke from the bosom that cradled her. She thought of carefree days tramping through the woods, gathering herbs and roots and berries and learning how to use them.

  She remembered an older Nonie, spending most of her time in her caned chair in front of her fire. But always, always when Kendra opened her door and called a greeting, the tired eyes lit up and a smile carved itself on the wrinkled face.

  “Yes,” she answered with a great deal of feeling. “Yes—I love Nonie. She—and Papa Mac have been all the family I’ve known.”

  “Do you—do you ever feel cheated—about the way you were raised?” asked Reynard.

  Kendra turned to face him fully. The last light of twilight mixed with the first soft rays of the rising moon to caress cheeks and hair with a soft halo. Her green eyes deepened, sparkling with the intensity of her feelings. “Oh no,” she said with sincere fervor. “I feel singularly blessed.”

  “Reynard is coming to the city.”

  Amy greeted Kendra with the news as soon as they joined together for their walk to class.

  Kendra’s eyes lifted. She couldn’t explain the sudden little flutter she felt inside.

  “What for?” She managed the simple question without her voice giving her away.

  “He’s on some bank business—a training session or something.”

  “When?” asked Kendra, her eyes focused on where she placed each step.

  “He comes next Monday and stays until Friday,” replied Amy. “Aunt Sophie is afraid he’ll be terribly bored in the evenings with no farm chores to do, but I assured her that he’ll likely be able to think of something.”

  Kendra looked at her friend. Amy was about to burst into a giggle. Kendra felt her face flush. Surely Amy wasn’t implying that Reynard would be interested in spending some time with her. But she knew by Amy’s face that she was indeed making such an inference. Kendra’s flush deepened.

  At the rap on the door, Kendra shifted in her seat at the bookstrewn table. Mrs. Miller rose to answer the summons, casting a curious look Kendra’s way. They did not often have visitors.

  “Good evening,” Kendra heard a deep, even voice say. “Is Miss Marty in, please?”

  “And who shall I say is calling?” Mrs. Miller was asking, but Kendra was already crossing toward the door.

  “Reynard?” she said.

  “You weren’t expecting me?”

  “Well, I—I—”

  “I should have written, but I didn’t have your address. I wrote Amy. She was supposed to tell you.”

  “Well—she did—I mean she said you were coming to the city. She said . . .” Kendra faltered to a stop and held the door open.

  “I do hope I’m not imposing—”

  “Oh no. No, not at all. Come in. This is—I’d like you to meet Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller, Amy’s brother Reynard. Reynard Preston.”

  Mrs. Miller smiled warmly and chatted easily for a few minutes, then turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving the two in the living room.

  “I see you are studying,” said Reynard, motioning toward the books on the table. “I’m afraid—”

  “Oh no,” quickly replied Kendra. “I’ve finished what needs to be done. I always work ahead.”

  “I thought—I wondered if you might like to go for a cup of coffee in that little shop up by Aunt Sophie’s?”

  Kendra smiled. She had never been in the little coffee shop and had always secretly longed to join the university crowd who sometimes gathered there, just to see what it was like.

  “I’ll get my shawl,” she said with no hesitation.

  They managed to spend much of the evening together each night of the week Reynard was in town. Kendra cautioned her heart over and over not to become involved, but she wasn’t sure that it was paying much attention to her words.

  On the last night before Reynard was to go home, they walked the river trail together. When they came to a bench, Reynard brushed it off and offered Kendra a seat.

  “I’ve been hoping you’ll be able to come out to the farm with Amy again. Guess it’s getting too close to the end of the term now, but you could come as soon as classes are over.”

  He reached down and took her hand and Kendra did not resist.

  “I’d—I’d like to,” she managed, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “Maybe we could even find a job for you—in town. The—”

  “In town? A job?”

  “Just for the summer. I know that when classes start again you’ll—”

  “I’m not coming back,” said Kendra softly.

  He looked surprised. Then his eyes began to shine.

  “Well—if you’re
planning to get a job here,” he said, “it might better be there. Then you’ll be near—all the time.”

  Kendra lowered her gaze. “I’m not—not planning on a job—here either,” she said.

  He reached out and lifted her chin so he could look directly into her eyes. “What are you planning?” he asked seriously.

  “I’m—I’m going back. Home. To my grandfather. He—he needs me. I never should have left him in the first place.”

  Kendra tried to pull away from the hand that held her prisoner so that she could turn her face from him. She didn’t want to see the look that had flooded into his eyes. His fingers tightened around the hand he held.

  “Do you have to?” he asked.

  Kendra turned to him again and nodded slowly. “I have to,” she replied, her voice deep with emotion. “I have to. He needs me. Nonie needs me. I have to—to tell them—about God. That I’ve found the answer.”

  His voice brightened. “Then you’ll be back?”

  Kendra looked up at him, then lowered her gaze. She shook her head slowly. “No. No, I’ll not be back. Papa Mac needs me.”

  Silence hung heavily about them. Kendra felt chilled—isolated.

  “Could—might we write?” asked Reynard, his voice husky with emotion.

  Kendra raised her eyes to his. She shook her head slowly.

  “I—I don’t think it would be—wise,” she managed in little more than a whisper as she pulled her hand out of his. “It—would only make it—harder.”

  Kendra had expected her trip back to the wilderness to be one that filled her heart with joy. It would be so good to see her grandfather. Wonderful to visit Nonie again. A treat to be welcomed by Oscar. But there was little joy in Kendra’s heart as she packed her small cases, crated her acquired belongings, and boarded the boat for the first leg of the journey.

  Had she done the right thing? Would she one day be sorry? Would it be purely selfish for her to stay?

  She thought again of her grandfather—and of Nonie. Of their need to learn of the God Kendra had come to love. But couldn’t she just tell them and then return to the city? Back to Reynard? Kendra longed with all of her being to come back.

  “No. No,” she told her weeping heart. “I can’t. I just can’t leave Papa Mac all alone again.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Change of Plans

  “It won’t be long now, Oscar,” said George. The dog team was gathered on the shore to wait for the incoming wagon bringing supplies to the post. And along with the supplies, Kendra was coming home. George had debated about bringing the canoe to transport Kendra back to their little cabin. It would have been much faster. But he had harnessed Kendra’s dog team to the wagon-sled with Oscar in the lead and taken the overland trail. He knew the big dog would be almost as glad to see Kendra again as he himself.

  So they stood together and waited, the dust in the distance announcing the coming of the supply wagon. She was almost home.

  “It’s been a long winter, hasn’t it, boy?” George spoke further to the dog, his fingers curling in the long silky neck hair of the animal, then twining around and uncurling again. “Long—and miserable. But that’s over now. She’s almost home.”

  Oscar responded with a whine, his tail scattering dry leaves as it swept the ground and he looked up into the face of the tall bearded man who towered above him.

  “You know—I think you sense that something is about to happen. Something out of the ordinary.”

  Oscar whined again.

  The wagon drew closer. George squinted his eyes and tried to pick out Kendra. There was a blur of color on the wagon. The freight hauler had more than one passenger.

  “Sure hope she’s on there,” he mused more to himself than the dog.

  But with a quick move, Oscar jerked from his hand and ran excitedly toward the approaching wagon.

  “Oscar!” called George. “Oscar!” But the dog paid no attention.

  George heard a frequent sharp yip as the dog closed the distance to the approaching team.

  “Sure hope he don’t go and spook those horses,” George muttered as he followed absently after the dog. “Well—one thing’s for sure. She’s on there.”

  Just as George spoke the words a figure disengaged herself from the wagon and dropped to the ground, then fell to her knees. Kendra reached out her arms just as Oscar flung himself at her, nearly knocking her over. George watched as the two of them rocked back and forth, Kendra hugging and Oscar licking and wagging until he nearly exhausted both of them. George swallowed and reached up to wipe unwanted moisture from his eyes. Perhaps the brilliant summer sun was just too bright.

  Kendra walked about the familiar cabin, letting her hand run over the rough boards that formed the sparse furniture. She had never realized before just how plain, how bare it was. But it was home, and she was glad to be there. She looked at the pile of crates and cases her grandfather had stacked in the corner of her bedroom, then lifted the top-most box.

  “If I hurry I can get it all unpacked before I have to get supper,” she told herself and started at the task. She nearly tripped over Oscar, who refused to let her out of his sight. She reached down to give his head an affectionate pat.

  “There’s someone I sure would have liked you to meet,” she murmured to the big dog, and then sighed. In spite of her joy at being home again, there was the shadow of leaving someone behind who might have become very important in her life.

  Kendra did not wait to talk about her new faith. She brought up the subject with her grandfather that very night as they sat together after they had shared their simple meal.

  “I found what I was looking for, Papa Mac,” she said and noticed that he seemed to draw back.

  “I’m glad,” he responded carefully, and he sounded sincere.

  “There really is a God,” went on Kendra. “But He is so much more than just an—an unknown Someone out there someplace. He is real and He is personal and He gave us His Word, the Bible, so that we might understand all about Him.”

  Her grandfather nodded.

  “But we—all of us—have cut ourselves off from Him. Because of sin—because of sinful, selfish choices we make.

  George stirred in his chair.

  “God said that if Adam and Eve, the first people, sinned they would die. But they chose to sin anyway.” Kendra shook her head. It was almost beyond her comprehension that those two created beings could go ahead and do such a thing when it had been forbidden by God himself.

  “The only way God could restore the relationship and have the penalty paid for people’s sin was to send a substitute—a sacrifice. His Son, Jesus.”

  George shifted again. “Really, Kendra—” he began, but Kendra wasn’t finished.

  “He died for us—in our place. But that’s not—not quite enough,” Kendra hurried on. She wanted to be sure her grandfather had the complete picture before they stopped to discuss her newfound truth.

  “We can—”

  This time George did stop her. He held up his hand, his signal for silence. Even the dogs did not dare to bark or whine when George McMannus held up his hand in such a fashion.

  Kendra silenced, but her eyes were pleading with the big man who sat before her.

  “I think we need an understanding here,” said George slowly. “I have let you speak your piece. I am glad you’ve found—what you were looking for. Some people—well, they seem to need—religion.”

  Kendra opened her mouth. The words wished to gush forth. She hadn’t needed religion. She needed God. She needed a Savior. Everyone did. But George lifted his hand again and Kendra’s mouth closed.

  “Now—I grant you that right,” went on George. “Heaven only knows you have had precious little to cling to in your short lifetime. I grant you that right. But—”

  George stopped and ran his fingers through his graying beard. “I don’t, Kendra. I’m—I’m just fine the way I am. I’m not seeking. I’m not restless. My soul isn’t looking for answers
.”

  He stopped again and looked at the young girl.

  “Do you understand? Do I make myself clear?”

  Kendra nodded, swallowed hard, and blinked back tears. Then she nodded again and lowered her gaze.

  “Good,” said the man, and he rose from the table to his full height. “Now, let’s have no more of this serious talk. I want to hear all about your year of university. Come—leave the dishes. Pull your chair up to the fire and let’s visit.”

  Kendra picked up her chair and crossed the short distance to the fireplace. George pulled his chair up beside her, and Oscar crowded in between the two.

  George reached down a hand and stroked the big dog.

  “We’ve missed you so much,” he admitted. “Oscar and I—we been ’bout to drive each other crazy. It’s good to have you back, girl. Mighty good to have you back.”

  When Kendra lay in her bed that night, her grandfather’s soft snoring reaching her from the room beyond and Oscar curled up close beside her bed on the bearskin rug, she thought again of the earlier conversation. Large tears formed in her eyes and trickled down to her pillow. She had hoped so much that her grandfather would respond to her words. Had prayed for so many months that she would be able to say the right thing—in the right way. But it hadn’t turned out that way. Not at all.

  “Perhaps it will take time,” she whispered to herself in the darkness. “I must be patient—and obedient—and show him—prove to him that it’s real.”

  But Kendra still felt sorrow. She was concerned about her grandfather. What if something happened to him before she had a chance to live her new life before him, before he had opportunity to see that faith in God was real—and obtainable?

  Early the next morning Kendra and Oscar headed out for the little settlement. She had to see Nonie. All the way along the trail that led through the tall pines and spruce, Kendra prayed.

  “Help me to be wiser with Nonie, Father,” she kept praying. “Help me to say things so she will understand. So she will accept.”