Ribbon of Years Read online

  Elaine didn't reply, and the lingering silence forced Jacob to look up again. He was surprised to find tears in her eyes.

  He felt completely inept. "I'm sorry in more ways than I can say. I know I haven't treated you right, and I've blamed you for all sorts of things that you had nothing to do with. I've been short with the kids and even shorter with you."

  "How can it work?"

  "Maybe it won't," he replied honestly. "There's a heap of hurt to climb over. But maybe if we both try hard, we can do it."

  In a whisper, her eyes downcast, she asked, "What about love?"

  He'd lain awake most of last night, remembering things about Elaine, remembering those first days they were together in California, remembering their wedding, their honeymoon, their return to River Bluff. Somewhere in the midst of all those memories, he'd realized all the things he'd felt for her, back in the beginning. He'd cared about her enough to propose. He'd wanted to get married as much as she had, though he'd conveniently forgotten that over the years. Had it been love he'd felt for her? He couldn't say for sure. But it had been something.

  "We'll work on loving each other," he said, hoping that would be enough. "We'll work on being a real family. What do you say, Elaine? Can we give it another go?"

  Del paced the doctor's waiting room while his father-in-law, arms folded across his chest, observed from his chair near the window.

  "What's taking so long?"

  Frank replied, "He's just being thorough. Why don't you sit down, or he'll have to examine you next."

  But Del knew he wouldn't be able to sit still. "I should have made her come see Dr. Carson. She hasn't been herself lately. No energy. No appetite. Just not herself."

  "Yes, I've noticed. But I'm sure it's nothing but a cold or a touch of the flu."

  "I hope you're—"

  The door to the examination room opened, and Dr. Carson stepped into the waiting area, closing the door behind him. Del peered at the physician's face, looking for a clue. Was he frowning with concern? Was he troubled? Del couldn't tell.

  "Doctor?" Del said, fear in his voice.

  Dr. Carson shook his head slowly. "No need for alarm." His gaze flicked to Frank, then back to Del. "Although I'd say your life won't be the same after today."

  Del wasn't comforted by the doctor's words. "What are you saying? Is Miriam—"

  "Your wife's expecting."

  "Expecting?"

  Frank came to stand beside him.

  "A baby." The doctor grinned. "She's going to have a baby."

  "But you said . . . but we thought . . . but I—"

  Frank slapped him on the back. "Del, you're going to be a father. Praise the Lord! I'm going to be a grandpa!"

  He looked at his father-in-law, then at the doctor. "A baby," he whispered. And finally the shock wore off and the joy overflowed. "We're gonna have a baby!"

  The three men laughed and shook hands with exuberance for a minute or two more. Then Del asked if he could see his wife.

  "Sure," the doctor replied. "She's waiting for you. Go on in."

  Del's baby. I'm going to have Del's baby.

  Miriam let the words replay over and over again in her mind, savoring them, yet not quite believing them. After all this time, after being told it was doubtful she could conceive, after trying so hard to accept with grace her childlessness, she was going to have a baby.

  The door to the examination room opened, and Del stepped in. Beaming from ear to ear, he looked like a kid at the carnival.

  Thank You, Jesus. Thank You for this moment.

  Del crossed the room. "Hey, Mom."

  "Hey, Pop."

  "When's the day? I forgot to ask."

  "Dr. Carson thinks around the middle of June."

  Del lovingly stroked the side of her face, from temple to jaw, with the back of his fingertips.

  "I feel a little silly," she said with a soft laugh. "I should've guessed. All the signs were there. But I never expected it would happen. After eleven years . . . " she let her voice trail away.

  "Oh, we of little faith. We seem to have forgotten that our Lord is a Lord of miracles." He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, reverently. When the kiss ended, he kept his face near hers, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, said, "Guess we're not such an old married couple, after all. Won't Sally be surprised."

  They laughed together, feeling silly, giddy, young, and wildly happy. The future was bright, full of endless possibilities for them and their precious child.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MIRIAM DRIED HER HANDS ON A DISH TOWEL ON HER WAY TO answer the doorbell.

  "Hi, Mrs. Tucker," Sally said from the other side of the screen door. "Happy Thanksgiving."

  "Why, Sally. I wasn't expecting you."

  "If it's a bad time, I can—"

  "No. Don't be silly." She pushed the door open wide. "Come in out of the cold."

  "Thanks."

  "Would you like a cup of tea?" Miriam headed toward the kitchen. "I've got the kettle on."

  "Sure." Sally followed her.

  Miriam poured hot water over tea bags in two cups, then carried them to the small kitchen table.

  "Is Mr. Tucker here?"

  "Not at the moment. I discovered I'm short one place setting for dinner, so he went to the store. One advantage of running our own business, I guess. You can get what you need, even on a holiday. Did you need to see him?"

  Sally shook her head. "Actually, it's you I wanted to talk to."

  Miriam lifted an eyebrow as she sank onto the chair opposite the girl.

  "There was so much excitement last week, what with you finding out about the baby and all, that I never found time to . . . to say thanks."

  "For what?"

  A blush rose up Sally's neck and spilled onto her cheeks. She stared into her teacup. "If it weren't for what you said to me . . . well, I think I might've gotten into . . . trouble with Hadley." She looked at Miriam again. "That Saturday, when we went to Boise, he . . . a . . . he got kind of fresh."

  Alarmed, Miriam leaned forward, taking hold of Sally's hand atop the table. "What did he do?"

  "Nothing really." She flushed hotter and glanced away. "But I . . . I had to get out of his car to make sure it didn't."

  Miriam was too angry to speak.

  "I guess he figured he'd done me a favor, taking me out, and it was time to pay up." Unshed tears welled in Sally's eyes. "But I remembered what you said, about how there's always consequences for the choices we make. I thought how what I want is to get married to a man who'll love me the way Mr. Tucker loves you, and I knew the price Hadley was asking was too high." She took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. "So I got out and started walking home. It was dark and kinda scary, but then Tad Farnsdale came along and gave me a ride the rest of the way to town."

  "I'd like to take a strap to Hadley."

  "Please don't tell anybody," Sally said quickly. "I feel like an idiot already. You can tell Mr. Tucker, I guess, but nobody else."

  "Of course." Miriam shook her head while giving the girl's hand a squeeze. "I won't say a word to anyone else."

  The girl leaned back in her chair. "Last Sunday, our pastor read a Scripture that I went and looked at later." She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. "I wrote it down. It says, 'You yourselves are our letter of recommendation, written on your hearts, to be known and read by all men.' I don't know why, but it made me think how others are always looking at us and reading us, like the Bible says there. Know what I mean?"

  "I think so."

  "Well, that's like me and you. I've learned from you 'cause I've been reading the way you live, the way you are with Mr. Tucker and him with you."

  "That's rather profound, Sally."

  She shrugged, but looked pleased at the same time. "Well, it just seems to me that I want others to read me and know that I'm living the way God wants. That I'm going to stay pure so I can have the kind of marriage He has planned for me. No boy'
s popular enough to give that up." She shrugged again, then rose from the chair. "I better get home and help Mom with the turkey or something. But I had to say thanks."

  "I'm glad you shared with me." Miriam rose and followed Sally toward the front door.

  Once there, Sally turned and embraced her, hugging tightly. "I love you, Mrs. Tucker. I'm real glad for you and Mr. Tucker and the baby and all."

  Before Miriam could reply, the girl released her and left in a hurry.

  Her heart warmed by the encounter, Miriam returned to the kitchen, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her apron and sniffing softly. She couldn't wait for Del to get home so she could share what Sally had said.

  A letter . . . to be known and read by all men.

  She smiled, still teary eyed, as she began peeling the potatoes.

  Standing in the stockroom at the back of the five-and-dime, Del stared at the shelves stacked with merchandise. He was certain he'd placed the boxes of dishware back here, but he couldn't seem to find them. Miriam wasn't going to be happy if he returned empty-handed. He thought it would be just as easy to call her father and ask him to bring the needed place setting from his house, but Miriam wouldn't hear of it. Especially since Frank was bringing Jim Hogan's widowed sister, Allison Keene, as his guest.

  "A date!" Miriam had exclaimed to Del when she shared the news. "Dad's got a date!"

  Thanksgiving at the Tucker home had to be perfect—right down to the place settings—because Frank Gresham was bringing a lady friend with him.

  Not that Miriam should even be cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year, Del thought as he went after the stepladder. She should be resting. It was barely ten days since she'd passed out at church. They should have called Thanksgiving off.

  Miriam insisted she was over the bad patch. Her appetite had improved a little, and she wasn't feeling nearly so tired. "I'm not calling off Thanksgiving dinner," she'd told Del. "I'm perfectly fine."

  Del set the stepladder near the back shelves and began to climb.

  He supposed Miriam should really stay home from the store. He could hire another part-time person, maybe a high school student like Sally. Might as well do it now. Miriam wouldn't be working once the baby came.

  A burst of pleasure warmed his heart. A baby. His and Miriam's baby. After eleven years, they were finally going to have a child in their home.

  Thank You, Father God, for this unexpected but most wanted blessing. You have blessed me, indeed.

  He spied the box he was looking for. Bracing his left foot on the top of the ladder, he reached for the box. That was when his bad leg buckled. He felt himself pitching sideways, grabbed for something to hold on to but found only air. His temple struck a shelf, spinning him so that he hit the floor on his stomach. A split second later, his forehead slammed the concrete.

  Miriam. . .

  The hospital was quiet at four in the morning. Rounds would begin in a couple of hours, but for now, nurses sat at their station, going over charts, while patients slept. A pale light from the hall came through the half-open door, and a small reading lamp that her dad had brought from the store glowed softly on the bedside stand.

  Miriam leaned forward, holding Del's limp hand between both of hers. It's been five days, Lord. Please make him wake up. I don't think I can bear another day like this. God, I'm so tired.

  Her gaze shifted from Del to her father, who dozed in a chair in the corner. On Thanksgiving afternoon, Frank Gresham had followed the ambulance to Boise in his automobile and had scarcely left Miriam's side since. Others had made the drive into Boise as well. Sally and her mother, Pastor Desmond, Sheriff Jagger, even Patrick and Grace Finch.

  Jacob had come, too. "Elaine and I are trying to work it out," he'd told Miriam. "You were right. About a lot of things. I just wanted you to know. And I'm here for you if I can help. As your friend. That's all. I'll understand if it's too late for that, but I wanted you to know."

  An infinitesimal movement of Del's fingers between her hands drew her gaze to the bed. Del's eyes were open. He was looking at her.

  "Del!" She kept her voice low, although she wanted to shout his name at the top of her lungs.

  He made an effort to smile, then whispered hoarsely, "Hospital?"

  "Yes."

  "How long?"

  "Five days." A lump formed in her throat. Tears welled, threatening to fall.

  He nodded, closed his eyes, sighed.

  "Dad's here with me." She stood and leaned closer. "Folks from River Bluff are all praying for you."

  "Honey . . . " He opened his eyes. "I'm going home."

  "Soon. As soon as you're better. The doctor says it will take time, but—"

  "No, Miriam. I mean I'm going home."

  Her heart hammered. She felt hot. She felt cold. Her knees were like rubber.

  "I'll see you in heaven."

  "Del," she whispered, "don't say that. I can't bear to lose you. I'll be so alone."

  Another small smile, meant to encourage her, though it failed. "You won't be alone. Jesus never leaves you."

  "You can't go." She tightened her grip on his hand. "You have to be here for our baby. Remember the baby, Del?"

  "That's a miracle, you know. God gave me just enough time, didn't He?"

  "I can't raise the baby without you." Tears streamed down her face, falling onto the sheets. "How can I raise him without you?"

  His voice seemed softer, farther away. "The same way as if I were here. You'll raise him with love. In the truth of Christ." He found the strength to lift his hand and touch her damp cheek. "You're going to be fine, Miriam. So will our child. Have faith, my love."

  "Del, don't. O God . . . O Jesus . . ."

  His eyes drifted closed once again. For the longest while—an eternity, it seemed—she heard only the faint sound of his shallow breathing.

  Finally, he smiled. A real smile this time, one that came without effort. A smile that caused his entire face to glow with an inner warmth.

  "It's You," he said softly, joy apparent in those two simple words.

  Then Del Tucker went home.

  JULIANNA

  SUMMER 2001

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "HE DIED?" I SAID, MY GAZE MOVING FROM SALLY FARNSDALE TO Jacob McAllister.

  The old man nodded.

  "But that's so unfair."

  "What makes you think life's supposed to be fair?" Jacob asked, his voice gentle rather than condemning.

  I was angry. Angry for Miriam. I shouldn't have been, of course. I'd never known her, never even heard of her before today. And yet—

  I considered leaving, right then and there. These people with all their God talk made me uncomfortable. Yet I couldn't leave. Not before I heard the rest of Miriam Tucker's story.

  Sally trailed her fingertip around the lip of the soda glass, drawing my gaze to her.

  Softly, as if speaking to herself rather than to the rest of us in the room, she said, "Miriam claimed that year was the hardest of all her life. Even harder than the trials that came later on." She glanced at me. "She also said it was the year she grew closest to God—she either had to depend solely upon Him, cling tighter to Jesus, or she had to reject Him completely. And she couldn't do the latter."

  What if Leland were to die? What would I cling to?

  Those questions disturbed me. It surprised me, knowing with a sudden certainty that if my husband died, I would have . . . nothing. It seemed I could see a vast abyss before me and no way to cross it.

  I pushed the unpleasant thought from my mind. "Did Miriam have the baby all right?"

  "Yes." Sally returned the glass to the box. "A boy. Luke. How we celebrated his arrival. Didn't we, Jacob?"

  "We sure did. That was Miriam's last summer in River Bluff, too." He looked at me. "She closed the store after Del died. I'm not sure she set foot in it ever again. Then, when little Luke was about three months old, she moved to Boise. Between Del's insurance policies and the sale of her house and business, she was p
retty set. She wasn't rich by any means, but she was comfortable. Smart, too. Invested wisely over the years." He waved his hand. "She bought this house that fall and lived here right up to the day she died."

  "Oh, look at these," Sally interrupted. She held out the gold earrings I'd seen earlier. "Do you know the story behind these, Jacob? I don't think I ever saw them before."

  "I know the story. Back in the early sixties, that was. My goodness. I think we were doing the twist and preparing for the British invasion of the Beatles." He chuckled. "What a different time it was."

  MIRIAM

  SPRING 1963

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "LUKE!" MIRIAM DROPPED HER PURSE AND CAR KEYS ON THE entry-hall table. "Dad!" She glanced in the oval mirror above the table while removing her pillbox hat. "Where are you two?"

  No answer.

  She made her way toward the rear of the house, not stopping until she reached the door—which, she wasn't surprised to find, had been left wide open.

  "How many times do I have to tell them?" she muttered.

  But she wasn't truly irritated with her father or son. Why bother? Both of them knew how to charm her out of a bad mood.

  She leaned against the jamb and stared at the large, sloping backyard, bordered by tall shade trees and carefully tended flower gardens. At the far end of the yard were Frank and Luke, throwing a baseball back and forth.

  Nothing like a beautiful spring day to bring out the ball and glove.

  She pushed open the screen. "Hey, where's my welcome?"

  "Mom!" Luke dropped his mitt and raced toward her, looking as if he hadn't seen her in a week instead of a few hours.

  It made her feel like a million bucks.

  She stepped onto the stoop. "Hi, honey."

  "Grandpa's showing me how to throw a curveball."

  "Good for Grandpa." She ruffled Luke's hair. "How about your schoolwork? Did you get it done?"

  "Ah, Mom. It's a Saturday."

  Her dad arrived at the bottom of the steps. "It's my fault, pixie. I wanted some exercise."