Heartland Wedding

Hail pounded against the cellar door like hammers to iron. And still, Pete stared, his face raised. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he joining her at the bottom of the steps?

Desperate for something to do besides worry, Rebecca took the opportunity to look around. The cellar was barely a third of the size of her room at Mrs. Jennings’s boardinghouse. Cobwebs had made use of every available corner, while the smell of earth and mold spoke of obvious neglect.

An entire wall was filled with shelves from floor to ceiling, but other than the lantern and matches there was nothing on them. She supposed Pete’s wife had once kept these shelves full with her canning efforts. But Rebecca couldn’t know for sure. Sarah Benjamin had died in childbirth before Rebecca had arrived in High Plains.

Poor Pete. To lose his wife so young. And without any warning. Rebecca knew about that kind of sudden loss and the loneliness that followed.

Wanting to break the silence but not knowing what to say, she stared at Pete’s back while he continued to watch the cellar door rattle on its hinges. The unmistakable sound of farm tools and other items crashed against the door.

Would the wood hold? Was that why Pete continued staring up, as though his vigilance would keep the door intact?

Rebecca ran her gaze from end to end along his broad shoulders. He was a big, sturdy man, built of hard muscle and strong character, much like Edward.

At the thought of her brother, Rebecca’s breathing quickened to short, hard pants. What if he died in the storm? Tears pooled in her eyes.

As though sensing her anguish, Pete finally turned and captured her gaze with his. Even in the low light she could see his eyes, usually so sad and distant, softening in the same way they did when he was tending a horse in his livery stable. He probably didn’t realize that his expression also gave her a brief glimpse into his loneliness.

Such pain. It hurt to look at him. Without realizing what she was doing, she took a step forward.

He came down the stairs and placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch was completely impersonal. So was his gaze. “Don’t worry, Rebecca. Edward is a smart man, resourceful. He’s lived in this area long enough to know to take cover in a storm.”

That calm, confident declaration did nothing to soothe her fears. In fact, she trembled harder. Intelligence and good sense had nothing to do with surviving unpredictable weather. Her own parents had died in an ice storm six months ago.

Awful memories threatened to consume her. She gripped her throat and looked frantically around her. Was the cellar getting smaller? She fisted a clump of hair in her hand. White-hot waves of anxiety slipped along her spine, giving her a chill. No longer willing to stay underground, she rushed toward the stairs.

Pete barred her way. “No. Rebecca, you have to be patient.” He placed his finger under her chin and urged her to look at him. “Listen to me.” His gaze was no longer impersonal, but earnest. “We must wait until the storm has passed.”

He might have spoken softly, calmly even, but she knew he would not allow her to leave. He’d become her jailer.

She tried not to resent him for his new role as he urged her toward a small bench running along the opposite wall of the shelving.

“Sit.” He handed her a threadbare blanket. “Wrap this around you.”

She did as he commanded. She had no choice.

Watching her carefully, Pete sat on the steps and rested his elbows on his knees. For a long moment, he stared at her without speaking. She studied his face in turn. The hard, chiseled features were at odds with the sad eyes, eyes still mourning the loss of a loved one.

Rebecca swallowed. She had no idea what to say to this stranger who employed her older brother as a farrier in his livery stable. No words would bring back Pete’s wife. No words would bring her parents back, either.

“Would you pray with me?” he asked in a stilted voice.

Pray? Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? Where was her faith? Why hadn’t she put her hope in the Lord like always? “Ja. Yes,” she corrected. “That would be a good idea.”

Pete lowered his chin toward his chest. Rebecca stared at his bowed head for only a moment before closing her eyes.

“Heavenly Father,” he began, “Your Word tells us You determine our days and months in this life. You give and You take away…” His voice hitched and his words trailed off.

When the silence continued, Rebecca opened her eyes.

Head still bent, Pete swallowed once. Twice. Then he cleared his throat and began again. “Scripture also tells us that You give strength to Your people. Lord, we pray You give Edward Your strength as he battles this storm. Keep him and all the citizens of High Plains safe. May they all have found cover in time.” He paused again. “In Jesus’ name, we pray, amen.”

“Amen.”

After a moment of silence, Pete shifted a few steps higher. Gazing at her from his perch, he spoke softly, using the tone he might adopt for one of his spooked horses. “Are you warm enough?”

She hugged the blanket around her shoulders and nodded.

“There’s nothing to fear down here.”

“I…know.”

“The storm will pass, eventually.”

She drew in a shuddering sigh and nodded again. Clearly, he was being careful with her, drawing her into conversation slowly. She found herself admiring him all the more for his consideration. It would be easy to build dreams around such a man. But Rebecca knew Pete wasn’t for her and she wasn’t for him. Aside from the fact that they hardly knew each other, his heart still belonged to the wife and child he’d lost.

He continued talking. Before long, she responded in more than nods and short phrases. When he asked about her childhood in Norway, she told him of the poverty and the never-ending workload. Then she revealed the loneliness she’d suffered when Edward had left for America and her parents had banded tighter together, leaving her feeling alone and left out.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” she admitted, wiggling a hand free from the blanket to shove at her hair.

Pete smiled at her, just a little. “Are you happy in High Plains?”

She answered without hesitation. “Oh, ja. Mrs. Jennings has been very kind. Cooking for her and the other boarders is a wonderful job.” She swallowed. “But, Pete, I have to know. Why wasn’t Edward at the livery today?”

“He was, earlier, but then he headed out to the wagon train for a final check on the horses’ shoes.”

The wagon train. Of course. Edward would want to make sure all the horses were ready for the trek across country. She herself had fed an extra twenty people this morning at the boardinghouse. “I—”

The wind stopped, suddenly. Pete raised his gaze to the heavens. “Praise God, it’s over.”

Rebecca released her own sigh of relief.

Without looking at her again, Pete ascended the stairs, unlatched the bolt and shoved open the door. His shocked gasp alerted Rebecca to what she would find.

After snuffing out the lantern’s flame, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, then slowly picked her way up the stairs.

The sky had turned bright with sunshine, momentarily blinding her as effectively as the match’s fire had done earlier. When her vision cleared, the view that met her gaze stole her breath away. There was too much devastation to take in at once. Boards blown off houses, everyday household items lying in pieces, trees torn from the earth by their roots, a wagon on a rooftop.

Rebecca took a tentative step forward. And then another.

The scent of smoke filled the air, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Somewhere close.

She glanced at Pete. Lost in his own shock, he stood staring straight ahead, unmoving, jaw clenched. She followed the direction of his gaze. His livery stable was still standing, but a portion of the roof had been completely ripped off.

“Oh, Pete. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond. She hadn’t expected him to.

Tugging the blanket tighter around her, Rebecca turned to look behind her. There was a menacing stillness in the air.