Laurel followed. “Mama, you're not thinking of leaving the china cabinet? It was Grandma's. You've always loved it.”
Her eyes sad, Jean said, “I don't think there's going to be room.”
“What about the china? That was Grandma's too. Great Grandma gave it to her …”
“I know, for her wedding. Grandma always treasured her china. I wish we could take it with us. But …” Jean swept back a wisp of auburn hair. “I promised the dishes to Grace. She's always admired them.” She wrapped an arm around Laurel's shoulders. “They'll have a good home.”
“Can't we ship them?”
“It would take money we don't have.” Jean sighed.
“And the rocker?” Laurel asked, afraid to hear the answer. “We can't leave it.”
“We'll try.”
Laurel's insides ached, and she fought tears. “Mama, we don't have to leave. It's not too late. You and Daddy are always talking about how God will take care of us. Why can't you trust him with this?”
Jean turned her daughter around to face her, firmly placing her hands on Laurel's shoulders. “God can take care of us, but sometimes we're forced into action by circumstances. Going to Alaska may be exactly what God wants.” She squeezed Laurel's shoulders gently. “We can't stay. We've talked about this. There's good farmland and lots of fishing and hunting in the Matanuska. It will be a good place for a new start.”
“And what about bears and wolves, and snow higher than the rooftop?” Laurel asked, sounding defiant. She hadn't meant to.
“The man your father talked to said the stories about bears and wolves are exaggerated, and we're used to snow. If we give it a chance, we'll be happy there.”
“I'll see if Daddy needs help,” Laurel said with resignation and walked out the door.
A wheelbarrow, grinder, hog troughs, chicken feeders, cider press, pitchforks, axes, shovels, pails, plow, horse collars, harnesses, and tack were piled up past the wood slats of Joe's beaten pickup. No room remained for sleds, wagon wheels, or Will's wood lathe. Laurel knew what a sacrifice it was for her father to leave his lathe. He loved working with wood.
Their two Belgians stood in the paddock. Although a bit thinner than when they were in their prime, Jake and Cooper were still magnificent. Laurel strolled to the fence, and Jake stretched his muzzle out to her. She stroked his chestnut neck. “I'll miss you,” she said, pressing her forehead against his broad face. She straightened, ran her hand down his nose, then gave Cooper a pat and walked to her father's pickup.
It was nearly full, and several items were still on the porch. Laurel's dresser stood off to one side. She let her eyes roam over the old wood. A dent marred the top drawer. Laurel smiled. She'd been thirteen when David had decided he was in love with Jessica Hopkins. Laurel had been so angry she'd grabbed a music box he'd given her for her thirteenth birthday and thrown it across her room. It had smashed against the chest of drawers and broken into pieces. The scar remained.
David stepped onto the porch. “Hi.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “So, you ready?”
“If being packed means I'm ready, then I guess I am.”
David tapped the toe of his boot against an uneven plank on the porch. “I can't believe you're moving.” He looked at Laurel. “You're old enough to stay.”
“I thought I could stay—go to school maybe. But Daddy and Mama said I was being foolish. In these hard times it's not easy to make it on your own.”
“You wouldn't have to live on your own. You could stay with us.”
“I don't think that's exactly proper.” Laurel's eyes slid to the loaded truck. “Besides, my family will need me. It's going to take all of us to make it.” A soft smile touched her lips. “I was thinking of coming back, though, after they're settled. I want to go to college so I can teach.”
“I'll be here.” David rammed his toe into the planking. “My life's not exactly exciting, but I'm a good farmer. My dad and I are gonna make something out of our land. The drought won't last forever.”
“Hey, David. We need your help,” Joe called. “Get on the other end of this sofa, would ya?”
His voice barely more than a whisper, David continued in a hurry, “Do you think when you come back, we could … well, do you think we could talk about getting married?”
Laurel knew David had been in love with her since his boyhood, except for the temporary diversion of Jessica Hopkins. She studied him. He was tall with calm blue eyes and an easy smile. She loved him, but he felt more like a brother than a mate. When she married, she wanted it to be with a man she loved passionately, someone she couldn't live without. She met his eyes. “You know I love you, but not like that. We'll always be friends.” She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I'll write. Will you?”
“Yeah. I'll write.”
“David, come on,” Joe called, his voice laced with irritation. He grabbed hold of the couch.
“I'm comin',” David said and hurried to help his father.
Laurel wandered to the barn and stopped in front of a wooden bucket with a sprig of a tree growing in it. The previous spring she'd taken it from one of her grandfather's apple trees, hoping to save a remnant of their farm's early beginnings.
“I hope there's room for you,” she said, kneeling beside the pot. She pressed her hands against the cool, damp soil. Although the ranch had dried up, this little tree had flourished; its green leaves were supple and glossy.
She ran into the barn, found a piece of burlap and some string, and returned to the seedling. Carefully loosening the roots and keeping a good dirt ball, she removed it from the bucket, set it in the burlap, then pulled the material up around the roots and tied it. Hopefully it would live to be replanted. She picked it up, cradling it against her chest.
Luke stepped around the corner of the barn and nearly plowed into her. Brother and sister stared at each other. “For crying out loud, Laurel. Watch where you're going.” Luke's eyes wandered to the tiny tree. “You taking that thing?”
“It's not a thing. And, yes. It's part of this ranch and belongs with us. It'll be our first apple tree on the new farm.” Laurel studied her brother. Since their father's announcement, Luke's dark good looks had turned brooding, and he'd been quieter than usual. “Are you all right, Luke? You've been acting strangely.”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” He glanced at the house. “No. I'm not.” He looked at Laurel. “My friends are here.”
“You'll make new friends.”
“Yeah, but not …” He shook his head. “I don't know. I don't think I'm going to like it much.”
It was Lucinda he was going to miss. He and the pretty blonde had been going around together for several months. “Did you see Lucinda this morning?” Laurel asked.
“We took a walk,” he said morosely, staring at the ground.
“I'm sorry, Luke. It's hard for all of us.”
