Norma cradled Jean against her shoulder. “Sometimes God takes our babies home to him. It's not for us to understand why.”
“Justin was such a sweet, gentle boy,” Jean sobbed.
Brian clung to his mother's skirt. “Mama, is Justin in heaven?”
Jean bent and scooped up her youngest son. She held him tight, then kissed his cheek. “Yes. Justin is in heaven. He's not hurting anymore.”
“But if he's in heaven, how come we buried him?”
“We buried his body,” Will said sorrowfully “His spirit, the part of him that made him Justin, is in heaven.”
“I didn't want him to leave. I want to go fishing.” Tears spilled onto Brian's cheeks.
“I know, sweetheart.” Jean softly kissed his cheek. “One day, when you get to heaven, you can go fishing together again.”
“We can? You think there's good fishing in heaven?”
“I'm sure of it.”
Brian wiggled out of his mother's arms and ran outside.
Jean stepped into her husband's embrace and sobbed against his wool shirt. “We should never have come to this valley.”
Will smoothed her hair. “It's not this place that killed Justin. Sickness is part of the world.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “Justin loved it here.”
Laurel couldn't listen anymore. Blindly she pushed through the door. The sun was warm and bright, people came and went, a butterfly danced through wild flowers, a car passed. The world seemed normal. How could that be?
She started to run, but her skirt caught at her legs. Hitching it up above her knees, she ran. She didn't know where she was going; she just ran. After a time her legs ached and her lungs burned, but it felt good. She kept running. The thought, We should never have come—We should never have come—We should never have come, tumbled through her mind in rhythm to her pounding heart.
Laurel finally stopped in front of their property. The house stood like a skeleton. Framed and roofed, it had no walls. It would be finished soon. But Justin would never live there. He'd loved this place. Every day he had come here with his father and brothers, helping carry lumber and tools. He'd even pounded a few nails.
Laurel walked up the driveway and wandered through the garden. The cabbage already had large tight heads. They were nearly ready to cut. Carrottops stood tall and leafy. Laurel bent and pulled one. A slender orange root pulled free of the dirt. She dusted it clean, smiling as she remembered how Justin always loved to eat carrots right out of the ground, still warm and fresh.
Laurel took a bite. It was sweet and tender.
She ambled on to the house. Stepping through the doorway, she entered the open structure. This will be nice, she thought, walking through the framed-in rooms. The air smelled of fresh-cut lumber, and her steps echoed as she walked across the kitchen floor. Looking at the plumbing already set in the wall, it seemed amazing that indoor plumbing existed in this wilderness.
Stepping out the back door, she stood on the porch. Her eyes roamed over open meadows and forests, then traveled to mountains that looked as if they'd literally been thrust up from the valley floor. Taking a deep breath, she felt the peace, its stillness. Quiet spread through her. God must certainly be in this place.
Her eyes went to the creek that bordered their land. Brian and Justin had fished there, played tag in the open fields, and sat among the grasses talking about their dreams—little boy dreams, but important nonetheless. Tears blurred her vision. Justin loved living here.
Suddenly, Laurel couldn't imagine living anywhere else. The mountains, open fields, and forests felt like home. The mountains no longer made her feel closed in but instead gave her a sense of protection. And she realized she didn't want to leave. She belonged here.
She strode to the side of the house where her apple seedling still sat in a pot. Since arriving she'd lovingly tended it but hadn't wanted to put it in the ground. Now it was time. And she knew just where it belonged.
Grabbing a shovel, she lifted the seedling and headed toward the creek. She could feel Justin's presence as if he were walking beside her. At the creek she could see him skipping along the bank. She stopped just above the pool where the boys had fished and swam.
Setting down the tiny tree, she dug into the fertile soil. When the hole was large enough, she removed the tree from its pot, loosened the root ball, and set it gently in the hollowed-out earth. She scooped dirt around the seedling and pressed it down firmly.
When she was finished, she sat back on her heels and looked at the little tree. “One day when you're all grown up, you'll bear fruit.” Tears filled her eyes. “And I'll remember how Justin loved it here.”
Finally she stood, brushed dirt from her legs and skirt, and looked out over the farm. Closing her eyes, she soaked in the sensations all around—the warmth of the sun, the smell of fresh dug earth, the aroma of wildflowers, and the breeze that tickled her bare arms. This was home.
With a shuddering breath, she said, “I'm sorry you weren't able to stay, Justin. I'll miss you.”
Chapter Twenty
LAUREL KICKED A ROCK, SENDING IT INTO THE DITCH, THEN SHUFFLED THE lunch basket into her left hand. Looking at her mother and baby sister, she said, “Susie's getting so big. She looks more like a little girl and less like a baby.”
“I know. She's nearly a year.” Jean kissed Susie's cheek. She scanned berry bushes growing alongside the road. “The berries are nearly ready. Looks like there'll be plenty for picking.”
Laurel looked at the smooth, round blackberries. “They don't look anything like the blackberries back home.”
“They're supposed to be good for pies and jellies. Come January, they'll be a wonderful reminder of summer.” Jean's expression turned sad. “Justin loved berry pie.” Her voice broke.
Laurel rested an arm around her mother's waist and gave her a sideways hug. “I miss him too. Sometimes I can almost see him running through the field, or I think I hear his voice. It's hard to believe he's gone.” She scanned the meadows on both sides of the road. Brilliant pink paintbrush, tufts of squirrel tail, navy-blue monkshood, and clusters of white aster grew among deep grasses. Her eyes followed the driveway, coming to rest on their home. “I wish Justin could see the house now.” She bent and picked a daisy growing alongside the ditch. “After lunch let's pick a bouquet and take it to his grave.”
Jean nodded, brushing away tears. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Turning off the road, they walked up the drive. Pounding and sawing noises came from inside the house. “It's nearly finished.” Holding the basket in front of her, Laurel gazed at the cabin. “It's nice. I like it.”
“Your father's already fretting about getting the barn up. Winter's not far off.” She glanced at the mountains. “We'll need a barn soon. But he's got to get a paddock built right away. I'm sure we'll get a cow or two in the drawing this weekend.”
“A paddock won't do much to protect cows from wolves or bears,” Laurel said. Shrugging, she added, “Maybe we won't see any. So far I haven't.”
“From what I've been told, if you stay here long enough, you'll see both.”
