Chapter Eleven
By morning there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground, and the white flakes were still drifting to earth, this time without the wind to blow them. As she stood at the window, watching the falling snow, Rachel decided there was no point in telling the Blakes about her decision to return to Boise until it was possible for her to do so. She would just continue instructing the children and helping Dru with the household chores. In fact, she decided, she would take on the lion’s portion of duties so Dru could rest. She hated to think she might be doing so out of guilt, but the thought did occur to her. She was still ashamed of that moment of unbridled hope when she realized Gavin would one day be a widower, a man free to love another woman. Perhaps if she worked hard and took extra special care of Dru, the woman’s health would improve. Perhaps she could make amends for her selfishness.
“You’re up early.” Rachel turned to find Dru standing near the fireplace, her white nightgown hidden beneath a plain brown robe. Her graying hair hung in a single braid over her shoulder, and there were dark circles beneath her hazel eyes.
“So are you,” Rachel responded.
“Did you rest well?” Dru sighed.
“Well enough.” She walked toward Rachel.
“How bad was the storm?” Rachel stepped aside to reveal the snow-blanketed yard. Unexpectedly, Dru smiled.
“That means we can stay even longer.”
“You really don’t want to go, do you?”
“No. I love it here better than anywhere in the world. It’s home.”
“Gavin’s worried.” Dru smiled softly.
“You two talked late last night.” Rachel nodded and headed toward the stove, guilt returning in massive proportions.
“I’ll start breakfast. Why don’t you sit next to the fire and keep warm. Would you like some coffee?”
“Tea, I think. Coffee doesn’t sit well with me anymore.” Rachel busied herself with heating water for tea, then gathered the ingredients for flapjacks and mixed them in a large bowl. As she poured the batter into a hot skillet, the bedroom door opened once again. Gavin’s eyes met hers the moment he stepped through the doorway. She felt a dull thudding in her ears as he nodded at her. She glanced back at the skillet, and when she looked up again, he was pulling on his coat.
“I’ll check on the livestock,” he said to Dru. He opened the door, letting in a gust of wind and a flurry of snow.
“Looks like we’re in for another blow. I won’t be long. Don’t anyone venture out. This looks like it could get nasty.” Be careful, Rachel thought, and felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She had no right to those thoughts. They belonged to Dru. She fought back the threat of tears and forced herself to think of the task at hand. She had breakfast to cook and lessons to give and a house to clean. She hadn’t time for feeling sorry for herself. No sooner was she scooping the first flapjacks from the frying pan than excited voices sounded from the loft.
“Did you see the snow?” Sabrina cried as she fairly skimmed down the ladder.
“I’m hungry!”
“Me too,” echoed her sister, following closely behind. Rachel laughed, her smile returning at the sight of the two girls in white nightcaps and heavy robes.
“Good, because there’s plenty of food here for you.” The children hurried first to their mother, giving her tight hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“Morning, Ma,” they said in unison.
“Good morning, my angels.” Rachel paused to watch, her heart tightening in her breast as she realized how much Dru was losing. Every day, she had to be preparing herself to say good-bye to all the
things, all the people she loved most. Feeling the threat of tears, she returned her attention to the skillet, placing two pancakes each onto two plates and setting them on the table. When she felt she had control of her emotions again, she turned toward Dru.
“Are you ready to eat, Mrs. Blake?” Dru shook her head.
“I’m not hungry this morning.” A wry smile tweaked one corner of her mouth.
“And don’t you think it’s time you called me Dru?” No. If I call you Dru, that makes us closer, and I don’t want to get closer to any of you. It’s already too complicated.
“All right,” she answered softly.
“But I do think you should try to eat something, Dru.” Again the woman shook her head.
“Please?” There was something about the way Dru looked at her, searching with her eyes, that left her feeling unsettled. Did she know what Rachel was thinking, what she was feeling?
“I suppose I could eat one flapjack.” Dru pushed herself out of the rocker and moved slowly toward the table.
“Can we go outside to play, Ma?” Sabrina asked before stuffing a large bite of hotcakes into her mouth.
“Not until the storm is over. When it’s stopped snowing, you can go out.” At that moment, a gust of wind slammed against the house, rattling the windows and whistling beneath the door. Rachel’s head snapped up as a sudden chill spread through her. She set the skillet on the stove and walked over to the window, apprehension growing with each step. There was no earth or sky to be discerned. All was white. The barn was obscured by the billowing snow, driven almost sideways by the wind. She hugged her arms against her chest.
“How will he find his way back?” she said aloud.
“He can’t possibly see.”
“He’ll wait it out,” Dru answered.
“Come have your breakfast, Rachel.” Her words sounded comforting, but there was an odd tightness in her voice.
“Are you sure?” Rachel turned to gaze across the room. Dru nodded.
“I’m sure.” Her glance took in the children, then returned pointedly to Rachel.
“Come and eat,” she said softly. Dru’s silent message was clear. Don’t worry the children. Rachel knew she was right, but it was all she could do to return to the stove and scoop up the flapjacks from the skillet. She kept listening for the latch to lift and the door to open. All she heard was the howling wind.
“What if he did leave the barn for some reason before the wind came up?” Rachel stood once again at the window, watching the snow piling up against the house.
“He might have been checking something in the corral. Or maybe he’s hurt. It’s been over an hour.” Dru saw the concern written on the young woman’s face, a concern that mirrored her own. Common sense told her Gavin was waiting out the storm in the safety of the barn, but she knew all too well how things could go wrong when you least expected it.
“I could go check on him,” Rachel said softly.
“You’d be blown clear away. We’ll just have to wait.” Joker got up from his place by the fire and padded across the room, plopping down beside Rachel. He lifted his face up toward her, whined, then scratched the door with his paw before looking up at her again.
“No, fella,” Rachel responded, her hand stroking his head.
“You can’t go out. Not yet.”
“Ma?” Petula came to stand beside Dru’s chair.
“Is Pa okay?” Her arm went around her younger daughter.
“Of course he is, Pet. He’s just tending the animals.” Rachel turned away from the window. Her chin lifted and her shoulders straightened as she headed across the room.