Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“…why does this surprise you?”

Acts 3:12

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace had been running in the prairie towards the mountains for quite a long time. Her heart churned with so many emotions, she felt ready to explode. Why had he left? She tried to imagine what the “terrible thing” was that had driven Clay away. She really couldn’t imagine him doing anything that would require him to leave, and after they had shared the most wonderful times together. Agatha took a moment away from her tears to replay a montage of scenes from her and Clay’s relationship in her head. She remembered the way he’d come to her rescue at McQuickerson’s general, she remembered sharing supper with Clay and her father laughing, and enjoying each other’s company, she remembered seeing Clay hard at work at the farm and helping young Nina Dangerpride along, and most of all she remembered the way he had whirled her around the dance floor at the church social, and kissed her later that night, her first kiss.

After this short montage, Agatha felt completely stuck. What could she do? She noticed that she had run all the way to the neat little clump of trees that had often been her and Clark’s hideout as kids, the place where he had carved their names into the tree. She had come many times over the years, revisiting this spot, especially after Clark left, but it had been a while since she had been here, especially since Clay arrived. She thought of Clark, and almost felt bad for having thought of him so little during Clay’s time at the Freegrace home. She slowly entered the woody enclosure, finding the small clearing where she and Clark had sat together so many years ago. She looked at the tree with their names carved into its trunk: “Clarky + Aggie.” Agatha began to wonder if things would ever settle down in her life, if the endless cycle of pain would ever stop, if she would ever find the cheesy resolution to her story like all the other main characters of Christian romance novels.

Just then, a shaft of light came through the canopy of trees overhead. The sun had moved, casting a new light on the tree that Agatha had been staring at for some time, acquiring one of her characteristic tension headaches. She was just about to let out a sigh when she had an epiphany. As the light shown on the letters carefully etched into the tree, a connection was forming in Agatha’s mind. The handwriting looked familiar, where had she seen it? Several tens of minutes passed as Agatha worked out this mysterious epiphany in her head. And then, suddenly, she figured it out! It was like a bolt of lightning from the sky, like a heavenly messenger announcing good news! Agatha screamed and then fainted, overwhelmed by the weight of her epiphany. She came back to consciousness long enough to say these words:

“Clay is Clark!” Yes, she had put it together; the handwriting on the tree was the same of that on the goodbye letter. How could she have missed it? Clay resembled Clark in so many ways, and of course his interest in caring for Nina Dangerpride, his SISTER, and his familiarity with the area and the people in it. Agatha fainted again, partially because she was overwhelmed, and partially for dramatic affect.

As she surfaced back to consciousness again, she knew what she had to do. She knew that Clark had lied to her, but she had already forgiven him from the bottom of her heart. There was only one thing left to do, go after him! She had to tell him she knew, she had to tell him she loved him. Agatha ran out of the small patch of woods, taking one last glance at the two names etched in the tree. She ran across the prairie, back to the family farm, talked to her father, and was riding her horse east to Clark, within the hour.

Meanwhile, in Prodigal, Wyoming, Clark had made his own resolve. He loved Agatha too much; he hadn’t really given her the chance to react to the truth. Maybe she would forgive him. Fear was no reason to be held back, and the thought of never seeing Aggie made his eyes misty and sent a solitary tear running down his cheek. He got on his horse, heading back to the one he loved, and this time, he was coming as himself, warts and all.

Sincerest apologies from a back to school basket case!

A new chapter will be up in the next couple days! I underestimated, as usual, the amount of work required to get back into the swing of the things for school. So I must leave Agatha running through the prairie a little longer before we find out what happens next. Hey, we'll say its for dramatic effect!

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“…all your cares…” 1 Peter 5:7

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace woke up the morning after the church social with joy in her heart and the echoes of Mr. McQuickerson’s fiddle music dancing around in her head. She stretched as she shook off her early morning drowsiness. She replayed the last night in her head…what a perfect night, what a perfect guy. Agatha blushed with excitement at the thought of seeing Clay again. He’d probably be up by now, attending to the early morning farm chores that had first brought him to the Freegrace home. Now, Agatha thought wistfully, he was so much more. She thought of the way he’d kissed her, the way his hands felt on her face. The whole thing overwhelmed her, and in spite of her usual reservations against the activity, after her recent existential crisis of faith, she said a quick prayer in italics:

Thank you God for ice cream socials, and Clay, and Clay, and Clay….

Agatha’s mind easily wondered away to her tall dark Clay Rangerguide and the way he’d twirled her around on the dance floor. Agatha looked down at her grandmother’s quilt and its enigmatic pattern. She looked to the beautiful blanket trying to determine the meaning of its design, as she so often did in the mornings. When she was younger, she had traced the stitches like the lines on a treasure map. Looking at the quilt reminded Agatha of her grandfather’s journal. She hadn’t looked at the book since her aforementioned existential crisis of faith, and for some reason, this morning, she longed to flip its rumpled pages again. She pulled out the book from under her bed, where she had tucked it away with her bible and scripture handkerchiefs. She had still been embroidering handkerchiefs, but with religiously neutral comments and sayings, like, “your swell,” and “early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

She flipped through the pages of the worn journal, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the feel of the pages, the carefully printed words of her grandfather, and the musty smell of the old book. She stopped on an entry that had today’s date on it, August 17. She read over the entry:

August 17^th, 1864

Today, we arrived in the place we’ll settle in Oregon. I’m standing on the ground we plan to build the church. There have been so many of life’s storms on the way to this place, but now I see the sun coming over the horizon, and I can’t help but believe that the Lord is good, and that he is good all the time. There have been weeks at a time on this journey that I have renounced the very God that I have come West to preach to the settlers, but standing on the ground that he has prepared me for, I see how far he’s brought me, how much he’s blessed me, and I see his good gifts shining like pieces of gold among all the trial this life brings. Amen. Amen.

Agatha found herself agreeing with the words of her Grandfather. She thought about Clay, about the past few months with him. She thought about Nina Dangerpride, and the way they’d been able to help her out. She thought of her father, blind, but doing well, enjoying his life and seeking after God even after everything. She thought of their new strong barn, of Clay’s strong arms, his broad shoulders, his dark eyes, his….naturally, Agatha stopped herself before admiring God’s creation turned into lust.

Agatha couldn’t wait any longer to see Clay, the man she loved, the man that had made her reconsider turning back to the faith of her Grandfather, A.T. Freegrace. She jumped out of bed, threw on a dress, and burst into the kitchen. The kitchen was empty, she went to the table to get ready for breakfast, and there on the table was a note scribbled in Clay’s handwriting with a flower on it. Agatha smiled, wondering what sweet words he had left her. She read the note:

Aggie,

I had to go, because I’ve done a terrible thing.

C

Agatha’s heart fell, and her stomach sickened. Why had he left? What terrible thing? Where was he now? Would she ever see him again? She loved him! She loved him! She loved him! The room seemed to be closing in on Agatha, she had to get out. She burst out of the house and ran towards the prairie, and also the mountains. The tears fell from her eyes like never ending streams. This was okay because she was a girl, and she was supposed to be emotional. She also looked very pretty while doing it, so she didn’t have to worry about happening upon a neighbor and having a puffy red face. Her tears were the outpouring of her beautiful heart, and so they only magnified her outer beauty. She looked toward the sky, held back her head and yelled, “Why?” She yelled it again, “Why.” And a third time, “Why?” Just then, as if for dramatic affect, the sky began to cloud over, and small droplets of rain began falling from the sky. Agatha barely noticed, and kept running towards the prairie, her hair streaming in the wind, weeping for the one that had got away, the second one. What she didn’t know was that the terrible thing, the very thing that had made Clay go away, was the fact that her childhood friend and Clay Rangerguide, were one in the same, and this time, he might never come back.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“’Until now, you have been making a fool of me and lying to me…”

Judges 16:13

Rain was pouring down from the sky as Clark sneaked out into the night towards the barn where his horse was kept. Things had been going so well, and he’d known the danger of his true identity being revealed, but now that Isaac had revealed that he knew who Clay Rangerguide really was, he found himself in a panic, a criminal caught in a lie, an imposter with his mask ripped off. Isaac had been kind and gentle when he’d revealed to Clark that he knew who he really was, but Clark couldn’t help but be overweighed by guilt and shame. With Isaac knowing, how much more time would it be before Agatha figured it out. As the heroine of a Christian romance novel, she had been equipped with everything but a fully functioning brain, but with Isaac knowing, the chances of her putting the pieces together or finding out had increased. After Isaac had first delivered the words and then excused himself to go to bed, Clark had gone straight to his cot, lying down in his ice cream social best, paralyzed by the weight of the news he had just received. He played out all kinds of scenarios in his head: how he might continue as Clay Rangerguide and hope that Agatha would always be too naïve to know or how he could just tell the truth to Agatha and beg for her forgiveness. However, all the scenarios fell short of what he wanted. How could she ever forgive the lies he had told her? They had been well intentioned at the time, but now, they just seemed like cold, evil lies that weighed like lead burdens on his back. Oh Aggie, his Aggie, Aggie, Aggie, Aggie! Why Aggie? Why?

At that moment, he knew what he had to do. There was only one option. It was the same option that had presented itself to him over seven years ago, and now it sat in front of him again, like the last piece of food in a starving hiker’s backpack. Clark gathered his things into the leather satchel he had brought with him. He left any of the belongings that the Freegrace’s had bought for him—he didn’t feel right taking things from the family he had conned and lied to. As he was packing up, he noticed a pile of Agatha’s hair ribbons out on one of the shelves. He took a short moment, and drank in the smell of the ribbons, realizing it may be the last time he ever inhaled the scent of the woman he loved. He folded his social clothes, neatly placing them on the bed next to the other belongings he was giving back to the Freegraces. He put back on his cowherd clothes, the ones he had come in. Just then, he heard a rustle; someone was coming in the kitchen. He dove into his cot, covering himself and his packed satchel with the blankets. It was Aggie! He glanced at her one last time before pretending to be asleep. She was just getting a drink of water—Clark could hear her pouring herself a glass. Then he felt her eyes on him. She let out a sigh, “Clay Rangerguide…sleep tight and sweet dreams, my love.” She whispered these words, not knowing that he was awake to hear them, not knowing that he was about to leave her behind, just as her childhood friend Clark had done (they also happened to be the same person). She quietly left the kitchen, and Clark continued readying himself for the journey ahead. Finally, he was all ready to go.

He found a small piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. He penned a note to leave for Agatha. He left it on the table, pulling one of the flowers from the vase and setting it on the note. He quietly opened the door, sneaking to the barn to get his horse, as he had been at the beginning of this chapter before he took some time to participate in a flashback and some emotional contemplation. He put his saddle on his horse, and got her ready to ride. He led her out of the barn, and then jumped up on the saddle, kicking the horse’s sides immediately. He faded into the distance as quickly as he’d come, the rain, thunder, and lightning mirroring the storm of emotions and sadness that raged in his aching heart. A solitary tear fell down Clark’s face, but it was barely distinguishable from the torrents of rain pouring from the sky. Heck, he may have gotten away with two tears on day like today. “Goodbye Aggie, my love,” he said looking back one more time at the place that had once again become his home. Then he set his face towards the range and never looked back… at least in this chapter.

Meanwhile in the house, a hastily penned note lay waiting on the table for Agatha to find in the morning, a note that would crush her heart and potentially push her further away from the God she had already rejected. The note waited for the orange sunrise to creep over the prairie to reveal its heartbreaking contents:

Aggie,

I had to go, because I’ve done a terrible thing.

C

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“She is worth far more than rubies…”

Proverbs 31:10

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace sat facing the mirror as Nina finished carefully arranging Agatha’s hair in a low knot at the nape of her neck.
“There,” Nina said, a smile of accomplishment on her face. Agatha looked at herself in the mirror. She was surprised to see how much older she looked and felt. Here she was, in a beautiful new calico dress with lace collar, her blonde hair arranged like that of a young woman, Momma’s locket around her neck and a young man coming at any moment to whisk her away to the church social—she had to admit, she thought Clay would be pretty proud to have her on his arm, and she would be even prouder to arrive at the social with him. Agatha didn’t want to be vain, but as the main character in a Christian romance novel, it wasn’t her fault that she had been written to be a physically flawless character attracted to an idealized male main character, so she reveled in some Godly vanity at the prospects of the night’s activities. Agatha sighed. Oh Clay, how dear he’d become to her heart. Just then, Agatha’s reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. She heard her father open the door and greet Clay. She looked at Nina and grabbed both of her hands, “Thank you Nina, for everything. I’ll see you at the social!” Both girls had huge smiles on their faces, anticipating the specialness of the night.

“Well, I think Agatha should be just about ready Clay,” Agatha heard her father’s words as she entered the room, a gleaming Proverbs 31 woman.

“I’m right here Papa,” At the sound of Agatha’s voice, Clark looked up. His breath was taken away, and had he been any less manly, he would have fainted at the site of his dear Aggie, blossomed into a woman before his very eyes. Her outer beauty aside, as a good man, he found himself equally, if not more attracted to her inner beauty, which beamed like ten million rubies. Clark was getting closer to surrendering to God every day, but seeing Agatha’s journey made him believe even more in a divine hand guiding their lives. It seemed that God had prepared her for such a time as this, and then brought Clark back to Sunshine Salvation Valley just when he was needed as well. Agatha, her father, and Clark were used to prolonged silences while people worked out their inner thoughts and struggles, so no one was worried that Clark had taken five minutes after Agatha’s entrance to speak.

“I brought these for you Aggie,” Clark’s voice would have quivered if he were any less of a man. He offered her the bouquet of wildflowers he had picked for her earlier that afternoon.

“Why Clay, they’re just lovely. Let me put them in this vase I have on the table.” Agatha took the bouquet, taking a brief moment to drink in the smell of the blossoms, before setting them gently in the vase on the kitchen table. Sometimes, Clark wished Agatha just knew it was him, so she could call him by his real name, and he could drop this disguise and stand before her as her boyhood friend, back at last, her Clarky. However, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to drop the mask that had enabled him to be with her again, to feel the glow of her warm presence.

Thank you Father, for making Agatha.

Clark had found himself slipping into these half prayers more often. They were almost fully in italics, elevating them over just plain thoughts. Agatha’s beauty was overwhelming to him. Clark realized that another five minutes of silence had passed, and that his inner processing was going to make them late for the social. “Well Aggie, shall we? I’ll have her back before 9:30 Mr. Freegrace,” Clark shook Isaac’s hand, and then offered Aggie his arm as they headed out the door, towards the horse and cart waiting to take them to the social.

“You two have a nice time!” Isaac called after them. “She looks just like her mother.” He said to himself as he watched their silhouettes fading into the early evening.

Agatha felt like a schoolgirl riding next to Clay on the way to the social, at one point he’d reached over to her face, and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Again, Agatha felt the sensation that she could only describe using terms for things not even discovered yet—yes, it was electric. They laughed all the way there, enjoying one another’s presence.

When they got to the social, they greeted all the church folk. Everyone looked at the beautiful young couple, enjoying watching them wade in the pools of young love. After helping themselves to some of the ice cream, their attention was turned to the festive dance floor, where Mr.McQuickerson on his fiddle, joined by some of the other town folk, were playing lively tunes for the young people to dance to. The tune seemed to match the music of Agatha’s heart, lilting blissfully, soaring, flitting, and gracefully moving with a life of its own.

“Well Aggie, I would be ever so honored if you would join me on the dance floor,” Clark extended his strong hand.

“Of course,” Agatha said placing her own hand in Clark’s (who she thought was Clay). She gave him her hand with all the trust in the world, not only for him to show her a good time on the dance floor, but to lead them into whatever life held for them. Clark led Agatha onto the dance floor. As the music played into the night, Agatha and Clark whirled and twirled around, as if they were the only ones there. Their peels of laughter rang in the night. Until finally, Mr. McQuickerson announced the last song. He began a slow waltz on his fiddle. Agatha could barely handle her feelings for Clay as he drew her body closer to his, her head falling gently on his broad strong chest.

“I wish tonight would last forever,” he whispered into her ear.

“Mmmhmmm.” It was all Agatha could muster as she enjoyed the feeling of Clay’s strong arms around her. As the fiddle finally stopped, Clark took Agatha’s hand in his and led her to the horse and cart. They spent a silent ride home, hand in hand as both internally processed the night in descriptive but mediocre metaphors and similes (i.e. this was a night like a beautiful rainbow coming out of life’s thunderstorm or she was a delicate gift that he held in his hands, afraid to shatter, etc…). As they pulled up to Agatha’s home, Clark stopped the cart short of the Freegrace door. Agatha turned to him, to see why he had stopped, she found him already looking at her. His hand slowly rose to her porcelain cheek, as if compelled by forces outside of his own control. Agatha looked deep into his dark eyes, so strong, so…loving. Clark did what he had longed to do since he had first saw Agatha in the general store, bedraggled and worn out, a prairie flower trampled by the winds of life. He placed his other hand on her other cheek and pulled her face towards him, placing a tender kiss on her delicate lips. As he released her, their foreheads leaned together, as each soaked in the other’s closeness. They did this for a significantly dramatic amount of time before Agatha broke their romance novel love haze. “Well Papa, will be wonderin’ where I am.” Clark nodded in agreement. He helped her out of the cart, leading her to the door. As Agatha knocked on the door, Clark whispered one last thing into his beloved’s ear, “Aggie, you are beautiful, more beautiful than I have words to describe,” his words rang true, landing warmly in Agatha’s heart. Isaac came to the door, greeting the two of them. Agatha excused herself to go to bed, giving Clay one last glance with her bright eyes, melting him like a stick of butter.

“Well, thanks for letting me take your daughter to the social Mr. Freegrace,” Clark said as he came into the house, heading towards his own cot against the kitchen wall.

“No problem son.” Isaac spoke with respect and love in his voice. “But there’s one thing…I’m just wondering, when you're going to tell her the truth Clark,” Isaac spoke these word’s casually, but they carried the weight of the world. Clark’s mind went blank as Mr. Freegrace's use of his real name sank in. He felt caught; he panicked as he looked for the words to reply. It turned out that Agatha’s blind father had seen more clearly than anyone else in town, and the boy come back from Prodigal, Wyoming a strong man, felt like a scared young boy again.