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.