Christmas Epilogue

Epilogue

“…conceive and give birth…”

Luke 2:31

Agatha Tabitha Freefrompride prodded the smoldering logs on the hearth as she prepared Christmas dinner—her first Christmas married to the boy, now man of her dreams. She paused and leaned on the mantle as a montage of memories played in her head to the soundtrack of Stephen Curtis Chapman’s “I Will Be Here.” The song had to repeat several times to accommodate all the scenes that had taken place over the last year. The last memory playing in her mind was a slow motion scene of she and Clark’s wedding; what a beautiful day it had been full of long gazes into each other’s eyes, solitary tears, and friends and family looking on with love with their heads tilted to the side and their hands clasped at their chests.

As her memory montage faded to black, Aggie realized she still had much to do to prepare for the day. After shaking off her characteristic tension headache, Agatha began finishing up the rest of her holiday preparations. Her apron draped over a growing bump on her waste, a new life on the way, a testament of her and Clark’s love, a bun in the oven. Clark didn’t know yet, the doctor had just confirmed that their bundle of joy would be coming in the next 4 or 5 months (Agatha thought she’d just been putting on weight for the first several months). Agatha had waited for today, Christmas, to break the wonderful news to her love Clark, her father, and Clark’s family. A smile spread across her face as she looked at the small parcels under the proud Christmas tree that Clark had cut down for her. She had festooned the tree with strings of cranberries, and bows made with the extra fabric from her latest calico dress.

She kneeled at the hearth to stir the mashed potatoes in her sturdy Dutch oven, catching a whiff of the turkey roasting on its spit over the warm flames. As she knelt down she felt a slight movement in her stomach that caused her to jump. She held her right hand to the spot she had felt the movement. She wondered if she was so excited that her very body was responding with joy, but then she realized it was her little bundle, her precious package, the littlest Freefrompride.

“What’s the matter beloved?” Clark stood in the doorway, surveying his wife’s surprised face and her bent figure clasping her stomach.

“Nothing my groom, just excited for our dinner. Is everyone here?” Agatha was proud of her quick wit.

“Yes my prize, they’re all here, should we gather around the tree in a picturesque semi-circle and open an inaugural gift before Christmas dinner?”

“That sounds lovely my best companion and constant provider, I have just the one. Usher them in!” Agatha could barely contain the blush of excitement spreading over her cheeks.

As they all gathered around the tree creating an image that only Thomas Kinkade could render with enough love and light, Agatha handed Clark the present she had prepared for this moment. Clark read aloud the gift label: “To my dearest friend and lover Clark, with love, your bride and servant Agatha. Thank you dear one,” Clark met the soft eyes of his wife as he began to tear apart the parcel’s brown wrapping. Folded gracefully in the small package was a neatly embroidered handkerchief. Clark read aloud the scrolling blue text, “Awww, thanks honey. It’s a handkerchief, and it says, ‘expectant father’ on it….that’s….now wait one second. Have I gone and opened someone else’s gift, because I’m not an expectant father, not that I know of.” A bewildered but expectant Clark looked up at Agatha for help who simply nodded and smiled.

“Well, give me one second to go kiss my beautiful wife,” Clark got up off his chair with the biggest smile on his face and a solitary tear of joy falling down his cheek; he went to Agatha, picking her off the ground and spinning her around in a circle. “I can’t believe it we’re having a baby!!” The rest of the family present clapped and laughed as they all celebrated together, discussing due dates and plans. They all chided Agatha for keeping the secret as long as she did, but they all agreed it was the best Christmas present they had ever seen. Even Bart Freefrompride, who had also changed his last name, let loose a solitary tear.

Clark and Agatha could barely contain their happiness as they sat through Christmas dinner, both steeling long smiling glances at one another. Indeed, God has been good, very very good to them. As they celebrated the birth of the Christ child surrounded by family and friends, and amidst the aromas of a holiday meal and the faint scent of pine and cinnamon, Clark and Aggie celebrated the upcoming birth of their own darling son or daughter. The real question remains whether Agatha will be able to hold onto her faith during the pains of childbirth.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“I got the joy, JOY, joy, JOY, joy, JOY…”

From a Sunday school song

Clark and Agatha had remained frozen in their spots across the inn dining hall for at least another 5 minutes, just looking each other and gathering the proper amount of emotion for a Christian Romance Novel reunion. Both of their eyes welled up with tears that didn’t dare fall, but rather made them both misty eyed. This Providential happening overwhelmed Agatha (Providential because it happened in Providence Station). Agatha let up a brief prayer to the God she had a rollercoaster relationship with (rollercoasters also had also not been invented):

You brought us together. I don’t know how God, but you did, you really did. Oh gee God, you really did, you did, you did, you did.

Clark looked upon the love of his youth feeling like ten thousand burdens had fallen off his back, and were still rolling away like tumbleweed across the Western frontier. Her beauty overwhelmed him, and finally the romantic tension between them built so much that it could have lit the Freegrace’s new barn on fire, causing Agatha to have another existential crisis about God and suffering, and Clark ran towards Agatha. Agatha ran towards Clark. They stopped a yard away from each other to extend the final moments of the book. “Agatha, I should have told you it was me all along,” Clark said the words as a convicted criminal, as the guilt ridden Prodigal son.

“Oh Clark, I’m only glad that it is you. I thought God was really throwing a wrench in my plans to have the ‘marry the love of your youth’ life story when it seemed the ‘marry the tall dark stranger that comes into town’ plotline was playing out,” Agatha grabbed Clarks hand sending lightning bolts up Clarks arm, which actually doesn’t sound that pleasant come to think of it. “And whatever else it is that you don’t want to tell me, I’m ready for it, I won’t leave you for anything now that I’ve found you again.” It was at this point that the writer of the story considered messing with Agatha and Clark’s lives again, but decided that this story was starting to make her nauseous, so she might as well let them stay together.

“Agatha, the only secret I had was my true identity, well, and there is one other thing I oughta’ tell you,” a smile of joy started to spread across Clarks face.

“And what is that Mr. Dangerpride,” Agatha knew it was a good secret, and so she answered with a flirtatious line of dialogue.

“Well, Agatha. When I was at your house, I was talking to your Dad, and I’ve had a lot of time to think and…,” he paused as he tried to gather his words.

“And????” Agatha’s excitement was building.

“Well, you see, I think God’s been pursuing me all along, from when I was a little kid, and even when I was out on the frontier, and all those scripture embroidered handkerchiefs you gave me. And well, I just find myself praying in italics in my head sometimes, and when I’m sad lately, I feel like God wipes away my solitary tears,” a healthy amount of emotion for a man filled Clark’s voice as he poured out his soul to the girl he’d loved from his childhood, who he’d left behind, came back to find, fell in love with again, left again, came back to find, found she had gone to find him, which had prompted him to go find her, which had led him here to this very dramatic moment.

“Clark, I think He’s been after me too, through it all. Its all brought me to you…er him,” Agatha had hoped Clark was winding up to a proposal but this was the second best thing. She wouldn’t have wanted to explain to her father that she was planning on being unequally yoked in marriage.

“And Agatha, I want to follow God to together.” He grabbed her other hand, and as if drawn by some force bigger than them, they slowly lowered to their knees, their hands in each other’s hands, facing one another. The rest is a blur of conversion on their knees and intermittent making out, and telling each other how much they loved each other and God (the fitting conclusion to any story really).

“God take our hearts, like you took the heart of my grandfather A.T. Freegrace when he traveled West to bring Your word to the settlers of the prairies and also the mountains,” Agatha spoke through tears.

“Agatha I love you so much,” Clark pressed his lips to Agatha’s forehead, and wiped away as many of her tears as possible.

“Clark I love you too. Lets pray some more,” Agatha was so filled with love and joy.

This scene went on for most of the day until Hope had to ask them to clear out because she was closing up shop. The two Christian lovebirds left Providence Station that night to clear up any confusion about sharing inn rooms, and rode on their respective horses, hand in hand, all the way back to Sunshine Salvation Valley in Abundance County Oregon. That night Agatha went to bed with her characteristic perma-smile back on her face among the mountains and prairies she loved, with the love of her life sleeping in the next room:

Thank you for my hunk of a fiancée. He is seriously so attractive, that I can’t stop thinking about him. And thank you that I like you again too God.

As she was falling asleep, she looked at the mysterious pattern on her grandmother’s quilt, laid across her bed. All of a sudden, she had an epiphany looking at its design and she jumped out of bed, “It’s a CROSS! The brown sticks are actually a cross, and the red shape on it is a HEART, and those aren’t just random scribbles on the heart, its embroidery that reads: ABOUNDING LOVE GRACE, HOPE, and JOY!” It had had all fallen into place. She’d have to tell her dear Clark Dangerpride, who had decided to change his last name to Freefrompride. She understood even more now, all these things, love, grace, hope, joy, were all found on the cross, and although the writer of this book judges Agatha for never noticing this obvious pattern before and for countless other things that seem flawed in Agatha’s 2D personality, she agrees with her conclusions about the cross.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

“…patient…”

1 Corinthians 13:4

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace had stopped in a town somewhere along her route to find Clarky in Prodigal, Wyoming. She didn’t know what territory she was in, but the town sign read “Providence Station.” She was staying in a small room at the local inn, and was eating a quick breakfast at the dining hall before she would get on her horse, and continue her journey to the boy she had always loved, and the man she had grown to love even more.

“What can I do fer’ ya?” a plump woman wearing a bright calico apron smiled down at Agatha.

“I’d just like a light breakfast, I should be getting on the road soon,” Agatha answered politely. The kind woman could hear the anxiety in her voice.

“If ya’ don’t mind me askin’ deary. What’s layin’ so heavy on your heart?” Recently, Agatha had closed herself off to these kinds of inquiries, but the last few days had brought so much anxiety, so much fatigue, so much worry that hearing the gentle voice of this woman, caused the tension she had been carrying to break in a gush of tears and words.

“Its just, its just, I’m trying to find this man that I love, who was also the boy I loved when I was younger, and then he came back as someone else, but then he left again, because he’s hiding something, but then I figured out it was him, and I’m going after him, and I’m just so tired, and I’m afraid its too late, and, and I just don’t know what to do…” Agatha let the tears flow like she hadn’t in at least a day. It was like the waters of the Amazon, the Nile, and Niagra Falls put together, places Agatha had never even heard of.

“Oh let it out hun. It sounds like you’ve had a powerful hard day.” The kind woman put her arm Agatha, and offered her the edge of her own apron to wipe away her tears. “You know, I’m going to bring you a cinnamon roll. You just sit right there, and don’t worry your pretty head about a thing. I’m Hope, and if you need anything else in the meanwhile, just holler for me.”

“Thank you Hope,” Agatha choked out through her tears. Hope wound her way through the tables of the dining hall toward the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. A young man stopped her right as she was about to step into the back.

“Excuse me Mam’ can I have a few biscuits to go. I need to get on the road again soon, I’m in a hurry.”

“That seems to be the trend of the day young man. Have a seat, and I’ll grab you some; are you alright young man?” Hope sensed the same tenor of anxiety in this young man’s voice that she had heard in Agatha’s.

“I’ve been better. It’s just, I think I really screwed things up with the woman I love. You see, I lied to her about who I was, and then I didn’t even give her a chance to respond to the truth. I really think I’ve made a mess of things, and now she’s out on the frontier somewhere,” Clark spilled his heart out for Hope, who had an uncanny way of getting a person to tell her his or her plot synopses…er life story.

“Well Son, you should meet that little lady over there. She’s having the same kind of day,” Hope chuckled to herself. Providence station only had this much drama when characters form Christian romance novels came through. Otherwise, it was a pretty normal town.

“I’m not interested in other ladies,” he said blushing, realizing that Hope hadn’t meant her comment like that. “I’ll just sit down right here.” The young man sat down at the table immediately to his left, his back to the crying girl by the window. He heard rather than saw the woman Hope had pointed out to him.

Soon Hope was back with a checkered red cloth folded into a satchel with three warm biscuits inside. In her other hand, she held a plate with a steaming hot cinnamon roll. “Thank you mam’” the stranger said. He handed her some money, and started heading for the door. He went to tip his hat to Hope as he exited, but realized he had left it at the table he had been sitting at. “Forgot my hat!” he yelled across the room to Hope. The yelling of the strange young man woke Agatha up from her crying haze, and she raised her gaze from the cloth napkins she’d soaked through with her tears. As the young man picked up his hat, he also took a glance at the young woman Hope had pointed out to him earlier. Both froze on the spot as they looked into each other’s eyes. A wellspring of joy and relief welled up in Agatha as she saw the face of the stranger, who wasn’t so strange after all, and this time she wouldn’t believe any stories about an alternate persona (I.e. Drake Mangerride). She formed the words on her lips that she had wanted to say for so long, “Clarky, its you, it really is you.” Clark’s heart melted to hear his love call him by his real name…Clarky.

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

“…an old man, and full of years.”

Genesis 25:8

Clark rode through the night, and through the next day and the next—the logistics aren’t important. He stopped only for dramatic pauses where he would look into the distance as if searching the horizon for the answers to his problems, for the perfect words to say to Agatha, his lifelong friend, and the woman he loved with his whole heart.

Before he knew it, the landscape became more and more familiar. His heart seemed to grow more anxious as he drew closer and closer to his destiny. He had come home before, but this time, he was truly coming home, bearing his true name, and not a rhyming pseudonym. Even though Clark was afraid of all that awaited him in the mountains, and also the prairies, of Sunshine Salvation Valley, he felt a sense of relief wash over him like Niagara Falls, something he had only read about, but seemed like a useful comparison for his feeling of relief.

Before Clark came to Agatha’s, he knew he had to make one important stop. His family farm started off as a speck in the distance, but grew bigger and bigger as he approached on his horse. He saw Nina, lugging heavy buckets filled with feed across the property, and his mother getting out of their horse and cart, probably after a long day of work in town. He assumed his father was sitting at the kitchen table or lying in his bed, smoking his pipe or having a drink. Clark felt the anger start to rise in up within him, and he did the only thing he could think of to calm himself down:

Lord, help me to have patience with my Father. Give me words to say to my family. Give me strength. Amen.

Clark galloped onto the property, causing Nina to look up from her work. She looked surprised, but glad to see him, “Clay! Clay! You’re back. Oh boy, am I glad to see you. Everyone has missed you sorely, and well, I hoped you’d come back. Momma! Momma! This is that Clay I was telling you about,” Nina’s voice was filled with excitement, and a touch of relief. Mrs. Dangerpride slowly walked over to where Nina and Clark were standing. She walked at a snail's pace, the fatigue and age showing in her stride. As she took her long intentional steps, her eyes locked with Clark’s. Not a word was spoken as she made the long walk over to Clark, who dramatically stayed in his spot. Silence hung heavy in the air, until after several minutes, she was only a few feet away from her son. She looked at his face, squinting her eyes in thought as she gazed at her daughter’s friend, “Clay Dangerpride.” Slowly, her tired and sad features warmed into a rueful smile, and she spoke, “So Clay, are you from around these parts? You seem awful familiar,” there was a twinkle in the old woman’s eye.

“Well, you see, there’s something I’ve come to tell you all…” before Clark could say another word, his mother had taken him into her arms as tears poured out of her eyes.

“Oh, my son. How I’ve missed you! And you were here this whole time! Oh my son, my son!” The joy was tangible in Mrs. Dangerpride’s voice, a joy that had been so long absent from this place.

“Momma, I’ve missed you so,” a solitary tear fell down Clark’s face. Meanwhile, Nina stood openmouthed, taking the scene between her mother, and her long lost brother, who she had thought was just a good friend. She walked over, and took the edge of her apron, silently wiping away the solitary tear off of Clark’s cheek. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. Then he picked her up in his arms and swung her around. They both laughed with joy, siblings reunited. Their mother smiled as she watched the two. Just then, the door creaked open. Everyone’s blood turned cold, and the joy seemed to leave the place. Mr. Dangerpride appeared in the doorway. Clark was surprised to see that the man looked sober and clean-shaven “What’s all the hub-bub?” he asked, his tone unclear. No one spoke, afraid of what the old man might do. Finally, Mrs. Dangerpride broke the silence. “Well Bart, your son has come home,” she said, her voice shaking.

Clark’s heart tightened in his chest as he prepared to defend himself, and the rest of his family to his unreasonable father. He clenched his fists as Bart made his way towards his long lost son. All of a sudden, something strange started happening: Bart seemed to be…. could it really be? Yes, in fact, the old proud man was crying, and his arms were outstretched towards his son, “Clark, my son, I’m so sorry. I know I made you run away, and I want you to know how sorry I am. Oh Clarky boy.” Years of baggage fell away as Clark made psychological leaps impossible in real life and embraced his father. “Papa, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” Clark almost shed two tears as he said these words. As the two men embraced, the sun shone down on the Dangerpride farm and a beautiful rainbow formed overhead. The family spent the afternoon enjoying each other’s presence, laughing away years of hurt and pain.

Finally, Clark realized that it was getting late, and he had other business to finish that day. “Well, I have another stop to make. I have to go see Agatha, and tell her the truth,” Clark said the words with more bravery than her felt. Concern flashed over Nina’s face as he said these words. “What is it Nina?” Clark asked, alarmed at his sister’s expression.

“Well, I just got so distracted with all that’s happened today Clark, but, you see, Aggie’s gone.”

“GONE!” Clark felt sadness and panic take over his body.

“She’s gone looking for you Clay, I mean Clark,” Nina tried to say the words calmly.

“I’ve got to go find her. The range is no place for a delicate flower like Aggie,” Clark ran for his horse. “I’ll be back, and hopefully with my love,” he said as he prepared to leave once again.

At this point, the prodigal son theme has been seemingly exhausted with all of Clark’s back and forth trips from Prodigal Wyoming, but the author is not concerned. “Go and get her son,” Mr. Dangerpride said, with more love and concern in his voice than anyone could ever remember hearing. With that, Clark kicked the sides of his horse, and once again, set his destination as destiny.

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.