Always Dakota

  Her mother noticed the change between Dennis and her right away. “You don’t need to worry, Mom, Dennis and I are square now.”

  “Square?”

  “Yeah, everything’s going to be all right.”

  Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes. Dennis took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “We’ve reached an understanding,” he said. “We both love you and little Josh. Who knows, before long we might even like each other.”

  Calla had the feeling it wouldn’t take long at all.

  Buffalo Bob walked over to Lily Quantrill Park and inspected the newly planted grass. The park remained roped off to prevent anyone from walking on the fresh green shoots, but that hadn’t stopped folks from stopping and taking a gander. Bob was pleased.

  Right now, the park revealed little of what the town council had planned for the future. By next summer, there’d be play equipment for the kids, including swings and a slide. The Boy Scout troop that met at the church on Tuesday nights was building a huge sandbox, and there was talk of installing a wading pool in a year or two. Lily Quantrill would be proud of what they’d accomplished in such a short time. A park would draw the community together, and Bob suspected that was what she’d intended all along.

  Feeling good about life in general, he wandered over to the post office to pick up the mail. Merrily was busy with her friends, who were holding a baby shower for Sarah Urlacher at the restaurant. Bob used the shower as an excuse to leave. He’d prefer not to get involved in a women’s gathering, with gossip and giggling and lots of talk about diapers and such.

  He was greeted by a few friends as he headed into the post office, where he collected a handful of envelopes. Included was a statement from the attorney, and a few flyers. He’d open the bill later. He shot the breeze with Joshua McKenna and talked motorcycles for the better part of an hour.

  By the time he returned to 3 OF A KIND, the baby shower had ended and the last of Merrily’s friends was leaving.

  “Is it safe?” he teased. He liked claiming that these women’s get-togethers were really “weanie roasts” where no man was safe.

  “Anything in the mail?”

  “A bill from the California law firm.”

  Merrily frowned. “I thought we paid them off last month?”

  Come to think of it, she was right. Merrily disappeared into his office with the mail, and Bob went into the kitchen where the prep cook was getting ready for the dinner crowd. Within a few hours, Buffalo Bob’s would be bustling.

  “Bob.”

  Merrily’s voice shook, and it frightened Bob. Not understanding, he found her still in his office, her face streaked with tears. Instead of explaining, she handed him a handwritten letter.

  “The attorney forwarded this to us,” she whispered.

  Puzzled, Bob reached for it.

  July 5th

  Dear Friends,

  Forgive me for not using your names, but I don’t know them. However, I felt compelled to write to you. Our attorney has spoken with the lawyers who represented you, and he didn’t think it’d be inappropriate for me to write this letter. I beg your forgiveness if it brings you any sadness, because that isn’t my intention.

  After that rather lengthy prelude, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Jenny and my husband, Michael, and I are the couple who adopted Axel. We understand there were rather unusual circumstances that led to his adoption and were given only a brief history of his life when we applied with the state adoption agency. Axel’s personal history left a great deal unexplained.

  When we asked to speak to his foster mother, we learned that he’d only been with the family a few weeks. For several months before that, we were later told, Axel lived with you. The caseworker informed us you’d saved Axel’s life. It’s hard to imagine parents who would abuse their own child and actually be willing to sell him. The purpose of my letter is to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for saving Axel from what would certainly have been a horrible fate. I can’t bear to think what might have happened to him if not for you.

  Our son is the joy of our lives. We waited five years for him, and had almost lost hope of ever receiving a child. You cannot imagine our delight when we learned we’d been chosen to raise Axel. He’s a bright, cheerful boy, full of love and happiness. Every day is an adventure for him.

  One day, when he’s better able to understand, my husband and I will tell him about the brave couple who risked so much to save him. We want him to know the story of how you nurtured and loved him when he needed it most. My husband and I will forever be grateful to you both. We wanted you to know we appreciate the loving care you gave our son.

  He’s adjusting well and thriving. Enclosed is a recent photo so you can see for yourselves how well he’s doing.

  Again we can’t thank you enough.

  Sincerely,

  Jenny and Michael Axel’s family

  Bob read the letter a second time and his throat clogged with emotion. “Look,” Merrily whispered, and handed him a picture.

  Bob examined the snapshot. At first all he felt was his own sense of loss. Anger filled his chest. How dared these people rip open a wound that had only half healed? How dared they invade his life, even with the best of intentions?

  That feeling didn’t last, however, and was quickly replaced by a stronger one. Gratitude. Two strangers had reached across the miles to offer him and Merrily a feeling of closure to a difficult time in their lives.

  “He…he’s grown so much,” Merrily said.

  Not trusting his voice, Bob nodded.

  “The letter was very generous. An act of kindness.”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “I wonder if Axel…” She stopped midsentence and when he glanced over, expecting her to complete her thought, Merrily shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s happy…I can see it in his eyes. It isn’t important if he remembers us. Not anymore.”

  Later that night, after the restaurant had closed, Bob read the letter yet again. The snapshot was missing, and he suspected Merrily had taken it. Axel had adjusted; the photo told him as much. The boy had a good, loving home with these people—Jenny and Michael—and was obviously doing well.

  “Bob,” his wife called from upstairs.

  “I’ll be right there,” he called back. He refolded the letter and tucked it away. Despite everything, his heart was heavy as he climbed the stairs.

  “Are you coming to bed soon?” Merrily asked, meeting him at the top.

  “As soon as I shower.”

  “There’s a surprise for you in the bathroom.”

  “A surprise?” In his present frame of mind, Bob wasn’t especially interested in surprises.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?” Merrily asked as she wrapped her arm around his waist.

  “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  “No. I guess you’d better look and then if you want, I’ll explain.”

  Deciding to humor his wife, he entered the small bathroom and saw nothing out of the ordinary. “What?” he asked, wondering if this was her clever way of telling him about a blocked drain. Frankly, he could live without a plumbing problem right now. Come morning, he’d deal with it.

  “See that stick?” Merrily asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “What stick?” he asked, glancing about the room.

  “The one on the counter.”

  Sure enough, there was a plastic stick on a bed of tissue. “What about it?”

  “It’s blue.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “That, my darling Buffalo Man, means we’re pregnant.” Her smile was filled with such joy it took Bob’s breath away.

  “Pregnant. But—” It was too much. Stunned and delighted by turns, he collapsed on the edge of the bathtub. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive, if that test can be trusted. Oh, Bob, Bob, we’re going to have a baby!”

  Bob closed his eyes and threw his arms around his wife. The pain they??
?d suffered over the loss of Axel had been replaced with the joyful promise of a child of their own.

  This ebb and flow of life. Grief mingled with pain. The happy with the sad. Lost and then found. Five years earlier, he’d rolled into Buffalo Valley, never suspecting this dead-end town would end up being home. Yet here he was, a business leader, a husband and soon to be a father. Life didn’t get much better than this.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  “Mom!” Calla burst through the door of Buffalo Valley Quilts, clutching a letter in her gloved hand. Beneath her thick coat and hat, all that was visible were her eyes, nose and mouth.

  Sarah looked up from her designing board and was struck by the sheer joy she saw in her daughter. The sullen teenager who’d become a fixture over the past few years was gone, replaced by the daughter she’d desperately missed. Since Josh’s birth six months earlier, a great deal had changed in Sarah’s life. Her son thrived and was growing, making up for lost time. After nearly a month in the hospital, Josh had been released, and they were able to bring him home to a doting older sister and a father intent on spoiling him. Not to mention an adoring grandfather—his namesake—and an uncle, aunt and cousin. Soon afterward Calla graduated from high school and as a surprise Kevin Betts had arrived for the ceremony.

  Kevin had become something of a celebrity in town. An inspiration to other young people. He was about to enter his third year of art school and had proved to all of them that it was possible to achieve one’s dreams.

  “What are you so excited about?” Sarah asked. Calla was home for the Christmas holidays. After delaying a decision about continuing her education, she’d applied at the last minute to the community college in Grand Forks, with plans to transfer to the University of North Dakota in her Junior year.

  “I got a letter from Kevin,” Calla explained.

  “You get letters from Kevin all the time.” Sarah was pleased with the budding relationship between her daughter and Leta Betts’s son. He was a positive influence on Calla, and they seemed to understand and appreciate each other.

  “First off,” Calla said, sounding breathless, “he sold another sculpture and he’s really excited.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You know what else he said?”

  Sarah could only imagine.

  “He suggested I might apply for law school after graduation.”

  Her daughter an attorney. “Well,” Sarah murmured as she mulled over the idea, “you certainly have a gift for arguing any side of an issue.”

  “That’s what Kevin said, too. I’ve never thought about being an attorney, but I bet it’d be really interesting work. I’m going to think about it.”

  “Good. Buffalo Valley could use a capable attorney.”

  “Mother, honestly,” Calla said with a groan, “what makes you think I’d want to practice here? The whole world’s just waiting to be explored. If I do take up law, it’ll be a long time before I set up an office in this town.”

  “You have years before you need to make that decision,” Sarah told her.

  “I’m heading back to school now, so I just came to say goodbye.”

  Although Calla was often home on weekends, Sarah always hated it when she had to leave. She stood and hugged her daughter, savoring the renewed closeness they shared. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, and there were still times when Calla tried her patience, but it was infinitely better than it had been.

  “I’ll phone next week,” she promised.

  “Good.” Sarah enjoyed their long telephone conversations immensely.

  “Kiss Josh goodbye for me.”

  “I will,” Sarah said, walking her to the front door. The wind roared and the chill factor was well below zero—a typical North Dakota winter.

  Calla paused as she rewrapped the muffler. “Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Still her daughter hesitated. “I’m really proud of what you’ve done with your quilting business. One day, your quilts will be known all over the world.”

  Her daughter’s faith in her did Sarah’s heart good. “Thank you, sweetheart. I hope you’re right.”

  “I am, Mom, just wait and see.”

  “How’d the knitting lesson go?” Buffalo Bob asked his wife when he returned from the town council meeting.

  Merrily, six months pregnant, sat in the rocking chair in their small living room with a pair of knitting needles and a pattern. “This isn’t as easy as it looks, you know.”

  Bob had to grin. Once again, Leta Betts had stepped forward and volunteered to give free knitting lessons. Joanie Wyatt had sold Merrily the yarn and other necessary supplies, and before he knew it his wife was busily working on a blanket for the baby. But Merrily wasn’t the only one preparing for the birth of their child.

  Bob had completely refurbished the spare bedroom, converting it into a nursery. The ceiling had been repainted, the walls papered, the floor recarpeted. His kid had yet to be born and already he or she was being showered with love. Not a bad start.

  Working on the nursery, he’d found it hard to suppress memories of Axel. Merrily’s suggestion about having their own baby had been a good one, although at the time it’d shaken him. His wife’s wisdom was an unexpected blessing, just like her love. These days, thoughts of Axel weren’t as painful as they’d once been. The boy was happy with parents who loved him. He had a new life. Axel was a precious gift he’d been able to have for only a short time and Bob could more easily accept losing him now.

  “How’d the council meeting go?” Merrily asked, her feet propped on the ottoman. The knitting needles were close to her face and the tip of her tongue appeared as she slipped a stitch from one needle to the other.

  “Long,” Bob said as he took the chair across from her. “There’s a lot going on. It looks like Heath’s going to move the corporate headquarters out of Grand Forks sooner than expected.”

  Merrily glanced up from her knitting. “Really?”

  “The plan’s in the works.”

  “I figured as much when he and Rachel announced they were going to build a home here in town.”

  The Quantrills’ two-story brick house was big news. It was the first brand-new home built in Buffalo Valley in nearly thirty years. The first of many to come. It was inevitable with all the growth.

  “We talked about the Summer Fest and a parade next July.”

  “A parade,” Merrily repeated, sounding delighted. “What a great idea! Whose—no, don’t tell me, let me guess. Hassie’s idea, right?”

  “Right. We’ve already chosen a grand marshal for the parade. Want to guess who?”

  Merrily stopped knitting and her brow furrowed. “There are several ways that could go. Sarah’s business is thriving, and with all the people she employs now, it would be a small way for the town to thank her.”

  “And there’s always Heath, president of the bank and all,” Bob pointed out.

  Merrily shook her head. “Nah, Rachel wouldn’t want her husband to get conceited, and as council president she might think that was a conflict of interest. It isn’t, but I think Rachel would rather be on the safe side.”

  His wife was right again. Heath’s name had come up and Rachel had mentioned that very thing.

  “All right, tell me,” Merrily said.

  “Actually, we chose Lindsay Sinclair.”

  “The high-school teacher?”

  Bob nodded. “You might not remember, but she was the one who started it all. She saved the town when she agreed to step in and take over classes after Eloise Patten died. The entire course of this community changed after her arrival. It seemed only fitting to thank her.”

  “Hassie’s idea again?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a grin. “But we have a big surprise for Hassie, too. This summer we’re dedicating the park. Kevin’s doing the sculpture, of course—it’s a bronze of rifles stacked against each other, to represent the fallen soldiers. There’s going to be a plaque in m
emory of all the men from Buffalo Valley who died in the different wars. Hassie’s son is listed there. She doesn’t need to worry about people forgetting him or any of the other men.”

  “Does she know?” Merrily asked.

  “She doesn’t have a clue that Kevin’s practically finished the sculpture. But there’s going to be more than that. It’s still a secret, though.”

  “Tell me, Bob. I promise I won’t breathe a word.”

  He could trust his wife; Merrily was nothing if not discreet. “There’ll be a flower garden in the park dedicated to Hassie. Not once did she lose faith in Buffalo Valley. She’s been a source of inspiration to us all and we love her.” Himself included. Hassie had been both friend and mentor.

  “She’ll be so pleased.”

  Bob leaned forward and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I’d better get back to work.”

  “Yes, dear,” Merrily murmured, and reached for her knitting.

  Three-month-old David Bernard Eilers woke with a loud, lusty cry. Margaret automatically moved into the boy’s bedroom and cradled him against her. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” she cooed softly. Small but strong, David kicked and thrashed about as she quickly changed his diaper. Margaret then sat in the rocking chair and freed her breast to nurse her son.

  It wasn’t long before Matt came. He paused when he saw her and his face softened with love.

  Margaret smiled up at her husband and marveled at the changes a year had brought into her life. She’d set her sights on Matt Eilers, chosen him as her husband, convinced him to marry her. It wasn’t a perfect marriage, but after a less-than-ideal beginning, she could guarantee it was a strong one. It had to be.

  Now Margaret was not only a wife, but a mother twice over. Little Hailey often spent weekends with them. Their contact with Sheryl Decker was limited, which was best all the way around. The waitress was bitter and difficult, despite a determined effort from both Matt and Margaret to make the situation as tolerable as they could.

  Matt claimed the chair across from Margaret. She could tell that something was troubling him.