Silas sat aboard a southbound train, his gaze centered out the window, seeing nothing. It was actually over, and Silas was still coming to grips with the fact. Right up to the time he left, he believed Amy would come to him. There was no way she was indifferent to his love, of that he was sure. But the decision had to be hers. Even if he could force her, he wouldn’t want to.
The rest of the day after they had come back off the bluff had been awkward and painful. Silas found himself wishing he’d planned to leave that day. He knew Grant had figured out the problem and had compassionately said little.
In the evening not long after supper, Silas’ mind was already making plans to turn in early. Grant had other ideas and asked Amy to play. Silas wouldn’t have cared what the circumstances were—he would not have missed that.
As Silas brought the evening to mind, he wondered if Grant had planned it all along.
“Amy, will you play that song you wrote for me?”
“The music is in my room,” Amy answered, obviously reluctant.
“Well, we’ll wait for you.”
The men did wait, and Amy was only a few notes into the piece when Grant interrupted her. “Please sing it, Amy.”
She looked at her father for a long moment and then finally nodded. Grant said to Silas, “Amy put a poem she’d written to music this summer and gave it to me when I was laid up. She titled it ‘My Rock, Refuge and Savior’.”
As soon as Grant had finished his explanation, Amy played and sang. Even aboard the train, the seat uncomfortable, the air stale, and the passengers noisy, Silas had only to close his eyes to see her and hear her voice.
“Beautiful,” Silas thought as his mind’s eye brought up the images of how she looked and sounded. “Please God,” Silas prayed as the train moved down the track for home, “please be my Rock, Refuge, and Savior and bigger than the hurt within me because she’s not at my side.”
44
The chill of winter was descending on Baxter in a no-nonsense way, and Silas was thankful the roof was on his house and his stoves in the kitchen and living room were piped in and working.
He was not completely finished with the house and had yet to stay a night in it, but the remaining jobs were small and rather fun, and Silas had found that the time spent on the house was a much-needed balm upon his wounded emotions.
Luke had not worked on the house at all while Silas was absent, mostly for the sake of time since he was called upon, once again, to carry the load of both men. But Luke was wise, and also held back for the simple reason that if he were building a home, he knew he would want to do the majority of the work himself.
So the house awaited Silas. Even as he worked, he harbored in his heart a faint hope, as he had before, that Amy would miss him and come on the next train. But as the days turned into weeks, Silas was forced to accept the fact that she was not going to come.
He continued to feel God’s presence and to trust in Him daily for strength, but to anyone who knew Silas well, it was obvious some of the sparkle had dimmed in his royal-blue eyes.
There was even a certain young woman at church, newly widowed, with two small children. Silas thought of offering his hand, knowing that she needed someone, and thinking in time they might even learn to love each other. But he didn’t entertain the idea for long; he knew it was not what God would have him do.
Thanksgiving had just passed, and Silas had found the day nearly unbearable. The women were constantly laughing about the changes in their shapes, and Mac was so gentle with Julia that it made Silas’ throat ache just to watch them.
There were days when he thought he’d made a mistake about the job offer from Frank Chambers. But as always he prayed and God would show him small, but sound reasons for staying.
The main reason for staying finally came. She arrived by train in Baxter wearing new clothing from her hat to her shoes. She knew the way to her aunt and uncle’s and headed directly there.
She resisted her Aunt April’s attempts to persuade her to come inside and warm herself by the fire, stating simply, “Thank you, Aunt April, but I need directions to Silas’ house.”
April Nolan wasted no time in asking for explanations, and soon Amy could be seen in the beat-up buggy from the livery, headed out of town with the wind blowing a cold blush on her cheeks.
Silas was in one of the upstairs bedrooms when he spotted the rented buggy with its one brown horse loping over the lightly snow-covered ground. He watched for a moment and almost turned away until he realized the buggy was not headed to Luke and Christine’s, but to his house.
Amy was out of the buggy and looking at the huge farmhouse which loomed above her by the time Silas arrived in the yard. He approached her with a look of wonder on his face, heedless of the small flakes of snow that fell on his shirt, his coat forgotten inside the house by the front door.
“Your house is beautiful.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.” Silence fell with the snow.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s fine. He said to tell you hello.”
“Good.”
The silence was longer this time. Silas looked at the woman before him, the blue of her hat a perfect frame for her lovely face and hair. He’d forgotten how breathless he became whenever she was near.
In the same state, Amy drank in his size and the way the snow looked on his dark hair. Her breath made smoky little puffs in the air, and she thought she would cry if he didn’t hold her soon. Finally he spoke.
“Amy, I think I’d better tell you, if you’re not here for the reason I hope you’re here, you’d best say so, because you’re about two seconds away from being kissed.”
“Oh Silas, please don’t wait two whole seconds.”
Luke had seen the buggy, too, and with innocent curiosity had just rounded the biggest oak to find his brother with a petite blonde crushed in his embrace. It was obvious neither one was aware of the snow covering them or that the woman’s hat lay on the ground beside them.
Luke turned and headed back to his own house, hoping Silas would bring her over to meet them. Silas had been back for weeks, but Luke was sure he’d just now arrived home.
Epilogue
Neillsville, Wisconsin
Spring 1890
Amy Cameron stood beneath the big oaks, not really focused in on the beautiful view. The position of the barn blocked the house, but Amy knew it was there. Her father and her husband were down in the house, supper was over, and they were discussing the planting. Her husband. Amy felt a chill go through her each time she thought the words.
It was just a year before that she and Silas had faced each other in the barn on a very rainy night. Little did she know how her life would change with the break in her father’s leg and Silas’ arrival. And to think she had almost ignored God’s leading and let him get away.
But she had been so afraid, so afraid of being hurt again. True, Thomas and Silas were nothing alike, but there was yet another factor. Amy had not wanted to believe her father could live without her. Even as Silas had shared about his own struggle with pride, pride had brought Amy to her knees. She had known the day he left it had been a mistake. But Amy would not listen to her heart, and over the next few weeks had become more and more miserable.
It was Grant who turned things around. Amy found her gentle, kind-spoken father furious with her.
“Look at you!” he had shouted at her. “You’re pale and losing weight, and for what? To stay here and take care of me when the man you love is waiting to share his life with you?”
Amy had stared at him, her mouth opened wide. But Grant wasn’t done yet.
“I’ve never thought your skull thick, Amy, but I’m beginning to think it’s going to take an oak beam along the side of your head before you see the truth. You’re fighting God in this, and what you’re fighting is your very own happiness. You’ve hurt Silas terribly and, to be very frank, I’m ashamed of you.”
Amy stood on the bluff remembering
his words and how they had hurt. Her father had held her and she’d cried, knowing he was right.
Thanksgiving had come and, to the astonishment of the Nolans, they had been invited to the Randall mansion. Bev had come before the judge soon after Silas left, and many had complained about the privileges of the rich when they heard about how light her sentence was—almost nonexistent. They were somewhat mollified over the high fines she was ordered to pay. The judge had ruled that Bev pay over double what had been taken from the different farms.
Only Grant and Amy had understood Aunt Bev’s joy in this order when on Thanksgiving she had told them the news with tears in her eyes.
Amy now reflected on that time. The day had been a good one, but Silas was most definitely missing. Now, however, they were husband and wife, and at the moment Amy could come up with only one cloud on the horizon.
Even as she thought of it, tears stung her eyes. Silas picked that moment to join his wife on the bluff. Amy didn’t turn, and Silas’ arms came around her from behind, his chin resting atop her soft, blonde hair.
Silas heard Amy sniff. “Talk to me, Amy.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
Silas began to wish he’d never shared with Amy his great desire to fill their house with children. She was bound and determined to give him a child in their first year of marriage. And though many families started this way, it certainly wasn’t written anywhere that this and this only was the correct procedure.
“Amy, we’ll have children. I promise you.”
“Silas, how can you possibly make such a promise?”
“Well,” he thought a minute, “if we don’t have children of our own, we’ll take in a bunch of orphans.”
“Do you really feel that way?” Amy turned in his arms so she could see his face. “Would it really not bother you if I couldn’t give you children?”
“It really wouldn’t bother me. God gave me you, and that’s what’s most important to me.”
Amy smiled up at him in relief and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We need to go back to the house and spend more time with your dad. This visit has gone by too fast; we’re headed home tomorrow.”
Amy nodded, not at all upset with the idea of leaving for Baxter. Envisioning the house where she and Silas had lived as husband and wife for over five months, she linked her arm through his for the walk down the hill and began to sing.
About the Author
LORI WICK is one of the most
versatile Christian fiction writers
in the market today. Her works
include pioneer fiction,
a series set in Victorian England,
and contemporary novels. Lori’s
books (more than 4 million copies in
print) continue to delight readers
and top the Christian bestselling
fiction list. Lori and her
husband, Bob, live in
Wisconsin with “the three
coolest kids in the
world.”
Books by Lori Wick
A Place Called Home Series
A Place Called Home
A Song for Silas
The Long Road Home
A Gathering of Memories
The Californians
Whatever Tomorrow Brings
As Time Goes By
Sean Donovan
Donovan’s Daughter
English Garden Series
The Proposal
The Rescue
The Visitor
The Pursuit
Kensington Chronicles
The Hawk and the Jewel
Wings of the Morning
Who Brings Forth the Wind
The Knight and the Dove
Rocky Mountain Memories
Where the Wild Rose Blooms
Whispers of Moonlight
To Know Her by Name
Promise Me Tomorrow
The Yellow Rose Trilogy
Every Little Thing About You
A Texas Sky
City Girl
Other Fiction
Bamboo & Lace
Beyond the Picket Fence (Short Stories)
Every Storm
Pretense
The Princess
Sophie’s Heart
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Lori Wick
Lori Wick, A Song for Silas
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