Part 6
Isabel was tired. Her head
hurt from all the jostling of the train and the constant blur of scenery outside
the window. It was fascinating, the
landscape they were passing by at such a phenomenal speed, but a pounding
headache compelled her now to close her eyes.
The chugging of the wheels and the low buzz of voices around her lulled
her into sleep.
The lurch
of the train awoke her. It was
slowing at a town. The train often
made stops along the way to let people on and let people off.
Isabel yawned and stretched her arms, thankful that no one was sitting
next to her.
“La
Junta, Colorado! If this is your
final stop, it’s time to get off,” the conductor announced.
“The rest of you may all take a ten-minute break if you wish,
though.”
Isabel
took the opportunity and squeezed in among the horde of people inching their way
down the aisle towards the door. Her
legs were cramped and numb from sitting for so long, and she couldn’t wait to
get out into the fresh air.
The sight of the snow-peaked mountains in the distance did not fail to
awe Isabel.
The sun was hot above, and it was still summer time, but some of these
mountains, towering so high, were dotted with patches of snow.
The sky was a deep, clear blue, and Isabel smiled up into it, squinting
to filter out the brightness of the sun.
As she lowered her head, her heart skipped a beat.
That looked like Franz!
She could only see the back of the man’s head, but she knew what
Franz’s hair looked like.
She pushed through the crowd of people, inwardly telling herself not to
hope—many men had similar hair.
Nevertheless, her heart pounded in excitement as she neared him.
“Franz?”
The man jerked his head in her direction.
Isabel couldn’t move for a moment.
It was his beloved face—Franz—the man she loved but had run away
from—the man she wanted to marry.
In the next instant, they were in each other’s arms, joyful beyond
words.
“How do we know the Bible is the ‘absolute truth’?” Emil said
sardonically, tilting his head at the boys in front of him.
“Sure, maybe there’s a god, but what do we know about this book—the
‘Word of God’?”
Nat frowned and shifted.
“It’s a good book and teaches us things.
I don’t know much, but it must be from God, somehow.”
“We could ask Mrs. Jo,” Dan suggested, staring out the window.
“Yeah, I think I saw her going off that way,” Nat said.
“Maybe into the woods.
She seemed in an awful hurry.”
“Do you get all your thinking from Mrs. Jo?” Emil responded bluntly,
though in a slightly subdued tone.
“She knows a lot,” Nat defended.
Emil raised an eyebrow but did not push further.
“Let’s see if we can find her,” Dan said, starting for the door
with the others following.
“Wait for me!” Tommy piped up, fumbling with his shoelaces.
They entered the woods silently, their eyes scanning
the shadows. They kept walking; then they all saw her, sobbing
headfirst down into the ground and crying, "Where are you, God?"
Dan stepped forward hesitantly, thinking they should
ask what was wrong, but Nat held him back. They silently walked back
the way they had come. Nat rationalized, "I think she just needed
some time alone. Or—with God."
Emil glanced sideways at Nat. "But did you
hear how she was despairing? What would it help her to talk to
God?" Emil could not keep the edge from his voice, nor did he try.
None of them had any answers.
For a moment Nick thought he must
leave. Go back to sea. Anything but face Jo. But somehow, he
knew he could not leave. The sea, once a wonderful respite from the world,
held only a small joy of what it before had, and he knew it would only
temporarily hide his pain. He would always hold the grief in his heart, no
matter where he went. Plumfield was his home, now. He would meet his
confusion and emptiness here, even if there was no way to recover.
Nick cradled Marty's nuzzle in his hands,
feeling the warmth of the horse's breath. He stroked the side of Marty's
face over and over again. The horse was unmoving in Nick's hands, seeming to
realize Nick's need of something warm and soft to feel. With each stroke,
Nick's mind asked the question: Why? Why, Jo? I know you like
me. Maybe I'm not good enough for you, but why don't you give me a chance?
