The Brides of Chance Collection Part 46

"I said you couldn't go where Delilah and I couldn't see you, and you couldn't be near the fishing hole. But as long as you obey those rules, you can play here in your very own pond."

"Complete with a tiny waterfall. It's perfect." Delilah helped the girls strip off their shoes and stockings.

Beaming, Polly scurried to the edge first, only to have her smile fade. "Unca Paul, what're those?" She poked the water with a pink fingertip.

"Hmmm? Oh, those are just tadpoles. They won't hurt you."

"Whatsa tab-ole?" Ginny Mae toddled over.

"They're just baby frogs," Paul explained, taking Polly's hand.

"They don't look like frogs." Doubt still shone in her eyes as Paul slowly, gently guided her hand toward the water.

"They will later," Delilah said, backing him up. "You know, some people call them pollywogs."

"Really?" Polly giggled as the tadpoles flicked around her fingers. "That tickles!"

"Pollywog!" Ginny Mae shrieked in glee, pointing at her sister. "Pollywog!" Together they waded in, the water brushing just below Polly's knees and just above Ginny Mae's. In no time at all, they were laughing and splashing around, throwing handfuls of water in the air to watch the sun catch the droplets on the way back down.

While Delilah began sketching, Paul kept an eye on the girls. When his stomach rumbled, she looked up and quirked a brow. "Hungry?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said no." He grinned back at her.

"Polly! Ginny Mae! Come on back here. It's lunchtime!" She began pulling sandwiches and apples from the basket while the girls climbed out of the pool and raced each other to the blanket. Paul used the edges of the quilt to dry their legs. Soon they were all munching happily, enjoying the shady quiet.

"I like it here," Polly p.r.o.nounced. "This is the bestest picnic ever."

"I think so, too." Delilah mopped crumbs off of Ginny's face. "But now I think it's time for a little rest."

"I'm not sleepy," Polly protested, utterly sincere after a satisfying yawn.

"Me, too." Ginny Mae's eyelids drooped as Delilah tucked them both in the quilt.

"Then you'll be awake and playing again before you know it," Paul consoled. In a matter of minutes, the two children were fast asleep, light eyelashes dusting rosy cheeks.

"They're so sweet." Delilah tenderly tucked a stray hair behind Polly's ear.

"Sure are. Best to let them sleep so they stay that way, though." Paul tilted his hat over his eyes and leaned against the tree trunk, breathing in the fresh scent of the gra.s.s and the moist earth.

Delilah propped up her sketchbook, and soon Paul heard the rasp of pencil on paper. Readjusting his hat, he watched her record every minute detail with tiny strokes and delicate shading. At last, she breathed a sigh of satisfaction and held the sketch at arm's length for a final viewing.

Paul could scarcely believe his eyes.

"It's perfect." Paul spoke softly but startled Delilah nonetheless.

"Thank you." She made an expansive gesture. "But it doesn't do this justice."

"I disagree. You have a G.o.d-given talent, Delilah."

Ugh. Why is it that every time we start to talk, just when I most enjoy his company, he starts going off about G.o.d again?

"I get the impression you don't agree with me." Paul's droll comment made Delilah realize she was being rude.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. What're you thinking, Delilah?"

"Mama always told me, *Delilah, if you don't have anything nice to say-' "

"Don't say anything?" Paul finished. She looked at him in astonishment.

"What kind of advice is that?" she asked incredulously. "If someone asks you a question, you can't just ignore them!"

"It's an old proverb. If you only have unpleasant things to say, some people think it best not to voice them." His forehead creased as he gazed back. "What were you taught? If you don't have anything nice to say..."

"Say something vague." Delilah jumped when he burst into laughter. "Hush! You'll wake the girls!"

He cast a glance at the snoozing bundle and sobered up a bit-his wide grin still bearing witness to his mirth.

"What's so funny, anyway?"

"Oh, I was just remembering how you dealt with the MacPherson brothers." He peered at her curiously. "You really do live by that rule, don't you?"

"To each her own." She shrugged.

"Aha! See, you just did it again. Not giving a real answer but being vague. Look at me." Paul waited until she stared into his blue eyes before speaking again. "You don't ever have to be vague with me. I want to know exactly how you feel and why you feel it."

"Can't I just try out your way and not say anything?" She gave a weak laugh.

"I never said it's my way-it's an old saying. I tell you what's on my mind, and I hope you feel comfortable enough with me to do the same."

His steady gaze told her he meant every word of it. She sighed and gave in. "I was thinking about how every time the two of us start talking, you always bring up G.o.d. Do you remember how I noticed it on our last picnic?"

"Of course I do." With anyone else, the words would have sounded defensive, but Paul remained utterly sincere. "Do you remember what I explained?"

"You said that G.o.d made everything beautiful, so whenever you admire something, you think of Him," she recited dully.

"So what's wrong?" He waited, obviously at a loss.

"I've been thinking about that ever since you said it," she began hesitantly, her words gathering strength as she finished. "And I think there's something you left out."

"What's that?"

"You say G.o.d created everything, right?" There was nothing she could do but walk him through it.

"Unto the heavens and the earth," he agreed.

"Then what about everything hurtful and ugly and mean? Why did He make those things if He loves us as much as you say?" She blurted out the questions, half-hoping Paul would have an answer but knowing the miserable truth that she was right.

He stayed silent for a long while.

"I should've just let it be. I'm sorry, Paul." She hated to have devastated something so much a part of who he was.

"I'm not. I'm just trying to think of how to put it into words. I stand by what I said-G.o.d created everything-but at the same time, the ugly things that cause pain weren't in His plan."

"How do you know? What other reason is there?"

"This is why I was thinking." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I hate to make a mess of explaining, but here goes: Everything G.o.d made was beautiful in the beginning, but evil has a way of turning things sour, taking something good and using it for the bad."

"So you're saying that G.o.d made the milk, but evil made it go sour?" She couldn't keep the scorn from her tone. "There are worse things than spoiled milk, Paul."

"I know. And I never said anything about milk. Take this example: Knives are incredibly useful tools-they help us cut meat, slice bread, shape leather, skin fish, whittle wood, and more. You even use yours to great effect for protection. These are all n.o.ble purposes for the blade, but it can also be used for harm.

"If you've ever read in the paper about someone being taken hostage, you know that a criminal can easily put that same knife to the throat of another human being to hurt or even kill. Either way, that's not why the knife was made, and it doesn't mean the blade itself is evil. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"So you mean that we can all be tools for good or evil?"

"Exactly." Paul beamed, looking very satisfied with himself for explaining his point.

And I just don't have the heart to ask him my next question. Some things shouldn't be said, but I have to wonder, if we're tools, then who's using us?

Chapter 15.

Delilah ignored the twinge in her arm and kept mixing flapjack batter. Miriam and Alisa deserved to sleep late for once. Besides, she wanted to do something, anything, for the Chance family to show how much she appreciated their hospitality and generosity, and the entire Chance family had voted her down when she'd insisted on transferring the store credit Reba had paid her for the painting.

The twinge grew to a full-fledged ache, and Delilah realized she'd been taking her frustrations out on the batter. She set down the bowl and began ladling the goopy stuff onto the skillet, still somewhat amazed to see it become a soft, solid pancake.

The truth of the matter was, she'd finally found a home complete with friends and even family, but it hadn't turned out the way she'd planned.

I want a home and family of my own. She flipped a flapjack perfectly and smiled in satisfaction. I've learned so much here that I'd make a good wife and mother. As long as I stay here, I'll just be kind of an extra without a say in family business. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Delilah wiped them away furiously and went after the last pancake.

Spluchh. The source of the disheartening sound was one half-cooked flapjack now dangling from the ceiling. Delilah grabbed the mop, swiped the useless mess to the floor, and wiped up the sticky traces, then bent down to find the ornery little thing.

"Oh! Shortstack!" Delilah couldn't suppress a giggle as the kitten gave a mighty shake to dislodge the well-traveled pancake, then daintily trotted around it, sniffing and mewing plaintively.

"I know, that's not your breakfast." Delilah set down a saucer of cream. "Don't be so upset. You're just lucky it didn't land sticky side down on top of you. We'd never have gotten the batter out of your fur!"

"How much time have you been spending with Bryce?" Logan queried, obviously biting back a grin.

"As though you don't talk to your horse," Delilah shot back, knowing Logan shared Paul's fondness for his mount.

"All right, all right. You've got me." Everyone else wandered in and took their seats.

"Sure smells good." t.i.tus eyed the platter with interest.

"Flapjacks, bacon, and coffee. Can't think of anything better." Paul slid onto the bench beside Delilah. Logan said grace, then began pa.s.sing around the food.

"Miriam, looks like you outdid yourself this morning," Daniel praised, chopping Ginny Mae's breakfast into tiny bites.

"We didn't help." Alisa drizzled syrup on her plate. "Delilah made all this by herself." She stabbed a forkful and brought it to her lips, chewed for a moment, and proclaimed, "And it's absolutely wo-" Turning faintly green, she clapped her hands over her mouth and ran out of the room.

t.i.tus shot after her an instant later, followed by Miriam, who grabbed a damp towel. Everyone else stared suspiciously at their plates.

"I don't understand," Delilah spluttered. "I know the recipe by heart." She frowned at the table, puzzled.

"I'm sure it's something else." Paul gallantly speared a bite and made as if to eat it when Delilah s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand. Despite his bravado, even he seemed slightly relieved when Delilah swallowed with no apparent difficulty.

"They taste just fine to me." The door opened, and Miriam walked in, holding the damp towel to Alisa's forehead.

"Do you want to tell them?" Miriam tried to whisper, but her soft voice carried throughout the silent room. Alisa gave a faint shake of her head, apparently still not trusting herself to speak.

"That's just fine." Miriam patted Alisa's shoulder and looked around. "t.i.tus didn't get back before we did?"

Just then, t.i.tus banged the door and all but flew into the room. "I'm gonna be a daddy!" His smile could've lit the entire cabin, so brightly did his joy and pride shine.

After a chorus of congratulations, Miriam and t.i.tus took a still-green Alisa back to her cabin to lie down for a bit.

"Hey! That means the food really is good!" At Bryce's comment, the men grabbed their forks and dug in with gusto.

"I can't believe Reba's friend saw my painting and commissioned another one," Delilah exclaimed as they drove toward the fishing hole. "I'm so excited, I can scarcely contain myself."

"You're a talented woman, Delilah. It doesn't surprise me at all." Paul watched with pleasure as Delilah expertly turned the horse around the last bend and brought them to a halt.

"Well done," he praised.

"Thanks to you." She smiled warmly as he helped her off the buckboard and they carried their supplies back to the fishing hole. "You're an excellent teacher, Paul."

Maybe in driving, but I haven't gotten the real lesson across yet. We've spent so much time together, and every moment I grow to love her more. Lord, why do I feel as though time is running out? Miriam let me take the sling off the other day, and it won't be long at all before I'm back out on the ranch with the other men. I'll only see Delilah at meals or evening devotions. How do Gideon and t.i.tus stand being away from Miriam and Alisa for so much of every day?

As soon as he'd asked the question, he knew the answer.

They knew their women would be waiting for them when they came back. Delilah liked it at Chance Ranch, but Paul could sense she didn't see it as a permanent home. Besides that, Gideon and t.i.tus could look forward to eternity with their mates, but Delilah still didn't believe.

Lord, help me to reach her today. Please.

"It's amazing how different everything looks from just a few weeks ago." Delilah set up her sketch pad, and her pencil fairly flew across the page.

The light green of spring had given way to deeper, richer shades. Wildflowers peeked out from the fresh-scented gra.s.s. Birds no longer fluttered around scavenging for twigs but rather sat cozily in their egg-filled nests, unseen but trilling sweetly. The leaves on the trees had grown and filled out the branches, blocking more of the sunlight and adding an air of cool mystery.

"In My time." The words rustled through the leaves in the breeze, and Paul knew he'd received his answer. Delilah might not accept the Lord today, but Paul needed to trust in his Creator's plan.