Rocky Mountain Dreams

“I’m sure the books gave him some comfort. It looks like he jotted notes in the margins.” Annabelle gave him a small smile, as if she was trying to be sympathetic.

Her words made him pause as he looked at the book. Why would anyone jot notes in the margins of Ivanhoe? Joseph flipped through the pages and noticed that random words had been circled, and sure enough, when you looked at some of the margins, his pa had made notes.

Only none of them made any sense. One page would have Mary May scribbled on the side, then some words would be circled. Why would he write Mary’s name on the pages of Joseph’s book?

He noticed that Annabelle had begun looking at his pa’s other books, sitting on the bed, and Nugget had joined her. He couldn’t deny that her treatment of his sister was genuine. One light and one dark head were pressed together, whispering over the books Annabelle was looking at.

“Do you like to read?” He moved back toward them, and Annabelle looked up, a real smile filling her face.

“It’s my favorite pastime. I love reading about the far-off places and countries. There are so many wonderful things in this world, and I would love...” She gave a soft sigh, then closed the book she’d been looking at. “Well, my place is here. The only way I get to see the world is through one of these.”

A wistful look crossed Annabelle’s face, and Joseph realized that there was far more to her dream of travel than she was saying. If conditions were different, he’d want to know more, but how could he give her any indication of his interest and raise false hope in her? Maybe Annabelle’s reticence was for the best.

Annabelle ruffled Nugget’s hair and stood. “Enough of that talk. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Back to the old Annabelle. Fully on task and avoiding anything personal. Clearly she had more sense than he. Nugget remained on the bed, looking at one of his pa’s books.

“I need a pencil,” she announced, unaware of the tension in the room.

“Oh, you’re much too little for that.” Annabelle held out her hand to Nugget. “We’ll go pick some wildflowers while your brother finishes what he needs.”

Nugget gave her a glare that made Joseph want to laugh.

“Papa lets me draw in his book.” Nugget stood, and proudly stomped over to one of the chests, leaving one of the books open on the bed to show a childish drawing scribbled over the pages of one of Mary’s beloved books.

Joseph’s gut clenched. His sister’s favorite book had been reduced to worthless garbage by a pa who had left his first family in need for a new life.

Annabelle caught his eye, and again he saw genuine emotion. Pity this time, and he wanted none of it.

“Such a shame,” she said in a quiet voice. “She loves stories, though, so perhaps I can help her learn to respect books. I can remember when Mother was giving us lessons, and Susannah, who was just a baby, got her hands on an inkwell and one of Father’s books. I thought poor Mother was going to die of apoplexy. But Susannah learned, just like Nugget will.”

“I’ll teach her,” he said gruffly, and went to the trunk where Nugget was still rummaging for something to write with.

“What are you looking for?” He knelt beside her and put his hands over hers.

“I want to make a picture for Papa,” she told him, those big green eyes reminding him so much of his sister Mary. Mary, who had the most loving heart in the world, but was going to be so hurt when she finally learned of the horrible sins their pa had committed.

How do you tell your siblings that their beloved pa was an unfaithful liar and cheat?

“You know your papa is gone, right?”

Nugget nodded, big eyes staring at him. “But someday when I meet Jesus, I’ll see him again. And he’ll want to see all of my pictures. He loved it when I made him pictures. He’d hand me a book and tell me to make him something pretty.”

Joseph’s stomach turned over again. How could his pa have been so careless with the things he and his sister held so dearly?

A stack of envelopes caught his eye. He’d recognize that writing anywhere. Ma’s. With childish scribbles drawn over it. Even his ma’s letters weren’t sacred. But why would they be? His pa hadn’t kept his marriage vows sacred, either.

Joseph’s heart twisted inside him as those letters beckoned at him. His ma hadn’t been perfect, and in most recent years, with their pa gone, she’d been unbearable at times. But he couldn’t help himself when he took that stack of letters and put them in his pocket. Tonight he would read them and grieve, both for parents lost, a marriage broken, and the realization that everything promised them had been a lie.

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