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“She was a good cook, all right. Sometimes there wasn’t much in the pantry, but she always managed to find something and make me feel like I was privileged to have it. I guess I was. But she was so much more than that. Do you mind if I go ahead and eat?”
“By all means.”
He took three bites and savored the flavors. The break gave him a chance to consider his words. “Ma never let life get her down. She used to say, ‘God sends the rains that bring on the flowers.’” He fell silent. The words might sound silly to someone else.
“I like that. So your mother was a believer?”
“To her dying day.” She would be disappointed to know Brand had let his faith lag.
“Are you also?”
“A believer? I am, but I don’t think about it much anymore.”
Sybil turned to consider him with probing blue eyes. The look went deep, knocking at closed doors, examining forbidden corners. “Why have you let it slide?”
He couldn’t tell her, and shifted away from her intensity, directing his attention to the plate of food.
She turned, releasing him from her intense study, and he filled his lungs with relief.
“My parents were older when I was born,” she said, her voice low as if she was lost in her memories. “They said I was a special gift from heaven, and treated me that way. They taught me my life was precious and I shouldn’t waste it on foolishness.” She let out a long sigh. “Mercy says I am controlled by rules, but I don’t see it that way. I simply realize that life is full of dangers and risks, and yet we can do much to avoid them.”
He watched her out of the corner of his eyes. She again seemed lost in thought. If she knew how much danger he posed to her and the others at the ranch, she would run back to the shelter of Eddie’s home as fast as her legs would carry her. Likely she’d tell him about Brand, and Eddie would run him off the place.
Not that Brand would blame them. He already felt guilty at putting them in peril.
She nodded once as if she’d made up her mind about something. “I expected to have my parents around for a long time yet. They were only in their sixties when they died, within weeks of each other.” She glanced at him, her eyes dark with sorrow. “A fever. I nursed them to the end.”
Was she aware that a shiver ran up her body? “I guess it just goes to show we can’t count on anyone staying around,” she added.
His fingers knotted as he considered his actions, but he went ahead and pressed his hand to her forearm. “I’m sorry. It must have been very difficult.”
She nodded again, slowly turning to look into his face. Her eyes glistened with tears. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with.” One tear slipped from each eye. “So I understand when you say burying your mother was the hardest thing you’ve done.”
If only he had the right to pull Sybil into his arms and comfort her. If only he could ever have the right. But being a Duggan made it impossible for eternity...a thought that scalded his insides.
She gave him a watery smile. “It’s almost two years ago. You’d think I would be past the crying stage.”
He lowered his hands to his knees and shifted his attention to Dawg. “Maybe there are things we should never get over.” Like being a Duggan.
“Over and over my father and mother instructed me on the importance of obedience to God and living a wise life. I simply can’t imagine leaving the faith of my parents.” She blinked back her tears and squinted hard at him. “I can’t envision what would cause anyone to neglect their faith. Was it something really awful? Was it because your mother died?”
He shifted his attention to Dawg again, unable to reply to her question because he didn’t know the answer. It was a thousand little things and two major things—his brother and father. Finally, he shrugged. “Just happens, I guess.”
“Then I shall pray it unhappens.” She practically glowed, as if she imagined it had already occurred.
He allowed her words and her faith to warm him for two heartbeats before he gave himself a mental shake. What she thought or wanted or believed would not change the facts of his life.
