Keli Gwyn

Her Motherhood Wish


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it. Isaac witnessed carnage such as I can’t begin to imagine. I look forward to the day he can break free from the shadows of the past and fully embrace the present.”

      Compassion shone from Tess’s eyes. “Every person who arrives at the Double T has been wounded in some way and bears scars. While most of us eventually move beyond the traumas and tragedies that have come our way, some people have a harder time of it. The best we can do is love, support and encourage them, all the while praying that the Lord will work His healing.”

      A peal of childish laughter rang out, drawing Callie’s eye. Isaac had said something that tickled Jasper. Tess was right. Isaac had made good progress at the Double T. One day he would be free of the mental anguish that plagued him, and she would rejoice. “I can’t thank you enough for giving Isaac a job and a purpose.”

      “We’re blessed to have him. I’m thankful he’s brought you to us, as well. You’re a wonderful addition to our happy family.”

      Tess excused herself and left, passing Chip, who was coming Callie’s way.

      He ambled up beside her, rested his folded arms on the top rung of the fence and watched Isaac and Jasper. “Our boy’s doing well, isn’t he?”

      Our boy. The words sent a surge of longing through Callie. She could imagine the day when she had a husband like Chip and children like Jasper and Ruby. “He is. Just look at his grin.”

      “The hat’s a nice touch. Another gift from Tess, I presume?”

      “Yes. The caring woman has six children of her own and two dorms full, as well, but she makes time for all of them and knows just what will make each of them happy. If I’m blessed with children one day, I want to be that kind of mother.”

      “I’m sure you will.”

      His words warmed her, but she couldn’t help thinking of the diagnosis that had destroyed her dream of bearing children of her own. If only something could be done to fix whatever had gone wrong inside her...

      Chip turned to face her, leaning against the fence with one boot heel hooked on the lowest rung and his arms extended along the top one, a masculine stance that made him even more appealing. “If I recall correctly, you said Isaac looked forward to raising horses but is no longer able to ride himself, at least not without pain.”

      She smiled. “Your attentiveness speaks to your character, as does your tactfulness in not mentioning his limp or...the other thing he deals with.”

      “I have nothing but respect for the men who served. Many of them suffered—and are suffering still. You must be happy he’s found a job he enjoys.”

      “Indeed, but what makes me happiest is that I located him. It took two years, but I did it.”

      Chip raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you where he was?”

      “Because of his condition, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he headed to California after the war. I’d get a postcard from him every now and then, each one from a different location here in the Gold Country, but that was all. I came west to search for him.” She glanced at Isaac, smiled at the obvious delight on her brother’s face and retuned her attention to Chip. “What he didn’t know was that he could never be a burden. He’s not just my brother. He’s my only living relative. He’s also a good friend.”

      “I can see why you were determined to find him. Nothing is as important as family.”

      “It must be so hard not to have any of yours left. When did you lose the last one?”

      “When I was nine. We were headed West when cholera ripped through our wagon train, and we all took ill. The disease claimed all five of them in the space of one week.”

      “Oh, Chip, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have brought it up if—” She followed his gaze, shocked to discover her hand resting on his arm. She pulled it away and hid it in the folds of her skirt. “F-forgive me.”

      “Please, don’t feel badly. You had no way of knowing.”

      How kind of him to intentionally misinterpret her apology. “How did you survive?”

      “I used this.” He tapped his head. “People were saying the water had gone bad, and that’s what caused the cholera. Once I was on my own, I noticed that the single men who sat around the campfire drinking coffee with Cookie hadn’t gotten sick. I figured maybe something about boiling the water before drinking it made a difference, or maybe it was something in the coffee itself. I asked the old fellow if he’d bring me some in exchange for food from my family’s supplies, which he did.”

      “I’m surprised you liked it. Most children don’t care for the taste.”

      “I couldn’t stand it.” He shuddered at the memory. “Cookie put a pinch of salt in each pot to take out the bitterness, but it didn’t do any good as far as I could tell. I added a good deal of sugar, and that helped me choke it down. I can’t stomach coffee to this day, but according to Dr. Wright up in Placerville, it’s probably what saved my life.”

      “Coffee? Really?”

      “The sugar mostly. He’d read an article from a medical journal about a sugar treatment for cholera when he was in college. Seems I stumbled onto the cure myself. He said the boiled coffee probably helped, too. He boils his instruments because studies have shown fewer infections occur among the patients whose doctors employ that practice. Whatever it was, it worked.”

      “I’m glad. The Lord’s used you to do a lot of good.” Chip had no idea how much she knew about his philanthropic endeavors, so she wouldn’t embarrass him by elaborating.

      He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

      And doing it well. He was not only hardworking and humble, but he was also ambitious. Many carpenters were content to spend their years framing houses, laying floors and putting on roofs. Not Chip. He’d begun as a carpenter but had gone on to become a joiner, too, enabling him to install a building’s doors, windows and stairs. She’d learned over their memorable lunch that he’d arranged to spend several months working with a furniture maker three years ago, adding that skill to his repertoire.

      What he’d neglected to tell her was that he would be heading up north for six months to work with a friend who specialized in sideboards and china cabinets. His farewell on his way out of town had come as a surprise. But he was here now, standing beside her and looking as winsome as ever. “Speaking of your job... I’ve been meaning to ask if the training you received up in Oregon was as beneficial as you’d hoped?”

      Eagerness shone from his dark blue eyes. “Very much so. I’m eager to put everything I learned to work and complete the kitchen and dining room at my place. Once I do, I’ll be able to move forward with The Plan.”

      “The Plan? What plan is that?”

      “This one.” He pulled a worn piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

      She hesitated. “Are you sure you want me to see this?”

      “Sure. It’s just a list of goals I came up with when I turned eighteen. I’ve been ticking them off right on schedule ever since. Open it and see for yourself.”

      The pride in his voice piqued her curiosity. She unfolded the sheet and studied it. Chip had listed the year and his corresponding age down one side. Next to each of the twelve entries were two goals, which would take him all the way to age thirty. They began with “become a carpenter in my own right” and “purchase basic tools” and ended with “increase savings” and “have first child.”

      She looked up from the page. “So you’re twenty-five and have already done everything you’d intended to up to this point?”

      “I have. What do you think?” He’d resumed his casual pose, leaning against the fence, but the drumming his fingers against the top rail showed his eagerness to hear her answer.

      “I’m impressed.