CHAPTER 30 — STAIN
Four Years Before
“It will not work.”
His words loomed in the air as he stood before the broken-down building, destroyed by moth and termites and weeds. Frustration settled in the depth of his belly, and in that second, he longed for the chance to find the lying bastard who had sold the property to him.
Wasn’t this piece of decaying building worth next to nothing? Yet, he spent his entire life’s savings to acquire it, paying a complete stranger for a piece of land and a building he wasn’t even sure existed, and risking the life of his wife and six young children to travel in a rusty wagon from the only home they ever knew in Salt Lake. It had been a tough decision, but it seemed like the right one.
A loud groan escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
Something warm touched his hand, capturing it. When he glanced down, he found Rachel’s hand holding his. She smiled up at him, her brown eyes dancing in the darkness. Leaning close, she wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned against his shoulder.
“We’ll fix it,” she whispered, even if he could sense her doubt.
He wanted to speak—to argue and point out the obvious: the building needed not only fixing; it needed demolition—but he nodded to her words, choosing instead to see what could be, rather than what was.
It was six weeks before the McAllister’s could spend a night within the doors of the building. Six weeks of fixing broken floorboards, doors, leaking roof, dustings, scrubbing the floors, removing the cobwebs and getting rid of broken furniture. As the house took some shape, Raymond became less stressed out and worried, and more relaxed. He worked on the farm, getting rid of the weeds that were determined to subdue the soil. When he found that it was impossible to work alone, he hired two farm hands with his last dime.
Everything was finally perfect. Not only did he have a family, they had a home together.
Rachel smiled at him one evening, reminding him of the teenage girl he saw nearly eleven years ago. When she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his lips, he felt a familiar tug in his heart—the same feeling he had when he first saw her walking hand in hand with her mother.
“I told you we’d fix it,” she whispered against his lips, a smile creasing her face.
“You did.” He caressed her face. “And now, we’re finally home.”
Her eyes brightened as he spoke. “I think Lenny likes it here, and Millie seems to sleep better. I guess it is a lot more comfortable here than having to sleep in a wagon. The only thing missing is a proper bath. Will it take a while to find water?”
He shrugged. “We’ll start digging a well tomorrow.”
She touched her hair and frowned. “My hair feels like soot. Be honest, do I smell?” He nodded and her frown deepened. “This is useless!”
He laughed then, pulling her close against his firm chest. “We all smell, sweetheart.” He kissed her mud-stained neck, drifting up the side of her neck and to her chin until he was capturing her lips.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his kiss, her lips parting to welcome his. He felt her fingers caress his hair as their kiss deepened. He tugged on the buttons of her gray dress and slid it off of her body.
“But we’ll fix it,” he muttered longingly against her lips, lifting her off of the floor and carrying her to the bed.
***
When Raymond woke up the next morning, Rachel was sitting upright on the bed, her back to him and her body bare but for the sheet wrapped around her waist. She sat staring outside the window, her gaze fixed on the sun rise in the distance, painting the gray clouds a bright red and orange color.
He pushed himself to a sitting position, and his movement gained her attention. When she turned to him, a soft gasp escaped his lips.
“Do I look that terrible?” She frowned.
He shook his head, smiling. She looked incredible. Her skin had blotches of soot, her eyelids bore sacks, and her black hair didn’t have the glow of a properly oiled, groomed hair. Yet, he thought she was perfect. Her hair fell to a wonderful mass around her shoulders, framing her face. Her full rosy lips still made him stir with passion, and her big brown eyes shone with the brilliance of the sun. The soot on her skin did nothing to hide how attractive she really was, it just showed him how much work she had put into creating a home for them.
He climbed out of bed and walked to the window, turning around to look at her once more. She raised a brow, confusion creasing her face as her dirty hand clutched her chest, holding the sheets up to hide her naked form.
“You’re perfect,” he said, tearing his gaze off of her bare thigh as he crossed the room and pulled out a canvas.
“And you want to make a painting of me.” She smiled as she spoke.
He worked fast, not wishing to lose the beauty of the rising sun illuminating her figure.
The next day, Raymond and the two farmhands finally found the lake. It was buried behind tall grasses and shrubs. But his excitement didn’t just lay in his discovery of the lake. He smiled, leading Rachel by the hand that evening.
The awe in her eyes spoke of her joy. “Apples?!” she squealed.
“I would think your interest would lie more in the lake and the fact that you can now take a bath—get rid of this mess.” He touched her hair playfully, and she swatted his hand before wrapping her arms around him.
“I will find the children and we must take a bath!”
He stared at her, a part of him not wanting to see her rid herself of the mud and soot that stained her skin. Each stain told a story, he thought, their story. They were stains not just gained from cleaning the house, but stains gained from the months they traveled. Each stain told a story of coming home.
But it wouldn’t matter, he thought. It wouldn’t matter whether she got rid of the stains; he would have her forever, and that was all he cared about.