Greta’s eyes flew open to find the bedroom dark with only the first hints of dawn. Panic erupted. She scrambled up and pushed the covers away.
“Astrid?”
The stillness from the other room confirmed her worst fear. Astrid had run away again.
But why? When Greta had arrived home last night, she hadn’t mentioned anything to the little girl. Since their belongings were still packed from earlier in the week, she’d decided to finish readying to leave in the morning so she wouldn’t alert Astrid to the plans.
Perhaps she’d read the truth of their plans from Greta’s mood. Although Greta had tried really hard to mask her sadness, Astrid had pressed a hand against her cheek at bedtime and told her not to worry, that everything would work out the way it was supposed to.
What had Astrid meant? That she planned to run away again so they wouldn’t be able to leave?
Greta prayed the girl had only gone back to the hot spring and hadn’t decided to hide elsewhere. Though Astrid had been safe, she wouldn’t be so lucky twice. Surely Astrid understood that too.
“Astrid,” she said again, knowing it was futile. The silence was too deep, too consuming.
As Greta’s feet touched the cold floorboards, her wildly careening thoughts stumbled to a halt. Usually Astrid’s coughing woke her up at least several times a night. But Greta couldn’t remember waking last night—not even once.
Of course she’d been exhausted after the past few days of so little sleep and worrying about Astrid. Perhaps she’d slept through Astrid’s coughing fits?
Greta shook her head, her long hair falling around her in disarray. The reason she hadn’t heard the coughing was because Astrid had likely run away the moment Greta had fallen asleep. She wouldn’t have been able to take a horse this time, not without waking Wyatt and Judd. No doubt Astrid realized that by foot she’d need a greater head start to find a new hiding place.
Her heart thudding with the urgency to find the girl, Greta donned her clothes, all the while plotting where to go. As she sat down on the edge of the bed to tug up her stockings, she halted.
If Astrid was so determined to stay, even to the point of putting her own life at risk again, then how could she force the child to leave?
Greta let her stocking fall to the floor. For the first time, Astrid was in a place where people loved and wanted her, where she was accepted for being sick, and where she wasn’t shunned or made to feel like an invalid. Here she could be herself and find joy in the simple things of life like other children her age did.
How could she possibly drag Astrid to Denver against her will? The crying and resisting would make her weaker. And then once they got there, would Astrid try running away again?
Greta bowed her head, defeat crashing upon her and crushing her spirit. Was it time to admit she couldn’t find a cure? That Astrid probably wouldn’t fully recover, no matter where she went? That there were no guarantees in Denver any more than here on the ranch?
Maybe the physicians would prolong Astrid’s life by a few months or a few years. But what good would that do if Astrid was miserable?
“But I don’t want her to die. It’s my job to make sure she lives.” As soon as the hoarsely whispered words were out, Greta realized the impossibility of such a task.
She’d already done everything she could for Astrid, including being willing to marry a complete stranger in order to move to the West. Now the rest was truly in God’s hands. He’d counted Astrid’s days, and nothing Greta did or didn’t do could take away from the number He’d already established.
Someplace inside, she knew all that. Now she just needed to live it out. And let Astrid know she was done trying to control everything. Once she found Astrid, she’d tell her that if she really wanted to stay, they would. Greta wouldn’t fight her anymore but would honor her plea to live out the rest of her life in this one place that had brought her joy.
With fingers now stiff from the cold, Greta finished putting on her stockings and shoes. She twisted her hair into a simple knot, grabbed her cloak, and then crossed to the barn. The door was ajar, and she peered into the dark interior. “Wyatt?”
“He’s down by the river fishing,” came Judd’s sleepy response.
She needed to tell Judd that Astrid was gone again, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she backed away from the barn and started toward the river path. Judd would be devastated once more, but she’d wait to tell him, at least until she had the chance to inform Wyatt.
Her heart weighed heavier with each step she took. She was to blame for Astrid running away again. If only she’d listened to the little girl and paid heed to her real needs—especially for belonging and acceptance.
As she passed the chokecherry bush, a furry creature darted out, nearly tripping her. Startled, she halted. A yip was followed by wet paws jumping up on her skirt.
Squinting through the dark shadows of dawn, she made out the pointed snout and floppy ears of a puppy. “Chase?”
Hope spurted through her as she bent and picked up the squirming bundle, who proceeded to lick her face. “Where’s Astrid?” Surely her sister wouldn’t have gone far without the pup.
Did that mean Astrid hadn’t run away after all?
With a racing heart, Greta hurried down the rest of the path. Upon reaching the bank, she didn’t see Wyatt anywhere and guessed he was in his favorite fishing spot upriver. She whispered a prayer that Astrid was with him. Then she set Chase down and let him lead the way.
The pup took off, and Greta stumbled to keep up. Within minutes, the bank opened up into the wide spot, its waters rushing against the large rocks.
At the sight of Wyatt’s tall frame standing on the bank and Astrid’s smaller one next to him, Greta nearly fell to her knees in relief. The tears she’d been holding at bay spilled over.
Wyatt was the first to glance in her direction. Astrid followed his gaze.
“Hi, Greta,” the girl called cheerfully. “I’m helping Wyatt catch fish for breakfast. I’ve already got one. Want to see it?”
Greta swallowed the need to cry and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Of course I do.” Her voice was shaky, but she drew in a breath and crossed toward the two. Astrid explained how she’d caught the fish, reeled it in, and then helped to string it to the line in the shallow pool nearby with the fish Wyatt had caught.
“You’re becoming quite the fisherwoman.” Greta couldn’t keep herself from smoothing the girl’s flyaway hair, needing to touch her and reassure herself that Astrid was here, safe and happy.
“Someday I’m gonna be as good as Wyatt.” Astrid cast her line again, biting her lip in concentration.
She glanced at Wyatt, but he avoided her gaze. The faint dawn light revealed the haggardness in his face and the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well. Certainly not as well as she had.
“I slept so soundly I didn’t hear you leave.” Greta once again glided her fingers through Astrid’s hair. “And I didn’t hear you coughing last night either.”
“That’s because I didn’t cough.”
That was impossible, but Greta refrained from saying so.
“I’m better now,” Astrid said, with a confidence that hurt Greta’s heart. “The hot spring water is helping me get better.”