This Time(3)

Mechanically, Belle turned her refurbished '57 truck into the homestead's long gravel drive, her thoughts still on the events of the meeting. She passed the large river stone, nestled between two tall, thriving cottonwoods and pulled alongside the barn.

A yipping, panting pack of Border-Collie mutts greeted her as she cut the truck's engine and hopped out of the cab. She threw her bag of reunion notes into the bed and bent down to greet her canine companions.

She buried her nose in Rascal's black and white mane, scratched Petie and Jasper behind their pointed ears, smoothed her hand over Scout and Junior's sleek tan and chocolate colored backs.

"Got a new one in the litter today," Duke Jamison said, coming across the barnyard toward the garage.

Belle looked around. A black, tan and white puppy face with round brown eyes poked his nose through the crowd with a high-pitched yip. "Where'd he come from?" she asked, picking up the puppy. His long, pink tongue slobbered on her face.

"Found him in a box at the feed store. Looks to be part hound, part collie. Figured he'd fit in here okay."

Belle laughed at the puppy's long, floppy ears. "Reckon Chet Guthrie's hound is the father."

"Probably," Duke laughed. At seventy-five, Duke Jamison was the picture of a life-long rancher - lean and leathery. His angular face fanned into long wrinkles when he smiled, though his blue eyes were young and vibrant. "How'd the meeting go?"

Belle stepped inside the barn and gave the dogs a treat before answering. "We finalized everything," she said, walking with Duke toward the warm light of the kitchen. An old western tune drifted from Duke's sixty-year-old radio through an open window, and the easy, tumbleweed melody comforted Belle. In the lean-to, she kicked off her boots and followed Duke into the kitchen.

"What you gonna call him?" Belle asked about the new puppy.

"This one's yours to name, I believe."

"How 'bout Little General? Isn't Chet's hound named General?" Belle went to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of sweet iced tea.

Duke nodded his agreement. "So, you all ready for the weekend then?" he asked, motioning for Belle to sit at the table as he loaded up their plates with fried potatoes, slices of seasoned roast beef, and a scoop of green beans.

Belle waited to answer until her father had pulled up to the table and offered thanks to the Lord for the blessing of dinnertime.

As soon as Belle echoed his Amen, she said soberly, "Burke's coming."

"Burke Benning?"

"You know another Burke?"

"Ain't that something?"

"Ain't that something?" Belle repeated. "Makes me nauseated."

"Still?" His question met with her silent gaze. "It's been twelve years."

"Mom's been dead over twenty years. Are you over that?" Belle gave her dad a hard look.

"Your mom and I were married for over thirty years. It's not the same."

"You still miss her though, don't you?"

"Can't help it much," he said softly. "I see her every time you smile."

Duke's reference to Colleen Jamison's wide, bright smile cut to Belle's heart. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she relented, tenderly touching his arm.

Duke smiled his crooked smile. "Aw, it's all right, kitten. I reckon you didn't make plans for ever seeing Burke again, did ya?"

"No." She stabbed her meat with her fork.

"Ya know, I prayed about you and Burke not long ago."

Belle dropped her loaded fork. "Whatever for?"

"It come to my mind while I talked with the Lord. I reckon you and Burke never had any closure. The door to your heart is still ajar, leaving room for feelings and thoughts to come and go. Maybe that's why you haven't let love come near since him."

Belle sat back in her chair and rolled her eyes. "Now, where did you come up with a pop psychology theory such as that?"

"I don't know anything about psychology, pop or otherwise. I believe the Lord guided me. I simply prayed, 'Give 'em Your wisdom, Father. Let Your will be done in Burke and in Belle's life. My very words."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, Belle's mind churning with questions she could not answer. Could it be that after all these years, the burden of Burke still weighed on her heart?

"I see you were chewing on more than your food," Duke said, when Belle finished eating and carried her plate to the sink.

"I have a lot to think about Daddy. This weekend, well-"

"The Lord don't give you more than you can handle." Duke loosely quoted First Corinthians.

"That verse is talking about temptation," Belle countered, smiling.

"This is a temptation," Duke said, filling the big ceramic sink with hot, soapy water. "A temptation to stay bitter and angry - chained to the past."

Belle picked up a dishtowel and started to dry. "It's my decision, isn't it?"

"No one else's."

After the dishes were done, Belle showered and called good night down the stairs. It was still early, but she needed some time.

"Lord, what am I to do?" she prayed, reaching for her guitar. She curled up on her bed and sank into the pillows. For the better part of an hour, she played and prayed, letting the peace of His Spirit wash over her and strengthen her soul.