Wings of a Dream Quotes

“But perhaps understanding didn’t matter as much as I imagined. Perhaps that was the true definition of faith.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Keep on. God gives us dreams of what our lives will be, but He doesn’t guarantee them. Just asks us to trust Him with the changes.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I know it because the sun comes up every morning, no matter what. And the rain falls on the crops. And babies are born. I know it because even when death comes, we go on living.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I turned to find Frank standing behind me, his eyes also fixed on the ticket. And it seemed from that moment on I couldn’t get him out from underfoot.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then Janie’s baby voice rose above the din. “Ma-ma!” My steps halted. So did my heart. The plaintive cry filled every crevice of my being. “Ma-ma!” The caterwauling ceased. I turned. Ollie’s horror-stricken face told me I’d heard right. Gripping the handle of my suitcase and clenching my teeth, I tried to hold in my own keening. Janie dropped to her pudgy knees in the middle of the road. “Ma-ma!” She fell on her face in the dirt and sobbed. My gaze rose past her to Frank, who stood at the top of the steps. His horror seemed to mirror my own. I’d thought by leaving I’d alleviate his suffering, but it seemed I’d only deepened it. He made his way across the yard, his eyes fixed on mine. He passed his frozen children as if they were merely trees in a human forest and stopped in front of me, so close I could smell Ol’ Bob on his shirt. I tilted my head back, looked into his face. My heart bumped against my chest, though I’d felt sure it had stopped beating altogether. His arms reached for me, then fell back to his side. “Please, Rebekah. Please stay. They need you. I told you that.” “I can’t.” My vision blurred as I shook my head. His thumb caught a tear on my cheek, wiped it dry. I glanced at Janie, still lying heartbroken in the dirt. I ached to go to her, but I didn’t want to make things worse. Ollie seemed to read my thoughts. She picked up her sister, but her attention remained on me. I looked back at Frank. “Can’t you see? I’m giving you your life back. Your whole life. Your house. Your family.” I tasted the salt of my tears. He grabbed my shoulders. “But don’t you understand, Rebekah? I can’t have my whole life back. When I left for the war, I knew nothing would ever be the same. And it isn’t. Clara is gone. I have to make a new life now.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And I want to make it with you.” “Me? Are you saying . . . ” I held my breath, holding the words inside me, afraid they’d meet the air and burst like a soap bubble. His lips curled into a smile that chased every trace of gray from his eyes. “Marry me?”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“May I speak with you for a minute, Frank?” He stopped working. “James, Dan. Keep Janie out of trouble.” “Yes, sir.” Both boys gave a salute. Frank’s long legs consumed the expanse, and he met me in the bright sunlight. We rounded the corner of the barn and moved away from its wall, closer to the pigpen. “Is there a problem?” He bent slightly, resting his arms on the top of the rail fence surrounding the sty, one foot propped up on the lower slat. I picked at the jagged edge of a fingernail and cleared my throat. “I’m going home.” “I know.” He looked almost . . . stricken. But it passed. Worried about not having made arrangement yet for the children, I imagined. He cleared his throat, kicked at a clod of dirt. “At the end of the month.” “This morning, actually. I have my train ticket.” Only his jaw moved, the muscle tightening and loosening and tightening again. I paced behind him, reached the other side of the small enclosure, chewed my lip, waited for him to say something. Anything. But the silence closed in around me. I had to get free of it. “I’ve been here long enough. I know that now. You need to be with your family, Frank. You need to sleep in your own bed, be among your own things. The children are comfortable with you again. Besides”—I grabbed the top rail of the pen to hold me steady—“I have my own life to live.” I stared off into the distance, hoping he thought I gazed happily into the life I desired. The quiet boiled between us until his words spat out like a flash of lightning. “Just like that, you’d abandon us?” I whirled to face him. “Just a few days earlier than you promised to send me home, remember?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls and looked me over as if I were a possum in the bedroom. “They’ve lost their mother. And Adabelle. Now they’ll lose you, too. You don’t think they’ll feel that?” I shook my head, my heart breaking into tiny shards. “They’re young. They’ll take to whoever you bring in as quickly as they took to me.” His face reddened. He stalked toward the barn, then turned and came back, pointing his finger in my face. “Let’s get this straight. I’ve not asked you to leave. You’ve taken this on yourself.” “It’s for the best, Frank. It really is. But . . .” I hesitated. The intensity of his anger made me unsure of my final request. My voice shrank to nearly a whisper. “Will you tell them for me?” His eyebrows arched. He threw back his head and belched a derisive laugh. “You want to leave? Fine. I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to be the one to tell them. You are.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Who’s this?” Mama’s voice, barely more than a whisper. Frank’s features turned hard, as if carved from stone. “Frank Gresham.” He glanced at me, then back to Mama. “I assume you are Mrs. Hendricks?” Mama turned fiery eyes in my direction. “I see you know who I am, but I haven’t been given the same consideration.” I backed away, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the twister I’d created. “Ahhhhh!” Hot metal seared my skin. I grabbed my hand, doubled over. Mama and Frank beside me, one voice in each ear, pain blinding my sight. “Margaret? Rebekah?” Daddy. I felt Mama and Frank move back. Daddy led me to the table as my scream drifted away. “We’ll need eggs and some clean cotton.” Mama taking charge, as usual. “I have butter and flour right here.” Frank. “We aren’t making a cake; we’re dressing a burn.” “I realize that. Butter, then flour. My mother swore by it.” “It really hurts.” I leaned my head into Daddy’s shoulder. “I know, baby. Let me see.” He eased open my hand and studied the raised red splotch on my palm. Frank arrived at the table first. He cradled my hand in his. I whimpered. “Hush now.” A gentle whisper. “Let me do that.” Mama pressed her fingers into the pristine “G” atop the newly pressed butter and lathered it on my skin. “Go on now. Let me do my work.” Mama scooted beside me. Daddy led Frank from the room as Mama wrapped a clean rag around my greasy hand and tied the ends together. “Thank you, Mama.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Ollie took a step toward us, Janie filling her arms. Frank loosened his grip on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “I came home afraid of being alone. But I wasn’t alone. You were here.” He put his hands on his hips, laughed, shook his head. “You exasperated me sometimes, Rebekah. No doubt about that. But you made me feel alive. And you taught my heart to love again. I never expected it to happen so soon.” My suitcase dropped to the ground with a thud, but my mouth refused to move. He laid his hand on my cheek. I leaned into it, eyes closed. A breeze swept past me, scented with the promise of spring. But this time I had no desire to fly on its fickle path. This time, my feet remained contently atop solid ground. “We’ll never be rich or modern, but we have lots of love to give.” He moved closer, his body almost touching mine. My eyes flew open as joy curled up from my toes, lifting my mouth into a smile. “I can’t think of anything more I could ask for.” Then a giggle rose up through my tears. I bit my lip, but it refused to stay inside. “Except maybe an automobile of our own.” Frank’s laughter rang out across the Blackland Prairie. “I’ll even teach you to drive it. I promise.” His arms circled me, pulled me close. The children danced around us, cheering happily. And the moment Frank’s lips touched mine, I knew that in this seemingly ordinary life I’d encounter nothing less than one adventure after another.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I won’t be here this afternoon, Ollie. I’m going home to Oklahoma, to my mama and daddy.” She cocked her head, a quizzical expression on her face. “When are you coming back?” “I’m not. I mean, I’m not coming back to live here. I’ll come to visit, maybe. And you can come and visit me.” Her hand separated from mine. She stared at me, her mouth hanging open. “But we need you, Rebekah.” I shook my head. “No, you don’t. Your daddy will take care of you, I promise.” “You can’t go.” Tears dripped down her pale cheeks, her voice escalating into hysteria. “You can’t leave us!” Then I noticed the back door standing open, James and Dan gaping at their sister, confusion screwing up their faces. Frank stood behind them, Janie in his arms. I wanted to crawl in a hole. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. My lips trembled, looking for words to comfort them. To comfort me. James bolted through the hallway and wrapped his arms around Ollie, buried his head in her chest. I squatted down in front of them, determined to hold back my emotions but sensing them rising out of my control. The children weren’t supposed to care as much as I did. I laid my hand on the back of James’s head as if giving him a blessing. “Good-bye, little man. I’ll miss you.” “Me, too?” Dan bowled into me now, Janie toddling behind. “You, too, Dan.” I wrapped my arm around him, my nose near the scruffy skin of his neck. I breathed in the peculiar little-boy scent, like a wet dog in a closed room. Then I lifted Janie and kissed her nose before setting her back on the floor.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I’ve been thinking . . .” He stared into his cup as if he could read his next words on the dark, shifting surface. Frank’s low laughter drifted in from the parlor. My feet longed to run to him, to hear what childish antic had brought amusement, but I stayed in my seat. Henry pulled a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and slid it across the table. “What’s this?” I unfolded it, and my breath caught at the words. “A Texas Ranger.” He nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “It’s all because of you, Rebekah.” “Me?” I bit my lip to hold back the tears. Henry would get to live his dream. “I’d have never tried if you hadn’t encouraged me.” I reached across the table and squeezed his hand before I realized what I’d done. I let go as fast as if I’d touched a frozen water pump handle barehanded. But he held on. “I love you, Rebekah. I think I have since the moment I caught you on the train platform.” I held my breath, wishing I didn’t have to disappoint this man. “Come with me. Marry me.” His eyes radiated hope. I remembered the driving lesson—and the dinner at Irene’s. Henry Jeffries had adventuresome dreams, but he wanted a safe wife. Someone to be coddled and cared for, like Clara Gresham. I wasn’t sure I could be that, just as I could never seem to be the docile daughter Mama longed for. I reclaimed my hand, wishing I could soften the hurtful words. “I can’t.” He sat back as if I’d struck at him. “We aren’t right for each other, Henry. We’d come to despise each other, I think. Eventually.” His head shook. “We wouldn’t, Rebekah. I’d do whatever you wanted, be whatever you wanted.” Such the opposite of Arthur. Humble. Caring. Saying he loved me. “That’s the problem, Henry. You shouldn’t have to change for me.” Why couldn’t I return his affection? Why did the Lord doom my heart to care for those who didn’t care for me? “Everything all right?” Frank poked his head into the kitchen, his eyes meeting mine. Those blue eyes, deep with passion and love for his family. I pushed away from the table and ran out the door, all the way to the barn. I groped through the dark interior, hearing Dandy and Tom and Huck gallivanting in the corral, Ol’ Bob mooing from her stall. I lifted my skirts, charged up the ladder and into the hayloft, and wept, wondering if I’d just turned down my very last chance at love.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then the sheriff stood at the end of the pew. “Rebekah?” With a small shake, I tossed off my melancholy and offered him my brightest grin. He returned it, tucking my hand in the crook of his arm and escorting me from the church into the gray day. More winter than spring. “May I stop by this week?” His eager eyes terrified me. I needed to tell him I’d be leaving soon. “I . . . Well, I guess that would be fine.” What could I say? Please don’t ask of me what I can’t give? Maybe I imagined the question in his eyes after all. Maybe he just needed a friend. I laid my free hand on his arm. “Please, come. It’s always a pleasure.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I set my elbows on the table, rested my chin on my clasped hands, and watched. Frank tipped his head, his question as clear as if he’d spoken. “What?” his gesture said. “Why are you looking at us like that?” I shrugged my answer, hoping the truth wasn’t apparent in my eyes. He picked up his coffee, washed down his eggs, and cleared his throat. “I thought we’d make a trip into Terrell today.” “All of us?” Ollie nearly shouted. “That’s right, honey. All of us.” Ollie’s head whipped in my direction. “Terrell, Rebekah.” Her wide eyes told me this was a pleasure she’d experienced before, one she longed for again. “How does that sound, Rebekah?” Frank’s words turned all eyes in my direction. “Think you can get us ready?” I laid down my fork, breakfast suddenly a rock in my stomach. Did he mean this as my farewell party? Maybe he’d tell the children that two weeks from today I’d board the train and ride back out of their lives. Frank grinned at me and pushed his plate away. I let out a long breath and managed an answering smile. “I’ll have us ready. Ollie will help.” “Me, too!” The boys’ words tangled with each other. Frank slapped his hands on his legs and stood. “I best get my chores done, then.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“There you are.” Arthur rushed down the steps to where I stood frozen. He looked serious, solemn even. His arms reached out as if to embrace me, then dropped to his side. “What are you doing here, Arthur?” My voice held a flatness I hardly recognized. And my heart didn’t skip a beat. “I, uh . . .” He glanced back toward his friend in the car before leaning closer to my ear. “We need to talk.” “Then, talk.” I shifted Janie’s weight to my other hip. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Listen, Rebekah, I’ve been thinking.” His gaze moved to Janie, to the ground. “I was too hasty—about the children, about everything. We can work things out. I understand that they need you to take care of them for a while longer.” He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes just a bit. “But their daddy will be home soon, right?” Suspicion raised my eyebrows. “What’s happened, Arthur?” He swiped a hand through his pale hair, grown longer since our last meeting. “I’m being officially discharged. I thought maybe you and I, we could . . . all those things we talked about . . .” Words I had longed to hear teetered on the edge of his tongue, but I didn’t harbor tender feelings for Arthur any longer. I read more in the depths of his eyes than he knew, like I believed Clara had in Frank’s. Except she apparently saw good; she saw a future. I, on the other hand, sensed a danger in Arthur I’d overlooked before. “We could what?” I asked. He looked perturbed. “Get married, Rebekah. Isn’t that what you wanted?” My head screamed that everything I wanted had changed, but I shut away my unease as I considered the possibilities. At the very least, I had to see if he meant what he said. I swallowed down my fear. “What happened with your fiancée? You never quite explained that, you know.” He slapped his hat on his head, glanced back at his friend waiting in the car. “Listen, I have to go. Borrowed auto and all. But I’ll be back.” He planted his lips on my cheek and jogged away. His friend started the engine and they tore off down the road without a backward glance.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“She needs time to recover, body and soul.” I nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” His moustache twitched. “And what about the others that need yer care?” “Frank can handle them.” “He’s who I was meanin’. He’s walking on the edge of illness himself, what with nursing ye and Ollie both.” “Nursing us . . . both?” His bushy eyebrows inched up and down like caterpillars across a sidewalk. “Aye, girl. Didn’t ye know?” “But Sheriff Jeffries . . .” The fog in my brain vaguely remembered Frank by my bed, soothing words, gentle hands. But hadn’t I dreamed that? Doc shook his head. “Sheriff didn’t come until the last. He took the little ones to the Crenshaws’, but he had other things to tend.” My mouth gaped as my head whirled in confusion. Frank took care of me? Me and Ollie? “But he . . . How could he manage us both?” “Blamed if I know. But he did. Better than most, I might add. Went without sleep. Without food.” Doc shook his head. “Couldn’t bear to lose ye, either one.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“What are you thinking?” Frank’s words came so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard them. I tried to smile, to break the sorrow that stretched between us. “Thinking about Mama. And Will. And Adabelle.” Clara’s unspoken name shouted itself into the silence. My eyes sought his face. “Irene won’t die, too, will she?” “We can pray.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Irene?” Now Frank refused to look anywhere but Ollie’s face. I held my breath. Not Irene. Please, God, not Irene. A fit of coughing shook me. Frank’s tortured eyes found mine, but it was Sheriff Jeffries who found a cup of water. I sipped until the wracking calmed. I lifted my eyes to the sheriff. If Frank wouldn’t tell me about my friend, he’d have to. “Doc’s there.” The sheriff refused to hold my gaze. I pushed up from the bed, clung to his arm. “I have to go.” In spite of my dry eyes, my voice sounded gruff and full of moisture. “Please. Take me to her.” His gaze slipped to the floor. “Please . . . Henry.” His head rose. I hadn’t expected to see quite so much anticipation in his eyes, but I pushed my uneasiness aside. I had to be with my friend, as she had been with me. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You might want to change clothes.” If I’d had the strength, I’d have thrown my arms around his neck. Frank pushed past us. “She’s not going anywhere until she eats something.” Watching him retreat into the kitchen, I wondered why I couldn’t restrain the upward twitch of my lips.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Frank slept in the chair beside Ollie’s bed, his elbow propped on a table, his hand holding his head somewhat upright. As we entered the room, he leapt to his feet. His confused gaze searched my face, and then his eyes narrowed at the sheriff. “Should she be out of bed?” Gravelly words. “Fever’s broke.” A clipped response. I looked from one man to the other, trying to comprehend the antagonism that crackled the air between them. A shiver swayed me. Each man’s face softened, but I disregarded their concern. I needed to know about Ollie. She looked so tiny in the middle of her parents’ bed. A slick, almost bloodless face. My stomach clutched. Was she dead? Then I realized that no spots shadowed her eyes or her cheeks. Her body shook with a deep cough. I winced, trying to suppress the answering one creeping up my own throat. Frank reached across the bed and felt her face and the back of her neck. He dropped back into the chair. “She’s still fine.” I wavered. Frank jumped up, caught hold of my arm, and kept me upright. He led me to the bed and urged me to lie beside Ollie. As the fog in my head cleared further, fear pounced at me like a threatened bobcat. “Where are the boys? And Janie? Tell me.” I gripped Frank’s shirtsleeves. “They’re fine. They’re at the Crenshaws. Under the weather, but not the flu. Definitely not the flu.” I looked to the sheriff. He nodded. Once. “Truly?” My gaze held Frank’s. He wouldn’t lie to me. He couldn’t. “I promise.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then cool covered my forehead. A wet cloth. I tried to reach for it, but it hurt to move, so I succumbed to sleep. I dreamt strange vignettes of Mama and Will and Daddy and Aunt Adabelle. Arthur and Sheriff Jeffries even made appearances. And those sweet children. Far off in the distance I recognized Frank. I never saw his face, only his back, but somehow I knew him. Finally, my eyes opened to darkness. I sat up, head pounding with pain. “I’m here, Rebekah.” “Who?” “Frank.” An arm cradled my back. “Drink this.” Tart liquid dribbled into my mouth. “Sleep now.” “But Ollie—” “Shh.” A hand stroked my hair. “Just get yourself well.” I tried to focus on his face, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate. So I returned my head to the pillow, drifting again into a crowded slumber.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“What have we here?” Frank lifted his daughter high in the air. Her laughter cackled through the clear air, twisting my heart. If Frank didn’t want me, I wouldn’t have these children, either. I thrust my bucket into the space between us, lemonade sloshing onto the dirt beneath. “I thought you’d all like something cool to drink.” He set Janie on his shoulders, letting her pound his hat farther down on his head. I handed him the dipper. He drank, eyes widening. Then he handed a half-full ladle to James. “Lemonade. Boy howdy, does it taste good!” The boys slurped down their share, as did Janie. When my bucket grew light, I reached for Janie’s tiny hand. “We best get back and get dinner ready.” Frank nodded—that lopsided, little-boy grin never leaving his face. I bit my lip and stared at the dirt, begging my heart to be still, to be reasonable, to understand that I couldn’t want him, couldn’t want this. But like an unruly child, it refused to obey. And like an exasperated mother, my irritation flowered into anger.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Tell me about your home.” “My home?” It took me a moment to realize he didn’t mean here. When had I come to think of this place as home? I shook away my shock. “Downington.” He nodded and kept working. “It’s not much different than Prater’s Junction, really.” “I guess you miss your friends there.” “Friends?” He’d edged closer to me now, the basket resting at the far end of the line. I scooted toward the porch, eased down on the step, leaving him to hang the last few things. “I didn’t have any close friends there.” “Really? I imagined you to be in the center of the social whirlwind.” “That would be Mama. Not me.” I sighed. “I thought maybe if I were in a bigger place, with more to do, more people to meet, life would be more exciting. Without Mama to direct everything. But it’s likely that’s not meant to be.” “I’m sure you’re appreciated wherever you are.” His gaze captured mine, held it even as he picked up the empty basket.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then I trudged around to the side of the house, set the basket on the ground, and pulled the clothespins near. Maybe if I got this all done quickly, Frank would leave me alone. Not that I didn’t enjoy his nearness. I enjoyed it far too much. And that made it harder to push him from my mind. I jammed a clothespin over a fold of cloth on the line. Help me, Lord. Help me to trust Your plans. Halfway through my task, Frank appeared again, his easy grin spinning my stomach and thumping my heart. His hand brushed mine, tingling the skin all the way up my arm. “I guess you haven’t had any driving adventures lately.” He picked up one of Janie’s dresses, so small in his hands. He frowned at it. Turned it upside down, then right side up. “Let me help.” I took the dress from him, shook it out, hung the shoulders over the line, and pinned them in place. Then I shook out one of Ollie’s dresses. “No. No driving lately.” “Did you tell your mother about that adventure?” He chuckled as he pinned one of Dan’s small shirts to the line. “No!” I laughed, reaching for another piece of clothing. “She’d never understand that.” “I imagine not.” He sidled an amused glance in my direction. “But you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?” I stopped working, faced him full on. “Yes, I would. I’d like to drive more. All by myself.” A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Of course, I’d do my best not to knock down your fence again.” His eyes shone with held-in laughter. “And I’d thank you for that.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“We’ll be heading home tomorrow.” My head jerked up. So did Mama’s. Had Daddy’s announcement shocked her that much—or not at all? I couldn’t tell. “So soon?” The words came out before I thought. I clamped my lips shut. Mama rolled up her needlepoint. “And of course you’ll be coming with us, Rebekah Grace.” The words I had been waiting for but didn’t want to hear. Frank looked as taut as a laundry line. I shoved James’s pants back in the basket, trying to keep my voice steady. “I . . . I hadn’t planned to.” “But you can’t stay here—alone.” Her gaze raced back and forth between Frank’s face and mine. “It’s unseemly.” Frank clenched his fists, his eyes flashing anger. He looked like a cat ready to pounce. “No one around here seems to think such a thing. Your daughter has cared for my children. I happen to think the Lord sent her here on their behalf.” My head jerked up. Did he really believe that? Mama stared at Frank as if she’d never seen him before. No color lit her cheeks, but a slight tremor moved her lips. “Yet you’ve ruined her all the same.” I gasped. “Mama!” “I don’t intend to take advantage of your daughter in any way at all, Mrs. Hendricks.” An edge hard as iron encased his words. I sucked in my breath and held it. “I guarantee you’ll have your daughter home before the end of March.” Almost six weeks. What was he planning to do between now and then? Court a new wife? Hire a new housekeeper? Would he let me be privy to his plans, or did he think I wouldn’t need to know what would become of the children? “Are y’all going to plan my whole life for me? Don’t I have any say?” I jammed my fists on my hips, my cheeks burning. Daddy crossed the room, took Mama by the hand. “You’re welcome to come with us, Rebekah, but I’m thinking Frank could use your help.” “But—” Mama bit off her words at Daddy’s look. “We can trust Rebekah to do what is right, Margaret.” “Fine. But if she stays, I’m buying her ticket home myself.” She glared at Frank. “You can pick it up at the station on your next trip to town.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Dan suddenly tugged at my hand. “C’mon, Bekah. Daddy and Uncle Lloyd are takin’ us fishing. Right, Daddy?” “Uncle Lloyd?” I looked at Frank. He shrugged. “Your father suggested it.” “You comin’ with us, Bekah?” Dan pressed his hands together, as if in prayer. “Please?” “Please, Rebekah?” Frank seemed as anxious as his son for my answer. Elation coursed through me, almost raising my feet from the ground. I opened my mouth to say yes. “Rebekah?” Mama’s voice pulled my attention toward the house. “Rebekah Grace, where have you gotten to?” When my gaze returned to Frank, his sunny expression had darkened to a thundercloud. My hands turned to ice, in spite of unhindered sun. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I ran toward the house, toward Mama, all the while hating myself for wishing she’d never come.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Rebekah?” “Yes?” I turned back. Too eager? He led me away from the barn. “I went to town this afternoon.” I held my breath, his face hovering only inches above mine. “Mr. Crenshaw said you bought the children Christmas presents. On account.” I nodded, afraid to look into his eyes lest their blue turn stormy gray. He settled his hands on his hips, exasperated-like. “Why in the world didn’t you just pay cash?” I picked at a crust of teacake on the skirt of my dress. “Because there wasn’t any to pay with. No cash in your letters. None in the house. None in the bank.” I raised my eyes to his, not caring what I’d see. “What would you have had me do? Let them think Santa Claus forgot them?” Of course there was the two dollars wasted in Dallas, but irritation hid my embarrassment. Daddy would repay Frank his precious money if I asked him to. I glared up at him, expecting wrath. But something new crossed his face. Surprise? Admiration? His laugh started low and worked itself into a regular guffaw. Heat crawled up my face as he shook his head and wiped his eyes. “I heard about your visit to the bank. You certainly have gumption.” “Is that . . . a good thing?” He blinked surprise. Then a smile started on his lips and ended in his eyes. “Why, yes, I guess it is.” I couldn’t hold back my grin, so I studied the ground. “Don’t worry.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t move away. “I covered it all with Mr. Crenshaw today. I guess Adabelle didn’t tell you about the tin box under the floorboard in the bedroom.” Relief washed over me. Money had been there all along.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Such a nice man, that sheriff. He’s a man a girl could depend on. Don’t you agree, Mr. Gresham?” Help me, Lord. Help me, Lord. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I waited for Frank to say something. Anything. Mama turned her head. “Don’t you agree, Mr.—” “Look, Mama, there’s a redbird.” “Where?” She whipped around like a distracted child. I breathed out relief as I pointed out the church steeple instead.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Frank picked up two plates. “You managed that nicely.” “Thank you.” I picked up a half-full pitcher of milk with my uninjured hand. He cleared his throat. “Your mother is a bit . . .” “Overbearing?” I carried the milk into the kitchen, set it in the cooler. He followed behind. “You’ll have to let me in on your secret if we’re all to survive her visit.” “Survive whose visit?” James piped up. Frank looked like he’d been caught eating dessert before dinner. “You and Ollie bring the rest of the dishes.” The two of them scampered from the room. I burst out laughing and covered my mouth with my unbound hand. Frank looked stricken. Then he grinned and handed me a dish towel. “I’ll wash. You dry. We’ll get this cleaned up in no time.” We fell to work, side by side. And it felt so right.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then Frank stood over me, his eyes more gray than blue. “I’m sorry.” I fiddled with the end of the bandage. His face crumpled in confusion. “Why? You didn’t mean to burn yourself.” “No.” I smoothed the folds of the rag around my hand. “Not that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell Mama you were home.” “You what?” His voice rose but then fell, as if he remembered the need for quiet. “Mama didn’t know you’d come home.” My teeth held my bottom lip as I watched him jump up and cross the room, his hands combing through his hair before resting atop his head. He blew out a long breath, his gaze pinning me still. “And just when were you going to inform her of my presence—in my own house, I might add?” “I hadn’t quite figured that out yet. But she knows now.” On my feet, I swayed a bit. He reached my side in an instant, that little-boy look softening his face. I pressed my lips together, holding in the sudden urge to laugh. “I imagine we need to get supper finished.” He shook his head and led me to the stove. As hard as he tried to hide it, I spied the corners of his mouth fighting to hold a frown.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I backed away, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the twister I’d created. “Ahhhhh!” Hot metal seared my skin. I grabbed my hand, doubled over. Mama and Frank beside me, one voice in each ear, pain blinding my sight. “Margaret? Rebekah?” Daddy. I felt Mama and Frank move back. Daddy led me to the table as my scream drifted away. “We’ll need eggs and some clean cotton.” Mama taking charge, as usual. “I have butter and flour right here.” Frank. “We aren’t making a cake; we’re dressing a burn.” “I realize that. Butter, then flour. My mother swore by it.” “It really hurts.” I leaned my head into Daddy’s shoulder. “I know, baby. Let me see.” He eased open my hand and studied the raised red splotch on my palm. Frank arrived at the table first. He cradled my hand in his. I whimpered. “Hush now.” A gentle whisper. “Let me do that.” Mama pressed her fingers into the pristine “G” atop the newly pressed butter and lathered it on my skin. “Go on now. Let me do my work.” Mama scooted beside me. Daddy led Frank from the room as Mama wrapped a clean rag around my greasy hand and tied the ends together. “Thank you, Mama.” I reached up and kissed her cheek.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Let’s go, little man.” “I’m not your little man. And you can’t make me.” His eyebrows scrunched down over his eyes, and his fingers curled into fists. “Oh yes, I can.” I lifted him off the floor, his feet kicking out behind me. “What are you doing to him?” Ollie blocked my way out of the kitchen. “I’m taking him to bed.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not his mother, you know.” How many times had I said those words to her over the past few weeks? And she dared throw them back at me now? “Neither are you.” I set Dan on the ground but kept his hand imprisoned in mine. Ollie’s eyes flashed. “When are you goin’ home, Rebekah?” “Ollie Elizabeth!” Frank stood at the kitchen door, James at his side. Ollie’s face paled. “But, Daddy, she—” “Get on up to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Ollie darted from the room, dragging Dan with her. James tugged at my hand. I knelt down in front of him. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” His bottom lip trembled. “No.” I ran my hand through his blond curls. “I won’t leave you, sweet boy. I promise.” He lurched into my arms, nearly knocking me to the ground. Tears gruffed my voice as I whispered, “Let’s get you tucked in, too.” His head nodded against my shoulder. I carried him from the room without so much as a glance at his daddy. My heart couldn’t bear to know whose side Frank had taken—Ollie’s or James’s.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I pushed away from the sturdy tree and stumbled forward. A hand caught my elbow. I cried out and looked up. Concern wrinkled Frank’s face, clear as the ticker tape on my telegram. “What’s wrong?” His forehead creased as his eyebrows drew together. “It’s Mama.” I croaked the words like an old bullfrog. His face crunched into deeper solicitude. I sucked in a deep breath of thick, cold air and blew it out again, long and slow. “She and Daddy arrive tomorrow.” “Your parents are coming?” “That’s what it says.” I read the telegram again. “Mama misses me, I guess.” “Did you ask them to come?” He said it like an accusation. “No.” And yet, why shouldn’t I have? We’d just lost my brother. Would it have been so terrible of me to ask them to visit? Frank paced in front of me, murmuring, raking his hands through his hair. “It’s just . . . It feels a bit . . . awkward. I mean, the two of us, here, and . . . ” He shrugged. I shoved my fists on my hips. “That hasn’t seemed to bother you until now. Besides, it isn’t as if either of us have any intentions toward the other.” Even if his touch did ignite a lightning bolt inside me. “No, no intentions.” He stood still now, not even a twitch of movement. “I just didn’t want them to misconstrue our current arrangement.” “Are you suggesting they’re coming to pressure you into marrying me?” I snorted out a laugh. “Don’t worry. I have very different plans for my life.” “Yes. You’ve made that very clear.” He towered over me, our eyes locked in silent battle. If only we were fighting on the same side.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream