Song of Her Heart. Irene Brand

      “I won’t buy much,” Norah said as she went into the store. “Just enough to tide me over until I have the job outline for the summer.”

      Mason stopped at the Flying K long enough for Norah to pick up her car, and then he continued to the Bar 8 ranch with her.

      “You don’t need to go,” Norah insisted. “I can find my way all right.”

      “I want to check and see if the telephone is working,” Mason insisted.

      He knew it wasn’t necessary for him to go with her, but he still had the impression that she didn’t want to stay at the Bar 8 ranch. For the last hour of their return drive from Valentine, Norah had hardly talked at all, nor did she pay much attention to the scenery, although she’d been vibrant and enthusiastic earlier in the day. Perhaps she was only tired, but he sensed there was more to it than that.

      Mason was impelled to see Norah settled safely for the night. He went into the house with her, checked the phone and found that it still wasn’t in service.

      “You have my cell phone, so you can telephone if you need to,” he said. She looked rather forlorn standing in the middle of the big dining room, and he said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

      “I’m ashamed to admit this, but I know it’s going to get dark soon, and I’m afraid. I’ve always lived in the city, where it never gets dark. Just telling you about it makes me realize how foolish I sound. I’m determined to stay here. I will be all right,” she said as if she was trying to convince herself.

      “There’s a security light in the yard. It won’t be completely dark, and you can leave lights on in the house. But you’re welcome to stay at the Flying K until you adjust to being in the country.”

      Forcing a smile, Norah said, “You have work to do, so go back to the ranch and don’t worry about me. I agreed to do this job, and I’m going to stay here alone tonight if it kills me. If I ever go to work on the mission field, I’ll probably spend many nights alone.”

      Mason was becoming fond of Norah, perhaps too fond for his own good. It troubled him every time she mentioned her desire to become a missionary, because it seemed to drive an insurmountable wedge between them. Such a decision should be kept between Norah and God, and he was determined that he wouldn’t interfere. Better to keep his emotions and thoughts to himself until Norah came to terms with her future.

      “You’ll be safe enough, and I can be here in a short time if you need me.”

      “You hired me to be a cook. It isn’t your responsibility to be my guardian.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, intending to lead him toward the door. She might as well have tried to move Mount Rushmore. He didn’t budge until he was ready.

      “Keep the cell phone handy, and let me know if you’re uneasy.” He looked at her keenly, a sense of wonderment in his eyes. “I’ve had a great day.”

      “So did I, Mason. It’s a day I’ll never forget.”

      Chapter Five

      The Bar 8 ranch house seemed as quiet as a tomb after Mason left, but with dogged determination, Norah stored her groceries in the cabinets and refrigerators and made a Caesar salad. The large dining room intimidated her, and she sat on a stool at the long work island in the center of the kitchen to eat her meal. Instead of thinking about the silence around her, she forced herself to concentrate on the day she’d spent with Mason.

      She’d enjoyed the beautiful scenery, so different from her Missouri countryside, but more than that, it had been pleasant to be in Mason’s company. Until today, she hadn’t realized how satisfying male company could be. Mason was a good companion, and for a moment, she contemplated what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with someone like him. At that point, she stopped her speculation. When she was younger, Norah had looked forward to marriage, but always with a man who shared her interest in overseas missions. Mason King wasn’t that man, and she had to discourage any flights of fancy about lifelong companionship with him.

      Norah washed the few dishes by hand rather than use the large dishwasher. She locked every door and window on the first floor and turned out all the lights except the one on the front porch. She dropped Mason’s cell phone in her pocket and went upstairs to settle in, closing all the draperies on the second floor.

      The four bedrooms were equal in size, so Norah had chosen the one with a view of the rangeland. The rooms were sparsely furnished. To make the room more like her crowded bedroom at home, she moved a platform rocker and footstool in from another room.

      Mason had hooked up her television on a low table, and she angled the screen so she could watch from the bed or from the rocker. She laid her Bible on the bedside table and placed her crochet bag by the chair. For years, Norah had been making scarves and mittens for unfortunate children in the United States and overseas. Her current project was crocheting cardigans for newborns of low-income single mothers.

      Tonight Norah wasn’t in the mood for crocheting or television, and she picked up the Bible. Soon she would have to search for Scriptural guidance to deal with her conflicting emotions about Mason, but tonight she had to come to grips with her fear of darkness.

      It wasn’t difficult to figure out what had caused her fears. Her own mother had been afraid of darkness due to a frightening childhood experience. It had never been completely dark in the Williamson household, because streetlights were numerous. On the occasions when a power outage occurred, her mother had chased away the darkness with candles and lamplight. Norah’s siblings had mastered their phobias when they left home for college, and Norah was determined that she would, too.

      The Bible was Norah’s guide for all situations, and she checked out references to darkness. She didn’t want to talk to herself, but reading Scripture out loud would be an antidote to her fear, so she read in a strong voice, “‘You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.”’ The sound of her voice did make the silence more bearable.