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Authors: Loree Lough
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of the family as Chance .
It had all started days after surgery, with Matt unable to get out of bed, even to bathe. Bess had tried to bustle in to get the job done , as she’d been doing since the boys were toddlers . Chance , who'd gone upstairs for his evening visit with Matt, had just stepped up to the bedroom door when the confrontation began ….
"You can just put your smelly ol ’ bar of soap right back where you got it," the boy insisted, tugging up his blanket. "I'm fourteen years old, and I won't have my sister washin' where the sun don't shine!"
And Bess had rolled her eyes. "Well, you can't go the whole eight weeks of your recuperation without a proper bath!"
"I'd rather stink like one of Mister Nick's hogs than have you see me in my birthday suit ."
Bess clucked her tongue and chuckled. "Why, that's just plain silly, Matt. I used to change your diapers and —“
He narrowed his eyes and scowled. "That ’s ‘cause I was a baby and couldn't defend myself. I'm nearly a man now, and —“
"Matthew, the longer you argue with me, the colder this water is getting," she scolded, thumping the rim of her washpan.
"Doesn't matter if it's cold or hot, 'cause you're not bathin' me with it!" Matt insisted, his tone changing from big-boy bluster to little-boy whine.
She put the washpan on the bedside table and propped her fists on her hips. "There will be a bath , young man, and if—“
"If Matt will let me," Chance interrupted, leaning on the doorframe, "I'll be glad to help him clean up."
She'd looked at him with some surprise. "You?"
Matt, grinning with relief, said, "Yeah! Chance can do it!"
" But…. "
" Bess, you've seen me rub down a horse after a hard day's ride, and what smells worse than horse sweat?"
Bess eyed Matthew slyly and crinkled her nose. "My little brother, that's what," she answered, and neatly side-stepped the pillow Matt feebly tossed at her .
Now, remembering the scene, Bess grinned. Chance always seemed to show up, like the white knight in fairy tales, just in the nick of time. He'd bathed Matt that night, and every night afterward until the boy's arm healed enough to do the job himself.
Bess also remembered that when Matt finally seemed ready and able to begin the exercises Doc had prescribed to get his leg back into shape, it had been Chance 's strong shoulder the boy leaned on. When the doctor said the time had come for Matt to get some fresh air, it was Chance who fashioned crude wooden crutches and taught the boy to use them, then walked slowly, patiently alongside as Matt hobbled across the lawn. Then, w hen the boy seemed bored out of his skull from having nothing more physical than walking to do, it was Chance who taught him to play chess.
The men teased Chance mercilessly, their mocking falsettos calling him "Our hero!" But the serious tone behind their good-natured wise-cracks rang true. Though she never told him so, he was her hero. Bess thanked God every morning and every night for him, for he'd saved Matt's life. And, he'd been the first person since Mary to offer her a moment of compassion or an instant of comfort...or to realize she needed either.
Bess thanked God for something else, too: Finally, the boys had a real man they could look up to!
Not that Micah didn't love his sons . Bess knew he'd have given his life for any one of his children if need be. But, since Mary's death, he’d withdrawn from his sons and daughter, physically and emotionally. The man who once showered his family with loving affection now seemed to believe that providing materially for them was enough.
She missed the man he'd been before Mary died. Fun-loving and kind, he'd had strong opinions about everything , and didn't mind sharing them with anyone who'd listen. T hough he shared them in a thundering voice and with animated gestures, he'd never made anyone, not even the object of his opinion, feel afraid on any level.
Bess remembered the week she'd spent at the neighbors when, because
It had all started days after surgery, with Matt unable to get out of bed, even to bathe. Bess had tried to bustle in to get the job done , as she’d been doing since the boys were toddlers . Chance , who'd gone upstairs for his evening visit with Matt, had just stepped up to the bedroom door when the confrontation began ….
"You can just put your smelly ol ’ bar of soap right back where you got it," the boy insisted, tugging up his blanket. "I'm fourteen years old, and I won't have my sister washin' where the sun don't shine!"
And Bess had rolled her eyes. "Well, you can't go the whole eight weeks of your recuperation without a proper bath!"
"I'd rather stink like one of Mister Nick's hogs than have you see me in my birthday suit ."
Bess clucked her tongue and chuckled. "Why, that's just plain silly, Matt. I used to change your diapers and —“
He narrowed his eyes and scowled. "That ’s ‘cause I was a baby and couldn't defend myself. I'm nearly a man now, and —“
"Matthew, the longer you argue with me, the colder this water is getting," she scolded, thumping the rim of her washpan.
"Doesn't matter if it's cold or hot, 'cause you're not bathin' me with it!" Matt insisted, his tone changing from big-boy bluster to little-boy whine.
She put the washpan on the bedside table and propped her fists on her hips. "There will be a bath , young man, and if—“
"If Matt will let me," Chance interrupted, leaning on the doorframe, "I'll be glad to help him clean up."
She'd looked at him with some surprise. "You?"
Matt, grinning with relief, said, "Yeah! Chance can do it!"
" But…. "
" Bess, you've seen me rub down a horse after a hard day's ride, and what smells worse than horse sweat?"
Bess eyed Matthew slyly and crinkled her nose. "My little brother, that's what," she answered, and neatly side-stepped the pillow Matt feebly tossed at her .
Now, remembering the scene, Bess grinned. Chance always seemed to show up, like the white knight in fairy tales, just in the nick of time. He'd bathed Matt that night, and every night afterward until the boy's arm healed enough to do the job himself.
Bess also remembered that when Matt finally seemed ready and able to begin the exercises Doc had prescribed to get his leg back into shape, it had been Chance 's strong shoulder the boy leaned on. When the doctor said the time had come for Matt to get some fresh air, it was Chance who fashioned crude wooden crutches and taught the boy to use them, then walked slowly, patiently alongside as Matt hobbled across the lawn. Then, w hen the boy seemed bored out of his skull from having nothing more physical than walking to do, it was Chance who taught him to play chess.
The men teased Chance mercilessly, their mocking falsettos calling him "Our hero!" But the serious tone behind their good-natured wise-cracks rang true. Though she never told him so, he was her hero. Bess thanked God every morning and every night for him, for he'd saved Matt's life. And, he'd been the first person since Mary to offer her a moment of compassion or an instant of comfort...or to realize she needed either.
Bess thanked God for something else, too: Finally, the boys had a real man they could look up to!
Not that Micah didn't love his sons . Bess knew he'd have given his life for any one of his children if need be. But, since Mary's death, he’d withdrawn from his sons and daughter, physically and emotionally. The man who once showered his family with loving affection now seemed to believe that providing materially for them was enough.
She missed the man he'd been before Mary died. Fun-loving and kind, he'd had strong opinions about everything , and didn't mind sharing them with anyone who'd listen. T hough he shared them in a thundering voice and with animated gestures, he'd never made anyone, not even the object of his opinion, feel afraid on any level.
Bess remembered the week she'd spent at the neighbors when, because
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