Song for Silas, A by Lori Wick Page A

many years in the fields. He fretted some, too, at not being able to man the plow himself.
    The difference in the men’s ages came home hard to Grant when Silas reported each night how much he was able to do in a day. Even with Grant’s best team, those days were behind him.
    But truthfully, he was not really very envious. He just asked God to let him walk again. This he prayed for with his whole heart.
    Doctor Schaefer had been pleased with how well Grant had come out of his cold, but was worried nevertheless. He told Grant he wanted to see him up in a chair, increasing the time each day as he felt stronger. Doc informed them that he had lost more patients from a bedridden state because of their chest filling up, than by deaths resulting directly from accidents such as Grant’s.
    It was during one of these times with Silas in the field and Grant sitting in the living room that father and daughter were able to talk.
    Amy had just walked some food and water out to Silas— the last he would get until he came in for supper. When she returned, Grant asked how things were going. Knowing how close it was to milking, he was surprised when Amy settled into a seat.
    “It’s going well, I think. Silas can sure cover a lot of ground in a day.”
    “Yes, he’s a lot faster than your old dad.”
    “I never think of you as old, Dad,” Amy said softly and then fell quiet. Grant waited and hoped. Amy would never know how long he had prayed for this time.
    “There is something I have wanted to talk to you about, Dad, but I’m afraid you’ll be upset.”
    “A parent has to be careful not to make any promises with a statement like that, but I will hear you out.”
    Amy studied the man across from her. His sandy-brown hair was liberally streaked with gray. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and his skin was a permanent shade of red from years in the sun.
    He was a wonderful father, and Amy knew he loved her dearly. Yes, he would hear her out; he’d always been fair.
    Without introduction Amy began. “Uncle Evan asked me to come into town and live with them.” Amy paused, but Grant said nothing. Other than a slight lift of his eyebrows, his expression didn’t alter.
    “I knew when he asked me that I didn’t want to, but I was so surprised I didn’t say a word. And then the last time I was with him, he said something that really bothered me. He said if my father really loved me he’d let me go. I’ve known for a long time that there was no friendship between you two, but I can’t stand the thought of having Uncle Evan believe the reason I’m saying no is because you won’t let me go.”
    “Should you say no?” The question was spoken so calmly that Amy could only stare at her father.
    “You mean you want me to go?”
    “I want you to be wherever God leads you. As much as I’d miss you, I know Evan and Bev would take good care of you.”
    “But Dad, what about you? Who would take care of you?” “Amy, honey, you must not build your life around me. What did you think would happen to me when you and Thomas moved into your own home—that I would wither up and die?”
    “Well no, but, Dad, I just figured that the breakup with Thomas was God’s way of saying, ‘Stay here and take care of your father.’”
    “Amy, do you really think me that selfish? I’ve been where you are—young and ready for love, and I found that love. Your mother and I loved one another deeply and when God gave us you, there wasn’t anything more in the world we would have asked for.
    “I want you to experience the things that I have—marriage and family. I can’t imagine a man wanting a more wonderful wife than you would be. And when it comes to babies, well I’ve seen your face light up when you hold them at church.
    “You know I’ll respect your decision about living in town or not, and there are no words to describe how much I would miss you if you go. But Amy, do not, do not base your decisions on a need to stay