“Bible too?”
“Yes, sir. I-I wish I could read it for myself. I work at it. But they done the readin’. An’ I listened good, to the preacher back home too.”
He was quiet. I couldn’t tell if he was angry that I hadn’t been more honest before. Maybe he wondered how I could be such a fool as to try to buy property up here in his town. Maybe he’d repent for asking me to speak here, I didn’t know. None of it would surprise me. Maybe I deserved it all. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I shoulda told you sooner. You got a right to know what you let behind the pulpit.”
He looked at me pretty oddly. “Why do you put it that way? What I let? Like you’re more creature than man?”
Something about that stabbed deep. I felt a shooting strangeness inside me. “I’m—I’m nothing much, sir, and I guess you oughta know. I’m off in the clouds, peculiar and absentminded, not much good for nothin’ sometimes—”
“Is that you talking, or your brothers?”
Suddenly it was hard, fighting up against tears again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s my pa.”
“It’s not the Lord. Of that I’m confident.”
“I oughta go. Maybe I can get my leg under me now.”
“Franklin—Brother Hammond—do you remember 1 Corinthians, chapter one?”
“Yes, sir. I think so.”
“Can you quote it? Right toward the end of the chapter? Verse 26 or 27. ‘But God hath chosen . . .’ ”
He stopped, like he was waiting. And I felt the quivering inside me again.
Lord, what are you doing with me tonight?
I remembered the Scripture he was talking about, even though he hadn’t quoted very far. I knew what came next. “God hath chosen the foolish things a’ the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things a’ the world to confound the things that are mighty . . .”
I looked up at Mr. Willings.
He nodded. “Can you go on?”
I swallowed hard. “And base things a’ the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence . . .”
Mr. Willings seemed to be almost shining again—just a touch of dampness on his cheeks reflecting the golden light of the church lamps. “I think you were just confessing to me how you feel foolish and weak, even despised, maybe by your own heart sometimes. I would say then, that according to the Scriptures, you are ideally qualified in God’s eyes. Undoubtedly chosen.”
I smiled, just a little, and then I could feel it spreading all over my insides. It prob’ly wasn’t right to laugh, but I did, a tiny bit.
“Don’t you suppose that God made you exactly the way you are on purpose?” he asked me. “He knew what he wanted to use in this day and time. You’re a remarkable young man, and he’s planted the Scriptures in your heart where they can’t be set aside on a shelf.”
I nodded.
Lord, thank you.
“He—he’s called me. Just like you said. I don’t know for what all, I just know he wants to use me, an’ I wanna be used.”
“That’s the beginning, son. You’re right where he wants you.”
He shook my hand but kept hold, and I realized he was thinking to help me up. “How about a bowl of chili?” he offered. “Neighbor of mine made it. Won’t take long to heat up.”
I struggled to my feet, the leg still tingly, my knee feeling weak. But inside I felt like I was soaring, like something was broke free. “That’ll be real good,” I answered. “Thank you.”
Sarah
It was strange when January ended and February began with Frank still not home. Now I knew he wouldn’t be, not till a visit at Easter. He got the loan and closed on the store building. Lizbeth was so flabbergasted that she never said much about it except that she was proud of him.
He moved into the back of the store and got a little countertop electric burner so he could cook. He had a telephone put in too, despite the expense, because it would help the business and make things more convenient for us to reach him. He also got a post office box. That seemed so final. He’d really moved.
And I would be moving too. It seemed everything I did now was to prepare me for the day, even the mundane, everyday things. While gathering eggs, I would think of the big yard Frank had described to me and wonder if we’d have chickens of our own. Stirring a pot on the stove, I stopped to consider how much less we’d need when it was just the two of us.
I sewed tea towels for us now, and embroidered pillowcases to put on the bed we would eventually have. Some days I spent hours on my wedding dress, but other days I couldn’t seem to work on it at all as I sifted through my nervousness and mixed-up feelings.
The big dog Dad called Horse became a comfort during those times. He would come to me whenever I was outside and stay as close as he could, as though he were charged with it as a duty. I petted him and told him my troubles, confessing the weaknesses I told nobody else but God.
“I still haven’t told Frank about Donald,” I admitted one day. “I haven’t wanted to bother him with such a stupid thing when he’s working so hard. Do you think I’m right about that? At least Donald’s been leaving me alone, so I guess it isn’t an issue anymore.”
The dog gazed at me sympathetically and then leaned his head against me, which could almost knock me over when I wasn’t expecting it. Bert had looked up pictures and declared that the dog was a mastiff, a very large breed.
“I bet you wouldn’t like Donald if you met him up close,” I chattered on. “Be sure and let me know if he comes around here. I notice you never bark at Kirk or Harry or Bert anymore. Just troublemakers like Eugene.”
I was just talking because it felt good to talk. The weather had warmed enough that the snow was almost gone. I’d come out to dump the scrap bucket and bring in a fresh pail of water, but I wasn’t ready to go back inside yet.
“What do you think, dog? Is home really wherever you make it?”
Suddenly he stiffened. I could feel a difference in his muscles even through my wooly layer of mitten. “What is it?” I hardly dared to ask out loud. Looking around the yard, I didn’t see anything different at all. “Do you smell a fox?”
He almost pulled away from me but seemed to hesitate at the last minute and then scoot closer to my side. I put my arms around him. “What is it?”
He was staring at the road. He didn’t bark or move another muscle, he just stood in wary attention and watched as Orville Mueller’s mail truck sauntered its way down our lane with two heads inside. Was Donald with him again? I got up and moved to the back porch where I knew I was out of sight of the road. Horse kept at my side the whole way.
“Thank you. I’d rather not have them see me outside.” I petted the dog’s head. “Do you always watch the mailman?”
I’d never paid attention to how Horse reacted to Orville before. Could he possibly know that he had somebody with him today? Maybe it wasn’t Donald. After all, Donald had a job in town somewhere. How could he have the time to ride along on the mail route? It must have been his day off, that time he’d done it before.
Horse didn’t bark, just kept his alert. I was sure he’d settle down and relax again as soon as Orville drove the truck past our mailbox and on down the lane. But he stood stock still, and then suddenly sprung into action like he’d been wound up and let loose. He went tearing out across the yard barking and carrying on. And at the same time I could barely hear the sound of tires easing up our drive. They were pulling in.
I dashed inside. “Mom! Orville’s coming to the house. And he’s got somebody with him.”
Mom glanced out the window with a shake of her head. “Surely Donald has enough sense—” She stopped herself mid-sentence. “Maybe it’s just Orville with a letter that’s charge-on-delivery.”
But I could see out the window too, and now I could tell for sure that it was Donald in the passenger seat. He stayed put and let Orville get out of the truck and come to the house alone.
Mom had to step out to shush the dog and call him aside so Orville could get to the porch. He was delivering a package for Katie that wouldn’t fit in our box. A birthday present from her boyfriend. From inside the house, I listened with relief to the brief words between Orville and my mother, and I thought he was going to turn away without incident. But he suddenly stopped.
“Uh . . . Mrs. Wortham, my cousin asked me to please let you folks know he’s sorry for scaring Sarah in town the other day. He’d . . . uh . . . he’d like the opportunity to apologize to her in person.”
My mother sounded gentle yet emphatic. “You may tell Donald that his apology is accepted, but Sarah doesn’t want to talk to him. We’re sorry if his feelings are hurt, but he’d be better off turning his attention elsewhere.”
“Um, he wouldn’t mind if you were right there to listen in on what he had to say,” Orville persisted.
Mom’s answer made me smile. “I’m not interested in listening in. But my husband would be. So I suggest that Donald take the matter up with Mr. Wortham directly if he wants any more to do with Sarah.”
This time Orville turned away. “Uh, yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him.”
Mom held the dog till Orville was in the truck, then she came in with Katie’s package. I hugged her.
“Maybe Donald’ll finally leave me alone.”
“Let’s hope so,” Mom agreed. “He certainly is a persistent fellow, putting his cousin up to such a request.”
She put on water for tea and I set the package on the table for her. It wasn’t heavy or especially big, just too wide for the mailbox. My curiosity about it should have crowded away any further thought of Donald’s latest vain effort, but Mom’s words stuck in my mind.
He certainly is persistent.
Why? Why on earth would anybody be so completely bullheaded? I was engaged, for heaven’s sakes! I’d turned him down or ignored him I didn’t know how many times. Why didn’t he just get the message and give up?
Then I remembered something he’d said.
“I care about you . . . I don’t want you hurt . . .”
Could that be true? Really?
It was a numbing thought, and I had to get away from it as quickly as possible. I turned the radio on, but to my dismay it was more static than music and I had to turn it off again. So I turned my attention back to Katie’s package. “What do you suppose Dave has sent all the way from Wisconsin?” I asked, hoping to stir a conversation.
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Mom was pulling tea herbs from the cupboard and didn’t look my way. “Katie’s going to be surprised. It’s the first time he’s sent a gift.”
I grabbed the honey jar and a couple of spoons and sat in the closest kitchen chair. “Are they getting serious?”
“I think so.” Mom turned around. “It’s beginning to look like it.”
She passed me the spearmint and chamomile, and I set them on the table. Mom reached for cups and I watched her. People said I looked like her, and I knew I did a little. But Mom seemed to have changed lately. The little lines at her eyes and the corners of her mouth never used to be there. Was it aging her to think how close we were to the day when none of us kids would be home? Or was I just noticing such things more because I’d been so aware of my own growing up?
Things were about to be so different. Everybody would be grown and on their own before long, even Emmie.
“Mom, do you think you and Dad’ll be lonely after Katie and I have married and moved away?”
She was checking the water to see if it was hot enough. “Let’s not hurry Katie, honey. But when the day comes, I don’t know. It will seem strange. But there’s always plenty to do around here. And your father and I enjoy each other’s company.”
If only Frank had found a place as close as Mabel Mueller’s house in Dearing. Only fifteen miles! I almost told Mom that I wished we were going to be living nearby so I could see her more, but I knew she’d tell me that Frank was doing the right thing and deserved our support.
She always seemed cheerful about Frank’s decision and the idea of our life together so far away. I figured she understood him, maybe better than I did. But it had to make her at least a little sad to think of Robert overseas, me about to be in the northern part of the state, and Katie maybe ending up in Wisconsin. It made
me
sad.
I spooned dried spearmint leaves into the tea strainer over my cup and sighed. Life bumped along too fast to let people get a comfortable hold on things sometimes. When I was little, I used to think that Katie, Rorey, and I should all grow up to live next door to each other. I no longer felt that way about Rorey, but with Katie it would still be nice. Especially if we were both close to Mom and Dad. But such wishful thinking only led to foolish, wayward notions, and I found myself daydreaming about houses in Dearing. It was such a nice town. Not as nice as our farm, but I’d always liked it.
Mom poured my tea water and her own. She sat down and pushed tea leaves away from the edge of her strainer with a spoon. “You needn’t worry about us, you know,” she assured me. “Once you’re married, if we get lonely we’re liable to show up at your doorstep for a visit.”
“I hope so.”
“It’d be quite an adventure, actually. Might be fun.”
I smiled. I really could picture my parents doing that. Even unannounced. It was something rather delightful to look forward to.
I turned my thinking to Frank as we sipped our tea. He’d be just as thrilled as I about a visit from my parents. He’d have so much to show them. I tried to picture the place the way he’d described it to me, but I really couldn’t. I did know that he was in a store that wasn’t very full yet, but he was already open for business, making things right out in the open where people could watch. Plus he took orders. And did repairs. The shop was surely very nice, but from what Frank said, the house was even better, with plenty of room for overnight guests.
It felt good to find myself thinking about Camp Point in positive ways. Frank’d said business might seem slow for a while, but he was doing all right. A store in Quincy had ordered two of his cedar chests for their showroom and another store in Paloma wanted one too. I couldn’t be surprised. He made the most beautiful cedar chests I’d ever seen. Everybody who saw them would want one of their own. At this rate, it might take him a long time to get his own storefront full.