by Faith Blum
Orphans of the West Novella #2
Sing the Wondrous Story
By Faith Blum
Text and cover copyright 2018 by Faith Blum
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
eBook Edition
August 2018
Cover by Faith Blum | www.faithblum.com
Layout: Faith Blum | www.faithblum.com
Editing: Kelsey Bryant | kelseybryantauthor.weebly.com/editing.html
Sing the Wondrous Story is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
All Scriptures are quoted from the King James Bible as found on www.biblegateway.com unless otherwise noted.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Titles by Faith Blum
Table of Contents
Prologue
1. Home
2. The Dance
3. Surprise
4. Life
5. Claire
6. Sidney DeBois
7. Work
8. Trouble in Paradise
9. What to Do?
10. Despair
11. The Letter: Jason
12. The Letter: Jessa
13. Proposal
14. Coming to Terms
15. Jason and Jessa Talk
16. Moving
He Leadeth Me
Special Thanks
About the Author
Other Titles by Faith Blum
Hymns of the West Series
A Mighty Fortress
Be Thou My Vision
Amazing Grace
Lily of the Valley
The Solid Rock
Hymns of the West: The Complete Series
Hymns of the West Novellas Series
I Love Thee
Pass Me Not
Redeemed
Hymns of the West Novellas: Volume One
Just a Closer Walk
Just As I Am
Blessed Assurance
Hymns of the West Novellas: Volume Two
Short Stories
Where the Light May Lead
Heaven’s Jubilee And Other Short Stories
Faith is the Victory
The Light Leads to Hope and Peace
Christ Arose
Orphans of the West
Savior, Like a Shepherd
All the Way My Savior Leads
He Hideth My Soul
Orphans of the West Novellas
’Tis So Sweet
Sing the Wondrous Story
Audiobooks
A Mighty Fortress
Be Thou My Vision
Tales of the East
Trust and Obey
To my anthology partners.
Your help in this novella and the fun we had putting the book together was invigorating.
Table of Contents
Prologue
1. Home
2. The Dance
3. Surprise
4. Life
5. Claire
6. Sidney DeBois
7. Work
8. Trouble in Paradise
9. What to Do?
10. Despair
11. The Letter: Jason
12. The Letter: Jessa
13. Proposal
14.Coming to Terms
15. Jason and Jessa Talk
16. Moving
Preview of He Hideth My Soul
Special Thanks
About the Author
Prologue
“You are so judgmental and...and legalistic! How could God want you to be that way?”
“No, I’m not. I’m following what God says in the Bible. If that is legalistic—”
“It is,” Jessamine interrupted. “And I don’t want to have any part in it. I like dancing. I don’t want to give it up. I don’t see you want to make life miserable for everyone else, Jason. Why can’t you just be quiet, let it go, and let us live however we want to? Would it really hurt you that much?”
Jason sighed. “Jessa, I don’t want to make your life miserable. I don’t see why dancing is so important. It’s just a way to socialize which you can do in much healthier ways. There’s drinking and smoking and girls making fools of themselves.”
Jessa’s eyes widened. “Are you saying I’m a fool?”
“No, I’m not. I’m—”
“That’s what it sounded like.”
“Well, it isn’t.”
“Jason! Jessa!” Mr. Poler walked into the parlor. “I can hear you from the front doorway. What are you arguing about this time?”
“What else?” Jessa asked, crossing her arms.
Mr. Poler turned to Jason. “I thought I asked you to not bring up the dance hall again.”
Jason swallowed hard. “You did.”
“Then why did you?”
“I didn’t. Jessa did.”
Jessa sniffed. “Only because he’s being judgmental again.”
“About what this time?” Mr. Poler asked.
“The tinting Mother bought me. He thinks it is of the devil and makes me look like a loose woman.”
Mr. Poler’s nostrils flared. “Jason Harold Poler, you do not call your sister names. Your mother and I will be the judge of what she does and does not wear and where she goes. If that means she goes to the dance hall once it is finished, that is up to us, not you. If you can’t stop talking about these so-called evils, you can leave until you can stop. I don’t want to hear another word of this again in my house.”
Jason clenched his jaw. “But Father, can’t you see that the Bible—”
“I know the Bible well enough and don’t need a seventeen year old to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. I can figure it out on my own.”
Jason took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Couldn’t his father see the destructive things going on in town? Couldn’t anyone? Maybe his mother would see things his way. He grimaced. No, she had bought the tinting for Jessa. Tinting that made her lips unnaturally red and a stark contrast to her pale skin. “I can’t leave it alone, Father. Not when I see my family heading down a destructive path. I can’t do it. I don’t want Jessa to become a woman God would be disappointed in. I want her to have God at the center of her life, and I don’t see how she can do that when she is so obsessed with fashion.”
Jessa gasped. “So I can’t like fashion and be in God’s favor? I’ve been to church as much as you have—or almost as much—and have never heard the pastor say anything about that.”
Jason chewed his lower lip. “Why should he? It’s in the Bible. Maybe not said exactly like that, but basically. First Peter three says, ‘Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.’ God wants—”
“I don’t care,” Jessa snapped. “I don’t care what you want or what God wants or what the world wants. I only care about what I want and I don’t want to be judged for doing whatever I want. Just leave me alone!” She spun around and stomped out of the room and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.
Mr. Poler turned to his son. “Happy now?”
“Have you read the verse ‘Speak the truth in love’?”
“Yes.”
“I suggest you learn to apply the verse to your own life. I will talk to your mother and we will figure out what to do about this situation.”
Jason swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, I suggest you learn to speak things more lovingly or you will alienate your family.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Poler left the room and Jason sank into the nearest chair. What was he going to do now? How could he fix this problem?
***
The next morning, Jessa came down to the breakfast table wearing a bright red dress that matched her tinted lips. Jason blinked several times as he tried to see past the brightness to her face. He couldn’t. He bit back the caustic words that came to his mind and glanced at his father.
“Let’s pray before we eat,” Mr. Poler said.
Jason watched as Jessa carefully lowered herself into her chair.
“Heavenly Father, thank You for this lovely day in which we can live. Thank You for this food and bless it to our bodies. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” Mrs. Poler echoed at the same time as Jason.
Jason took two biscuits and filled the rest of his plate with the sausage and gravy. He was about to cut a bite off his biscuit when his father’s voice interrupted him.
“Jason, your mother and I have decided you need to keep your thoughts to yourself where your sister is concerned. It is the job of us to raise her, not you. If you can’t keep your thoughts to yourself, perhaps it would be better if you leave the house until you can.”
The air all left Jason as he tried to process what his father had said. Leave or keep his mouth shut? What kind of options were those? Not good ones, that was for sure.
“Those are good ideas, Father,” Jessa said.
Jason gritted his teeth. “Jessa, stay out of this, please.”
Jessa twirled a curl around her finger. “Why should I? It’s my house, too.”
Mrs. Poler tapped her fingers on the table. “I think it is best if you stay out of it for now, Jessa.”
Jessa pouted but kept her mouth shut.
Jason dragged his biscuit through the gravy. “What happens if I decide to stay but can’t keep my mouth shut as you put it?”
“Then we’ll ask you to leave.”
“Ask or demand?”
“Demand and enforce.”
Jason stuck the biscuit in his mouth and forced himself to chew. What could he do? He couldn’t go against his conscience, but he didn’t want to leave, either. “Is there any compromise we can make?”
“No.”
Jason nodded but said nothing. He finished eating and headed up to his room to pray and think.
***
Later that night, Jason packed two saddlebags with clothes, food, and his Bible. He headed downstairs carrying them. Hearing his parents and Jessa talking in the parlor, he tried to sneak past without them noticing.
“Jason? Is that you?”
Jason slumped and turned around. “Yes, Jessa, it is.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
Mr. Poler’s smile turned upside down. “You chose to leave?”
Jason couldn’t talk around the lump in his throat and nodded instead. He cleared his throat. “I can’t honor my parents here, so I need to leave for a little while at least.”
Mr. Poler nodded.
Mrs. Poler hurried to Jason, wrapping him in a hug. “Are you sure you have to leave?”
Jason awkwardly tried to hug her back while still holding the saddlebags. “Yes.”
She pulled back and frowned up at him. “Can’t you stay and look the other way or not say anything?”
“No.”
Jessa spoke up. “Are you leaving now?”
“Yes,” Jason replied. “I know it’s late, but I thought it would be better this way.”
“Why?” Jessa questioned.
“It is.”
Jessa huffed. “Fine. Happy trails and good luck.”
Jason shook his head on the inside. She had never liked him much, but that didn’t mean she had to be rude about it. “Thank you.”
He set his bags down and hugged his mother tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Mother. More than you’ll ever know.”
She pulled him even closer. “Me, too.”
He stepped out of his mother’s embrace and strode to his father, who stood up and held out a hand. Jason shook it and swallowed hard. “Goodbye, Father. I’ll miss you, too.”
“Goodbye, Jason.”
Jason turned and gazed at Jessa. “Do you want a hug or not?”
She shrugged. “May as well.”
He stepped over and hugged her. “I love you, Jessa,” he whispered. “You know that, don’t you? No matter what I may think of your choices.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
He sighed, took a step back, and looked around. “Well, I guess I’ll be leaving. So long, everyone. I’ll try to stay in touch when I can.”
“Goodbye, Jason,” Mr. Poler said.
“Bye,” Jessa stated.
Mrs. Poler threw her arms around him again and sobbed. “Come back soon, Jason. And make sure you write once in a while.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jason picked up his saddlebags and made his way down the hallway, through the dining area and kitchen, and out the door to the stable where his horse, Stargazer, munched contentedly on some grass in the corral. He whistled and the horse trotted over with a whinny. Jason smiled and saddled him up, tied everything down, and rode out of town.
1. Home
The sun beat down on Jason as his horse found its way through the sagebrush. He blinked his bleary eyes and tried to make out any familiar sights. Of course, it had been two years since he had been home and so much of it had changed. Or maybe he just didn’t remember it as well as he should have.
He shook his head and swallowed. The town had to be coming up soon or he might die from thirst. He squinted his eyes against the setting sun. Was that a building or a mirage? His horse plodded steadily forward, one foot in front of the other. The building still hadn’t disappeared. Maybe it was real.
Another clop, clop, clop and more sagebrush passing by. Jason could make out a house and a barn now. And there was a fence. Were those horses in the fence? It must be. It had to be. He straightened and blinked rapidly a few times. “Thank You, God.”
Jason dug his heels into the tired horse’s side and urged him into a canter. He rode into the yard, startling a woman sitting on the rocking chair on the porch.
Jason dismounted and took off his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am.”
The woman stood slowly and peered at him over a pair of spectacles. “Good afternoon.”
He took a few steps forward and beat the dust off his hat. “Could I bother you for a drink of water?”
The old woman nodded and beckoned. “Follow me inside. I think I could rustle up a little more than just water for you. If my boys haven’t drunk it all, I have some lemonade in the icebox. Knowing them, though, they raided the icebox while I napped. They do that a lot, you know. Grown men and behaving like children. They’re a shame, they are. Good, hard workers, though, so I can’t fault them for too much.”
Jason’s smile broadened as he listened to her prattling on. It reminded him of his own grandmother. “Lemonade would be wonderful, but not necessary. You can keep it for your sons if you have any left.”
“Nonsense. They get it plenty often. You look like you haven’t had it in...” She stopped and looked back at him. “Well, quite some time at least.”
Jason laughed. “You’re right, ma’am. It’s probably been about three years or more since I had lemonade.”
She continued her slow way into the kitchen. “Where are you headed?”
“Back home. I’v
e been gone for a couple years and God’s been prompting me for a few weeks that I need to go back. I resisted for a few days, but can’t anymore.”
They entered the kitchen and the old woman opened the icebox. “Ah, good. It’s here.” She lifted a pitcher of yellow liquid out and set it on the counter. “Young man... What is your name, by the way?”
“Jason. And yours?”
“Beulah Pedretti, but you can call me Grandma Beulah. Everyone does. That’s what comes of living longer than anyone else. Even many grandmothers call me Grandma Beulah. Now, what was I going to ask you? Oh yes. The cups are up there. Could you get one for yourself, please? With my bent back, I can’t reach that high anymore.”
Jason hurried over and took out two cups. “Would you like some as well?”
“No, no. The tartness of the lemon is too much for my old mouth now. I enjoy making it and watching others drink it.”
He held the cup while she poured. “Thank you, ma’a... Grandma Beulah.” He took a sip and then a larger gulp. “This is very good.” He drained half the glass before speaking again, “In my traveling, I’m afraid I’ve kind of lost track of where exactly I am. It’s been nothing but desert for quite some time. What is the nearest town?”
“That would be Cryer Creek. A pretty little town and celebrating thirty-three years of existence this week. That’s almost half as old as I am. I didn’t grow up here, you know. I moved here with my husband a few years before my first boy was born.”
Jason finished drinking the rest of his lemonade and set the cup on the counter. “Thank you for the lemonade and the rest. If I want to get home before dark, I should probably head out.”
“Are you from Cryer Creek?”
Jason smiled. “Yes, I am. I’m Harold Poler’s son.”
“Is that the barber? I’m terrible with names.”
“Yes, my father is the barber.”
“A good man. I remember a little boy shadowing him many times. That must have been you. I’m glad you are going back home. You said that God wanted you there?”
“Yes.”
“Well, time’s a-wastin’, boy. Get home and do what you gotta do.”
Jason laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that. If you’re a prayin’ woman, you could pray that my family is more accepting of me than when I left and that their hearts will soften.”