October

by J. Grace Pennington

  She kept looking at it for a moment, then she spoke slowly. “I think... I like it because I know the story it represents. The lost sheep. And how out of a hundred sheep, ninety-nine of them good and perfectly well-behaved, he went after the one who left. The disobedient one. He was willing to leave everything good and right and go after... things that most people would say weren’t worth it.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Again, she surprised me with a glimpse of something unexpected, something that didn’t match my beautiful, sweet Tobi. But she said it, not offhand, but deeply, haltingly, as if it came from somewhere very close to her heart and she had trouble getting it out into the open.

  “Most people would be wrong,” came a soft, southern voice from behind us.

  Tobi and I both whirled around. Pastor Ulrich stood there, halfway between the door of the sanctuary and the hall that led to his office.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He gestured to the window. “Most people wouldn’t think such a sheep would be worth it, but most people would be wrong.” He looked Tobi straight in the eyes.

  Neither of us said anything for a moment. At last I asked, “Why?”

  He kept on looking at Tobi, even as he answered my question. “Because they are worth it to Him, and He is the only one who has the authority to decide true worth. So anyone who disagrees is wrong.”

  I stole a glance at Tobi. She was looking back at him, and she didn’t turn away from his look but met it unwaveringly. Her expression didn’t change at all.

  He shifted his gaze to me and gave a small smile. “I hope choir goes well, ladies.” With a polite nod, he disappeared.

  I looked after him, then turned back to look at Tobi, who hadn’t changed her expression. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything so I just turned back to look at the stained glass again.

  “All right!” A peppy voice echoed into the silence from the other end of the room. “Ah, early attendants!” Mrs. Tuttle walked towards us.

  Tobi shook her head as if clearing it, then turned towards the choir leader with a smile. “We were out and about, so we went ahead and came here.”

  “Wonderful!” She trotted up the stage and put her book down on the podium. “I had a question for you, my dear, so I’m glad to catch you before the others descend upon us.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, we’ve ordered some new books for the summer, and they’ll be arriving at the post office next week. I wondered if you could pick them up for us, and bring them along when you come Friday?”

  Tobi hesitated.

  “Of course if you don’t want to help us...” Mrs. Tuttle began.

  I spoke up. “I’ll do it.”

  She peered over her glasses at me. “That’s kind of you...”

  Tobi reached over and touched my shoulder. “We’ll both do it.” She smiled.

  The choir director’s face brightened. “Thank you very much! It’ll be excellent to have that off my mind.” She opened her book and and began flipping through it, as our fellow choir members began to descend.

  *****

  “Do you think you’ll ever learn how to drive?”

  I wished I hadn’t asked it the moment the words escaped my lips.

  We were on our way to the post office to pick up the choir books, in Jax’s truck since Mom and Daddy both needed their cars today. During a moment of silence my first thought had been one of curiosity.

  She was very quiet for a little while. Then she said, “I’m starting to think I might want to.”

  I turned to her. “Then why don’t you?”

  “Oh, I have learned some,” she assured. “I mean, I did some lessons when I was in school. I even got my learner’s permit.”

  “Then...” I didn’t finish the question, allowing my wonderment to bleed into the silence.

  She frowned a little and tilted her head to one side, causing the sun to turn her bright red hair even redder. “Allow me to correct myself. I don’t want to learn how to drive. I want to know how to drive. I want to absorb the knowledge by osmosis and become a perfect driver overnight.”

  I laughed. She turned to me and smiled, but volunteered no further information on the topic.

  I focused again on the road ahead, pressing my hands into the leather of the steering wheel. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a blue minivan behind us. I looked at the street briefly and spotted a patch where the yellow painted stripe had worn away.

  “You don’t really think about it after awhile,” I spoke up.

  She looked out the window. “I know.”

  The back of her head did not invite more discussion, so I looked ahead again and simply drove.

  When we got to the post office, the minuscule parking lot was full and we had to park on the other side of the street. I did my best parallel parking, which still left the truck rather crooked. Then I scurried out of the car and waited while Tobi scooted out as elegantly as an old-time movie star. She looked fresh and summery in her white dress, denim jacket, and light purple scarf.

  White was my favorite color on her. It accented her hair and her eyes.

  She saw me staring and cracked a smile. I grinned sheepishly and locked the car before slamming my door shut.

  Inside, we waited in line for twenty minutes before arriving at the desk, where they had no qualms about allowing us to pick up the church’s property. Mr. Thompson, a seventy-something who still wore the ID badge he’d been given when he started working there as a thirty-something, carried the box around to the front of the desk.

  “Mrs. Tuttle?” he asked, peering at us.

  October stifled a laugh, and I said, “Do we look like Mrs. Tuttle?”

  “She kind of does.” He nodded at Tobi.

  The stifled laugh burst out, filling the musty space.

  I forgave him for the insult, since it had brought forth a rare belly laugh from my dignified Tobi.

  “No,” she said when she could calm herself enough to speak, “but Mrs. Tuttle asked us to pick it up for the choir.”

  “Is you two ladies in the choir?” he asked, peering again.

  I held out my arms for the sizable cardboard box, creating a not-so-subtle hint. “Yes, we are. Actually we have to be there in an hour...”

  “I was in the choir once,” he wheezed, and I marveled that his aged arms could hold the box of books so effortlessly for so long. “I was in it with my Beatrice, but when she passed on I sorta didn’t see the point. I’d kinda like to go listen, though.”

  I kept holding my arms out for the box, but October replied without making a single move towards the package. “I’m sure Beatrice would have loved for you to be able to come listen. You should come to the practice tonight.”

  “Aw no miss, I couldn’t. I don’t get off work until half past five and then I need to get home to Buster. Buster’s my dog.”

  He spoke far too slowly, each syllable delivered as though it itself were a piece of mail, carefully stamped and sent out to relay its message. I glanced at October and read in her smile an appreciation of a charm that somehow I had missed. I looked at Mr. Thompson and tilted my head, trying to see it.

  All I saw was a little old man holding a box. I had never been to the post office without seeing him, and I had never known that he’d had a wife, much less lost one.

  How could Tobi learn things in a moment that took other people years or an eternity?

  “Well, try to come hear us Sunday morning, then.” With a sincere smile, she reached for the box. “Here, let me take that.”

  The postman surrendered his burden. “I’d sure like that. Maybe I will come around and listen.”

  She smiled again, said, “Thank you,” hoisted the box a little higher against herself, and turned to leave.

  “Have a good day!” the old man called in his small voice, and I looked over my shoulder to see a wrinkled hand waving at us.

  “You too,” I said.

  And we left.

 
“When we stepped out the door of the place, I turned left to start towards the street, but October hesitated.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Let’s go the long way,” she said.

  I glanced at my watch. She read the motion and said, “Oh don’t be a worrywart, Em. I just meant a few minute’s walk by the river. We’ll still be there early. And if not, it’ll be worth it for the moment.”

  I was learning more and more as the weeks went by that moments to her were not pieces of time, but threads in a tapestry that wove her life together with the lives of others in the fabric of events and circumstances. I relaxed under the influence of her sparkling eyes, and said, “Okay.”

  So we turned right to take a stroll behind the post office and along the bank of the river.

  The sun was just at the angle that it shone too brightly on the water, blinding if you looked straight at it. October balanced the box heroically in her arms as we walked, resisting all my efforts to take them from her.

  “Look,” she said, delighted. “Ducks.”

  I never knew whether she marveled at things like ducks because she was from the city and she wasn’t used to them, or if she would marvel just as much if she’d seen them every day of her life.

  But she didn’t have time to marvel long, because this particular moment was cut short by a motion of her arm as she tried to point. She shifted the box to one arm so she could use the other to gesture towards the waterfowl and just as she did so, her silver shoe caught on a tree root that stuck out of the ground just in front of her, as if it had been waiting for this.

  In less than a second I saw her go down, trying frantically to clutch the box, and simultaneously I saw the box tumble from her arms, down the slope, and splash into the river.

  It happened too suddenly for me to have any reaction other than staring.

  She lay on her belly in the mud, looking at the ripples where the books had disappeared beneath the surface.

  “Uh oh,” was my contribution to this new moment.

  *****

  “Oh, my dear, how could you?” Mrs. Tuttle’s voice, dripping with disappointment, cut through the silence of the sanctuary in the pause following Tobi’s stammered confession.

  Tobi looked like she was about to cry. I had never seen her look like this in public before, and rarely even in private.

  I knew only one person could help, and without a word I turned and hurried out of the sanctuary and down the hall, almost running until I reached the pastor’s office at the end of the white corridor.

  I stopped at the door and hesitated, panting. A light came from beyond a little curtained window in it, and a man’s bearded silhouette passed every now and then as if pacing back and forth.

  Taking a deep breath, I tapped softly on the door.

  The silhouette paused and cocked its head. I bit my lip and waited, but after a moment he went back to pacing again.

  I swallowed and knocked harder this time. He stopped and came right towards the door, opened it, and stood looking me straight in the eyes.

  He wasn’t much more than two inches taller than me. I hadn’t ever been close enough to realize it before, or to see the gray-blue of the eyes behind his glasses.

  I cleared my throat. “Pastor Ulrich?” As soon as the question was out I felt like kicking myself. Some church member I would look like, having to ask.

  He nodded. “You’re Emily Baxter, right?”

  I bobbed my head. “Yes. There’s a problem.”

  He frowned, stepped out of the office, and closed the door behind him. “Problem? What problem?”

  I started leading him back down the hall, and he followed. “With the choir. With Tobi.”

  “Who?”

  I moved faster. “I mean, October Blake. They’re... there’s just trouble.”

  We hurried out of the hall and into the sanctuary, where Mrs. Tuttle stood hurling words at Tobi. The rest of the choir kept on standing, whispering amongst themselves. Ms. Hendrix sat at the piano, looking dazed.

  Mr. Collins caught sight of Pastor Ulrich and went quiet. One by one the members all silenced, but Mrs. Tuttle rattled on, her back to the doorway.

  “I invited you into this group out of the kindness of my heart, and this is how I’m repaid? I didn’t think that a niece of Tom and Helen Rivers would show such negligence… but I suppose it is my fault for entrusting the task to a stranger...”

  “Something wrong, Linda?” the pastor asked in his soft voice, stepping up to the two women.

  Mrs. Tuttle’s flush was visible through her tanned skin. I crossed my arms and glared at her.

  “Why... why... yes sir.” She tried to gather her composure. “This new recruit,” here she gestured at Tobi, “has just ruined our choir!” She waved her hand for dramatic effect.

  Pastor Ulrich looked at October. First at her hair, then down at her muddy white dress and bedraggled scarf. Then he looked back at Mrs. Tuttle. “Ruined the choir? Surely that’s an exaggeration...”

  “Oh no, it isn’t.” Mrs. Tuttle hurried to get her explanation in. “We sent her after our new books. The church’s entire choir budget went into those new books, mind you. And we sent her after them and she actually dropped them in the river!”

  Silence reigned. Pastor Ulrich looked at Tobi, who blushed. “It was an accident, sir,” she said. “Really... and I didn’t really drop them. I mean... I was walking by the river and I tripped over a tree root. I said I would pay for them... I know they won’t come for another week or two, but...” Here her eyes went glassy with unshed tears.

  I could have slapped Mrs. Tuttle in the face just then, and I was fairly sure that Jax would have punched her in the jaw—if she weren’t a woman, of course.

  The pastor looked at Mrs. Tuttle again. She stood triumphant, arms crossed, hair looking more fiery than ever.

  After a moment in which all eyes were firmly fixed on the pastor, he spoke softly. “I really don’t see how that ruins the choir, Mrs. Tuttle. October has very graciously offered to pay for the books, can’t you sing from the old ones for a week or two?”

  Mrs. Tuttle’s mouth dropped open as if the pastor had told her to take a hike. “Sing from the old boo... why, Pastor! I hope you know and appreciate how hard I work to make this choir fresh and new every week, but that certainly doesn’t sound like it!”

  The pastor glanced at the choir in question and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was—that there was hardly anything fresh or new about that group, with the possible exception of Mrs. Washburn’s rather inappropriately sparkly baseball cap.

  He turned back to Mrs. Tuttle. “I do appreciate all you’ve done for us, Linda. But there’s no reason the congregation can’t stand to hear a few of the same songs again. It was an accident.” He smiled kindly at October. “And I thank you for your offer to recompense us for the loss, Miss Blake. That’s certainly kind of you.”

  Tobi offered a weak smile, but Mrs. Tuttle squared her shoulders. “I would think that would be the very least she could do, Pastor...”

  But this time, quiet Pastor Ulrich actually interrupted her. “That will be all, Mrs. Tuttle. Thank you for your hard work.”

  She stared fire at him, then jumped up the steps and faced the choir, shoulders still stiff.

  Tobi stepped forward and smiled at the pastor, her face pale. “Thank you. I... I really am very sorry. Really.”

  He smiled back and gently took her hand. “It’s really all right. Thank you for doing that for us, I’m... very sorry for Linda’s behavior. She’s... very passionate. She doesn’t always think before she speaks. Don’t hold it against her?”

  Tobi shook her head with the same shaky smile. “I won’t. I’ll try not to... I mean... thank you.” She pulled her hand away, said, “Come on, Em,” and started out of the church.

  I thanked the pastor again and hurried to follow her. “Tobi! Wait!”

  She slowed a little, but didn’t wait. I rushed to catch up with her, succeeding only
when we were a few inches from the door. She pushed it open, holding it for me for a moment before stepping outside.

  Once we were out I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I only managed to say, “Tobi?”

  Her voice was stiff when it came. “I don’t think I feel much like singing today, Em. Maybe not ever. I don’t know.” She kept her face turned away.

  “Tobi...”

  “Thank you for your help, Em. Really. Thank you.” She turned to smile at me, face still pale, but eyes dry. “I’m sorry... can we come back another time?”

  I nodded, and she led the way to the car. We were silent the whole drive home, and when I dropped her off at the Rivers’, she only said thank you and goodbye before disappearing into the house.

  My parents wondered why I was home so early, but I just explained that some problems had arisen before running up to my room. That was truthful enough.

  I called Jax as soon as I got up there and told him about it. As I’d expected, he was furious.

  “Who gave that Tuttle woman permission to order people to go after books for the stuffy old choir, anyway?” he fumed.

  Maybe he would have punched her in the jaw even though she was a woman.

  I slipped out to sit on the porch, nesting on the third step with my feet on the first, elbows resting on my knees, chin in my hands.

  How could Mrs. Tuttle treat Tobi like that? It hadn’t been her fault. And she had offered to pay. What more could she possibly do? The sense I’d always had that she was a little bit scary had been more of a joke than anything based in reality. But tonight—her outburst, while it might not have outright frightened me, had startled me into confusion. Why? What could make her act so unreasonably?

  At least Pastor Ulrich had stood up to her. I smiled a tiny bit at the memory. Melissa was wrong—he wasn’t weird. He wasn’t even shy. Just quiet, and gentle, but strong. Firm.

  I wondered after that if Tobi would want to go back at all. The thought of losing those times made my heart sink, but if I had done my best, done all I could to make it right, and then been harassed for my mistake in front of everyone, would I want to show my face there again?