Painted Vessels

by Gina Renee Freitag

  “Welcome to East Haven, Mr. Gardner,” Marcus said, holding out his hand. The young man shook it confidently. He looked sturdy, like a man who knows how to work hard. “I hope you don’t mind, but David Holden opened the house so we could clean it before your arrival.”

  “Thank you; that was thoughtful. David mentioned someone might be doing that.” As he spoke, the young man helped his wife down. She smiled easily at the welcoming party. She was small but did not seem fragile.

  “I’m Marcus Duncan; I’m the pastor of the town church. This is my wife Grace.”

  Grace stepped forward and smiled at the young woman. She held out her hand, which was warmly received. “Mrs. Gardner, I am so glad to meet you. I hope your travels weren’t too taxing.”

  “Thank you; they were fine, but I think I’ll sleep well tonight,” Mrs. Gardner said with a sigh.

  Marcus continued the introductions while they each shook hands. “This is Isaac and Hannah Weber. They live in that house with their son Noah,” he said, pointing to the left. “Noah is the cutest three-year-old you’ll ever meet.” The parents smiled at his comment. Evelyn, however, sniffed and pursed her lips. Marcus should have introduced her first; she was, after all, the elder of the group. “And this is Mrs. Evelyn Russell. She is your neighbor to the right. We—”

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” Evelyn said, cutting in. “We’ve started a fire in your stove. The house will be warm and cozy, and we made some supper, which is heating on your stovetop. You will not have to worry about a thing tonight. Here is a cake to enjoy after your meal. It’s an old family recipe of mine.”

  As Evelyn handed the cake to Mrs. Gardner, Marcus witnessed a silent exchange between Hannah and his wife. Hannah mouthed “we?” and Grace raised her eyebrows, rolling her eyes. When Grace noticed he was watching, she bit her lip. Marcus winked to let her know he understood her frustration.

  Heedless of anything but her own part in the conversation, Evelyn continued. “Come now, Mrs. Gardner, let us women help you unpack your kitchen crates. The men can bring them into the house, and while we unpack, they can unload your furniture and set it in place. That should—oh! I see,” she said, noting how little was in the wagon. “This will take hardly any time at all! Well, it will be better to get it done before the day is over. You may wish to put it off in favor of resting after your journey, but trust me, you will be glad tomorrow. And you can be sure I know how a kitchen ought to be arranged. Listen to me, and your kitchen will only have to be set up once. I will show you how it must be done.” With a decisive nod, Evelyn marched into the Gardners’ home uninvited.

  The young Mrs. Gardner turned toward her husband with a silent plea for help, but he only smiled. “She’s right,” he said as a glint of laughter flashed in his eyes. “We won’t take long.” He glanced first at the small wagonload and then at Marcus and Isaac. “I appreciate your help. This will go even faster now.”

  Marcus saw a hint of a smile touching Mrs. Gardner’s mouth as she watched her husband move to the back of the wagon. Turning toward the house, she climbed the porch steps, followed by Grace and Hannah. The three women went inside to await Evelyn’s instructions on the proper placement of the dishes while the men began to unload the crates and carry them into the house.

  “Mr. Gardner, I hope you and your wife are planning to come to church this Sunday,” Isaac said as they each grabbed another load to carry in. “It would be a great way to meet the town; most of East Haven will be there. And Pastor Duncan, here, gives a keen sermon.”

  “Do you have a building you meet in?” the young man asked. Marcus thought it was an odd question.

  “Yes, our meetings are held in the church building at the east end of town. It may be small, and we don’t have a bell for our steeple, but it works well for us.” Marcus must have looked surprised by the question, because Mr. Gardner let a quiet chuckle escape under his breath.

  “Sorry. Of course you do.” He shook his head and added, “We would love to attend. Thank you for the invitation.”

  Unloading the crates didn’t take long to accomplish, and soon Isaac was carrying the last one into the house. Only the furniture remained. As Marcus unstrapped part of the bed frame, Mr. Gardner removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves twice. Marcus now understood why David thought the young man would stir up talk in town.

  “You have, um—that’s, uh—that’s some interesting artwork. So, those are—you have tattoos.” Marcus stumbled over his words as he indicated the young man’s arms. A winding network of thick black vines started at his wrists and branched off as they continued to creep under his sleeves. Mr. Gardner let go of the chair he was about to pick up and straightened to a stand. He looked at Marcus, silent for a moment, as if trying to determine the intention behind his comment.

  “Yes, I do,” he finally said as he picked up the chair again and jumped to the ground. He placed it in front of him and reached for another. Marcus realized that his words may have sounded critical, so he abandoned the bed frame for the moment. He handed a third and fourth chair to Mr. Gardner and climbed down from the wagon.

  “I meant—they just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I don’t often see someone with tattoos. I’ll be honest, Mr. Gardner; most of the folks in East Haven have probably never seen anyone with tattoos, let alone lived side by side with them or gone to church with them. You shouldn’t be surprised if people are apprehensive, at least when first meeting you. But I’m confident it won’t take long for my parish to remember that people can sometimes have, well…interesting lives before they come to know Christ. I’m sure once they get to know you, they’ll accept the fact that you have a past, however rough it might have been. I hope you can be patient with them.” Mr. Gardner listened as Marcus summed up the townsfolk. He nodded and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows.

  “And some of us, Pastor, have had an ‘interesting’ life after knowing Christ.” He turned his arms to Marcus. The vines did indeed continue to spread along his skin, and on the inside of his left arm, two of the thickest branches twisted together to form a cross. “But I think you and I have different ideas about what qualifies as interesting.”

  Marcus nodded, acknowledging what Mr. Gardner had pointed out. “I guess I have a few assumptions of my own that I need to consider. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” he said. Mr. Gardner chuckled, and Marcus knew his apology was accepted.

  “I’m aware of the conclusions this town will make about me,” Mr. Gardner said. “I’ve experienced it before. I try not to worry about another man’s judgment; my only concern is God’s opinion.” He paused briefly. “And my wife’s, of course,” he added with a smile.

  “I know sailors often use tattoos for identification,” Marcus said, “but you don’t seem like a seaman to me. So, what inspired you?”

  The young man leaned against the wagon and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “As a pastor, you understand that everyone will experience trials at some point in their life. God’s word tells us to expect them. In my twenty-two years, I’ve already had my share of difficult times, and I expect I’ll have more. We don’t always get to understand our troubles, but I hope I never forget that God is in control. These tattoos are a testimony to my darkest trials and who it was that brought me through them. They also remind me that God has a plan, and He’s refining me for His purpose.” Mr. Gardner shook his head and sighed.

  Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to know your whole story, Mr. Gardner. I think I would enjoy it.”

  The young man’s face relaxed, but his eyes remained serious. “You might hear my story someday, Pastor Duncan, but ‘enjoy’ is the wrong word.”

  Marcus was silent for a moment, pondering what he had said. “Fair enough,” he finally replied. “How about I say, then, that I believe I would benefit from it.”

  “I can accept that,” Mr. Gardner said. “And please, call me Eli.”

  “All right, Eli. Call me Marcus.” The men shook hands ag
ain and sealed their new friendship with a smile. They picked up the four chairs, one in each arm, and carried them into the house.

  JED

  “Start talking,” Jed repeated over the dog’s loud barking. He had been startled when the two boys burst through the door of his vardo. They stared at him with terrified eyes. The older boy pushed the younger behind him and tried his best to square his shoulders.

  “Help us!” he pleaded. “Don’t let him find us.”

  These boys were more afraid of the man pursuing them than they were of Jed, and that wasn’t something he was used to. As he peered between the window shutters, he recognized the old man. The merchants had been in town for two weeks, and in that time, Jed had seen him frequent both the saloon and the jailhouse. He had a loud, perverse way about him. He was obnoxious and rude to the townsfolk, yet he seemed to have a tight friendship with the local deputy. Something about the man didn’t add up.

  The intruder shouted at the merchants, demanding to know if they had seen two kids run through their camp. He was angry and didn’t like their answers. The dog barked and made lunging motions toward his feet. As the old man kicked at the canine, he attempted to gain access into the wagons but met with resistance from the vardos’ owners.

  “What does he want with you?” Jed asked the boys.

  “Nothing good! Please help us,” the older boy begged as his eyes darted toward the door. The younger boy was trembling, and in that moment, Jed decided to help. After all, these kids had made it past his dog, who chose to bark at their pursuer instead of them.

  He heard the old man approach his vardo, yelling at the others to get out of his way. As the handle began to move, Jed thrust open the door, blocking the entrance with his towering frame. He stepped to the ground, letting the door close behind him, and glared at the man. Startled by Jed’s sudden appearance, the stranger backed away, nearly falling over the dog and narrowly escaping a sharp nip from his growling, tooth-filled mouth.

  “You see a couple of kids run through here?” the old man demanded, peering sideways at the mutt.

  “These kids belong to our group,” Jed said as he gestured toward Sammy and Myra. The two young children stood in the protective grip of their mother Goldie. “And those better not be the kids you’re looking for,” Jed stated as he took a step forward. Ira, the children’s father, positioned himself in front of them, blocking the stranger from his family. The man scanned the merchants, and his scowl melted. They were a small group but outnumbered him eight to one. He backed away.

  “No, I’m, uh…looking for two boys. Vagabonds, up to no good.”

  “Look somewhere else, old man,” Jed said as he flashed a warning glance at the other men in his company. Ira, Floyd, and Tony were ready to help send the intruder on his way, by force if needed.

  “Well, if you see them, don’t trust them. They’re troublemakers,” the man insisted. “You’d be wise to turn them over to Deputy Wiggins. He’ll know what to do with the little thugs. Tell him I was lookin’ for them; I’m Rake. Tell the deputy I witnessed their mischief and warned you about them.” Jed took another threatening step toward him. Frowning at the merchants, Rake decided to give up his search. “I don’t have time for this! They’re getting away,” he grumbled as he stomped off in defeat. Jed’s dog followed Rake for several paces, barking aggressive warnings at him.

  “Cobra, come!” Jed called the dog and joined the men of the caravan as they circled around each other. Cobra jogged up to his master, panting happily.

  “That’s not good,” Ira said, shaking his head. “I don’t want anyone snooping around our camp, looking for children. We need to go. Now!” He glanced at his wife, who was nodding her agreement as she continued to hold onto their children.

  “I’m with Ira,” Tony said. “Ashbrook has just run its course in our circuit. This town isn’t as welcoming as it used to be. I don’t think we should come back next summer.”

  “Okay. If everyone’s ready, let’s wrap this up and get going,” Jed said as the group all nodded. The men broke away from the circle to finish their last-minute preparations, and Jed motioned to his wife Rosa. “You okay with a couple of stowaways?” he asked.

  “You bet! That man was up to something, and those boys look like they’ve been running scared for a while.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” he said.

  They stepped into their wagon with Cobra. The boys huddled together in the darkest corner. The dog pranced up to them, curiously bumping them with his nose. Rosa pulled a round loaf of bread from the cupboard; tearing it into two pieces, she handed it to the older boy. He gave the larger half to his silent companion, who shoved the bread into his mouth and gulped it down, barely chewing.

  “Thanks,” he said and took a bite as he held out a hand for Cobra to sniff.

  “What are your names?” Jed asked, grabbing a shirt and pulling it over his arms. The smaller boy’s eyes widened, and he looked to the boy who was speaking for both of them.

  “I’m… Aaron. And this is my brother Adam,” he said. Jed knew he had just heard a lie. Maybe these boys shared one parent, but they didn’t look anything alike. He doubted they were brothers as much as he doubted their names.

  “So, Aaron, what’s your story?” Jed asked, catching Rosa’s eyes with his own. She had been scrutinizing the younger boy as he ate.

  “Um… We were living with our grandma in Bluemont, but she died. We’re trying to get to Newbay.” Jed studied the boy, who was clearly weaving this tale as it left his lips. Bluemont and Newbay were two large cities far to the east. The boy must have pulled the names of those cities from his last geography lesson, just to fill in his impromptu lie.

  “Newbay, huh? What’s there?”

  “Work,” the boy answered without hesitation, “and some distant family. They might take us in.”

  “You’re a bit off course,” Jed said. “Those cities are both several hundred miles to the east.”

  The boy closed his mouth and looked down at his bread. Jed could almost see the wheels turning in the boy’s mind as he tried to think of a way to salvage his story. Instead, he changed the subject. “Please, Mister. Some men are bothering us. We just need to hide for a while.”

  Jed sighed when he saw the desperate look on the boys’ faces. He felt sorry for them. “We’re headed to Clackton,” he said. “We can take you with us, but we’ll be traveling west. Is that going to work for you?” His question challenged their story further. The boy nodded and offered a meek thank you. “You can stay in here, out of sight. I’m Jed, and this is my wife Rosa. We’ll check on you after we’ve traveled a few miles.” The boy nodded again, and Jed and Rosa went outside.

  The caravan was ready to go. Each family’s horses were hitched to their respective vardos, waiting for the command to move. Together, the four wagon homes would make a two-day journey to the next town in their summer market circuit. Jed climbed into the driver’s seat followed by Rosa.

  “You know those boys are lying to us,” he said as he flicked the reins. Rosa nodded. She grabbed onto his arm and leaned closer as their vardo was pulled into motion.

  “I’ll tell you something else I know,” she said. “The younger one, that’s not a boy.”

  The caravan reached the location where they would camp for the night as the sun was beginning to set. The merchants parked their vardos away from the edge of the road under the cover of some trees. Jed jumped down from his seat, unhitched the horses, and corralled them with the others. He needed to tell the group about the young people hiding in his vardo; he couldn’t put it off any longer. Those jittery kids would probably run the first chance they had, but he hoped he could convince them to stay.

  Halfway through the day’s journey, Rosa checked on them and reported to Jed that they were fast asleep. She was worried they might still be hungry but chose not to wake them. Soon, however, they would have to confront them and get the truth. Jed rolled up his sleeves and motioned the others to gather
. He positioned himself so he could see the door of his wagon home.

  “Listen,” he began, “you know the kids that old man was looking for? They’re hiding in my vardo. They’re in trouble and I think we can help.”

  “Jed, you should have told us sooner,” Tony said. “What kind of trouble are we talking about? What if they were followed? We can’t put ourselves in danger; we have to think about Ira’s kids and my ma.”

  “You’re right, I should have told you, but I was trying to work out what to do. We weren’t followed, and I really believe they need our help. I think they’re running from someone. I want to invite them to stay with us for as long as they need. We can hide them, feed them, and try to figure out who they are and where their family is. Maybe we can get them back to their people.” The merchants slowly nodded their agreement. “Great,” he said. “These kids are scared. I’ll see if they’re willing to come out for supper.”

  “Wait,” Ira said, halting Jed in his tracks. “What if it’s family they’re running from?”

  Jed sighed and looked at the ground. “I guess we’ll figure that out later.”

  Rosa followed him into the vardo, where they found their guests awake and whispering. The scared young couple stood near the window, watching the group. They quickly hushed their murmurings when Jed and Rosa appeared. The boy held his bag tightly and grabbed onto the girl’s hand. Cobra paced happily around their feet.

  “My friends and I want to help,” Jed explained. “Stay with us for a few days. You can hide in here with Cobra while we’re in Clackton, if that’ll make you more comfortable, but you both look like you could use some food and some rest. You can get cleaned up, and we can look for some clothes that will fit you better. How does that sound?”

  “I don’t know…” the boy started to say.

  “Look,” Jed continued, “I can tell it’s hard for you to trust people. I don’t know why that is, and I am sorry for it. But I do know you’ve lied about your names and why you’re on your own. I also know that this one, here, is not your brother.” He pointed at the girl. “And I’m guessing she isn’t your sister, either. If I can trust you, knowing you haven’t been straight with us, then maybe you could try trusting me as well.”