Grace like a Whisper

by Edna Lee Allen

“I’ll have one of my other workers haul it over to you within the next two or three days. You let me know if Reifstack bothers you again.” He left.

  Jed dug that piece of iron into the coals to finish the last few links in a chain. “You ready?”

  Griffin reached to pump the handle.

  Jed shook his head. “I’ve got the bellows this time.”

  “All right. What am I doing?” Griffin asked.

  Jed inclined his head toward the table. “Grab the second hammer from the end.” He pulled a new stake and laid the tip on the center of the anvil. He pointed. “Pound here.”

  The gold flecks in Griffin’s hazel eyes twinkled. He reached for the hammer and raised his arm high.

  Jed grabbed Griffin’s forearm. “Not so tight.” Jed shoved the stake back into the center of the coals. His hand circled Griffin’s wrist. “Don’t tense your muscles. No need to hold it tight. The hammer isn’t going to fall out of your hand.”

  Griffin loosened his grip.

  And for the first time Jed saw a minuscule amount of humility radiate from him. “Your shoulders will give out before your seven years are up. Let the weight of the hammer do the work.” Jed removed the stake.

  Griffin pounded, and the strike fell solid.

  “Breathe,” Jed told him.

  Griffin inhaled and then exhaled as he pounded.

  “Doing well. Just remember to relax.”

  Jed worked Griffin for the next hour. The boy seemed to have the flow inside him as he worked. He would learn that strength and muscle had a purpose for more than just fighting.

  Griffin made his last set of strikes, and Jed ran his fingers along Griffin’s first piece of work. He handed it to Griffin and inclined his head toward the barrel of water. Griffin dipped the tip of his new fire poker into the water. It sizzled, and his cheeks flushed with pride.

  Jed prayed Griffin would always remember this moment. That each strike of the hammer would be an act of service, a method of devotion. Not just the thud of iron on iron.

  “What do I do with it now?” Griffin asked.

  “Hang it on a nail on the post. I sell one or two a week.”

  Griffin found a place for it along the wall. And when he turned, Jed saw the inklings of a sincere smile. One of pride, not arrogance.

  “Can I—”

  “Not today. I’ve got to get through this order within the next day or so.”

  Griffin’s smile faded, but he nodded. His gaze was drawn toward the door.

  “Well, hello.” Hail Talbert stood in the entrance, his smile wide and haughty.

  In general, nobody ever bothered Jed, but this particular man grated on his nerves.

  “Little chillier than normal this morning. But I guess you wouldn’t mind that with the forge and all.”

  “What can I do for you?” Jed asked, ignoring his condescending attitude.

  “Well, I thought I’d come see about getting me some new candelabras.”

  Jed pointed to the shelf. “There’s a good set over here.”

  Talbert took one step forward. He looked down at the floor. His polished shoes shone, completely dust-free.

  Jed unlocked the gate from the work area, lifted the ornate candleholder, and handed it to him.

  Hail Talbert examined it. “You do a right fine job, Jedidiah. Think this would make a new bride happy?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person. But it’s the best you’ll find unless you want to order from the catalog in the General Mercantile. And I’m not sure if it’ll be any better.”

  “I got a lady who cooks for me a few times a week. And then there’s Hawkins place, so I never pay no mind to this kind of stuff.”

  “Why don’t you ask the lady what she wants? If I had a picture, I could go by that.”

  Talbert returned the piece to the shelf and stepped toward the railing. He spread his arms over the wood and leaned forward, highlighting the smoothness in his hands and the skin around his fingernails. This man never used a speck of muscle or grit to get anything done. Perhaps some would find that admirable.

  But Jed didn’t. Hard work made a boy into a man. Worked his soul. His spirit.

  “Thing is, I haven’t proposed yet.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Word has it that Mr. Hennessy may return before the term ends to take over the schoolhouse. And if so, the lovely Miss Cantrell will be available for courting sooner than expected.”

  Something stabbed the center of Jed’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it felt hot or cold, only that it pierced and stung.

  “And I don’t see how a woman in her situation, unmarried with nothing to her name besides the clothes on her back, could refuse an offer from someone such as myself. Do you?”

  Daydreams of her pretty face had been hard enough, now the image of her belonging to somebody else, especially this man, left him rigid.

  “In fact, I think she’s kind of sweet on me.” Talbert chuckled, and when Jed didn’t follow along, his smile slowly faded. “You don’t know anyone else who’d be interested in pursuing the young lady, do you?”

  Jed reopened the gate and stepped back inside. He stoked the coals, ignoring Griffin. “You let me know what you want to do about the candleholders.”

  Talbert paused, the smirk on his face more magnified. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep you posted.” He lifted his hat. “You have a fine business.” Talbert left, a spring in his step.

  Veins that carried blood to Jed’s heart seemed filled with molten lead. He gripped the wood rail tight.

  “Relax.” Griffin patted him firmly on his upper back. “Your shoulders will done give out before you can get in the runnin’ for that pretty schoolmistress.”

  ~*~

  Grace moved the half-empty cup of tea away from the edge of the bedside table. She tucked the quilt around Edith’s shoulders, then smoothed her silvery gray curls. The old woman didn’t flinch. Short, fine eyelashes lay against pale, wrinkled skin. Grace kissed her gently on her temple. Edith could sleep a little while longer.

  Usually by the time Grace returned from the schoolhouse, Edith had awakened from her afternoon nap. But this week had been especially hard for some reason. She looked more tired, moved slower, and spoke less.

  A soft knock sounded on the door. Or perhaps that was the autumn wind again jarring the threshold as it whipped across the Texas plain.

  Grace moved to the front door and recognized Minnie’s sweet face pressed against the glass. She opened the door.

  Erastus Littleberry stood in front of her, Minnie off to the side, her face downcast.

  “Minnie. What brings you here?”

  Erastus removed his hat and pressed it against his chest. His shirt collar lay crumpled around his neck. A plump belly stuck out between his suspenders. He must’ve recently washed his face, for a layer of fine dirt lay in contrast underneath his jawline.

  “Uncle says you might not be our teacher after the fall term. That true?” Minnie asked.

  “Well, we’re not sure yet. Mrs. Beauregard said that was a possibility.”

  Erastus jutted his right hand toward her. “Brought you some beans. Delivered a load to the boardinghouse and then to the Dillard’s estate. Her hired help cans ’em every year. Thought I’d bring you what’s left.”

  A farm wagon, half loaded with string beans, sat in the yard.

  “Where’d you like me to put ’em?”

  ~*~

  Jed smoothed the hair from his forehead and put on his hat.

  Griffin rapped his knuckles lightly on the opened door. “They say they still won’t go.”

  Jed tore off his hat and threw it onto the bed.

  “I told Josiah he could ride piggyback, but he won’t budge. Thomas don’t wanna go without him, but I’m sure one of us can persuade him.”

  Tension crept into Jed’s shoulders from lack of sleep and constant aggravation. He had been short with the boys last night after supper.

  “You want me—”

  “No.” Jed ran a
hand through his hair. “I’ll figure something out. Thought they’d get tired of doing chores all day by this time. It’s been two weeks.”

  “Well, I can throw Josiah over my shoulder. Thomas’ll follow.”

  “Don’t blame them for being scared.” Jed grabbed his hat again. “But I got the Children’s Aid Society to also worry about.”

  “How’re they gonna know they ain’t in school?”

  “No idea. But I gotta figure something out.”

  “Nobody’s gonna jump them if I’m with ’em.”

  Jed patted Griffin on the side of his arm. “I got this. But thank you.”

  “Should I get the fire going in the forge?”

  “Yes,” Jed looked at him squarely. “But don’t do anything else. You’ll start pounding when I get back. And not before.”

  He grabbed a dried biscuit from the kitchen table and opened the front door, trusting Griffin would close it for him. The morning sun shone bright behind a crystal blue sky. He rounded the corner of the house and found the boys.

  Josiah sat with his shoulders against the garden shed. His arms were folded as if he anticipated a struggle and wasn’t about to give in.

  Thomas sat on an overturned log next to him and twisted blue stem into a knot.

  “If you’re not going to school again, you’re going to have even more chores.”

  Thomas looked at Josiah and then up to Jed.

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” Jed asked.

  Josiah’s shoulders lifted and lowered.

  God, help me here.

  Thomas crept closer to Josiah, his eyes on his face.

  Josiah turned away from him.

  “Thomas, do you want to go to school?” Jed asked.

  Thomas struggled with how to answer.

  “Go on.” Jed inclined his head toward the house. “Griffin will walk with you. Tell him he needs to come see me first.”

  Thomas looked at Josiah.

  “Don’t worry about Josiah. I’ll see to it that he’s all right.”

  Thomas walked around the corner to the shop.

  Josiah found a stick and dug it into the dirt.

  He’s like you. Kind, but afraid. What he needs to learn, you do as well.

  Jed’s feet felt lighter but his chest heavier. He sat on the log and faced Josiah. “You will go with Griffin to pick up Thomas after school. And you will stay for an hour or so and work on your reading and writing with Miss Cantrell. I’ll send word with Griffin to ask her today.”

  Josiah pulled on some grasses.

  Jed’s patience began to wane. “You know I could just throw you over my shoulder and take you there.”

  “Only if you go with me.”

  “What?”

  “You go with me. You don’t know reading, either. So, I’m not going,” the boy said with conviction.

  A blacksmith had no reason to learn to read. And Miss Cantrell would see him as a fool.

  “Please.” Josiah moved to his knees in front of him. “Please, Mr. Green.”

  Jed couldn’t believe what a six-year-old boy and the Holy Spirit had just convinced him to do.

  16

  Grace’s knees shook in anticipation of her after-school guests. How a quiet man like Jedidiah Green could get under her skin, especially since she had no desire for marriage, was an oddity. Even if he might almost be worth trusting.

  The man stood next to the large horse chestnut at the far end of the schoolyard.

  Josiah stood beside him, his head plastered against Mr. Green’s hip.

  She waved them forward.

  Thomas brushed past her and down the steps.

  Jed handed him a small satchel. “We won’t be too long, but I figured you’d be hungry.”

  Thomas pulled out a biscuit and eagerly took a big bite.

  “Welcome.” Grace hoped her cheeks hadn’t flushed too much. “I was pleased to hear from Griffin.”

  Jed looked quite miserable. He removed his hat and held it between his hands.

  Josiah‘s hat covered most of his face, so Grace placed her forefinger under his chin until he lifted his head. “I really missed having you in class.”

  He made a funny face as he tried hard not to smile.

  She grabbed his hand and walked up the steps.

  Josiah found his seat. She had already laid open a beginning McGuffey Reader.

  Thomas and Mr. Green followed them inside.

  “Thomas, find a book on the top two shelves that you can read while we work.”

  The boy’s face lit up as he scrambled on a stool to look at the row of books.

  “I’ll have you sit back here, Mr. Green, where the older students sit. The desks are bigger. Josiah, look through the entire book at every page and every word. I will be with you in a few minutes.”

  The seat looked tiny in comparison to Jedidiah’s long legs and tall, broad frame. Grace’s heart pounded so hard she was afraid he might hear it. Her fingertips shook as she picked up the supplies she had gathered.

  He shifted in his seat and set his hat on the desk next to him. His body was strong and sinewy, powerful yet controlled, so unlike her father or stepfather. The thought flashed through her mind that his inner nature matched the outer—as gentle as it was firm. She shook the reverie from her mind.

  He was staring at her. For a moment, she felt like a princess in a fairytale. Was he actually nervous in her presence? Of course, he was worried about learning to read.

  Thomas scampered toward the door.

  Jed spoke. “Where you going?”

  Thomas held up the book, an apple clutched in his other hand. “I’m going to read outside under the tree.”

  “No. Not proper for Miss Cantrell and me to be in the room without someone else present.”

  Thomas pointed. “Josiah is here.”

  “Sorry. You’ll need to stay in here.” His tone softened, and he gave a winning smile.

  Thomas dropped into a seat by the door.

  Josiah turned the pages of his own book.

  Jed’s eyes were on her. Dark eyebrows and lashes. Perfectly shaped around a handsome blue-gray iris. The ruddy complexion was attractive. Had a woman ever felt his kiss? Or grazed her fingertips along the stubble of his strong jawline?

  “Well.” She cleared her throat to cloud her thoughts. “Let’s begin.”

  ~*~

  Thomas was dozing. Early morning chores and a full day of schooling had caught up with him.

  Miss Cantrell stood next to Josiah as he counted beans. He moved them into groups to find the sum she requested and then pushed them back into the center to start again.

  The words on the page blurred. Learning to read had been both easier and harder than he’d predicted. The sounds of the letters came back to him quickly and even some of the words.

  But frustration rose with thoughts of all the things he should be doing at the shop. And Griffin was without supervision.

  Miss Cantrell redirected Josiah. The gold in Josiah’s hair contrasted with her dress, a grayish-green color similar to creosote and scrub brushes. He must’ve done his figuring wrong, for she had him start again.

  “Mr. Green.” A sweet and patient voice interrupted his reverie. “How’re you doing with that passage?”

  Jed straightened. “Fine, Miss.” He looked down at the page and read again. He’d skipped a word he couldn’t get. Perhaps he’d figure it out as he went on.

  “Well!” A cynical voice interrupted the peaceful silence. “What have we here?”

  Thomas sat straight up.

  Mrs. Beauregard stood outside the doorframe.

  Hail Talbert stepped into the schoolhouse behind her. His mustache curled up at the ends. He removed his tailored hat and tipped it with the same elegance Jed’s father did as he’d greeted customers in his stationer’s shop.

  “So, are you sure, Miss Cantrell, you are not favoring some students over others?”

  Josiah emptied beans on the desk.

  “It’s all r
ight, Josiah.” Miss Cantrell placed one hand on Josiah’s shoulder. “Mrs. Beauregard I’m sure means no harm. There’s nothing wrong with you being here.”

  Mrs. Beauregard raised her eyebrows, a smile behind her haughty expression. She made a clucking sound. “First, orphans in my sister’s home. The place where you reside.” She raised her forefinger, her look disdainful. “And now they litter the schoolhouse after the other children have gone.”

  “They aren’t orphans anymore, ma’am.” Jed closed the reader. “I’d appreciate it if people will refer to them by their names.” He picked up the book and extended it toward Miss Cantrell.

  “I don’t care to know their names, Mr. Green.” Mrs. Beauregard’s voice firmed. “My husband made Sheldon into a good town way before you were here.”

  Jed stood, a good seven or eight inches on Hail Talbert. “People aren’t filth, Mrs. Beauregard,” Jed put on his hat. “It’s the way they think and behave that makes them that way.”

  “And I couldn’t have asked for two finer boys to attend my class,” Grace added with a louder tone.

  .

  Jed extended his arm to Josiah. Thomas put his book on the top shelf. He scampered down and returned to Jed.

  “Mr. Green,” Miss Cantrell called. “We still have a few minutes. I haven’t had the chance to hear you read yet today.”

  “Perhaps we’ve done enough.” He brushed by Mrs. Beauregard, ignoring her look of triumph.

  “Mr. Green, she can’t do this,” Miss Cantrell pleaded. “Learning to read—” Her voice broke at the end, which caused a small rip in Jed’s heart. Within seconds, her eyes misted like pools of clear glass. A single tear ran down each side of her milky cheeks.

  He placed the hat on his head, and it killed him not to wipe away her sadness. He left the schoolhouse, one boy holding each hand.

  ~*~

  Jed wondered how many times he must’ve walked by a child playing with a wooly caterpillar or chasing grasshoppers. Or tuned out a crying baby while its parents waited in his shop for him to fix a broken axel or plow.

  Now, God’s presence surrounded him like black cloth in the heat of summer, and he became aware of emotions he’d never allowed himself to acknowledge. But they were always there. Shaping him, molding him, just as he did with iron. The more attached he grew to Griffin, Thomas and Josiah, the more he realized the beauty of the world. And the ugliness in people.