The Measure of a Heart

by Janette Oke

  “Won’t get any answer from that pair.” It was Mrs. Cross.

  “Oh,” said Anna, her hand fluttering near her face. “I wasn’t expecting you from that direction.”

  Mrs. Cross just nodded.

  “Is—is anything wrong?” Anna dared to ask.

  “Mort is here,” said Mrs. Cross.

  There it was again. An answer that wasn’t an answer.

  “Yes—the boys told me—but—”

  Mrs. Cross sighed deeply and crossed to the old rocker on the porch and slowly lowered herself. She looked tired—pained. Anna couldn’t understand it.

  “Go on in and see for yourself,” the older woman said with a nod of her head.

  Anna stared at the woman.

  “Here,” the woman continued, holding out her arms toward Maggie. “Leave the youngster with me.”

  Maggie was placed in the outstretched arms and Anna steeled herself before opening the door.

  The room was a shambles. Anna wasn’t sure if its occupants had been fighting or celebrating. Everything seemed to be scattered across the floor, including items that should have still been on bodies.

  Shirts, shoes, and socks were among the other debris. And then Anna noticed the bottles. That was the smell. Liquor. Anna raised her eyes to the form slumped in the corner. It was a man. Mort must—

  But to Anna’s horror her eyes rested instead upon Matt Cross.

  For one instant she feared that he must be ill—maybe even dead. She crossed to him, almost tripping over another body. The man on the floor was big, bearded, and bloated. But he looked like Matt. Mort? He was sprawled across the floor as if someone had downed him. Had there been a battle?

  A groan from the corner told Anna that at least Matt was still alive. She hurried on to him.

  “Oh, I wish I had stopped for Austin,” she said aloud. “I have no idea—”

  But when she bent over the man, it was not so hard to tell the cause of his condition. Matt Cross was dead drunk.

  Anna felt ill with grief and disappointment. All that was to have been behind him. He had been forgiven his life of sin. He had been baptized. He was a member of the local church. How could he? How could he ever do such a thing?”

  She wanted to weep. She wanted to protest. And then to Anna’s surprise she realized that she wanted to reach out and smack the man smartly, right across his puffed, whiskered face.

  But she did none of those things. She bowed her head and a moan escaped her lips. “Oh, God,” she prayed. “What has he done? This shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened. His testimony. Everyone in the town has been watching him. His wife—She will never be won now. Oh, God.”

  And Anna put her face in her hands and wept. The accuser began to thrust darts at her soul. “It was your fault” came the evil whisper. “You thought that just because he had prayed for salvation, he would never be tempted again. You let him down. You haven’t been calling—encouraging like you should have been. You let the whole church down. You’ve ruined your husband’s reputation in this town. His religion doesn’t work, folks’ll say. There’s the proof. It doesn’t work. Austin’s first convert. A failure. No one will listen now. You might as well quit.”

  Quit—quit—quit. The word seemed to echo back and forth in Anna’s head.

  Suddenly her back straightened and resolve filled her eyes.

  “We can’t quit,” she said as though speaking to someone in the room. “I might have failed—but I won’t quit,” and she braced her shoulders and headed for the kitchen. She had heard that strong coffee helped to sober people in Matt Cross’s condition.

  By the time Anna had the coffee ready, she could hear groanings from the other room. She didn’t know if it was Matt or his brother Mort who was making the noises. Maybe both. She didn’t go to check. She didn’t even want to look at them. She wished she never had to look at the scene again.

  But she needed help. She knew so little about drunkenness.

  She went out the back door and around to the front of the house where Mrs. Cross still sat, idly entertaining Maggie.

  “Would you go to the church office and ask Pastor Barker to come, please?” she asked and was surprised at the calmness in her voice.

  The woman arose without a word and lifted young Maggie up into her arms. She had taken a few steps before she turned and looked at Anna.

  “They won’t wake up for hours yet,” she said from experience. “But when they do—you don’t want to be here.”

  And she turned again and went on down the dusty path.

  Anna puzzled over the statement as she went back around the house and into the kitchen.

  Austin’s initial response was much like Anna’s. “How could he? How could he?” he kept repeating over and over as he bent over the two inert bodies.

  “It’s the drink,” said Mrs. Cross with resignation. “Once it gets hold of a man, ain’t nothing that can break him loose.”

  Anna wished to argue but it didn’t seem like the right time. Their hope of proving to Mrs. Cross that her husband was a changed man seemed to have slipped away. They would never convince her now.

  “No use wasting coffee,” said the woman. “They’ll wake up when they wake up. An’ when they do—they’ll wake up swingin’.”

  “You’d better go home,” Austin said to Anna. “I’ll wait here with Mrs. Cross.”

  Anna looked from her husband to her small baby. She hated to leave Austin, but if things were to get as ugly as Mrs. Cross seemed to think they would, she did not want little Maggie endangered. She nodded dumbly and was about to pick up her little girl.

  But Mrs. Cross was moving toward the cupboards. “Both of you better go,” she said, her voice sounding flat but firm. “I’ve been through it before. I know what to expect. No use taking chances on someone else getting hurt.”

  She lifted cups from the shelf and began to pour coffee. “As long as you made it, ain’t no use wastin’ this coffee,” she said as she set the cups before them, picked up one for herself, and lowered her frame wearily into a chair at the kitchen table.

  They both went home. Heavy-hearted. Downcast. Disappointed. Grieved. It was difficult to even talk about their feelings. Their doubts.

  Anna was putting supper on the table when she heard footsteps running down their walk. She went to the door even before there was a knock. Somehow she knew that it would be Ben and Sid.

  “Ma says, can you come?” blurted out Sid.

  “Pa’s awake,” added Ben, his eyes wide.

  “Oh, dear God,” prayed Anna and cast a glance toward Austin, who was giving Maggie a ride on his foot.

  Anna looked from the table to Maggie.

  “We’ll feed her,” offered Ben. “We’ll look after her.”

  “Have you had your supper?” asked Anna as she laid aside her apron.

  Both boys shook their heads.

  “Then you go ahead and eat too,” Anna offered. “Maggie’s dish is there. Just give her vegetables. Mash them well.”

  They left together. It was hard not to run through the town, but Austin held their pace to a fast walk.

  They had no idea what to expect when they got to the Crosses. As they neared the door, Austin’s hand reached out to Anna’s arm.

  “You’d better wait here while I check it out,” he warned, and Anna obeyed, though she would have preferred staying by the side of her husband.

  It was quiet. Anna strained to hear sounds. What had happened? Was everyone in the house?

  Old Mutt pushed himself up against her skirts and licked at her hand. Anna let her fingers trail over his shaggy head and massaged a loped ear.

  Then she heard it. A low moaning. No, a sobbing. Someone was crying. What was happening in the eerie house? Anna moved forward just as the screen door opened and Austin looked out.

  “Come in,” he invited.

  The room looked even worse than it had when she had seen it last. Anna was sure that a fight must have taken place.
<
br />   The loud sobs were coming from the kitchen. Anna followed Austin, her throat so tight she could hardly breathe.

  In a chair, slumped forward with his face in his hands, sat Matt Cross. His shoulders were shaking with the sobs that shook his whole body. Anna had never heard such a terrible sound in all her life. The groans seemed to come from his very soul, to rend him bare with every rasping breath. She stood where she was, unable to move farther.

  Mrs. Cross was dipping a cloth in a basin of water and wiping the man’s head. It was then that Anna saw the blood. He seemed to have an ugly gash on the back of his head. Was it that painful, to cause such weeping?

  “Where is Mort?” she heard Austin asking.

  “He sent him away,” Mrs. Cross answered without even looking up.

  “Is he badly hurt?” Austin asked next.

  “No—nothing serious. He’s been hurt worse before.”

  “What can I—?” began Austin, crossing to the woman.

  “Nothing now. I shouldn’t have sent for you. I was scared. They was havin’ a row. I was afraid that someone might get hurt—really hurt. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  But Austin was reaching for the cloth, ready to take over the cleaning up of the wound.

  “It’s just that it never happened like that before. Where they turned on each other,” the woman went on to explain.

  Anna moved forward. She could hardly hear the words of the woman over the sobs of the man.

  “They started rousing ’bout the same time,” Mrs. Cross went on. “Mort started cussing and yelling and telling me to get some coffee—something to eat. So I started fixin’ supper—but it wasn’t fast enough for him. He threw a chunk of firewood at me. He missed, so weren’t no harm done, but Matt took offense.

  “ ‘Don’t harm my missus,’ he says and Mort cussed at him.

  “ ‘You think you’re the only one with the pleasure?’ he says to Matt.

  “ ‘Nobody has thet pleasure,’ says Matt.

  “ ‘What’s the matter with you—you turned to mush?’ says Mort. ‘First you don’t want to share my bottle—and now you’re lily-livered ’bout the woman. You a man—or what?’

  “ ‘I think you better leave my house,’ says Matt.

  “ ’S’ppose a yellow-belly like you is gonna make me?’ says Mort, and he started to swear something awful.

  “ ‘If I have to, I will,’ says Matt.

  “That’s when the fight broke out. I told the boys to get on out of there. I didn’t know what might happen. These two had never turned on each other before. I was afraid someone might get badly hurt—or even killed. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You did the right thing,” said Austin, still bathing the open wound.

  “Maybe’s he’s hurt worse than I thought,” said Mrs. Cross with concern. “I’ve never, ever heard him carry on like this before.”

  Austin knelt before the man. “Matt. Matt. What is it? Are you in pain? What’s bothering—?”

  But the man only sobbed harder.

  “Maybe we should put him to bed,” said Mrs. Cross, and Austin nodded. It looked as if the bleeding had stopped.

  Anna stood by helplessly while Austin helped Mrs. Cross get her husband to the bed in the next room. There seemed nothing to do but to go home. He was still crying when they left, but he appeared somewhat calmer.

  “Well,” said Anna as they walked home together, “this is about the biggest disappointment of my life. I thought . . . I mean, I really thought he had changed. That Mrs. Cross would see the change for herself and soon be—”

  “So did I,” agreed Austin, and his voice was equally pained. “He seemed so sincere.”

  They walked in silence for several minutes; then Anna asked softly, “What do we do now? The church will demand his membership be revoked.”

  She reached for Austin’s hand.

  “We’ll have to discipline him. We have no choice,” he answered.

  Anna felt the tears sting her eyes. It was so heartbreaking. Their one and only convert. The one who had given their ministry new meaning—new purpose. And now it was lost. He was lost. “Oh, God,” she prayed, “forgive us our failure. Our lack of wisdom and ability. We’ve let you down. I’ve let you down—again.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Another Blow

  “Mr. Parks was here,” said Ben as soon as they had entered their kitchen.

  “He wants to see you,” added Sid, turning to face Austin.

  Oh, dear, thought Anna, has the word spread through the town already?

  Her eyes lifted to Austin’s.

  “Your mama wants you to come home now,” Austin was saying to the two boys.

  They moved toward the door without hesitation.

  “Thank you for the supper,” they both said as one and Anna nodded.

  “And thank you for caring for Maggie,” she replied with a smile.

  The door closed and Maggie began to cry. Anna bent to pick her up and console her. “The boys will come again,” she told the little girl. “Don’t fuss. It’s almost bedtime. No more time to play tonight. The boys will be back. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’d better go,” said Austin.

  “Don’t you want to eat first?” Even as Anna asked the question, she knew that most of their supper had already been eaten.

  “No. I’d better check. Mr. Parks isn’t in the habit of making social calls at the parsonage.”

  Anna could not help but smile, but a nervous twittering occurred somewhere deep inside. Why had Mr. Parks called and left word that he wanted to see Austin? She felt sure that he wasn’t out to take part in another “miracle.”

  Austin left and Anna busied herself with getting Maggie prepared for bed.

  She had just tucked the little girl in when she heard the door open. Austin was back. She gave Maggie one more kiss and returned to the kitchen.

  Austin was pacing the floor, running his hand through his hair in his characteristic way.

  “What is it?” asked Anna, fear gripping her.

  “Mrs. Paxton,” said Austin, turning to face her.

  “Is she ill?”

  “They found her in her bed. They judge that she has been dead for a couple of days.”

  “What?”

  Austin nodded.

  “But I just saw her—”

  “Monday. That’s the last anyone saw her. When she didn’t come in for her weekly paper today, Mr. Parks got worried. They went to her house—and found her.”

  “I—I can’t believe it!” cried Anna, the shock giving way to sorrow. She had learned to love the crusty old woman.

  She eased herself into a kitchen chair. “Oh, Austin,” she said as a new thought took her, “she hadn’t made her peace with God.”

  Austin began to pace again. Anna could see the muscles of his jaw working.

  Anna began to weep then.

  Austin crossed to lift her so that he could hold her as she cried. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault,” sobbed Anna.

  “You couldn’t have done anything further,” Austin tried to comfort her. “She died in her sleep. No one could—”

  “No!” cried Anna. “It’s my fault she hadn’t made her peace with God. I should have known something might happen. I should have—”

  “Anna. Anna, hush,” Austin scolded softly. “You did talk to her. Remember? She shook her cane at you and told you never to mention the subject again. You told me about it.”

  “But I didn’t explain it like I should have. Mrs. Angus would have known what to say—how to say it. Any other minister’s wife would have known. I—I stumbled and—and faltered and—Oh, Austin!”

  Anna could go no further. She leaned her head against Austin’s shoulder and wept for her friend and neighbor.

  They held the burial the next day. Mr. Parks was the one who made the arrangements.

  “She left this sealed envelope with me, you see,” he explained to Austin and Anna. “I wasn’t to open it unless someth
ing happened. In it she said that she didn’t want a funeral. Just a burial. No sermon or anything. She didn’t put much stock in religion.”

  Austin nodded. He had to concede.

  Anna wished to argue. That was before, she wished to say. Before we came. Before she softened. Before she gave us her building for a church. Surely . . .

  But Anna, too, had to concede.

  There were only a few neighbors at the cemetery as the wooden casket was lowered. To Anna, it seemed so strange—so awful, that no one was speaking any word about the deceased. That no one was asking God for His mercy—or even committing the elderly woman’s body to the ground. They all just stood there and watched the coffin being lowered. Then they threw in a few handsful of dusty soil and walked away. Anna had seen animals buried with more ceremony.

  With a heavy heart she walked home through the afternoon haze. It was all so sad. So final. Anna felt she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Mrs. Paxton was gone—and she had failed her. Had failed her in the worst possible way.

  The church board met. Matt Cross had asked for permission to appear before them. Anna’s heart felt heavy as she waited for Austin to come home from the meeting.

  At last she heard his step on the walk.

  She rose to meet him, laying aside her Bible. She had been reading and praying, but it was so hard to concentrate.

  Austin looked weary. Anna waited for him to hang his hat on the peg.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “He’s been put on probation,” he answered, knowing that was what she wanted to know.

  “For how long?”

  “Six months.”

  Anna turned and moved toward the stove. Her shoulders sagged. “Would you like some tea?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I think I’d like bed,” he answered. “This week has been a month long.”

  Anna nodded. It had been a trying, a most discouraging, difficult week.

  As they prepared for bed Austin spoke again.

  “He was repentant. No excuses, only tears of sorrow. They didn’t remove his membership—just asked him to prove himself before he would be granted full membership privileges.”