Ten Thousand Charms

by Allison K. Pittman

  “Until it's all cut. Then of course the stalks have to dry—”

  “How long?”

  “A few days. Then it all gets loaded and driven to Centerville. They've got a mill there—”

  “Is that far?”

  “About three days. Maybe five with the wagon loaded down. But that's a blessing. Time was we had to thresh it all by hand.”

  “And then what will he— What's after Centerville?”

  Maureen turned and gave Gloria a full smile. “Why, it's time to put up the seed wheat for the spring and start bringing in the hay.”

  Gloria turned around to check on the babies again. Kate lay on her back, madly gnawing at the sleeve of her sweater. Danny was on his stomach, valiantly holding his head high until the next gentle jolt of the wagon made his elbows give out and his little head bomped down on the quilt. He was frustrated—not hurt— and Gloria sent him a sound of sympathy in the midst of her calculations.

  One month

  “A lot can happen in a month,” Maureen said, a sly song in her voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that a month is a long time.” Maureen's voice oozed innocence. “Seems to me that this time next month, little Kate might be able to walk herself to church.”

  Gloria laughed at the exaggeration, then said, “When do babies start walking, anyway?”

  “Whenever they decide to. One day they're just crawling around, hands and knees filthy from the floor, and God just hands down the strength to get up, find a balance, and take a step. After that, walking just comes natural.”

  Gloria took a sidelong look at the woman who had grown to be so dear to her. “How do you know all this? You've never had—” She stopped herself too late, but the older woman's chuckle set Gloria's mind at ease.

  “Good heavens, girl,” she said, “you don't have to have children to know they get up and walk.” She turned then, and seemed determined to stare until Gloria rewarded her with a smile. “As for the when we walk, why there's nothin’ to knowing that either. It's in God's timing—just like everything else. Nothing on this earth ever happens until God gives His hand to it. Crops don't grow, babies don't walk. We can make all the plans we want to, can try to make people fit and fill our lives, but there's not a thing we can do outside of His power. Funny how sometimes it's the people who love God the most that are the worst about lettin’ Him do His work, and the ones that don't care the least are happy driftin’ along, not even knowing they're under His hand.

  “Men—well, human beings—can be just so stubborn. They feel the need to force their desires, theirvision. Staying up nights, worrying…”

  The pause hung between them like a worm dangling from a hook, but Gloria refused to take the bait.

  “And just how are you sleeping these nights, Maureen?” Gloria asked.

  Maureen turned and gave her a wink. “Some nights better than others,” she said before clicking to the horses and turning them toward town.

  John William felt a bit hypocritical not going to church that Sunday All the wheedling and convincing he'd done to bring Gloria to church for the last service echoed in his ear. What a blessing it was to be near a congregation. How important it was to forge ties in the community, to obey God's command to assemble together.

  None of his crew members seemed disappointed to be working on the Lord's Day—although Big Phil declared he would miss the after-service dinner—and he considered leaving them to their labor and accompanying the women and babies. But the long ride to Middleton with Gloria was not an idea he cherished. Moments of silence in passing were one thing, but hours of ambling non-conversation were quite another.

  “Men," John William said before the first stalk of wheat was cut, “seein’ that it's the Lord's Day today, let's say a prayer before we get started this mornin'.”

  There was a series of uncomfortable mumblings and shufflings, and nearly a full minute elapsed before Lonnie caught on that he should remove his hat. John Williams request for a volunteer to lead sent eyes darting to the dust, except for Big Phil, who launched into prayer before John William's eyes were fully closed.

  “Our Father God in heaven,” Phil's voice boomed into the morning, “we labor here today to Thee. We ask Thine hand of safety upon us.”

  John William moved to put on his hat and head to work before he realized that Phil wasn't finished.

  “And for this bounty that we harvest, for this Thine blessing Thou has broughtest forth from Thy earth, we truly praise and thank Thee.”

  Shuffle…

  “Though we know we toileth not for our own selves, but for the benefit of our brother and new neighbor, we know he shareth our gratitude. May he findeth rest here easy. May his family be at peace here in our midst."

  A few men mumbled “Amen,” but Phil pressed on.

  “And finally Lord, we thank Thee for Thy love and bounty And mostly for Thy wisdom in our lives.” Pause. “In the name of Thy Son Jesus Christ, the Savior of our souls, we offereth this prayer to Thee.” Pause. “Amen.”

  “Amen!" echoed the hands. John William sensed the movement around him, but he remained head bowed, eyes closed in prayer.

  May his family be at peace here in our midst He wondered if Phil would pray for God's blessings if he knew the nature of his “family”

  Forgive me, Lord, he prayed silently, both for deceivin’ my friends and for allowin’ such discord in my home. I'm givin’ that woman over to You and Your wisdom. You sent her to save my child, and for that I give thanks. Renew my strength to resist temptation, and help—

  “Amen, MacGregan!” Phil said, giving a hearty slap on his back. “Are we workin’ or havin’ a prayer meetin?”

  John William opened his eyes to see the smiling face of his new friend, this older, portly man who, in a single innocent prayer, managed to bring him a path of peace for the discord in his home. He kept his hat gripped in one hand and extended the other to shake Phil's.

  “Thank you brother,” John William said, pumping Phil's hand. “That was a powerful prayer.”

  “Well, if we don't get to work soon, we may as well have gone to church.”

  They shared a laugh as they made their way toward the waiting men and horses.

  Gloria entered the small Middleton church for the second time in her life. This morning had a distinctly different feel to it. Absent were the gatherings of hands-in-pockets, dirt-stamping husbands. No crowds of rowdy boys ran circles around screaming packs of little sisters. There was only Reverend Fuller, dressed in his somber black suit, to lend a baritone voice to the gathering crowd. He did so poised on the steps of his little church, ringing its bell, calling the group of women and young children in to worship.

  Gloria remembered seeing several of the women the previous week, but John William had not taken great pains to introduce her. Maureen, however, made her way across the lawn and through the crowd of longtime friends, holding baby Kate in one arm and the other stretched behind her, leading Gloria by the hand. “This is Gloria,” Maureen said to one smiling, bonneted face after another, “and her son Danny and daughter Kate. 1 kept them back at the house last week…” Gloria followed, silent behind her, with a tight-lipped smile and downcast gaze accompanying each greeting.

  Both Danny and Kate were looking especially bright-eyed and beautiful this morning, and Gloria steeled herself for an onslaught of oohs and ahhs, for torrents of admiration and questions. But nearly every woman she met had her own beautiful baby, in her arms or clinging to her skirts, so Gloria's babies were hardly given more than a passing glance.

  “Well," Maureen said, turning to Gloria with a smile, “shall we go in, then?”

  “1 suppose so,” Gloria said, truly wishing she had a choice.

  The women ascended the small set of steps that led to the open church door where Reverend Fuller stood greeting his congregation.

  “Good morning Mrs. Brewster,” he said, extending a warm handshake to Maureen. “And who is this lovely child?”
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  “This is John MacGregan's daughter, Kate, and his son, Danny And you met Gloria last week.”

  “Of course I did.” His voice was soft, Gloria thought, and wrinkled. “Good morning, Mrs. MacGregan.” He extended his hand, and Gloria allowed his fingers to grip hers, but she did not meet his eyes when she mumbled “Good morning,” before passing through the door.

  She breathed again after passing the threshold. The same rows of benches as last time. Some of the same faces. Same rays of sunshine pouring through the glass windows. Same muted conversations. Same smell of sawdust and leather and soap.

  Maureen walked just ahead of her. As she passed each row, heads looked up and women smiled, then returned to their conversations. Nobody seemed shocked to see Gloria in the room. Nor did they seem elated, disappointed, or outraged. Gloria, mute and musing, followed behind Maureen to the bench in the last row on the left-hand side. Where they'd sat last week. Maureen gestured to Gloria to slide in first.

  “John William said you'd be more comfortable in the back,” Maureen whispered as Gloria slid halfway down the bench. “I usually sit third row from the front," she pointed to where another older lady was turned, offering a white lace wave across her shoulder, “but back here's nice, too.” She used Kate's hand to return her friend's wave.

  “She looks familiar,” Gloria said, offering a guarded smile to the woman in the third row.

  “That's Big Phil's wife, Anne,” Maureen said.

  “That's why she looks familiar. She looks just like Phil.”

  “Well, they've been married nearly thirty years. They say after a while you just start to look like each other.”

  Gloria brought Danny's fist up to her mouth and grazed his little fingers across her lips. She tried to picture herself thirty years from now with a misshapen nose and a cauliflower ear. She smiled into the eyes of her son and thought, what better reason to leave?

  A familiar brood slid into the bench in front of them. Josephine Logan settled two of her children—Eliza and little Charles—beside her before turning around to offer Gloria and Maureen a warm smile.

  “Just look at these babies,” Josephine continued. “I can't believe how fast they're growing!”

  Gloria surged with pride at a compliment given by such a successful, accomplished mother. She searched for a-wise, insightful response, but Josephines attention was commanded by Charles, who seemed determined to yank off his shirt buttons. There was no other opportunity for conversation after that because Reverend Fuller had taken his place at the front and was attempting to bring a congregation full of women and children to attention.

  “Good morning. Good morning,” he repeated until the room was brought to a hush. “Let us raise our voices in song to our Lord.” He reached into his breast pocket and produced a pitch pipe. A subtle humming filled the room as the women found the note before the tiny church erupted in song.

  “There is a name I love to hear,

  I love to sing its wonh;

  It sounds like music in mine ear,

  The sweetest name on earth. ”

  Gloria had heard Maureen sing this song countless times as she puttered around her kitchen. They'd sung it last week, too, though the song sounded lighter without the rich male tones. She felt the words bouncing through her brain, felt the tune at the back of her throat. The lyrics of the verses eluded her, but when the chorus came around for the third time, Gloria found herself mouthing the words.

  “Oh, how I love Jesus,

  Oh, how I love Jesus, Oh, how I love Jesus,

  Because He first loved mel”

  When the final “Amen” came, she was coming as close to singing as she ever had in her life.

  Reverend Fuller invited them to sit. Just as the rustle of skirts and petticoats died down, Adele Fuller walked through the door. Gloria scooted closer to the wall, dragging Maureen with her.

  “We can move down to make room,” she said with a slightly authoritative air.

  “All right.” Maureen caught Adele's eye and patted the bench beside her.

  “Well, I can see by the faces here that we are well into the time of harvest,” Reverend Fuller said. “I considered canceling our services this morning, but then who am I to deny such lovely ladies an opportunity to worship?”

  A soft ripple of laughter affirmed his decision.

  “You know, if a stranger were to walk into our little church for the first time today, he might get the idea that we were a community devoid of men, wouldn't he? A stranger just might look at the faces of these precious children here and mistake them for poor, fatherless orphans.”

  Yes, yes, bonnets nodded in agreement.

  “But in truth there's not a one among us who doesn't have a father.”

  That's right, the bonnets concurred.

  But Gloria held her head still as stone, her eyes locked on the old man at the front of the church.

  “For we are all children of God. We can all claim the same Father as did His Son, Christ Jesus, can we not?”

  A surge of passion coursed through the little crowd as delicate gloved hands were raised to half-mast affirmation. Gloria gripped her son tighter than she had just moments before.

  “Now I know there are those among us who live without the guidance and comfort of an earthly father.” Yes, yes. “And some of us have lived a life abandoned. Maybe unloved.” That's nght. “I look back there,” he gestured toward the last row and panic surged through Gloria, “and see my lovely daughter.” The bonnets turned to dip in acknowledgment. “And most of you know that she and 1 don't always see eye to eye on everything.” Soft, soprano chuckles. “But there is nothing she could do, no ambitious business decision, no extravagant silk gown that could make me love her any less.”

  “Amen.” Adele's throaty voice coaxed a ripple of giggles.

  Gloria cut her eyes to the right, but Maureen and Kate blocked her view of the reverends daughter. She wanted to lean forward—just a bit—to get a glimpse of this woman who lived the life Gloria had always longed for. She didn't envy the latest gown specially ordered from New York or the acres of land she owned that allowed her to buy such luxuries. Gloria would have lived her life in rags in a sod house teeming with vermin if she could have done so with this man. From her vantage point, she could see only Adele's skirt—pumpkin-colored silk with black velvet piping. She focused on that swatch of skirt and shot mental accusations. If I had such a father 1 would live a life to please him.

  “I have always looked to the Scriptures to know how to be a good father,” Reverend Fuller continued, “to know exactly how to discipline. How to provide. How to love." Gloria could feel Adele beaming. “What is just as important, though, is to look to the Scriptures and know that we can be more than just imperfect children of mortal parents. Jesus called God ‘Father,’ and He invited us to do so, too. When He taught us to pray, He told us to say, Our Father.’ Our Father.”

  The restlessness of the opening remarks came to a halt as the women settled in to listen. Gloria shifted Danny to rest against her shoulder, pressing her hand against his back to keep him quiet. And close.

  “I am the pastor to all of you in here,1’ Reverend Fuller said, his hands sweeping the crowd. “All of you in here may call me ‘Reverend,’ but only one of you can call me ‘Papa.’ But anybody who believes in God, anybody who will receive Him gets the right to become children of God. Galatians 4:6 says that God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out 'Abba, Father.’ Do you know what ‘Abba’ means?”

  No.

  “Ancient Hebrew children, when they needed comfort and guidance, when they needed love and attention, when they had a heavy heart or a bleeding knee, would run to the man they knew as Abba—Papa—and climb into his lap. Do you know that feeling?”

  No.

  “Romans 8:15 says that when we receive Christ into our lives, we receive a Spirit of adoption. We become God's child. That's why I can look across this room at each of you, not knowing where
all of you came from or what kind of family you had, and say that there's not a one among us who doesn't have a father.” Gloria's eyes never left the Reverend, and while his own gaze roamed the crowd, she was sure his voice was aimed directly at her. “All of us in this room who recognize Christ, who will open our hearts to acknowledge Him, have the right to look to the almighty God, creator of the world, and call Him Abba, Father.”

  On the bench against the wall, Gloria buried her face in the soft warm neck of her fatherless son and whispered the word. “Papa.” It was the first time she had ever said the word out loud.

  Shortly after the final Amen of the final hymn, the women filed out of the little church, pausing to take the hand of their beloved Reverend. There was no real hurry to leave; this was a time of reflective conversation. Gloria and Maureen—babies in tow—trailed behind the celebrated Adele, who planted a daughterly kiss on her fathers weathered cheek. “Wonderful sermon, Papa” she said with a grin.'

  “Such high praise coming from you, my dear,” Reverend Fuller said, his tone matching her lightness.

  Maureen, following behind Adele, took his hand and jostled baby Kate, saying, “This little girl is just as lucky as yours, Reverend.”

  “Ah, yes." He took Kate's hand between his thumb and forefinger. “MacGregan seems like a fine man. Everything going all right?”

  “Just wonderful,” Maureen said. “We're becoming a regular little family.”

  “Does that mean, then, that you're planning to stay in Middleton after all?”

  “It means, Reverend, that I like being where I'm needed, and right now I'm needed here a lot more than I am with my sister in St. Louis.”

  Gloria wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but the blush in Maureen's cheek was unmistakable, and the glint in the Reverend's eye wasn't there when he greeted any of the other women.

  When it was Gloria's turn to share the top step with the Reverend, she found she had nothing to say She simply extended her hand once again, but this time her grip was strong. His eyes were so kind, but it was clear that if either of them was going to speak, it was going to be her. “Thank you,” she managed to say, though she wasn't quite sure what she was thanking him for.