The Silent Harp

by Gilbert, Morris

  Sharon found herself deeply moved by his challenge, and as the service concluded, she made her way out of the pew and to the prayer room as quickly as she could. Only two couples were there when she sat down, and then the door opened and Temple Smith walked in, carrying his Stetson in his hand.

  “Good morning, Miss Winslow,” he greeted with a smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. Smith.”

  “Don’t you reckon as how we could go by Temple and Sharon?”

  “Why . . . yes, of course.”

  “Good.” He took a chair. “I admire this preacher. I’ve never heard anyone preach better.”

  “Have you been here before?”

  “Yep, the last two Sundays. A friend of mine recommended it. If I was a settled man, I’d join this church. But I never know where I’ll be next.”

  Sharon wondered about Temple’s life but had no time to pursue this. Dr. Snyder walked in and seemed pleased to see anyone there at all.

  “I didn’t expect a great deal of response, but I hope there’ll be more as we go along. Why don’t we wait a few minutes and see if anyone else arrives.” Eventually about a dozen people showed up, and Snyder commended them all for their compassion. “All right, I have done a little organizing here. We’re going out two by two just as Jesus sent His disciples out. You husbands and wives will probably want to go together. And the rest of you can choose a partner.”

  “Miss Sharon and I know each other, Preacher. I reckon we might make a pretty good team.”

  “Fine,” Dr. Snyder said. “I don’t believe I know your name.”

  “Temple Smith. I’m not a member here, but I’ve visited three times now, and I’d like to help.”

  “I’m glad of that.” Dr. Snyder went over some of the details. “I have the names here of a number of families with various needs. I’ll talk with each team separately, pray with you, and send you out. You can start anytime.”

  The pastor prayed briefly, shook hands with everyone, and then they filed out.

  “I’m excited about this,” Temple said cheerfully to Sharon as they left the prayer room together. “When do you want to start?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “Tomorrow be all right?”

  Sharon wished fervently she had not gotten herself into this after all, but there was no way out now. “Yes, that will be all right.”

  “Fine. Let’s make sure the pastor will be here tomorrow morning and then we can set a time.” They conferred with Dr. Snyder and agreed on eight o’clock.

  Sharon left the church, glad that Temple did not try to accompany her. She drove home, completely confused about what she had done. After lunch, she walked for a time around the grounds. She was admiring the new plantings and changes William Morgan had done when she was interrupted by Seana.

  “Been to church, have you, Miss Winslow?”

  “Yes, and you too, I suppose?”

  “Oh yes. My father and I found a fine chapel very close to here. It’s small, but the preacher there is a man of God.”

  The two women talked about their churches, Seana with great enthusiasm. Sharon found herself telling Seana that she had volunteered to work with the poor in the city, and Seana was delighted. “There is wonderful, it is! And it’s God working in you.”

  Sharon was not accustomed to being on quite such familiar terms with God, but she saw that this young woman was.

  “I’m not sure I can do it. I’ve always been willing to give money, but I’m afraid I’m a bit of a coward when it comes to talking to complete strangers about God.”

  “The good Lord himself will be in you and with you. It’s a fine thing you’re doing, Miss Winslow, and God will bless you in it.”

  ****

  Sharon drove her car downtown early the next morning, and when she passed the church looking for a parking spot, Smith waved at her from the curb on his motorcycle. “I thought we might ride the bike,” he drawled, “but your wagon here will be much better.” She saw a gleam of humor in his eyes and knew he was teasing her.

  “Much better,” she agreed.

  “There’s a parking place down in the next block I can see,” Temple said, pointing. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go see what Dr. Snyder’s got for us.”

  Sharon parked the car, and the two went into the church together, where the secretary admitted them to Dr. Snyder’s office. He got up at once and greeted them, pleased to see them so early. After a time of discussion and prayer, he pulled out a note card from a box and said, “This is the family I’d like you two to see. I don’t know them personally, but one of our members gave me their name. I understand the man of the house is ill and there’s great financial need.”

  Temple took the card and asked, “Where’s the rest of them?”

  “The rest of what?”

  “The other cards. You’re not going to limit us to one family, are you, Preacher?”

  “Not at all,” Snyder said with a smile. “I assumed most of our volunteers would want to start with just one family. Here, you can have all you’d like.”

  Sharon watched Temple take several cards, and when they left Dr. Snyder’s office, they walked back to her Ford and got in. Temple read the name of the family Dr. Snyder had spoken about first. “Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Pappagallo.” He read the address and said, “Do you know where that is?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I’ll direct you, then. I’ve been studying the city, so I know it pretty good.”

  Following Temple’s directions, Sharon saw a part of New York she had never seen before. The tenements on the Lower East Side were like another world to her. On this warm April day, clothes were hanging out to dry on every balcony, and the streets were filled with yelling children and peddlers of all sorts.

  “Pretty busy place, isn’t it?” Smith said. “Look, I think that’s it right over there.” Sharon pulled into a parking place, and he got out. When Sharon joined him, he said, “Come on. We’ll see what we can do.” A boy no more than twelve was walking by, and Temple said, “Hey, buddy, do you know where the Pappagallos live?”

  “Sure. Right in that building on the third floor. Do you know them?”

  “I will in just a few minutes. Here, go buy yourself a soda pop.” He handed the boy a coin and grinned as the youngster ran off. “Nobody ever gave me money when I was his age. I enjoy giving kids an unexpected treat. Reckon we’d better get on with our business.”

  Sharon moved reluctantly as they climbed the steps and entered the building. The odor of rotting cabbage and stopped-up drains and moldy dampness repelled her, but Temple did not seem to notice. He spoke cheerfully as they climbed the narrow stairway to the third floor. Seeing several unmarked doorways, he said, “Reckon we’ll just have to ask where they are.”

  He knocked on a door, and a short, wide woman opened it.

  “Good morning. I’m looking for Anthony Pappagallo.”

  “He’sa down there at the end of the hall.”

  “Thank you very much, ma’am. And a good morning to you.”

  The two went to the end of the hall. He knocked on the door, and a dark-haired woman opened it. “Mrs. Pappagallo?”

  The woman looked frightened. “What is it?”

  “My name is Temple Smith and this here lady is Miss Winslow. We’re from the Calvary Baptist Church. Understand one of your family members is sick and there are some financial problems. We’re here to help in some way if we can. Reckon we can come in and talk?”

  Maria Pappagallo looked even more frightened. “We no do anything wrong.”

  “Why, of course not. Is your husband here?”

  “He’s in the bed. He’sa sick.”

  Smith smiled at the children who had gathered around the woman. “Well now, what fine kids you’ve got!” he exclaimed.

  The children were handsome with curly black hair, large brown eyes, and olive complexions, but they were far from clean. There were five of them—one a baby just starting to crawl
. They all watched the visitors with big, frightened eyes.

  “My Tony he’sa back here,” the woman said as she opened the door wider and beckoned them to follow. “He needs a doctor, but we have’a no money.”

  “Reckon we’ll see about that.” Temple followed the woman into a room at the end of the hall. Sharon waited at the door, feeling embarrassed and out of place. She could see that the big man in bed was very sick. She watched as Temple went over and shook Mr. Pappagallo’s hand. He introduced himself cheerfully and said, “We’re gonna get a doctor out to see you, Tony. Don’t you worry now, and don’t worry about the kids. We’ll see that they’re taken care of—them and your wife. Would you mind if I prayed for you?”

  Tony Pappagallo lay there as if dazed. There were large circles under his eyes, and he had a bad cough. “I guess not,” he muttered.

  Sharon listened as Temple prayed briefly, then said good-bye. When he shut the door, he said to Maria Pappagallo, “What do you need most?”

  “Need? We need everything!” Tears formed in the woman’s eyes. “Mr. Williams—the landlord—he’sa gonna throw us out.”

  “Are you behind on the rent, Mrs. Pappagallo?”

  “Yes. Tony no able to work now for nearly a month. We have’a no money.”

  “You tell me where Mr. Williams is. I’ll take care of that.”

  Sharon stood helplessly by as Temple got the landlord’s address and said, “We’ll be back soon with something nice. You kids like candy?”

  The children stared at him, and the older ones nodded.

  “All right, then, I think we can help with that. Come along, Miss Sharon.”

  “Where are we going?” Sharon asked as she almost ran down the stairs, attempting to keep up with him.

  “We’re gonna find this slum landlord and take care of this rent business.”

  The landlord lived in another neighborhood, a much nicer one. He was bowled over when Temple blew into his office and demanded, “Do you have a tenant named Pappagallo? How much is their rent?”

  “They’re behind. They owe me twenty bucks.”

  “Here, I’ve got the money, Temple,” Sharon said.

  Temple took the cash, counted out some bills, and said, “Here’s the back rent, and here’s rent for the next two months. I’ll need a receipt.”

  Williams stared at the tall man in surprise. “Sure. Glad to do business with you.”

  They left the office, and Temple said, “Now the fun begins. Let’s find us a grocery store.”

  They found an Italian grocer around the corner, and Temple insisted that Sharon pick out the food. “I don’t know what Italians like to eat except spaghetti.”

  “They need fresh fruit and vegetables and meat.”

  Sharon forgot herself for a time, and before long they had collected two huge baskets full of food. “This ought to keep them from starving for a few days. Now, let me throw some candy in with that.”

  They left the grocery store and had started back to the apartment when they passed an Italian restaurant. “Let’s stop and get them a hot meal,” Temple suggested.

  “That would be nice,” Sharon agreed.

  Temple led her inside, and they ordered enough food for a small army. Once again Sharon noticed he made no attempt to pay for it, so she did, but that was something she did not mind doing.

  When they got back to the apartment, it took several trips to carry the groceries up. They took the hot food first, and Sharon stayed inside and helped Mrs. Pappagallo put the food out as Temple carried the rest of the groceries up the three flights. The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

  When the food was in place, Sharon said, “Don’t worry about the rent, Mrs. Pappagallo. It’s paid for the next three months, and I’ll have a doctor come by and see to your husband.”

  Mrs. Pappagallo began to cry in earnest, and Temple went over and put his arm around her. “We’re doing it all in the name of Jesus, Mrs. Pappagallo. God loves you. And we’ll be back.”

  As they left the apartment, Sharon felt exhausted. She could not understand why she was so tired, but she soon discovered that their workday was just beginning.

  “It’s time for the next call,” Temple said excitedly. “Come on.”

  ****

  Except for a brief stop for lunch, Temple was untiring in his attempts to help people that day. By the time they arrived back at the church and pulled into a parking place, Sharon leaned her head back and said with a sigh, “I’m so tired I could drop. I don’t know if I can do another day like this.”

  “You’ve done fine,” Temple encouraged her. “I know it’s hard for you, Sharon, but you did great. Are you free tomorrow? There are a lot more families we can help.”

  “I have to work tomorrow, but perhaps I could the day after.” Sharon hesitated, then said, “Look, Temple, I’m not much good at this. Why don’t I just furnish the money and let you do the actual visiting?”

  Temple cocked his head to one side and said softly, “Sharon, love is what these folks need—and love is more than money. Love is people.”

  Feeling rebuked, Sharon said quickly, “All right. Eight o’clock here at the church day after tomorrow?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re some lady, Miss Sharon Winslow,” he said with a smile that seemed to engulf her. He got out of the car, and she watched as he mounted his motorcycle, kicked it into action, and flew off down the street with a wave.

  Sharon was ravenous by the time she got home, but the family had already eaten supper. She went into the kitchen and asked Mabel to heat up some leftovers. She was half done with her meal when Clayton came in and sat down across from her with a cup of coffee, asking her about her day. She carefully detailed it for him and told him, “I’m so tired, but it’s such a good thing to do.”

  “I suppose it is,” he said, “but seeing how tired you are, couldn’t you just hire this fellow Smith to do it?”

  “It wouldn’t be the same thing.”

  Clayton shook his head and left his sister to join his parents in the parlor, where he expressed his concerns about Sharon’s relationship with “this cowboy” Smith. “It’s not a good thing, is it, her going around with this fellow? He’s a rough character, isn’t he? I’m not sure he’s safe.”

  “He did Sharon a great service,” Leland said with a shrug, referring to her rescue from the dangerous thugs. “And I’m rather proud of her for going out and helping the poor, if you want to know the truth.”

  Clayton was frustrated that he could not get his parents to agree with him. “She’s always gone overboard about one thing or another,” he muttered, “and now I’d say she’s gone overboard about religion.” Having said his piece, he went to the stable to take an evening ride on his stallion.

  ****

  Two days later Sharon went out again with Temple to visit the poor on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, and so as not to wear Sharon out, Temple agreed to finish earlier that afternoon. As they relaxed over a cup of coffee in a small café overlooking Central Park, he asked her a number of questions about her artwork, and she said on impulse, “Why don’t you come out and see what I do in my studio?”

  “All right. I will.”

  All the way home that afternoon Sharon wondered if she had done the right thing, but it was too late to take back her invitation. She found Temple Smith a fascinating man. As her brother insisted, some might consider him a rough character, but she also found him strong and capable as she had watched him in action helping the poor. She had also seen his compassionate nature as he talked with great concern to the people they met and showed special attention to the children. Once he had picked up an ailing toddler, holding her as gently as any woman would. He rarely seemed to have any money but was comfortable with letting Sharon take care of the expenses that came along.

  When she got home she pulled up in front of her studio, and Temple, who had kept pace behind her on his motorcycle, parked the bike and hooked his goggles over the handleba
r.

  “Come on in,” Sharon invited.

  Daylight came streaming through the skylight, and when she showed him her work, he appeared very interested. He made few comments until she came to the study of the soldier.

  “I really like this one,” he said. “How’d you get all the details right?”

  Sharon stared at him. “How do you know they’re right?”

  “I wore one of these for a couple of years.”

  Sharon turned to him with new interest. “You were in the war?”

  “Sure was.”

  “Do you think much about those times?”

  Temple shrugged. “Best not to dwell on them. It was pretty bad.”

  She suddenly felt the need to talk. She had never had the courage to talk to any soldier who was in the war, not wanting to hear any horrific details. But now as she saw him studying the figure of Robert, an impulse prompted her to say, “Let me take you out to a favorite place of mine to eat.”

  “Suits me. I’m hungry.”

  The two left together in Sharon’s station wagon and went to a quaint restaurant in a small town nearby, which Sharon enjoyed visiting by herself at times. As they were about to enter, Sharon glanced at Temple and realized he was not dressed properly to dine out, even in this small-town restaurant.

  “Oh, Temple,” she said, embarrassed. “I just realized you don’t even have a tie on. I could have borrowed one from my father.”

  “Not to worry,” Temple said with a grin. He fished down into his jacket pocket and came up with what looked like a black string. Tying it around his neck, he said, “There. Now I’m proper enough for anyone.”

  Sharon could not help being amused. As it turned out, the maitre d’ glanced briefly at the denim jacket, cowboy hat, and string tie, and without further hesitation, showed them to a private table by a picture window overlooking a charming garden with a goldfish pond and lighted fountain in the middle.