“Birds in flight held my gaze, something about their seeming freedom called out to me to join them. Sunrises, sunsets . . . even tiny green blades of grass—everything began to speak to me. Not speak in words, but speak in feelings. Just to see the intricacies of creation was to find feelings of love rising up in me for those things—for the rose, the bee, the bird, the blade of grass—each unique and so beautiful in its own way.
“Yet there always were tears to go along with the love. For a long time I didn’t know why. But then a day came when at last I did.
“The moment came when we were on our way here to California. My husband got a business scheme in his head, and we sold everything and booked passage to join the rush to California.
“One night I was standing along the rail, gazing out across the expanse of the Pacific. It was late, and I was alone. There was a bright moon out, and its light spread glistening out across the water as far as I could see. A few clouds now and then slowly went across it, dulling the reflection for a few moments, and then it would return.
“All these things I have been telling you were filtering through my mind, images out of my past, the changes that had come, how alive and full I felt, such a great thankfulness that the downward path of my former existence had been stopped and that I’d been turned around. And I was thinking of the bee too, and wondering why it had caused me to weep. All the time I was gazing out upon the glow of the moon on the water. The ocean . . . the moon . . . the water . . . the clouds . . . the mystery of the silence . . . it all began to have a saddening, yearning effect on me and as I stood there, I found tears welling up in my eyes.
“But it only lasted a moment. The next instant a voice spoke to me. I don’t mean out loud, but it was so clear in my heart it might as well have been an audible voice. It said: ‘It’s me your tears are meant for. I’m the one who put my life into the things I have made, and it’s that life which calls out to you. All along I have been calling out to you through the fragrance of the pine tree and the buzz of the honey bee and the winged freedom of the butterfly . . . and this very moment I am calling out to you through the moon’s light on the sea.’
“And I knew it was the voice of God speaking to me. And suddenly I knew that he had been there all along, all my life, speaking, calling out to me, trying to love me and touch me and heal me—and care for me. I knew that he knew all about my father and everything that had happened to me. And I knew that he had sent my husband to help pull me up and make a woman of me.
“Yet somehow, even in knowing these things, I continued to weep. I was filled with a sense of remorse because I hadn’t seen God before this moment, even though he had been beside me, so close beside me since the day I was born. I had smelled the roses and picked the blades of grass, but I had never seen the life that was in them, the life that was God, so close as to be in my very hand, yet unseen.
“In that moment, in a sense, my whole life swept through my memory, and I saw for the first time my own responsibility in what I had allowed myself to become. Even as awful as my father had been, I saw that if I had seen that God was with me even then, and had listened to his voice, I could have shared that time with him, and that he could have protected me and kept me from what followed in my life. But my independence kept my eyes on myself, and until Mr. Parrish came along I just looked at nothing else but me.
“Right there on the ship, I dropped down onto my knees. And still clinging with one hand to the railing, I began to pray to God from the depths of my heart.
“‘Oh God,’ I prayed, ‘I want to live! And I want to live with you. I want you to be my Father. I said I’d never let anybody near me . . . I didn’t think I could trust anyone, not even you! All those painful years growing up, people were so cruel . . . they only wanted me for what they could get out of me. I learned to be tough, and when anyone tried to come close, I’d just push them away . . . but inside I was truly afraid . . . I only wanted someone to love me. But there’s been no one . . . until this dear man you sent me to . . . and you Lord! Please forgive me . . . it just hurt so bad. But now I see how much I’ve always needed you. Be the Father to me I never had. Oh Lord, forgive me for my stubbornness and independence when I was younger. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were there, didn’t pay attention. Help me now to live, and to live for you! Help me to get my eyes off myself and onto others. Let me be a help to those who may not know love, just as I didn’t. Oh God, please help me. I want to be your daughter. I want to be your woman. Do whatever you want with me, Lord, whatever it takes to transform me into the person you want me to be.’
“When I was through praying I got up and went back to our cabin. I knew there had been a change. And from the moment we got to California I was a new woman. Mr. Parrish had begun the process by picking me up off the ground. Now the Lord continued the transformation deep in my being, all the way through every part of me.
“And it goes on every day. I still have to struggle with my independence, as you both know from the events of the election campaign. But as I said when I began, even though the work God has to do in me goes on every moment, the difference between fifteen years ago and now is like night and day. You, Corrie, are very fortunate to have begun so early in your life to make the Lord part of your life. I hope and pray that you will one day give your heart to him too, Katie. Because there is no abiding contentment in life apart from him. I can tell you that, not because I am a good Christian lady, but because I’ve known life without him too, and I know how empty it is.”
Almeda stopped. We had been sitting for nearly an hour and a half. It was the most moving story I had ever heard anyone tell, and I still could hardly believe Almeda was telling about her own life! She was visibly drained.
“What about all those rumors Mr. Royce was spreading around town last fall?” I asked finally.
Almeda smiled—a sad smile, yet without bitterness.
“There were elements of truth in everything that was said, Corrie, as you can now see for yourself. But like all rumors, it was half fact, half fiction, with usually the fiction parts being those aspects of it people are most eager to believe. All that ridiculous talk about meeting Mr. Parrish on the ship and marrying him practically the next day—I don’t know where some of that was dredged up from.”
“Does Pa know all this?”
“Everything,” she answered. “I wouldn’t have let him marry me without making sure he knew what he was getting. I told him every detail. And do you know what he said? He said, ‘Everything you tell me just makes me love you more, not less.’ He’s quite a man, Corrie, that father of yours!”
I nodded and smiled.
“I suppose there’s no disrespect in saying this,” she went on. “But I’m just now seeing just how much I really do love your father. Mr. Parrish taught me that I could be loved. He showed me love. He gave me love. He opened up so much of himself to me. But once I came to know your father, Corrie, I found hundreds of new things opening in me that weren’t there before. Or at least if they were there, I hadn’t noticed. In knowing him, suddenly love began to pour out of me in a new way. Of course I loved Mr. Parrish, but—well, I suppose I just wanted you to know that your Pa is special to me in a completely unique way. There is a part of my heart that is only for him and no one else.”
Again she was quiet. Still Katie sat without moving.
Almeda rose. “I suppose it’s time we were going home,” she said.
Then Katie rose and finally spoke. “Almeda,” she said, “I am sorry for the things I said. I had no right.”
Almeda smiled. “Think nothing of it, Katie. I just wanted you to understand.” She gave Katie a hug, which Katie only half-heartedly returned, and then we left.
“What do you think she thought?” I asked as we walked home.
“That’s something only God can know,” Almeda answered. “He does everything in his own time, especially in the matter of the human heart. Katie’s time will come just as surely as mine did on the ship. But what
did you think, Corrie?” she added.
“I guess I’d agree with Pa,” I said.
“How so?”
“That your story makes me love you more, not less.”
She slipped her hand through my arm and we walked the rest of the way in silence.
Chapter 39
The Town Council
Almost the moment we got back to our place, exhaustion came over Almeda from all the energy it had taken to pour herself out like she had. She slept for two or three hours that afternoon, and I went into the office in town. When I came back that evening and our eyes first met, she smiled at me, and there was something new in her look. I suppose I saw for the first time how much depth there had always been in that smile. And I could tell she was glad that I knew everything. It was like a smile exchanged between sisters who know each other completely.
Nothing much changed otherwise. Things returned to normal with Katie. No more sullenness, no more outbursts, but neither was there any exuberance or special friendliness. I was sure Katie had been touched by Almeda’s story, but you could see nothing of it on her face or in her actions. I hoped something was going on inside her.
Meanwhile, business at the Mine and Freight hardly seemed to suffer at all on account of Mr. Royce’s competition up the street. Now and then we’d hear of some sale he made to someone, or of something he was doing. But most of our customers remained loyal to Almeda. And of course the way the election turned out and what Pa and Almeda had done for Shaw and Douglas and had promised to do for the others—all that just deepened people’s allegiance to them.
I thought that after Christmas dinner Mr. Royce might eventually close down his store. But he kept it open, although he was pretty subdued about promoting it. He probably knew it wouldn’t do much good anyway, and I think he was starting to realize that maybe Pa and Almeda weren’t the adversaries he had always imagined them to be. He also stopped making so much noise about making trouble for Pa and his claim. Maybe getting beat in the election sobered him into recognizing that he wasn’t quite as all-powerful in the community as he had thought. He made good on his promise to call no more notes due. In fact, just shortly after the first of the year he lowered the interest rate on a few of the larger ones, not wanting folks to be mad at him for what they’d heard about Pa and Almeda’s arrangements with Mr. Shaw.
Mr. Shaw kept paying them, and they kept paying the fellow in Sacramento, and so in the long run it actually worked out better for the Shaws than it had been before.
As it turned out, I didn’t get the chance to visit again soon with Ankelita Carter. She wrote saying that she was sending some men to Sacramento for supplies, so Zack and Little Wolf and I arranged to go to the capital and meet them and return Rayo Rojo without having to ride all the way down to Mariposa. But I still hoped to meet the Fremonts some day!
Even with Christmas and the beginning of the new year behind us, I still couldn’t get myself in a frame of mind to do much writing. Somehow the motivation was missing after the events leading up to the election and disappointments about my article and Mr. Fremont’s loss. I tried to write a few articles throughout the first months of the year, but they were nothing I wanted to send in to Mr. Kemble. I found myself wondering if I’d ever write much again. I drew lots of pictures and kept writing in my journal, and otherwise spent most of the daytime in town at the Mine and Freight. Almeda kept working too, although by the beginning of March her pregnancy was far enough along that she had to slow down and take most afternoons off.
Several interesting things happened in town during those early months of 1857. Some meetings were held in Sacramento about town planning. Now that the gold rush was gradually giving way to the growth of California and the concerns of statehood and settlement, the state’s leaders in the capital seemed to think communities like Miracle Springs needed some help figuring out what to do with themselves. Because of my articles, someone there had actually heard about the election and knew of the outcome. And so Pa received a personal invitation to come to the meetings. They asked if he’d be willing to make a short talk about the problems and difficulties he felt he had in being a leader in a former gold-boom town that was now growing into a more diverse community.
When the letter first came, everyone was excited about it, and Alkali Jones was laughing and cackling about Pa running for president himself next. Everyone was excited, except Pa. His response was just what you might have expected—casual and disinterested.
“I can’t see what you’re all making such a fuss about,” he said. “They most likely sent this same letter to a hundred other men just hoping that one of them would show up with something to say.”
But inside I could tell Pa was mighty proud, and a time or two I caught sight of him alone re-reading the letter, so I know he was thinking about it more than he was willing to let on.
He did go to Sacramento, and he did speak a little to the meeting of town leaders who were there, although he downplayed that when he got back, too. But it was obvious that he was different after that—more serious about being mayor, talking more about problems that needed solving in the community, thinking about the impact of things on the people he served as well as his own life and family.
One of the results of Pa’s going to Sacramento was a town council.
“It’s the way a town ought to be run,” Pa told us, “so no one man can tell everybody else what to do. They can vote on things, and that way it doesn’t all just rest on the mayor’s shoulders. And besides that, the council gives the mayor someplace to go for advice, other men to talk to—”
“Other men?” repeated Almeda with a sly smile. “Are only men allowed on the council?” The rest of us laughed.
“You’re dang right, woman!” said Pa with a grin. “You don’t think after what you put this community through last year that anyone’s going to stand for a woman on the town council!”
“They just might! And I suppose you’re going to tell me that only men can vote for the council too?”
Pa smiled, drawing it out a long time, waiting until everyone quieted down and was watching for what he would say next.
“Well, actually what they recommended,” he answered finally, “is that the mayor himself pick the people to be on the first council, instead of trying to call an election.”
“And so no women will get selected?” persisted Almeda.
“I think you’ve just about got the gist of how California politics works at last,” said Pa.
We all laughed again, Almeda louder than anyone.
“Seriously, Drummond,” she went on, “are you really going to pick the council yourself? How will you choose?”
“I don’t know yet. But I gotta have some folks I can talk to besides just you and Nick and Corrie and Alkali and the rest of you. That was all right for trying to decide about the election last year, when we all just got together and discussed everything. But what would folks think if that’s how I did my mayoring, just getting my advice from my family? One thing’s for sure, I’d never get re-elected! No, folks want to know their voice is being heard somehow. That’s what they called ‘representative government’ in Sacramento. We all know that everybody votes for president, but they said the same thing’s important in a town too, that the mayor and council represent all the people, not just their own interests.”
Pa was starting to sound like a politician!
“They said those towns without a council yet ought to get one appointed so they can get it working and get the bugs worked out of how town government’s supposed to function. Then in two years—that’d be in fifty-eight, when the next state elections are held—they can have people run for town council and mayor, and make it all more official.”
“How many are on a council?” asked Zack.
“Oh, depends, son. In big cities, maybe ten or twelve. But for a little place like Miracle Springs, four or five, maybe six, is plenty.”
“What does a town council do, Pa?” asked Becky.
; “I reckon they just help the mayor decide things.”
“But who says what the mayor decides and what the council decides?” I asked.
“Well, another thing they talked about in Sacramento is a town drawing up a set of what they call bylaws. That’s like a set of instructions of who does what and how rules and laws are made. So that’s something we got to do too, after we get a council. They’ve got some from other places we’ll be able to look at and work from.”
“What if the council votes and it’s a tie?” said Zack.
“That’s why you have to have a wise mayor who knows what he’s about,” replied Pa with a smile. “In cases where they can’t make a decision, the mayor casts the deciding vote and they do what he says.”
As it turned out, Pa wasted no time in getting together the first Miracle Springs town council. He went around and talked to folks, got lots of opinions and suggestions of who people’d trust to sort of be their community spokesmen and leaders. The first man he selected was Mr. Bosely, the owner of the General Store, and then Simon Rafferty, the sheriff. Those two surprised no one because they were men most folks knew and respected. Next there was Matthew Hooper, a rancher who lived about five miles from town. Pa said he wasn’t sure if him being on the council was exactly legal, since he didn’t actually live in town. But that could all be straightened out later, he said, and if it wasn’t, then a change could be made at the next election. For now he and most folks around thought Mr. Hooper would be a real good help for speaking up for ranching interests. And to represent the miners, there was Hollings Shannahan, who had been in Miracle since 1850. But the last two—Pa had decided on six for the council—shocked everybody. The first was Almeda, and she was the most surprised of all!
A Place in the Sun Page 20