Brides of Iowa

by Stevens, Connie;

  She tried to discipline her mind to focus attention on the preacher but continually had to pull her thoughts back to the sermon. Finally, she gave up and closed her eyes, asking God what He might have her do. Should she go and find Everett and try to comfort him? That might make him assume that she pitied him. She’d seen firsthand how destructive pity could be, and she didn’t wish that on Everett. No, her goal, with God’s help, was to break down the wall he’d erected around himself and encourage him to seek God’s will for his life. She spent the remainder of the service in prayer.

  The last hymn was sung, the final prayer offered, and the service dismissed. As Tillie fell into line with her family, filing toward the door, she caught sight of Everett’s Bible. Someone had picked it up and laid it on the bench. Her hand hesitated only a moment before reaching for the book and tucking it into her shawl.

  As she stepped to the open doorway, she scanned the churchyard even before she shook hands with the preacher. No sign of Everett. He might have simply gone home. Hubert and Pearl Behr stood in the middle of the yard, their searching eyes covering a wide circle. Tillie imagined they, too, hurt for Everett.

  Da and Ma herded her siblings toward their wagon as a soft rumble of distant thunder rolled across the hills. She hurried to close the distance between her father and herself. When he turned to look at her, she saw the same anguish in his eyes that she felt in her heart. He seemed to read her mind.

  “’Twas a hard thing for young Behr. But daughter, he’s goin’ to hear such for the rest of his life. Either he learns to push it aside, or it’ll do him in.”

  Tillie gave a slow nod. If anyone understood, Da did. “I don’t pity him, Da, if that’s what you’re thinking. He must allow God to help him overcome the feelings of shame and embarrassment. I just want to let him know I still think he’s a fine man.”

  Da’s eyebrows arched, and he tilted his head up to look at the thick clouds roiling in the sky. Another gentle rumble of thunder sounded as if to punctuate his point. “And you feel the need to let him know that today, do you now?”

  She saw him peek at her from the corner of his eye. He winked, and she threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, Da, I do. I don’t know for certain where he is, but I suspect he might have gone down to the creek.”

  Da helped little Cory into the back of the wagon and latched the tailgate before turning back to Tillie. “And how do you plan to stay dry?”

  She looked down at her shoe tips and gave a slight shake of her head before raising her head to give him a beseeching look. “Dry doesn’t seem very important right now, Da.”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I must be daft. I wonder if the good Lord gave my portion of common sense to somebody else. Go ahead. Find your young man.”

  Tillie didn’t wait for him to change his mind, or for Ma to protest. She pulled her shawl snugly around her shoulders and scurried in the direction of the creek. Most of the other wagons had already departed, no doubt trying to beat the rain.

  In the minute it took for her to run down the well-worn path to the willow trees lining the creek, a few sprinkles began to fall. Puffing from exertion, Tillie pushed the willow withes aside, her eyes searching through the gloomy shadows for Everett’s familiar silhouette. Perhaps he had more good sense than she and had headed for home.

  She hiked up the creek bank, retracing her steps. Did she dare go knock on his door? That would certainly set the town tongues to wagging, and Da had admonished her about protecting her reputation. She blew out a huff through pursed lips. Just as she reached the edge of the churchyard once again, she caught a glimpse of movement beyond the cedar trees.

  It’s Everett.

  Not knowing why, she stepped back, letting the cedar boughs conceal her as she watched to see where he’d go. He looked from left to right, apparently to satisfy himself that he was alone, and reentered the church. Indecision anchored Tillie in place. She longed to speak with him, but judging by his furtive glancing around the yard, he preferred solitude. An argument ensued within her. Should she leave him be or go reassure him? She didn’t want him to feel abandoned, but she didn’t want to intrude either.

  “If I go in and sit with him, even if I don’t say a word, at least he’ll know I care.”

  Another rumble of thunder, this one a bit louder and longer, growled across the clouds. A soft, steady rain began, and she hastened her steps across the yard. The thought occurred to her that perhaps he merely came back for his Bible. Glancing to make certain the book was protected from the rain by her shawl, she climbed the stairs and slipped in the door as the patter of rain increased.

  There, at the front of the little sanctuary, Everett knelt. Her eyes traced the back of his head, bowed in prayer. How silly of her to think he’d feel abandoned. He isn’t alone. A child of God is never alone. As she stood there, the words of his prayer reached her ears, and she felt like an interloper.

  “I don’t understand why You allowed me to live through that fire, God. Sometimes I think I’d rather be dead than look like this.”

  Tillie’s throat tightened, and she put her hand over her mouth.

  “But I know You don’t make mistakes, so You must have a reason for these scars. I just wish I knew what that reason was.”

  Tillie laid his Bible on the back bench and started to leave, but the moment she shifted her weight, the floorboard under her foot gave a tiny squeak. She froze. If she moved, he’d know she’d been standing there eavesdropping. Holding her breath lest he hear that, too, she waited for the next roll of thunder and winced under an onslaught of guilt for listening to Everett pray.

  “God, I’m tired of running and hiding, but the ugliness won’t let me rest. I want to do something—be something—for You, but how can You use a broken vessel like me? Nobody wants to look at a man with a deformed face.”

  Tillie heard his voice grow tighter and more intense with each word.

  “I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t matter to You, God, but it does to me. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. God, please—please make something beautiful of my life.”

  Everett’s prayer stole Tillie’s breath. She tightened her hand covering her mouth in an effort to prevent a sob from escaping. Even the years of watching people act repelled by her father’s scars didn’t prepare her for such a heartrending entreaty. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

  A flash of lightning lit the darkened interior of the church, followed seconds later by a booming crash of thunder. The noise echoed long enough for her to exit without being heard.

  “Something beautiful.” His plea blew softly across her heart, mournful yet hopeful. She pulled her shawl up over her head and ran down the road, releasing the tears she’d held in check until now. When she passed the bend in the road and was quite sure Everett couldn’t see her, she slowed her pace and plodded through the rain. Everett’s heart-wrenching words echoed through her mind.

  “I don’t understand why You allowed me to live through that fire, God. Sometimes I think I’d rather be dead than look like this.”

  An unseen hand squeezed her heart. Tears continued to burn her eyes. “Please, God, let Everett hear Your voice. Fill him with an awareness of Your presence so he understands that his usefulness to You depends on his heart, not his appearance.”

  Tangled emotions stirred her stomach into turmoil as the rain dripped off the ends of her shawl, and the leaden sky wept in one accord with her.

  Chapter 9

  Tillie asked the two other women in the hotel kitchen to cover for her while she ran an errand. A twinge of guilt poked her as she scurried down the street toward the freight depot. It wasn’t truly an errand, but her mission held an urgency that had kept her tossing and turning for the past three nights. If she hoped to get any sleep tonight, she’d best meet the situation head-on. Both determination and trepidation roiled in her stomach as she forced her feet to slow and walk sedately.

  She paused a moment in front of t
he newspaper office, glancing at her reflection in the window. A few stray strands of hair had escaped their pins, and she tucked them back into place. With a rush of heat to her face, she hoped no one inside the office was watching her primp. Her gaze darted back and forth, and relief filled her when she saw the office seemed to be empty.

  Just inside the window, a large calendar hung on the wall. Big black Xs marked the passing of the days. Today’s date, Thursday, the seventeenth of September, had yet to be marked off. Tillie took that as an encouragement—there was still time today to accomplish something significant. A tremor ran through her stomach as she considered her errand. She could still change her mind and return to the hotel. Momentary indecision held her in place.

  Everett wasn’t a coward—his heroic actions the day of the boardinghouse fire already proved that. Asking her if he could escort her to the harvest picnic and barn dance would take courage—he’d have to put aside his aversion to being seen in public. But how long should she wait for him to gather that courage?

  She sucked in a fortifying breath. Her intentions might not be considered proper, especially back east where Everett came from, but if she let many more days pass without her planned discussion with him, her only opportunity might slip through her fingers. Resolve straightened her shoulders, and she continued down the boardwalk. The small sign on the door of the freight office declared the business open. She stepped inside, but instead of encountering Everett, Ben stood at the front counter. The moment he saw her, he swept his hat off.

  “Miss Tillie.” Ben’s lopsided smile accentuated his deep brown eyes. He ran his hand over his head, smoothing out unruly hair the same color as a wheat field ripe for harvest. “It’s sure nice to see you in the middle of the week instead of just on Sunday.” He dusted off his shirt and wiped his hands on the seat of his pants.

  A bit of the determination that had propelled her down the boardwalk seeped out of her. “H–hello, Ben.”

  Ben hung his hat on a nail stuck in the wall behind him. “It’s been kind of hard to talk to you at church, Miss Tillie. You’re always hurrying off somewhere.” He shuffled his boot against the corner of the counter. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

  Tillie clasped her hands tightly in front of her waist. She hated to admit it, but she hadn’t given Ben much of a chance for fellowshipping either before or after church. He always seemed to be standing there in the churchyard, waiting to help her down from her family’s wagon on Sunday mornings. In her haste today, she’d not stopped to think that she’d likely run into Ben at the depot. Now he stood before her waiting for a reply.

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She slid a surreptitious glance beyond Ben’s shoulder toward the door to the rear office, wondering if Everett could hear their conversation. “The other ladies in the hotel kitchen are expecting me back in a few minutes, so I really can’t linger.”

  Ben took a step forward. The hopeful expression on his face pricked her. She’d never noticed before the depth of his eyes. There was something warm and welcoming about them. She could well imagine some young lady falling beneath their spell and sighing with contentment in their captivity. The thought brought a tiny smile to her lips.

  Ben’s hands fumbled, and he stuck one hand in his pocket as if he didn’t know what else to do with it. “This won’t take long, Tillie. I—I was just wondering if you planned on going to the harvest picnic and the barn dance. I mean, I didn’t know if”—he glanced toward Everett’s office door—“anyone had asked you yet.”

  Tillie drew in a breath and held it. She didn’t want to hurt Ben’s feelings. She liked Ben. He was a pleasant fellow, honest, hardworking, and polite, but his invitation caught her off balance. Her purpose in taking time away from her lunch break had everything to do with the picnic and dance. In fact, her planned errand included something positively scandalous and bold. She intended to march straight into Everett’s office and ask him herself. But she hadn’t planned on running into Ben.

  She could honestly say that she’d prayed about it. Most of the nighttime hours she’d spent tossing and turning had been filled with whispered prayers. In spite of her repeated petitions, she hadn’t felt the affirmation she’d sought. Impatience chewed at her good sense. Waiting had always been difficult for her, but how long did God intend for her to wait on His answer? A flash of caution shook her. She truly didn’t have peace over what she was about to do. Maybe encountering Ben was God’s way of stopping her from making a huge mistake.

  Apparently, her hesitation communicated indecision to Ben. “Well, you think on it a spell, Miss Tillie. Guess I don’t need an answer right now. But since the picnic’s just a little over a week away…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence, and Tillie knew she wasn’t being fair to make him wait for an answer. If Everett had asked her weeks ago when she’d first hinted about it, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Because of his reticence, she found herself putting Ben off.

  She looked down at her entwined fingers. “Ben, I…”

  Ben gave her another lopsided smile with a small sigh of resignation. His eyes traveled again to the door of the inner office and back to her, like he read her mind. “I know, Miss Tillie. I was just hoping is all. Maybe I’ll see you there.” He retrieved his hat and plopped it back on his head, tugging at the brim. “Good day, Miss Tillie.” He stepped out the door, leaving it standing open, and ambled across the street.

  Guilt skewered her as she watched Ben retreating toward the livery with shoulders slumped, and it was all Everett’s fault. He’d had plenty of opportunity to ask her. She blew out a pent-up breath and raised her hand to knock on the office door, only to have the door open and her knuckles collide with the very man she came to see.

  “Whoa.” Everett caught her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers for the space of two heartbeats. A tingle shot up her arm and accelerated her pulse. He abruptly released her fingers and yanked his hand up to cover his face.

  He took a step backward. “Are you all right?”

  At the moment, she wasn’t certain how to answer that question. Their impromptu meeting in the doorway had left her none the worse for wear on the outside, but a war was raging on the inside. She narrowed her eyes and plunked both hands on her hips.

  “Everett Behr!”

  An expression of expectation arched his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  She marched past him into the office, vaguely aware of the dimmed light with the window shade partially pulled down. She sat on a chair only to bounce back up again an instant later and pace across the room. Exasperation curled her fingers into fists held tightly to her sides in an effort to keep them from reaching out and grabbing Everett’s hand away from his face.

  “Sometimes you make me so angry!”

  Mild surprise flitted across his face, at least the part of his face she could see. “What have I done?”

  Irritation climbed up her frame and spilled over. “Nothing. That’s just the problem.”

  “Oh?” His mouth tipped into a half smile.

  His quiet amusement rankled her even further. A fleeting nudge signaled her to hold her tongue and her temper, but she shoved it away and barged ahead. She thrust both hands out, palms up, fingers splayed. “Everett Behr, you’ve got to be the most aggravating, pigheaded, prickly man I’ve ever met!”

  He tucked his chin back a bit and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Argh!” She spun around and turned her back to him. Count to ten before you say anything else. “You—you—” she sputtered. “Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted.…” She whirled back around. “You are a stubborn man.”

  “Mm. I’ve been called worse.” He reclined against the edge of the desk, seemingly unperturbed by her outburst. “I’m having a little difficulty, however, understanding why you’ve taken the time to come all the way over here just to tell me I’m stubborn.”

  “And aggravating and pigheaded!”

/>   He covered his mouth with his hand and muffled a cough. “And prickly.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

  She could have sworn she heard a grin in his voice. Tears threatened to embarrass her, but she clamped her teeth together and swallowed hard. She took in his familiar form, swathed in shadows as always. How her heart longed to draw him out of those shadows.

  “Everett, why can’t you see yourself for the man you are? The man on the inside. Because that’s the man I see.”

  His posture stiffened, and a hint of sarcasm threaded his tone. “You must not be looking hard enough.”

  “You won’t let me.” She thrust her hands in the air in frustration. “Every time I see you, you either turn away or cover your face. You hide in the shadows and refuse to let anyone come close. I thought we were friends, Everett. No, more than just friends. At least I’d hoped so. But if you keep hiding behind this wall you’ve erected around yourself, how will I ever know for sure?”

  He unfolded his arms and braced his palms against the desk, lowering his chin and staring at the floor. “Tillie, open your eyes. You say you see me for what I am. Well, what I am is ugly. I can’t be what you want me to be, and that’s the reality of it.” He turned and walked around the other side of the desk. “I happen to know Ben was planning on asking you to the picnic and barn dance.”

  The tears that tried to choke her earlier sneaked back into her throat. “He did.”

  “So are you going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Everett blew out a breath, sounding as exasperated as she. “What do you mean you don’t know? What are you waiting for?”

  “I was waiting—hoping—that you…” Her original plan seemed to be crumbling at her feet.