The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1)

by Ruggieri, Alicia G.

  And now, I pray you, consider from this day and upward, from before a stone was laid upon a stone in the temple of the Lord: Since those days were, when one came to an heap of twenty measures, there were but ten: when one came to the pressfat for to draw out fifty vessels out of the press, there were but twenty.

  The tears nearly blinded her, but she dashed them with her hand and kept reading.

  I smote you with blasting and with mildew and with hail in all the labours of your hands; yet ye turned not to me, saith the Lord. Consider now from this day and upward, from the four and twentieth day of the ninth month, even from the day that the foundation of the Lord's temple was laid, consider it. Is the seed yet in the barn? yea, as yet the vine, and the fig tree, and the pomegranate, and the olive tree, hath not brought forth: from this day will I bless you.

  Hope, tender and as yet trembling, gleamed ever so faintly within her. Hers was truly a great God. He was a God of mercy, a good God who would bless her and Geoff, though the notion itself seemed utterly false. True, the Lord addressed Israel in those verses, yet wasn’t Emmeline part of the remnant? And didn’t the Lord still speak to His people?

  “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” she recalled aloud. Not because I want a bloodthirsty God, but because I believe He is as good as He says… that He will bring life where I see only death.

  Emmeline picked up her journal, eager to remember the things God had spoken to her that day. Before she could begin writing, however, her gaze caught on a slight figure hurrying along the street. Staring for a moment, Emmeline recognized her as the young woman – a girl, really - who often hesitated in front of the Kinners’ house every weekday. Strange, though Emmeline had seen the girl often enough as she watered her geraniums or swept the porch, she’d never thought to talk with her or even say hello. A rueful smile grew on Emmeline’s face. Funny how being laid-up caused you to consider small things like that!

  Perhaps the girl doesn’t want you to say hello. Emmeline brushed the thought aside. If she doesn’t, she can keep walking and ignore me, she answered herself, watching the skinny girl take short, quick steps. Sure enough, the girl slowed down and cast a long look at the Kinners’ home. Her eyes caught sight of Emmeline reclining there. Emmeline could tell that the girl was about to quicken her pace and hurry away.

  “Hello, there!” Emmeline called, anxious to greet her before she escaped.

  Obviously startled, the girl stopped in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder, as if wondering whether Emmeline addressed her or someone else. Seeing no one, she turned her surprised eyes back to porch.

  Now that the girl stood still, Emmeline could get a better picture of her. The girl appeared to have skipped lunch for a month: her ratty cardigan hung like a curtain around her scrawny frame, and her baggy skirt slouched off her hips. Emmeline couldn’t be certain from this distance, but she thought she saw the glint of a safety pin holding the skirt up. “Hello, there,” she said again, sitting up as much as she could manage. Oh, that she wasn’t crippled by these stitches and this pain!

  The girl seemed like she might not answer at first. Then, unsmiling, she replied, “Hello.”

  “Won’t you come up to the porch for a moment?” Emmeline asked. Something about the young woman drew her; she felt urged to not let this opportunity pass by.

  The girl looked in the direction she’d been headed and appeared hesitant. Emmeline’s heart sank faster than a stone in the mill pond. She wouldn’t come. But then the girl answered slowly, “Alright.”

  Why am I doing this? Grace asked herself as her feet seemed to move of their own accord up the path to the beautiful white home. But another question overtook that one quickly: Is this woman the one who played the piano?

  I need to hurry. Grace knew that Mama would want her assistance with supper. But the woman on the porch appeared so inviting, so different from that to which Grace was accustomed. I’ll only stay a minute, she promised herself. Just long enough to find out why she threw out those red flowers. Her feet took the porch steps quickly, her heart thudding along.

  At the top, Grace couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes from her rubber-banded shoes. Intense embarrassment crept up her neck and froze her arms tightly against her sides. Perhaps it was a mistake to come…

  “I’m Emmeline Kinner, dear.”

  The woman’s words jolted Grace’s head up. Was this Mr. Kinner’s wife? The one who couldn’t have children? Grace stood gaping for a moment, then realized that the woman waited for her answer without a hint of impatience.

  “I’m Grace Picoletti,” Grace managed. The woman appeared so likable that she felt bold enough to ask, “Does your husband teach at the high school, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Kinner’s smile spread. “Yes, he does, in fact. Do you have Mr. Kinner as a teacher?”

  Grace nodded. Mr. Kinner certainly had a swell wife, as Ben would say. I wish I could ask her about the flowers.

  “I see you come by nearly every day, Grace,” Mrs. Kinner went on, “and I wondered about you.” Suddenly, gently, she grasped Grace’s hand. “I’m so glad that we could meet one another today.”

  The woman’s smile infected Grace, and she found herself returning it, though she felt so uncomfortable with her hand in Mrs. Kinner’s. “I’m glad to meet you, too, ma’am,” she replied. And she realized that she meant it.

  “Now, Grace,” Mrs. Kinner said, releasing her hand, “every time you pass our home, I see that you slow down a bit. Are you looking at anything in particular?”

  Had it been so obvious? Hopefully, Mrs. Kinner wouldn’t mind that Grace had been staring. “Your flowers, ma’am. The red ones,” she added when Mrs. Kinner looked puzzled.

  Mrs. Kinner’s face lit up, and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, the geraniums! My geraniums. You like geraniums?” she asked. “I like them, too! They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Grace nodded and stayed silent for a moment. But the question wouldn’t stay put. “Then why did you get rid of them? They were so pretty.”

  Mrs. Kinner laughed. “Get rid of them? Get rid of my geraniums? Never!”

  Now it was Grace’s turn to be puzzled. “But… they’re gone. They’ve been gone for a while now.”

  “No, no. They’re not gone, Grace. I just take them inside for the colder months, you see,” Mrs. Kinner explained. “You’ll see them again on the porch, hanging in those baskets, when spring comes.”

  A smile burst out; Grace couldn’t help it. The disappearance of the flowers had felt like a little death to her. Knowing that they would be resurrected, well… Something inside her rejoiced at the thought.

  “I would bring you inside the house to show you them – I keep them upstairs in my piano room – but I recently had an operation and find myself rather immobile for the time,” Mrs. Kinner continued.

  Grace realized that Mrs. Kinner had changed her position on the chaise very little during the time in which they’d been talking. She must be in some pain. “I have to be getting home anyway, but thank you, ma’am,” Grace said reluctantly. “I’m so glad about the flowers.” It was silly, she knew, but Mrs. Kinner could little know how happy she had made Grace today!

  “You must come by again, dear, when I’m up on my feet,” Mrs. Kinner encouraged. And she looked as if she truly wished it!

  “Alright,” Grace heard herself saying.

  “Good!” Mrs. Kinner smiled, her hands smoothing the quilt.

  Standing there on that porch, without warning, Grace believed that she had found a real friend, though it seemed brazen to even think that of this kind, lovely woman – that she would want to be Grace’s friend! “Goodbye,” she said, backing away a few steps.

  “Good-bye, dear. Come again soon!” The voice echoed in Grace’s head as she ran the entire remaining half-mile home. She didn’t even realize until she’d arrived that the rubber bands had broken off both her shoes.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A week after Grace refused to let him walk her hom
e anymore, Paulie decided it was high time to discuss the situation with his father. He always gives good advice, he assured his anxious mind as he joined Dad at the dinner table.

  After the usual surface bits and pieces of chatter, Paulie brought up Grace, a little nervously. Taking a bite of broccoli, Dad listened as Paulie carefully described his interactions with her.

  “I know I’ve had crushes in the past, Dad,” he finished, “but I’ve never… liked someone so much as I like Grace. I’m just not sure what to do about it because it seems like she’s suspicious of all of my approaches toward her. She even took her books back the other day. I was walking her home – though she never lets me bring her all the way to her house – and she suddenly got all funny and grabbed them.”

  Paulie shook his head, so confused. “I’m just not sure what to do. Is it wrong for me to like Grace so much? When she obviously wants nothing to do with me?” He raised his eyes to look at Dad. He hoped there would be no censure in Dad’s gaze.

  And there wasn’t. Dad ran his index finger over the rim of his water glass, apparently searching for the right words. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, son, without you forcing it,” Dad stated finally, taking a sip of his water. “But I’d like your promise in this matter on two accounts.”

  Something in Dad’s tone demanded Paulie’s full attention… which Dad had anyway. He looked his father straight in the eyes. “What’s that?” Paulie asked.

  “First, that you don’t get serious about any girl who doesn’t love Jesus Christ. He must be the foundation of the deep, lifelong relationship of marriage.” Dad hesitated, waiting for Paulie’s agreement.

  Paulie reddened. “I wasn’t thinking of marriage, Dad. I’m only just seventeen.” He looked down into his mug of hot cocoa, swirling with freshly-whipped cream.

  Dad nodded. “I know that. But for us as Christian men, that’s where serious relationships with women should be headed. And, like you say, you and Grace are both a bit young for that.” Dad smiled. “At least in our culture. And then there’s a second thing.”

  “What’s that, Dad?”

  “That you stay open with me about how things are going with Grace so that I can keep praying for you about it.”

  Paulie sighed. “Well, updating you sure won’t be a problem. There’s not going to be much to update you on. Grace hasn’t spoken to me since that incident with her books. Other than saying, ‘hi,’ you know,” he said, adding to himself, When I say it first, that is!

  He glanced up to see Dad giving him a sympathetic look. “Well, pray about it, Son. Like I said, if it’s meant to be, you can trust your Heavenly Father to bring it to pass. Right?”

  “Right, Dad,” Paulie agreed aloud and hoped that he really believed it.

  “So I have your word on those two things?” Dad interrupted Paulie’s thoughts.

  Paulie nodded. Dad always had Paulie’s best interest at heart; of this Paulie had no doubt. “Yes, Dad,” he affirmed.

  “Now, why don’t you ask Grace to come around some time afterschool? You could play checkers or ride bikes while the weather’s still good,” Dad suggested. “Mrs. McCusker will be here, you know.”

  Paulie blew out a breath. “I already tried that. When I asked her to come out here to ride bikes, she grabbed her books back and wouldn’t let me bring her the rest of the way home.”

  “Ask her to do something else,” Dad advised.

  Surprised, Paulie raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said that I shouldn’t force it, Dad?”

  Dad grinned. “Force it? No. But every real man should exhibit some perseverance, son. Nothing wrong with putting feet to your faith.” Dad winked. “Right?”

  Paulie felt a slow smile growing on his lips. “Right.”

  A few days later, Paulie felt that unusual pounding in his chest as the end-of-school bell rang. His eyes found their way over to Grace Picoletti’s seat. She bent over, pulling books from the metal shelf underneath her chair. Come on, Giorgi, he sternly rebuked himself. Get your act together. She’s just a girl, after all.

  Just the loveliest, most interesting girl he’d ever laid eyes on, ever talked to. Looking at Grace, Paulie felt relieved that he had spoken to Dad about her, even though the Lord knew he’d felt a bit awkward about it.

  She’s the bee’s knees, alright!

  He took a deliberate breath to steady himself. Though his body might not cooperate, Paulie felt peaceful in his heart, knowing that God would do His good will in this… this liking he had for Grace. Is it from You? He’d asked the question often this week in his morning prayer-time. And God didn’t seem to be giving him a direct answer, but Paulie at least knew that he would trust in the Lord in this little thing … and that he would, by God’s grace, keep the promises he’s made to Dad.

  His eyes fastened on that golden head, Paulie rose to his feet, book gripped tightly in his hands.

  “So I told Henry that there was no way I’d go with him to the movie-house, talkie or no talkie,” Ruth Ann buzzed, picking up the conversation with Grace right where she’d left off before class. Ruth Ann’s big eyes glowed with insinuation as she leaned close to Grace.

  Ruth Ann talks so loud half the class could listen in if they wanted to. Grace plucked up her pencils and returned them to their case.

  “You know what I mean, Grace?” Ruth Ann asked. “Why would I go to the movie-house with Henry?”

  The way she said it, you’d think Henry had never washed a day in his life. Grace shrugged, hesitant to voice an opinion. Henry had always seemed like a nice boy to her. Of course, she didn’t know him too well, but she didn’t know any boy really well. Though she wished she could have known one boy – Paulie - a little bit better…

  “Hey, what’s so bad about Henry?”

  Grace nearly jumped. The familiar voice that Grace had missed hearing every day as she walked home now came up right beside her. She hardly dared to look at him, sure that he’d see the delight he’d caused just by appearing there by her side. Grace, have some self-control, she admonished, schooling her features into nonchalance before turning her eyes toward the speaker.

  Wearing an unguarded smile, Paulie stood waiting for a response from Ruth Ann, whose dark eyes flashed at him for the interference.

  “Pardon me,” Ruth Ann said with a lofty tone, “but I don’t remember you being part of this discussion, Paulie Giorgi.”

  Paulie grinned. “Nope, I guess not. But I couldn’t help but overhear what you said.”

  “And what’s it matter to you?” Ruth Ann asked, eyes narrowed. Grace held her breath; Ruth Ann did not like being crossed.

  Paulie raised his chin, and when he spoke, his voice held not only firmness but kindness, too. “Henry’s a good chum of mine, and I don’t like hearing him talked about behind his back. If you’re going to say something bad about him, at least do it outright, Ruth Ann. With some proof. So that’s why I asked you: What’s so bad about Henry?”

  Ruth Ann’s pretty pink lips tightened. “Well, maybe you aren’t aware of this, but I certainly am.” She leaned closer to Paulie and dropped her voice a fraction. “Last week, Lisa-Marie saw Henry’s brother Michael smooching Marsha Thomasina in the back of the movie-house!” She folded her arms across her chest. “Now do you think I’m that kind of a girl? The kind who smooches at the picture show?”

  Grace glanced at Paulie. Surely, now he’ll see that he was wrong to butt in. Though she had enjoyed every moment of his defense of Henry thus far.

  Paulie tilted his head to the side. “Thought you said Henry asked you to go, not his brother?”

  Ruth Ann sniffed, fingers playing with her pearly sweater clip. “That’s right.”

  “Well, why are you judging Henry by hearsay of what his brother did?” Paulie asked. “I’m not saying you should go to the picture show with him, Ruth Ann. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t judge Henry by what his brother’s like. That’s all.”

  I wonder if he really means that? Would he mean it if he knew
… knew what my family was like? Would he judge me by them? Hugging her small stack of textbooks, Grace waited for Ruth Ann’s answer.

  “And I’ll bet you’re going to tell me that not judging Henry is biblical, aren’t you?” Ruth Ann spat the word out. Grace thought that her friend’s glare could have roasted a chicken.

  Paulie grinned. “Sure it is, Ruth Ann. Where would Abel or Seth be if God had judged them by Cain’s actions?”

  “Ugh!” Ruth Ann groaned. “Here comes a Sunday School lesson.” She gave a final “humph” and stalked out of the classroom, letting the door slam behind her.

  With only a little shyness, Grace met Paulie’s eyes. He had won a new respect from her. Boys didn’t usually stand up to Ruth Ann. First off, they often wanted to get on her good side because she was awfully pretty; and secondly, she had a terrible temper and could hold a grudge longer than anyone else Grace knew. But Paulie had believed what he’d said, that much shone clearly, and he wasn’t afraid to take a little heat for it. Yet he had said what needed saying kindly, without a hint of malice. Even Ben would have lashed Ruth Ann with his tongue. What makes Paulie different?

  “Got chores to do today?” he asked as the classroom emptied. He moved to pick up Grace’s books. “May I?”

  Despite the fear that curled her toes, Grace nodded, albeit hesitantly. What harm really could come from her letting him carry her books? She wouldn’t let him walk her any farther than Mrs. Kinner’s house. Then, she would take her books back from him and scurry home, quick as a lightening bug, through the wooded shortcut. After all, she so much wanted to talk with Paulie. You want his attention, she rebuked herself. And she realized that she couldn’t deny it. Grace was glad that she preceded Paulie out of the classroom so that he couldn’t observe the prominent grin displayed on her face.

  It seemed like seconds had passed when Grace saw that they were already approaching Mrs. Kinner’s house. I’ll wait a little longer, and then I’ll visit her again. Grace bit her lip at the sudden thought: Maybe Mrs. Kinner was just trying to be kind; maybe she doesn’t really want you to come again, Grace. If that was true, Grace surely didn’t want to humiliate herself by dropping by again. Maybe I’ll wait until she calls out to me again one day…