With every step closer to church, Cass expected Sadie to change her mind and run back to the familiarity of Ludwig’s house. Once they were seated in a back pew, she was as nervous as a caged bird. Ma was little better until Pastor Taylor, God bless him, stopped at their pew and welcomed them. He asked Cass to introduce his “visitors,” as if he’d never laid eyes on Ma and Sadie. Cass supposed there were people who might think that pretense a little too close to dishonesty. Cass saw it as a kindness. Beneath his smile and his greeting, it was as if the pastor was saying, “Who you were doesn’t matter. God offers new lives, and so do we. You’re welcome here.”
As Pastor Taylor made his way to his place on the platform, Cass glanced around just in time to see the three Sutton women slip into the last row across the aisle in the middle section. It was a bit of a shock to see Mrs. Sutton in full mourning, her face obscured behind a long black veil. He caught Aunt Lydia’s eye and nodded. She smiled at the sight of Ma and Sadie. Neither Mrs. Sutton nor Miss Theodora looked up.
When he glanced down at Ma and smiled, she tucked her hand beneath his arm then looked to the front of the church. As the congregation rose for the opening hymn, Ma and Sadie began to sing, and Cass realized that for all the time he’d spent trying to think of ways to rescue Sadie from Goldie’s or trying to talk Ma into leaving whether Sadie would or not, he’d never simply asked God to make a way for the three of them to have a normal life and a normal Sunday morning together. Yet here they were. Together. Singing, “My faith looks up to Thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine….”
When Pastor Taylor got up to give his sermon, Cass tensed. They’d been studying the Gospel of Luke, and Jesus said some harsh things to people. You see Ma and Sadie here, Lord? Could You just please make things go all right for them? Please.
Pastor Taylor laid his Bible on the podium and riffled through the pages. “Reading from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 15:
Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spake this parable unto them, saying, What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.
After reading from Luke, Pastor Taylor talked about how easy it was for people who’d been in church all their lives to think they were better than others. He mentioned logs and splinters in eyes and how Jesus had no patience with people who only pretended on Sunday.
“Our Lord Jesus,” he said, “cares about the heart. He is the Good Shepherd who risks everything for lost sheep. Whether they know they need saving or not, lost sheep are dear to the Lord’s heart, and we are all lost sheep. We may put on airs. We may like to pretend we are better than others. But the truth is each one of us owes everything to the Good Shepherd who came after us.”
Toward the end of his sermon, Pastor Taylor smiled over the crowd. “Some of you have been unhappy with me of late because you disagree with some of the things I’ve done. You think I’ve stepped over the line in chasing after lost sheep in Jesus’ name.”
Cass sensed Sadie tensing up in the pew beside him, clutching at her “schoolmarm” skirt as the pastor drew dangerously close to mentioning Nell Parker’s graveside service.
“Dearly beloved, if you don’t want a pastor who will go anywhere it takes to share the love of Jesus, then you don’t want this pastor in your pulpit. I love you all. You’ve been good to me, especially since Viola graduated to heaven last year. You’ve stood by me and been a great comfort. I hope with all of my heart that we can go on together, but I’m not going to change. I love lost sheep. And so should you.
“We are all sinners, folks. Our only hope is in the Christ who fiercely longs to rescue us and to have a relationship with us. Our only hope is in the Christ who has the power to transform us into new creations. Our only hope is in the Christ who went out in the darkness, where the night was cold and deep. And found the lost lamb.
“That lamb is you and me, folks. That’s you and me. Christ chased after us all the way to the cross. Our hope is in Him. And we owe it to our Savior to chase lost sheep in His mighty, precious, holy, redemptive name.”
As Pastor Taylor delivered his lesson on lost sheep and kindness, Juliana sat, her gloved hands clenched in her lap, her head bowed. She wanted to listen, she really did. But she couldn’t concentrate. Even here on the back row, she felt like she was on display. As if everyone in the congregation was thinking about that lost sheep Sterling Sutton and how he’d duped the poor thing seated behind that veil in the back pew. Poor woman. Poor thing. Poor fool.
Aunt Theodora had said that deep mourning was a protection. “It will encourage people to treat you gently, dear. They will know that you have had a grave loss. That you are fragile and deserve their tender care.”
Juliana understood the point, but as she sat here shrouded in a widow’s veil that reached to her knees, she didn’t feel protected. Not only did she feel as if she were on display, she also felt trapped. She dipped her chin and looked to her right. All she could see was Aunt Theodora’s gloved hands clenched in her lap. At some point during the sermon, Aunt Lydia had reached over and handed Aunt Theodora a handkerchief. A moment later, the sisters were holding hands, and Aunt Theodora was dabbing at tears.
Meanwhile, it was all Juliana could do to sit still. Her mind wandered. She didn’t dare look over, but she wondered how Cass’s mother and sister were faring with all this talk of lost sheep. Maybe everyone in the congregation felt like Pastor Taylor was speaking to them. Juliana supposed that could happen when a sermon was particularly inspired. But her own thoughts were darting from one topic to another as quickly as a lamb skittering about a pasture in a moment of panic.
Why was Aunt Theodora crying?
She should thank Cass’s mother and sister for rescuing her that day. Did they know she had deliberately shunned them? Should she apologize?
What would people think if a woman in full mourning paused to chat after a church service?
What would Aunt Theodora think?
She was supposed to stand apart. To settle into a pew, worship, and leave. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to say hello to Lutie Gleason and the quilters who’d been in her home. She wanted to meet Cass’s mother and sister and thank them for rescuing her. She wanted to tell Cass the exciting news about their plans for a Friendship Home. She wanted to ask him to bring the plans to the house so that they could all go over them together. Aunt Theodora had suggested it, but she would never speak up today. Especially not when she was apparently having her own problems with tears and emotions. Juliana wanted to move forward. Instead, here she was, hidden behind a veil.
Wasn’t going to church supposed to make a person feel better? It wasn’t working. She couldn’t even hold her hymnal properly without getting all tangled in black net. All because of Sterling. It wasn’t fair. It made her angry. Just when she thought she’d put the anger to rest and made peace with things after she’d emptied Sterling’s wardrobe and packed his things away, here it was again in full force.
She felt hot. Short of breath. Like she might faint. Perspiration trickled down her back. Her chest hurt. She tried to calm down. What did Pastor Taylor mean about logs and splinters? She should listen. She couldn’t. Something really was wrong. She was going to faint and make a scene right in the middle of her first service at St. John’s. She had to get out of here. Now.
Juliana leaned close, murmured “I’m sorry” to Aunt Theodora, and slid out of the pew. Thank goodness the back door was only a few feet away. One of the
ushers followed her out. Kind of him, but she held her hand up. “I’ll be fine,” she said and crossed the carpeted vestibule to the exterior doors.
Finally outside in the sunshine and fresh air, she tried to draw in a deep breath. She couldn’t. She grasped the iron railing that offered a handhold for people climbing the stone steps up to the front doors while, with her free hand, she fought with the veil, finally managing to lift it up and over her head. Next she pulled her gloves off. Her heart began to slow. She took a deep breath. Another. And then she began to cry.
What was there to cry about? She couldn’t be standing here when the doors opened and the congregation began to spill down the stairs. She couldn’t just head up the street in this getup, either. Alfred had driven them to church in the town coach, but he and Martha had continued on to their church. They wouldn’t be back until their service was over.
For once Juliana wanted the town coach. If only it were here, she could climb inside and be hidden from curious eyes. She could escape all this pretense. She wasn’t a grieving widow. She was an angry woman who, at this moment, felt like shredding every bit of black in her wardrobe and doing—something. Something to escape.
She scurried around the side of the building. A narrow exterior stairway led down to what must be meeting rooms in the basement. With a glance behind her, she sat on the top stair, hunkered against the building, and let the tears roll.
A handkerchief seemed to float out of the sky. She glanced up and muttered, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Aunt Lydia sent me,” Cass said. “When I saw you leave, she caught my eye. She had hold of her sister’s hand. Miss Theodora was mopping up tears.” He gave a low laugh. “Poor Pastor Taylor. I don’t think he’s accustomed to his sermons having such an effect.”
Juliana dabbed at her tears. “It wasn’t the sermon—at least not for me.” She drew another deep breath. “I’ll be fine. You should go back inside. Your mother and sister will be worried.”
“Lutie Gleason is sitting in the pew right in front of us. It’s as if the good Lord put an entire welcoming committee on the spot in case I had to … check on my boss.” He paused. “You said it wasn’t the sermon. Do you want to talk about it?”
“First I couldn’t concentrate. My mind bounced all over the place. Then I felt trapped. Like I couldn’t breathe. For a moment I thought I was going to faint.” Fresh tears threatened. “It’s absurd. I just—I thought—” She gave up trying to speak. The congregation was singing the final hymn. And her in this state.
Cass held his hand out. “Keep the handkerchief. Take my hand and stand up.”
When she obeyed, her gloves dropped out of her lap. He bent to pick them up and handed them over. Next, he reached behind her and lifted the veil back up and over her face. “Now. Take my arm and walk with me around back and over to the side street. We’ll wait there for the town coach.”
“What an introduction to a new church,” Juliana muttered. “I’ll be branded a madwoman.”
He covered her hand with his. “You’ll be branded a brave widow who wanted the comfort of her faith and was overcome with grief. Here come your aunts. You can all wait here together. I’ve got to find Ma and Sadie, but I’ll try to watch for Alfred and the town coach and send him around the corner. Would you like me to send Pastor Taylor your way?”
Juliana shook her head. “I wouldn’t know what to say.” She paused. “I so wanted to meet your mother and sister and thank them for rescuing me.”
“Another time. I’ll let them know.”
“And I have news. About the house. Aunt Theodora suggested we invite you to supper, but now—”
“Probably not the best time,” he said and smiled. “You know where to find me. Feel better, Mrs. Sutton.”
As he walked past Aunts Lydia and Theodora, Cass stopped and said something. Whatever it was, the aunts smiled and nodded. He turned back and bowed in her direction and then hurried off toward the crowd spilling down the stairs.
Juliana spoke to Aunt Theodora as soon as the aunts drew near. “Before you say ‘I told you so,’ I admit it. You were right. We should both probably stay home for a few more weeks.”
“No,” Aunt Theodora said. “I was wrong. We needed—I needed to hear those words today.”
“But he made you cry.”
Aunt Theodora was not one to show her emotions in public. Juliana had expected her to be mortified.
The woman smiled. “Not all tears are because of sadness, my dear.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t believe I have ever heard anyone say that God furiously longs for relationship with His creation. When the pastor said that, I thought, How absurd.” Her voice wavered. “But then I looked up at him, and all I could see was that cross hanging above the choir loft. And I realized if that terrible death wasn’t about furious longing after humanity, what was it for?” She coughed. “I was quite overcome with the notion that the Lord of Heaven should care that much. I’ve been in church all my life. But today, it was as if I was hearing things for the first time.” She dabbed at her eyes with the black-trimmed kerchief. “St. John’s is a place of comfort. I look forward to returning. Often.” Once again, she reached for her sister’s hand.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you, dear,” Aunt Lydia said. “Theodora needed me.”
Juliana shook her head. “I wish I could say that spiritual enlightenment was the cause of my collapse. I just couldn’t breathe.” Cass reappeared around the corner of the church with his mother and sister and Mr. Meyer. He pointed behind them, and the town coach came into view. Juliana raised a hand. Cass’s mother and sister returned the greeting.
Cass was right. They had time for meetings and for sharing news. And there was a better way to thank the people who had taken her to Dr. Gilbert’s than speaking a few words from behind a black veil.
CHAPTER 16
Blessed is he that considereth the poor.
PSALM 41:1
The aunts fluttered over Juliana all afternoon, like mother birds tending a hatchling. They ensconced her on the sofa in the library and set a tea tray next to her.
Aunt Lydia worried aloud. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call Dr. Gilbert out?”
Juliana shook her head. “It’s nothing Dr. Gilbert can treat.” She reached for a cup of tea.
As the afternoon went on, Aunt Lydia slipped into the parlor to work on the signature quilt. When she mentioned that she’d come to the block with Sterling’s name on it, Juliana lay her head back against a pillow and closed her eyes. She tried to enjoy Aunt Theodora’s playing the piano, all the while wondering if Martha had succeeded in getting the shadow of that other name off the quilt. Would it haunt her for the rest of her life? Eventually, Juliana dozed off.
When the telephone out in the kitchen rang three longs and one short, she started awake. Aunt Lydia hurried to answer it. Juliana kept her eyes closed, listening to murmured words until she sensed Aunt Lydia standing in the doorway. When Juliana opened her eyes, she said, “Pastor Taylor inquiring as to your health, dear.”
Not long after Pastor Taylor called, Lutie Gleason and Medora Riley followed suit. And then, Cass Gregory. “I know he’d feel better if he heard your voice,” Aunt Lydia said. “He sounds so concerned.” Juliana hurried to the kitchen to take the call.
“I suppose the fact that you came to the phone answers my question,” he said. “You’re all right?”
“I am. And I’m very sorry for causing such a stir this morning. I don’t know what came over me. To tell you the truth, I’m embarrassed about the entire episode. The aunts have been treating me like a piece of cracked porcelain this afternoon—with the emphasis on the ‘cracked’ part of the image.” She forced a laugh.
“No one thinks you’re ‘cracked,’ least of all me. It’s only been a month. Be kind to yourself.”
“The aunts and I—we have something to discuss with you about the house. We’ve come up with an idea.” Why couldn’t the telephone exchange manage private lines? Kn
owing that people were probably listening in made things so awkward. “Would you be able to drop by tomorrow evening or Tuesday morning? Either one would suit.”
“It’s good news, I hope?”
“Very good news. And please bring the house plans with you.”
“Now I really am intrigued. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
Juliana retreated to the library and told the aunts that Mr. Gregory would stop by Monday evening. “We’ll tell him about Friendship Home then and get some preliminary ideas for what he’d advise in the way of changes.” She glanced at Aunt Theodora. “You can ask him about windows on the third floor.”
She sat down on the sofa. “I’m going to want it made clear that the current workforce will be kept on to finish the job.” She paused. “And now that I think about it, we probably shouldn’t just presume the board will be as delighted as we are. What if they don’t want it?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Aunt Lydia said.
“I don’t know. The location? Will they think it’s too far out of town?”
“In a few years,” Aunt Theodora said, “it will likely be in the middle of town.”
Juliana nodded. “You’re right about that. But I don’t want to look like a queen pontificating ‘in all her generous glory.’” She paused. “Frankly, if it comes to a vote, you know Helen Duncan will be against it. Just for the sake of spite.”
“I disagree,” Aunt Theodora said. “She wouldn’t dare refuse such a generous gift to a cause she’s supported for years. Can you imagine what people would say if they knew about the Duncans’ attempt to take advantage of a new widow? You needn’t worry about Helen Duncan.”
“Theodora’s right,” Aunt Lydia said. “It’s all about what people think for Helen. She’ll be all sweetness and light.” She paused. “Although I wouldn’t put it past her to find a way to be spiteful in the future—if she can do it without hurting her public reputation.”
Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] Page 16