Hearts Aglow

by Tracie Peterson

  “If you put them back to back, you could serve dinner atop their backsides,” Christopher whispered against her ear.

  Deborah shivered at the warmth of his breath on her neck. She giggled to conceal the effect, but found it impossible to speak. Christopher, however, seemed to have little trouble.

  “Women and their contraptions shall always amaze me. I find a well-fitted corset to be advantageous to a woman’s health, but bustles and the like are quite useless and sometimes downright dangerous.”

  “I find it rather amazing that we are standing here in broad daylight discussing women’s undergarments,” Deborah said, looking up at him.

  Christopher’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Would you rather I wait until the dark of night?”

  “Sir, you are positively scandalous.”

  He laughed. “Not at all. We are both interested in the medical well-being of women, are we not? Perhaps your delicate sensibilities are too fragile for a career in medicine.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have agreed to court a physician. They seem to easily forget their manners.” She started to walk away, but Christopher quickly pulled her in line with him.

  “Oh no, you don’t. I won’t have you slip away from me that easily. Now come along. I want to watch the game.”

  He led her to one of the wooden benches that had been positioned for viewing the game. Deborah saw the pastor speaking to a collection of Negro players. The men were smiling and nodding at the minister. On the opposite side of the field, the white players stood with expressions that seemed mostly dubious. Deborah hoped her brother Rob would help keep the situation under control. He was to play second baseman, so he would be right in the middle of everything.

  As the townsfolk assembled near the diamond, those of African ancestry took their place on the left side of the diamond toward third base, while the whites gathered more center and to the right. Pastor Shattuck climbed onto one of the benches and held up his hands. “Folks, it’s time we got this game started. Let us have a word of prayer on this, our day of celebration.”

  A hush fell over the crowd. “Father, we commit this day to you. As we celebrate our independence, we recall that true liberty is found in Christ alone. May we, the people of Perkinsville, be mindful of your generosity to us and extend compassion and consideration to each person gathered here today. Amen.”

  He looked out across the flock of people, then turned to the players. “Let’s commence the game!”

  Cheers erupted from both sides, and Christopher settled in beside Deborah. “This should prove interesting.”

  “I was thinking much the same,” Deborah replied.

  The game started without conflict. Pastor Shattuck drew the two teams together. “For the sake of the day, we shall call this team the Perkinsville Razorbacks, as they have called themselves in the past.” He nodded toward the captain of the white players. “And the other team will be called the Perkinsville Sawyers, since many of these men cut for a living.”

  “The Razorbacks will take their place in the field,” Pastor Shattuck announced. “Sawyers – you’re up to bat.”

  Deborah recognized the first player. “That’s Abraham Garby,” she told Christopher. “He works for us.”

  One of the many Foster cousins stepped to the mound to pitch. He threw the first ball, which was immediately declared a strike by the officiating umpire Mr. Huebner. As the local schoolmaster, Curtis Huebner had called many a ball game in the past.

  The next pitch split the air with a loud crack as Abraham sent the ball slicing out across the open field. He ran for first base, then rounded second for third before the ball was retrieved. Picking up speed, Abraham slid into third while those gathered nearby cheered.

  Deborah clapped, as did several of the other people around her, but most of the white people remained silent. The next two players were quickly struck out, but the third man managed to drive the ball into right field, allowing Abraham to reach home plate. The Sawyers were on the board.

  For the next six innings, things went well, but when the seventh found the score tied four to four, conflict began to stir. Name calling, at first jovial and teasing, became more meanspirited and derogatory. Pastor Shattuck asked the men to put aside such comments, but the truce didn’t last for long. Then when the teams changed places in the bottom of the inning and the Razorbacks stepped to the plate, a disaster struck on the first pitch. The ball slammed into the shoulder of John Stevens and knocked him to the ground. Although John did not see it as a personal attack, others on the team were livid and rushed to the pitcher’s mound to see their form of justice done.

  In turn, many of the Sawyers players came forward to assist their comrade and soon fists were swinging. Deborah watched in horror as Pastor Shattuck tried in vain to calm the men. It wasn’t until Zed Perkins fired a shotgun in the air that some semblance of order settled upon them once again. By then, no one felt much like continuing the game.

  “It’s very nearly time for the dinner bell,” Mr. Perkins announced. “I’d suggest we call this game a tie and begin eatin’.”

  Murmurs coursed throughout the crowd and a general consensus of approval was evident. The men separated hesitantly, each going to their assigned team places.

  “I think I should see to the Sawyers and their wounds,” Christopher told her as he got to his feet. “A couple of those men look to have taken the worst of it to their faces.”

  “Can I be of any assistance?” she asked.

  He looked at her sadly. “It wouldn’t be acceptable, Deborah. Why don’t you go save us a place to enjoy our meal?” He gave her a weak smile before heading off.

  Deborah frowned and let out a heavy sigh. Would this town ever see it as acceptable for a young, single woman doctor to tend a man – even in the open company of others?

  “Why am I bothering to learn how to heal folks if they’ll never accept help from me?” she muttered under her breath. Thankfully no one seemed to notice. The last thing she wanted was to stir up yet another controversy for the day.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Don’t need you,” a bloodied black man told Christopher. “Ain’t needin’ no white man’s he’p.”

  “I’m a doctor. Your lip looks like it could use a stitch or two.” The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’ need your he’p – just like I said.”

  Another man nodded. “We got womenfolk what can fix us up.”

  Christopher looked around the group of injured men. “And that’s how all of you feel?”

  “Tha’s the way it be for all of us.”

  The statement was matter-of-fact, and none of the other men so much as met Christopher’s gaze. One by one, they turned and walked away until only Abraham Garby remained. He finally looked up and shook his head.

  “Sorry, Doc. Iffen we ain’t careful, there’ll be more trouble than this. Best you go back to your folks and we go back to ours.” He turned and walked to where he’d left his hat. Picking it up, he knocked it against his leg and kept moving.

  Christopher wanted to go after the men, but he knew it would do no good. There was too much anger on both sides of this situation. He blew out a heavy breath and shrugged. If they didn’t want his help, he couldn’t win their trust by forcing it upon them.

  The aroma of roasted meat filled the air and drew his attention.

  Christopher marveled at the long line of makeshift tables laden with food. This was his first time to celebrate Texas Independence Day.

  “Doc, if you’re lookin’ for my sister, she’s over yonder,” Rob declared and pointed toward a stand of trees.

  “Thanks.” Christopher started to head in that direction, but Rob stopped him.

  “Was anyone badly hurt?”

  “I don’t really know. No one would let me tend them.”

  Rob shook his head. “I don’t rightly know what got into folks.

  Seems to me it was just an accident.”

  “I think we can agree on that m
uch,” Christopher replied, “but apparently they can’t. Sometimes I think people are just looking for an excuse to fight.”

  “Folks in these parts have plenty of excuses – leastwise, that’s what it seems to me.” Rob shrugged. “Guess it will always be that way.”

  “It shouldn’t have to be.” Christopher felt a heavy resignation wash over him. “But I suppose – at least for now – it will be.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ we can do by standin’ here talkin’ about it,” Rob added. “If we don’t get in line, we’ll miss the white bread.”

  Christopher thought it ironic that even the color of the bread was of importance at this gathering. He understood that flour-based bread wasn’t seen as often as corn bread, but another color-based preference was more than he wanted to face.

  He found Deborah sitting alone and looking rather forlorn. This town wasn’t interested in a woman doctor, but it was even less willing to accept an unmarried white woman working on the wounds of black men.

  “Want some company?”

  She looked up and studied him for a moment. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

  “I know.” He crouched down beside her. “They didn’t want my help any more than they would have taken yours.”

  “Truly? But why?”

  “Because I’m white.”

  “But you’ve helped them before.”

  Christopher looked out toward the muddy creek. There was only a minimal amount of water within its banks. They could certainly use some rain. He felt Deborah reach out to touch his hand. He turned back to see her worried expression.

  “Will it always be like this?”

  “So long as good men allow this to be the acceptable manner of behavior.” He shook his head. “But let’s try to put it aside. Today’s for celebrating, right?”

  She nodded. “But it doesn’t seem folks truly understand. Texas was different back then, Mama says. Before the war, they didn’t seem half so worried about the color of a person’s skin. Before Texas became its own country, the Mexican government respected men of all colors. Seems we’ve lost something in our liberty.”

  Christopher stood and helped Deborah to her feet. “Hopefully we’ll get it back,” he said, escorting her to the food.

  “Come on, you two,” Lizzie said as she and G.W. neared the food tables. “I can hardly wait to try a little of everything.”

  Deborah laughed. “You’d be hard-pressed to sample it all.

  Mother said there were over two hundred dishes.”

  “Oh my.” Lizzie looked to G.W. “I don’t suppose I can.”

  “Well, I sure intend to give it my best,” G.W. said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Deborah added. She looked to Christopher. “Lizzie’s been a bit queasy of late.”

  “I thought it would be behind me by now, but in some ways it seems worse.”

  “For how long?” Christopher asked.

  Lizzie considered the question for a moment. “Probably the better part of the last month. Seems to strike without warning at most any time of the day or night. I’ve always had trouble with nausea since I learned I was in a family way, but it seems that lately I have more trouble than ever.”

  Christopher thought for a moment. “Any other problems?”

  Deborah looked at him oddly. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

  Now Lizzie and G.W. looked alarmed. Christopher put up his hand. “Don’t make more out of this than needs to be. I’m just trying to be thorough.”

  “I’m tired all the time, but you told me I would be,” she replied with a smile.

  “I’d like to examine you tomorrow,” Christopher said immediately, holding up his hands. “Not because I think anything is wrong. Come with Deborah to the office, and I’ll see if I can’t find something for the nausea.”

  Lizzie and G.W. seemed to calm and exchanged a smile. “She’ll be there,” G.W. told Christopher. “I’ll bring them both myself.”

  Christopher nodded. “Then we’ll discuss this more at that time.”

  As G.W. and Lizzie strolled toward the food, Deborah tugged on Christopher’s arm. “Do you think there’s a problem?”

  He chuckled. “You are definitely one for speaking your mind – still, it would serve you well not to say the first thing that comes into your head. Especially when standing right in front of a patient.”

  “Well, there’s no patient standing here now. What is it you suspect?”

  He grinned. “Well, consider this. Your sister-in-law is only about four and a half months along, but in the last month she’s grown considerably in size. The nausea has been more severe than most women and even now is extreme. I’m thinking she might be carrying twins.”

  Deborah’s mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. “Twins?”

  “Don’t say anything just yet. We should have a better idea tomorrow.”

  “Oh, there’s Mother with our dishes,” Deborah said, pulling Christopher along. “We have a plate and silver for you, as well.”

  Christopher liked that he’d been included in the family. When he’d first arrived in the community, few wanted to associate with him, much less allow him to practice his medical skills on them. Now more folks openly allowed his care – and his friendship.

  “Well, you two look like you could use a good meal,” Mrs. Vandermark said, holding a plate out to Christopher.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’m quite happy to put a dent in the food.” Christopher glanced at the vast arrangement of dishes on the food table. “Where are yours?”

  Deborah’s mother laughed. “Why, do you plan to avoid them?”

  “On the contrary, I intend to start with the best.”

  She smiled. “In that case, I’ll let Deborah point them out. She knows exactly what we brought. Be sure you get a piece of her butter cake before it’s gone.”

  He looked at Deborah in surprise. “You baked?”

  Her right brow arched slightly. “Indeed, I did, and if you don’t mind your manners, I won’t tell you which cake is mine.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Euphanel laughed and handed her daughter a plate. “You’ve got him well trained already.”

  Deborah rolled her eyes. “It’s all just a show for you, Mother.

  Dr. Clayton has never listened to anything I’ve had to say. He thinks he already knows it all.”

  Christopher laughed and nudged Deborah forward. “What I really know is that I’m going to starve half to death if I stand around here waiting much longer. Come on.”

  Rob eyed Mara Shattuck trying to balance her plate and parasol and sauntered up to her as if he did this kind of thing every day.

  “Can I be of service? Carry your plate?”

  “Perhaps if you took the parasol,” Mara said with a grateful expression.

  Rob looked at the lacey pink thing and nodded reluctantly. No doubt he’d hear about this later if his brother caught sight of him toting the fancy umbrella around.

  “Thank you.” Mara handed him the parasol and focused on her choices of food. “Everything looks so good; it’s hard not to take some of everything.”

  “I tried that once,” Rob said, trying to decide if he should hold the parasol over Mara or just let it hang to the side. “It didn’t work out so well. I got so stuffed, I was pert near sick.”

  “Gluttony is a sin, you know,” she said sweetly.

  “I suppose I do. Guess I’m just a regular old sinner.”

  “We all are sinners, Mr. Vandermark.”

  “Call me Rob. Mr. Vandermark is too uppity for me.”

  She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. “It’s a matter of etiquette and proper behavior, Mr. Vandermark. I am a single woman, and you are a single gentleman. We’re only newly acquainted, and it would be unacceptable for us to pretend otherwise.”

  He looked at her and shook his head. “We might only be newly acquainted, but
I’d like it well enough if we got to knowin’ each other a whole lot better.”

  She stopped and turned. “To what outcome, Mr. Vandermark?”

  Rob was momentarily stumped. “I . . . well . . . that is . . . I reckon I’d like for us to be . . . friends.”

  “I see.” She shifted the plate from her left hand to her right. “I believe I’d like for us to be friends, Mr. Vandermark.” She smiled. “Would you care to sit with my father and me at dinner? We’re set up just over there by the church.”

  Rob followed her gaze and could see that Pastor Shattuck was already busily eating. He grinned. “I’d be mighty glad to join you.”

  She reached out to take hold of the umbrella. “Wonderful. I shall see you there.” She walked away, parasol blocking any view of her face.

  Rob smiled to himself and quickly retrieved a plate for food. He was making progress with Mara Shattuck, and it wasn’t turning out to be as difficult as he’d thought it might. Joining the Shattucks on their blanket, Rob plopped down and extended a hand. “Pastor. Good to see you again.”

  “Rob, I’m glad you could join us. Mara said you were quite helpful to her just now.”

  He flushed slightly. “I don’t know how helpful I actually was, but I have to say it was my first time to hold a parasol.”

  Mara’s father laughed. “Oh, the things we men do for women.

  I was just commenting to Mara that she shares a resemblance to your sister.”

  “Deborah?” Rob questioned, shaking his head. “G.W. mentioned some likeness, but they don’t look alike to me.”

  “Well, of course they don’t look alike, but both have dark eyes and dark hair. They’re even similar in size.”

  Rob glanced around as if looking for his sister, then settled his gaze back on Mara. “I reckon lots of folks can have some things in common. I think Miss Mara is much prettier than my sister, but don’t tell Deborah.” He grinned and picked up his fork. He quickly stuffed his mouth with some potato salad just in case someone wanted to ask him something else. This way he’d at least have a few moments to consider his answer.

  “So tell me, Mr. Vandermark,” Mara began, “where is God taking you on your life journey?”