Miracle in a Dry Season

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Casewell felt a surge of anger, followed closely by an unexpected peace. “I do,” he said, looking the man in the eye. “She’s a jewel beyond price.”

  Casewell heard a stifled gasp and turned. Perla stood behind him, holding a sleepy Sadie’s hand. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice catching.

  “You’re priceless.” Casewell swept her into his arms, tears gathering in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You did,” Perla said, collapsing into his arms. “But now I’m found.”

  Perla’s luggage had been left at the Camden station for transfer to the second bus to Pittsboro. Perla saw a porter carrying her bag outside and intercepted him. It was soon stowed in the back of Casewell’s truck. Perla took Sadie to the ladies’ room—the whole reason she’d gotten off the bus in the first place—and then climbed into the truck with Casewell for the long ride back to Wise.

  “It’s going to be very late when we get home,” Casewell said as he pulled out of the lot. “But I don’t think it would be quite right for us to spend the night anywhere.” He glanced at Perla and smiled. “Even if you are my fiancée.”

  Perla gave a wry laugh. “They could hardly talk about me any more than they already do, but you’re right. It’s best we get back.”

  She settled Sadie, who sat between them, against her side. To keep the child comfortable, Perla turned in so that she was almost facing Casewell. She admired his profile and decided she was glad he’d shaved his beard. She wasn’t sure about kissing a man with a full beard. Blushing, she decided she needed another line of thinking.

  “Why did you come after me?”

  Casewell looked at Perla and then turned his attention back to the road. “I love you.”

  “But marrying me . . . it may be complicated.”

  “No more complicated than any other two people putting their lives together. Seems to me everyone has something about them that could give a potential spouse pause. Ma says I snore something fierce.”

  Perla laughed. “But what will people think? What will they say?”

  “Oh, some will say I could have done better,” he looked at her again. “And some will say you could have. I don’t really give a hoot one way or the other.”

  “I imagined what it would be like if you came after me.” Perla ducked her head and smoothed hair back from Sadie’s sleeping brow. “I determined that I wouldn’t go back with you, no matter what.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I heard what you said to the ticket man. I didn’t think you’d admit to anyone what . . . what I am, much less stick up for me. You said I was a jewel beyond price.”

  “‘Her price is far above rubies.’ It’s from the Bible.”

  “I know. It’s from the thirty-first chapter of Proverbs. It’s talking about a virtuous woman. You took me by surprise saying that.”

  “Why?” Casewell flashed her a puzzled look.

  “I’m hardly virtuous.”

  “Virtuous—upstanding and moral. I’d say that describes you.”

  Perla swallowed hard and was silent a moment. Casewell began to wonder if the conversation was over. Maybe she was dozing. He looked at her again. Her left hand held Sadie in place while her right was over her face. He thought she looked to be crying, and his heart lurched. What had he said or done?

  “Perla? What is it?”

  “I’m soiled, Casewell. Unworthy, shameful. I don’t deserve you or marriage or any kind of happiness. God has been generous in allowing me to love this child. I can’t ask for any more than that.” She struggled for composure and lowered her hand to her mouth. She whispered from behind her fingers. “How is it that you want me?”

  “‘As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.’ That’s from the Psalms. Before that it says, ‘The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He will not always chide: neither will he keep his anger forever. He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.’” Casewell took one hand off the wheel and laid it over Perla’s where it cradled Sadie. “God’s forgiven you. I have nothing to forgive. Seems to me the only one holding anything against you is you.”

  Perla felt tears stream down her face. She was acutely aware of Casewell’s large calloused hand caressing her own. She lifted his hand and pressed it to her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Perla must have fallen asleep. When she woke, she saw a gas pump with a small filling station beyond. Casewell and Sadie were gone, and for a moment Perla panicked. But then she saw the pair walking toward her across the pavement. Odds were, Sadie had to use the bathroom again. Casewell handed the child back up into the cab of the truck. She was holding a bottle of grape Nehi with a straw sticking out.

  “Hope it’s okay that I took her into the men’s room.” Casewell flushed a little. “I hated to wake you, and she seemed pretty anxious to go.”

  Perla smiled and shook her head. “And now you’re giving her a refill.” She looked down at her daughter’s purple grin and found that she didn’t mind a bit.

  “Hope that’s okay, too.” Casewell hopped up into the truck and looked at Perla as though he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. “You’re real pretty when you sleep,” he said.

  It was Perla’s turn to blush. “I doubt that. Probably had my mouth hanging open, and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear I snore.”

  “You looked like an angel.”

  “Where are we?” Perla asked, if only to change the subject.

  “About five miles outside of Wise. Lucky we found a filling station open this early in the morning. This old truck was running on fumes.” He started the engine and eased out onto the two-lane road.

  “People will be up,” Perla said, the color draining from her cheeks.

  “Yup. I suspect they will.” Casewell had his eyes on the road.

  “They’ll think . . . what will they think?”

  He darted a glance at her. “Can’t say. People tend to think what they want to think.”

  “But to see us out together so early in the morning—as though we’d been together all night . . .”

  “We were.” Now Casewell had a boyish grin on his face. “Of course, we had a chaperone.” He ruffled Sadie’s hair.

  “Oh, Casewell. My reputation was never worth saving, but I can’t bring talk like this on you.”

  Casewell eased the truck off the side of the road where they could look out across a pasture and see the sun peeking through the trees. “You see that sun shining through over there? Makes me think of a piece of poetry.” Casewell turned and took Perla’s hand in his. “The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”

  Tears welled in Perla’s eyes. “That’s beautiful, but what does it mean?”

  “King Solomon wrote that about a thousand years before Christ was born. Even back then nothing was new. I doubt we’re breaking new ground here. And I expect that no matter what people think, their thoughts won’t be original. I, for one, don’t plan to waste my time wondering about it. Promise me you’ll do the same?”

  Perla looked deep into his eyes and promised.

  25

  CASEWELL SOON LEARNED ALL TOO WELL that people’s thoughts about his pending nuptials weren’t the least bit original. Somehow, within hours of their arrival back in Wise, the entire community knew about the engagement and felt free to share their opinion of it. And true to his word, Casewell didn’t care what anyone thought—until he told his mother.

  Robert and Delilah learned that Perla would marry Casewell when he dropped her off with a drowsy Sadie cradled in his arms. Delilah opened the front door before any of them even stepped onto the porch.

  “I’ve never been so worried in my life,” she said without preamble. Then she flew dow
n the steps and wrapped Perla in her arms. “I didn’t know what to think when you were just gone like that. It was a terrible thing to do.”

  “I know,” Perla said. “I planned to write, but I thought if I told you ahead of time, you’d talk me out of it.”

  “I would have, too.” Delilah leaned back, hands still on Perla’s shoulders. “Now what’s this Robert says about an engagement?” Delilah’s mood went from anger to laughter so fast Casewell couldn’t keep up.

  Perla blushed and looked at Casewell. “I told Casewell I’d marry him, though I’m still not sure why he wants me.”

  “Stop fishing for compliments,” Delilah chided. “Now get that baby on into the house, and we’ll have some breakfast before we start planning the wedding.”

  Casewell moved toward the door and spoke over his shoulder. “I appreciate the offer, Delilah, but I’d best get on to the house and tell Mom before you let the rest of the world know about this.”

  Delilah laughed and let him go. Ten minutes later he stepped up to his mother’s screen door. He could smell coffee and bacon, and for just a moment he expected to see his father sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. For the first time since he was a boy, Casewell wished he could share something with his father. He whispered a prayer and pushed open the door. He wasn’t entirely sure how Emily Phillips would feel about gaining a daughter-in-law with Perla’s reputation.

  “Why, Casewell, you’re out and about early. Come eat some breakfast with me.” His mother added more bacon to the pan before Casewell even opened his mouth.

  “Glad to,” he said, pouring himself a cup of the strong, black coffee sitting on the back of the stove. He settled at the table and watched his mother, her robe wrapped around her trim waist. She was still a lovely woman, and it occurred to him for the first time that she might meet someone and remarry one day.

  “Ma, I have some good news.”

  “It must be good for you to come over here this early. Either that or you were out of breakfast fixins’.”

  “I’m getting married.”

  Emily turned toward her son, spatula in her right hand. “What in the world?”

  Casewell felt like a kid. “Perla said she’d marry me.” He wanted to laugh, saying it aloud like that. He’d never been so happy in his life, but first he needed to see how his mother would take the news.

  Emily leaned against the chair closest to her and then eased around and slid into the seat. Casewell began to feel some concern.

  “Son, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, congratulations would do.” He tried to grin, but his mother’s pale face worried him. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, well,” she said as she waved the spatula in the air. “I’m not so sure this is the best idea.”

  Casewell leaned back in the chair as if he thought she might try to swat him with the spatula. “Not the best idea?”

  “Perla is a lovely young woman, but she’s . . . well, she has that child, and there’s no father to speak of. Have you really considered this?”

  Casewell felt disappointment rise in him. “Ma, are you saying I shouldn’t marry her because she has another man’s child?”

  Emily’s tone sharpened along with Casewell’s. “I’m just saying that you should think long and hard before taking on a woman, who, well, who didn’t see fit to save herself for marriage.”

  “Ma, you know Perla. I guessed you thought highly of her. You treat her well, and you dote on Sadie when she’s around.”

  “Son, the Lord said to love sinners. He didn’t say anything about marrying them.”

  Casewell sagged in his chair. He knew it might be like this, but he’d hoped . . .

  Emily jumped to her feet to save the bacon from burning. She reached for eggs piled in a blue enamel bowl. “Over easy?”

  “Ma.”

  She began cracking eggs into the hot grease.

  “Ma, look at me.”

  His mother sighed and her shoulders slumped. She turned to Casewell with an empty eggshell in her hand.

  “Ma, I’m going to marry Perla. And I think Dad would be proud of me for it.”

  A tear slipped from the corner of Emily’s eye and caught in the wrinkles around her mouth. “You’re probably right,” she said. “I’ll get used to the idea, too. She is a lovely woman. I just wish . . .”

  “I know.” Casewell stood and wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Jesus died for her sins just the same as for mine.” Mom took a breath as though to speak, but Casewell continued before she could. “There’s no hierarchy of sin, Ma. The Bible doesn’t say one sin is worse than another. ‘The wages of sin is death.’ That’s any sin—from little white lies all the way to murder. And Jesus wiped them all away on the cross. It’s like starting over fresh.” He smiled. “Perla and I will start over fresh. Only”—his smile broadened—“only we get Sadie out of the deal.”

  Casewell knew when he proposed to Perla and when he drove through the night to fetch her home that people in the community of Wise would likely frown on their union. He knew marrying a woman with a child who wasn’t a widow was bold. But he also knew that Perla was the woman for him. Even so, he was surprised by the vehemence some of his neighbors expressed when the news got around. Hardly anyone was critical to Casewell’s face, but he got cold shoulders, curt conversations, and an absolute halt to any woodworking business he might have done.

  “Wish I needed you to build me some shelves or something,” Robert said one afternoon when Casewell was loitering around the store. “Say, maybe you could come over and fix that old handrail on the front porch.”

  “Robert, I’ll be glad to do that,” Casewell said.

  Robert brightened and moved toward the cash register.

  “At no cost.” Casewell held up a hand to stop his friend. “Don’t worry, Robert. I’ve saved most all I’ve made over the years—never had much to spend it on except strings for the mandolin. Every time I took a notion to get me some fancy new woodworking tool, I reminded myself that I could make do with what I have. I’ve got no worries.”

  “Don’t you?” It was Delilah coming from the storeroom. “Seems to me the town gossips have your worries lined up for you.”

  “Guess they’ve saved me the trouble.” Casewell chuckled. “Life is full of challenges, no matter what I do. Seems to me, having a good woman to stand beside me will make things easier. Folks will talk. Eventually something else will come along that’s more interesting.” He shrugged. “And eventually folks will need a new milking stool, or maybe the steps will fall off the back stoop, or someone will want a fancy mantel for their fireplace. And then they’ll forget that I married a woman who’s no more sinful than they are, and they’ll come round and hire me. Then they’ll complain about what I charge, but they’ll pay it because it’s not a penny too much.”

  Delilah smiled and patted Casewell on the shoulder. “Right you are.” She turned to Robert. “If we had any doubts he was really and truly in love, that speech there would put them to rest. Only a man in love can look on the bright side like that.”

  26

  CASEWELL AND ROBERT CONTINUED to lead church services. The presbytery promised to send them a new pastor as soon as one was available, but so far there didn’t seem to be many candidates vying for a small rural church with little money and strong opinions.

  So Robert led the singing and read the Scriptures, and Casewell got up and talked about what he’d been reading in the Bible, and they both prayed. On this Sunday, Casewell asked if there were any prayer requests. He got the usual—Marion Cornwell’s feet hurt so bad she could hardly walk, the first of the season’s sniffles and coughs had struck, and someone’s great-aunt had passed the night before. And then Cathy Stott rose to her feet, her son Travis on her hip. The red-faced child scrubbed his ear with one chubby fist.

  “I got a complaint,” she announced.

  Casewell was taken aback. He’d never had a complaint during prayers before.

&
nbsp; “All right,” he said at last. “We can take that before the Lord, too.”

  “That woman what was supposed to of healed Travis of his ear trouble didn’t do the job.”

  Casewell looked confused and glanced at Robert, who shrugged.

  “Her,” Cathy said, pointing to where Perla sat in the third pew from the front. “She give Travis a holy kiss that was supposed to cure him, and it didn’t take. Just look at him.” She waved a hand at her son who, Casewell suspected, was quiet only because he was too worn-out to cry anymore.

  Perla’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “I didn’t heal anyone,” she whispered.

  “Durn right,” Cathy said. “Now I want somebody to do something about it.”

  Casewell spread his hands wide. “Cathy, I don’t know what anyone can do—”

  “Either get her to do it right or run her on out of here. We don’t need the likes of her around if she ain’t at least good for healing folks.”

  Several people in the congregation began to look uncomfortable, and there was a soft rustling and shifting like chickens sensing a varmint outside the henhouse. Even Mom shifted uneasily in her seat next to Perla, who just looked stunned.

  Travis chose that moment to find his second wind. He began to squall and his mother rolled her eyes heavenward.

  “Day and night, night and day. This is what I’ve got to live with. Somebody better do something, or I’m gonna give him to the fairies.”

  Mom stood and stepped across the aisle, holding out her arms for the disconsolate child. Cathy gave him up only too gladly.

  “Right. Take him on over there and have her fix him up.” She nodded at Perla. “If’n you can’t do it, just take him with you when you shake the dust of this town off your feet.”

  Mom sat and began to cuddle and rock the little boy, who continued to rub at his ear. His cries kept on, but they seemed almost habitual, like it was just what he was used to. Sadie crept closer and patted the little boy’s leg.

  Casewell took a step closer to the mother. “Cathy, you’ve got to understand, there’s nothing Perla or any of the rest of us can do right now. Maybe we can take up a collection and see if we can get him to a city doctor. But in the meantime I’d appreciate it if you’d stop talking like that about Perla. She’s going to marry me, and she’ll be staying right here.”