by BJ Hoff
“Well, I have some news I thought you’d want to hear.”
Jonathan motioned him to the chair across from his desk. “Good news, I hope.”
“Not for Burian Lazlo, it isn’t,” Ben said as he sat down across from Jonathan.
“What’s happened?”
“He was sentenced today. Tom Mason called the deputy’s office as soon as he heard.”
Jonathan tensed. “And?”
“They’re transferring him to the state penitentiary tomorrow. Apparently the jury didn’t go for his self-defense story. He’ll be behind bars for a long time. At least twenty years.”
Jonathan gave a low whistle. “So long?”
“Well, he did kill his wife, Jonathan.”
“I know. But twenty years in prison. I can’t imagine.”
His mind played over the events that had led Lazlo to this dire place. The father of Huey and Selma Lazlo had shot his wife when he caught her setting fire to their house, not long after it was discovered that she’d been beating little Huey for an undetermined length of time. Apparently Lazlo had never been abusive to the children, but he had known about his son’s beatings and done nothing, distancing himself from his children physically and emotionally.
In checking the family’s background, Ben had learned that the Lazlo woman suffered from some sort of mental illness and had a history of setting fires. As for her husband, he was known to be a belligerent sort who drank heavily. Those two poor children had been raised by a man who apparently didn’t care enough about them to offer them any sort of protection from a mother whose mind wasn’t right and who was a danger to herself and her entire family.
“You do realize that this raises the subject of adoption again for Regina and me.”
Ben’s words brought Jonathan out of his thoughts. “You still plan to adopt the children, then?”
“Oh yes. We’ve talked of little else for weeks now.”
Huey and Selma Lazlo weren’t the first children the Wallaces had taken in for a time over the years. But this was the first situation that lent itself to the possibility of adoption. A childless couple, Ben and Regina had hoped and prayed for children for years. Jonathan fervently hoped the Lazlo youngsters would prove to be the answer to their prayers.
“Have you any idea where we ought to start, Jonathan?”
“Assuming the children will be as pleased with the idea as I am, I’ll be happy to contact my father. He’s an attorney, you know. I’ll get some information for you. I can’t think you’ll have any problem whatsoever, Ben. Especially with Lazlo’s extended sentence.”
“We’re going to approach the children with the idea in a few days,” said Ben, getting to his feet. “As soon as they’ve had a chance to get used to the idea that their father won’t be around for a long, long time.”
Jonathan nodded, stood, and eased his shoulders. “I’ll write to my father tonight or tomorrow.”
“I appreciate that, Jonathan. Maggie and the baby are well, are they?”
“Oh yes. Gracie’s growing like mad.”
“I expect she keeps you busy.”
“Definitely busy. But happy as well. She’s such a good baby. We’re still stumbling our way through this parent thing, but so far we don’t seem to have done any major damage.”
They shook hands. “I hope Regina and I will be joining you in the ‘parent thing’ soon.”
“Oh, you already have. We just have to make it official now.”
Jonathan saw him to the door, drawing a long breath before returning to the paperwork on his desk. Reports were his least favorite part of his job as principal. He much preferred the classroom.
Over the next half hour he had all he could do to keep his mind on his work. Ben’s excitement about the prospect of becoming a father had served as a reminder not to take his own role as a parent for granted. Who would have imagined that at the age of forty, after all those years of bachelorhood, he’d be a husband and a father?
There was no denying that his life had undergone some radical changes. Although he hadn’t had time to grow into the role of being a husband before becoming a father, he hoped he hadn’t been a total failure as either. Heaven knew he hadn’t quite stopped reeling yet. In truth, Gracie’s arrival in their lives might have overwhelmed him altogether had he not longed for a family for so many years before she came along.
So deep in thought was he that he actually jumped when he heard the entrance door slam shut. Again he was reminded of the need for new hinges.
Something else he never seemed to find time to do.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly half past five. It was already growing dark. Maggie would be getting worried if he didn’t show up soon.
The young man who appeared in his doorway was familiar, but Jonathan struggled for a moment to place him. Slender with a neatly trimmed beard, he wore an overcoat flung open and a wide smile.
Jonathan pushed himself up out of the chair.
“Hello, Mr. Stuart. You don’t recognize me, do you?”
It was the intensity of his expression and the way he leveled his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose with his index finger that triggered recognition.
“Kenny! Kenny Tallman!” Jonathan hurried around his desk to grasp the younger man’s hand. “I thought you were somewhere in South America.”
The other laughed. “India, more recently. But I decided it was time to come home.”
His hair had deepened to the color of dark sand, and he wore it longer than he had as a boy. Jonathan noted the lean features, the slightly faint pallor of his face. Kenny had always been slight, but now there seemed to be a look of unwellness about him.
“Well, come in, son. Sit down. Here, let me take your coat.”
“Oh, I can’t stay, sir. I was on my way home—to my father’s house—and I saw the light, so I thought I’d just stop for a moment and say hello. I wasn’t surprised to see that you still work late.”
Jonathan leaned against his desk. “So you’re staying with your father?”
“For now.”
Jonathan studied him, again remembering him as a child. Kenny hadn’t had an easy time of it as a boy. In fact, he’d seemed an unhappy youth most of the time. His father, Judson Tallman, had been a hard, uncompromising man, both as mine superintendent and as a father. As for Kenny’s mother, Charlotte Tallman had abandoned her husband and son before Jonathan arrived in Skingle Creek. She had never returned.
While Tallman had apparently never mistreated his son physically, he’d spent years absenting himself from the boy, showing little interest in any area of Kenny’s life—up until the night the boy had been instrumental in saving Maggie from the attack of Billy Macken and Orrin Gaffney, the school’s worst bullies. From that time on, Tallman had softened somewhat, involving himself a bit more in his son’s school activities and at the same time beginning to show a certain measure of pride in the boy. A pride that was, in Jonathan’s estimation, well-deserved.
A thought struck Jonathan. What would Kenny’s return mean to Maggie? She and Kenny had been best friends throughout most of their adolescent years. They had been viewed later as a couple by their classmates. As they grew older, many—including himself—thought they would eventually marry. Had Kenny come back because of Maggie? Hoping to renew their relationship? And if he had, what would Maggie’s reaction be?
“So you’re the principal now too, I hear.”
Kenny’s voice dragged him back to his surroundings. “Yes, yes, I am. But I still teach too.”
“That’s good. I can’t imagine you not teaching, Mr. Stuart.”
Jonathan fumbled to regain his composure. “What brings you back to Skingle Creek, Kenny? Are you on furlough?”
Kenny shook his head. “No, I’m probably back in the States to stay. At least for some time. I picked up a touch of malaria that I can’t seem to shake, so the Mission Board brought me home.”
“Malaria? That’s serious, isn’t it?”
“Well, the cli
mate in South India isn’t exactly conducive to recovery from it. But I’ll be all right eventually, I expect, now that I’m home.”
“Tell me about your work,” Jonathan said. “I remember Maggie mentioning that you wanted to build ships. I doubt you’re doing much of that on the mission field.”
The other’s eyes lighted and he smiled. “Maggie? Where is she now?”
Jonathan hesitated and answered carefully. “Why, she’s here.”
“Here in Skingle Creek?”
“That’s right. In fact, she teaches here at the school.”
“Really? I can’t wait to see her! How is she?”
“She’s—” Jonathan stopped to clear his throat. “She’s fine.”
“Maggie!” Kenny said, still smiling. “We lost touch over the years, but I’ve never forgotten her.”
Heart pounding, Jonathan again had to clear his throat. “Did you know—” He stopped and then tried again. “Did you know that Maggie and I are…married?”
He felt a wave of heat stain his face as he waited for the other’s reaction.
Kenny’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Jonathan. “You and Maggie?”
Jonathan nodded. “I expect that seems somewhat strange to you.”
Something flared in the younger man’s eyes and then ebbed. He studied Jonathan with an unnerving steadiness. “Not strange, no. No, I’m just…surprised. But that’s swell, Mr. Stuart, it really is. I’m happy for you—for both of you.”
Jonathan glanced away to escape that intent, searching stare.
Silence hung between them for a long, heavy moment before Kenny finally spoke again. “You and Maggie,” he said quietly. “I think that’s wonderful.”
Jonathan looked back to find him smiling. “Do you?”
“Of course. You were both always so special. I expect you’re just right—perfect—for each other.” He extended his hand to Jonathan. “Congratulations. How long have you been married?”
Jonathan managed a small laugh. “Not very long at all. Sit down, Kenny—please. I won’t keep you long, but let me fill you in a little.”
As the other shrugged out of his overcoat and took a chair, Jonathan settled himself on the corner of his desk. He told him then about his and Maggie’s marriage, about Eva Grace’s death, and finally about Gracie and the fact that they were raising her.
Kenny shook his head. “Eva Grace. I can’t imagine her gone. She was always so protective of us younger students, always the one to step in to break up any trouble. What a terrible thing for Maggie and her family.” He looked up. “So you and Maggie are going to adopt the baby, I take it?”
Jonathan nodded. “We hope so, yes.”
“This couldn’t have been easy for the two of you.”
“Not easy, no. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. We love Gracie as if she were our own.”
“Mr. and Mrs. MacAuley—are they doing all right?”
“Losing Eva Grace has taken its toll on them, but they’re strong people, as you probably remember.”
“I remember I sometimes envied Maggie her parents. They always seemed to love their children so much. They were good parents.”
“The best,” Jonathan agreed. He hesitated. “How’s your father, Kenny?”
Kenny shrugged, not meeting Jonathan’s gaze. “He’s well. You know Dad. He’s always well. He doesn’t change much.”
With that Kenny stood and slipped into his coat. “I need to get going. But I’m really glad I got to see you, Mr. Stuart. You’ll tell Maggie I asked after her?”
“I will, indeed. She’ll be eager to see you, I’m sure.”
“Maybe we can get together soon,” Kenny said. “I’d like both of you to meet my wife.”
Jonathan blinked. “Your…wife?”
Kenny grinned. “Yes. Anna. We met on the mission field and got married about a year ago. I’d have brought her along, but she’s in the family way and still exhausted from our trip home.”
Relief washed over Jonathan like a waterfall. “You’re married too. That’s wonderful, Kenny! I’m so happy for you.”
It was wonderful. And he was happy for him. Happier than Kenny would ever know. Indeed, Jonathan was downright ecstatic to learn that Kenny was married.
“We’ll have you and your wife for supper very soon,” he said with genuine enthusiasm. “I’m sure Maggie won’t let me rest until I deliver the two of you to our front door.”
Kenny reached to shake his hand again. “That would be great, sir. I want Anna and Maggie to meet. I know they’ll like each other.”
“Of course they will. You can count on my being in touch soon.”
Jonathan watched him leave, eager now to get on his way so he could tell Maggie about Kenny’s return. As he grabbed his overcoat and extinguished the lamp, it occurred to him that only a few minutes ago he was almost sick with apprehension about telling Maggie that Kenny was back. Now he could scarcely wait to break the news to her.
Kenny Tallman married. What fine news!
Chapter Twelve
Meeting with Matthew
Scatter stars in our darkness, Lord God,
And turn our lament to a song.
Anonymous
Within a week Jonathan had his idea firmly in mind. Once he’d drafted out some rough plans on how he might best organize a choir and make it accessible to the miners, he began his recruitment campaign. As planned, his first objective was to enlist Matthew MacAuley. He had it on Maggie’s word that her father might be a likely candidate. He hoped she was right. Matthew, he knew, could make all the difference in the responses from the other miners.
He caught his father-in-law on a Sunday afternoon after they’d all had dinner together at the MacAuleys. It was an unusually warm day for early February, and Maggie and her mother had taken Gracie for a walk. Ray was out at their cousin’s farm, putting in a weekend of work, so Jonathan and Matthew were alone in the house.
They’d spent the last half hour after the meal reading the newspapers in the living room. Finally Jonathan put his aside. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Matthew.”
The other threw him an impatient glance over the top of his paper.
Jonathan ignored the lifted eyebrow. “Hear me out, won’t you? This may sound a little far-fetched to you at first, but I’ve not lost my wits, I promise you.”
“Well, now, this sounds interesting.” Matthew slowly folded the newspaper and removed his eyeglasses, watching Jonathan closely.
“Well, I hope you will find it interesting,” Jonathan said, proceeding to explain.
The longer he spoke, the more the other’s eyes widened. Twice Matthew tried to interrupt, but Jonathan pressed on before he could.
By the time he finished his spiel, he was almost out of breath. “I’m convinced it will be a good thing, Matthew. For the town and for the men as well. I’ve come to you first because Maggie and I think that if you’ll give it a try, the other miners will too.”
“You want us to sing?”
Jonathan nodded.
“In a group.”
“That’s right.
“A bunch of coal miners singing in some kind of a—what, a choir?”
“Well, we probably won’t call it that, but yes, you’ve got the idea.”
“What would you call it?”
“What indeed? I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Well, now, that’s a surprise. I thought from the sound of things you had this all tied up, neat and tidy,” Matthew commented, his tone dry.
“Maggie says you have a fine voice.”
“Did she now?”
Jonathan nodded. “So…would you be interested?”
The older man ran a hand down the side of his beard. “You’re serious?”
“Entirely.”
“How in the world did you ever dream up such a thing, man?”
The obvious incredulity of Matthew’s question very nearly made Jonathan falter. But if he couldn’t convinc
e this man, it was highly unlikely he’d convince any of the others.
“It’s just an idea. I’ve been thinking a lot about the town and the hard times that have plagued the people over the past year. I hoped to come up with something that might lift their spirits a little.”
“There have always been hard times in Skingle Creek, Jonathan. Most likely there always will be. We’re a mining town.”
“I understand that, Matthew, but doesn’t that make it all the more imperative to give the people something besides problems every now and then? Something cheerful? There’s nothing like music to brighten things up, you know, and—”
“You want to brighten things up for the people in Skingle Creek?” Matthew sat up straighter in his chair, thrusting his bad leg out in front of him a little more. “Start by finding a way to put three square meals on the table and warm coats on the backs of their children. Jonathan, I know you mean well, and I understand you’ve a great love for music and all, but music won’t feed our families or pay the doctor bills.”
Jonathan groped for the words that might convince Matthew his idea had merit, though discouragement had begun to creep in. “You’re right. But surely you know that if I could think of a way to help the families in Skingle Creek in a more practical way, I’d do it. But this is what I can do, and while it might seem altogether worthless to you, I think there’s something to be said for giving folks a means to—well, if not forget their troubles, at least set them aside for a time.”
Matthew put a hand to his chin, keeping his silence so long that Jonathan worried he was going to dismiss the idea out of hand.
“I expect you prayed about this.”
Jonathan brightened. Perhaps he needn’t give up just yet. “Why yes, at length.”
“What kind of songs would we be singing?”
The question was unexpected, but it didn’t catch Jonathan entirely off guard. “Old songs mostly. I’m thinking about folk songs from the British Isles—Ireland, Wales, England. Some hymns, of course. Perhaps some spirituals as well.”
“Songs from Ireland, you say?”
“Certainly.”
He was interested.
“We’ll do only the kind of songs the men would take to. Many they’d already know, I’m sure.”