by Sally Laity
“What’s up?” Ken finally asked.
She breathed in and out for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts. Then she met his gaze. “David asked me to marry him.”
Ken leaned forward and relaxed with his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees as he watched a jagged fork of lightning in the distant sky. “I kinda thought that’s what might happen, eventually. I didn’t figure it would be this soon, though. Have you told Ma?”
“Not yet.” She laughed softly. “Can’t you just see her planning a society wedding, inviting all the high-and-mighty town officials to celebrate her daughter’s nuptials?”
He smiled wryly. “I see what you mean.”
“For her sake, David thinks we should keep it a small, family affair. Perhaps an evening candlelight wedding on the grounds of his family’s estate.”
“Has he told his parents yet?”
“Yes. They weren’t all that surprised, actually. When he began mentioning my name every other paragraph, they began to suspect we were developing feelings for one another.” She paused. “Of course, they weren’t too thrilled at the prospect, at first. . .the son and heir to the family fortune marrying the daughter of a poor coal miner. But he told me he was prepared for that and lectured them on how their forebears started out in this valley with nothing, even living in a tent. And that it was their honest, hard work that enabled them to succeed and provide the life he and his parents now enjoy. I can just hear him making that speech. . .it’s so like him to stick up for the underdog.”
Listening to her speak and rejoicing inwardly for her, Ken couldn’t help thinking of how much harder it would be for the rest of the family to get by without his sister’s income. But he wasn’t about to put a damper on her happiness. He’d just take his foreman’s test sooner rather than later and hoped that would help make up the difference. After all, he’d pretty well conquered the books Mike Jessup had given him. There was no reason to put it off any longer.
After a few more rumbles of thunder, Hannah spoke again. “I told David that perhaps we should have a long engagement. . .thinking to myself that I didn’t want to leave you and Ma and Timmy high and dry. But David had already thought that through, too, bless his heart. He wants to have a little cottage built on the same grounds as our home for Ma and Tim. That way, Tim will be able to go back to school.”
Ken realized how much lighter it would make his own responsibilities, not to worry about providing for the rest of the family. He knew there was no way he could hope to offer them such a promising future just now. The thought of God’s indescribable goodness humbled him. . .yet one could not overlook his mother’s pride. “How do you think Ma will feel about that? Taking charity and all.”
Hannah sighed. “Well, I’ve done some thinking of my own. You know how she’s always loved planting flowers and things. And nobody in the world is a better cook. I’ll probably need help running a big house and looking after a flower garden. She’d really be helping us. And Timmy could keep up the grounds for us. Anyway, David says there’s no sense in having money if you can’t do something good with it. I think Ma will come around.”
“Put that way, I’d say you’re right. . .but I’d still take it slow if I were you. Give her a chance to get used to the idea a little at a time.”
Nodding, his sister smiled. “God has blessed me beyond my wildest dreams,” she murmured. “I never would have imagined when I applied for that housecleaning job, that one day the boss’s son would sweep me off my feet and propose to me. Funny how things happen.”
“Yeah. I’m real glad for you, Sis. Couldn’t be happier.” Really, I couldn’t, his mind added as a pang of sadness at the thought of Rosa assailed him.
A brilliant flash of lightning barely faded before a thunder crack rattled the house.
“Things are getting a mite close,” Ken said, getting up. “I think we’d better go inside.”
“I think so, too. But thanks for letting me ramble. I needed somebody to talk to.”
“Anytime, Sis. Anytime.”
“What were you two doin’ out there?” Tim asked as they came in from the porch. “Tryin’ to get fried?”
“Just watching the storm, is all,” Ken told him. “Tomorrow it won’t be so hot out.”
“That’ll be a relief,” Ma injected.
Ken nodded, then flicked a glance around the room. “Well, it’s been a long day, and I’m kinda tired. Think I’ll turn in now. ’Night.”
“Good night,” the others said as one.
Slowly climbing the stairs to the back bedroom, Ken marveled over how the Lord had worked things out for Hannah by bringing a really decent Christian guy into her life. David not only loved her, but he would provide an easier life for her—and none of them expected that. But it was hard to figure which one would be getting the better end of the deal, her or David, because Hannah was a prize in her own right.
Oh well, he thought as he undressed and changed into pajama bottoms, at least someone in the family would be finding happiness. Right now he didn’t hold out much hope of it ever being him, unless something happened to soften the hearts of Rosalind’s grandparents.
Fourteen
At the cost of a day’s work, Ken got the approval from his boss to go to Scranton, eighteen miles away, to take the state test for his section foreman’s papers. He hadn’t had time to attend more than a handful of the night classes offered in engineering, algebra, and surveying, but with Hannah’s upcoming marriage to consider, he couldn’t see delaying taking the test any longer. He’d studied hard at home and felt confident that he’d do well.
Dressed in his Sunday suit and tie, he caught the trolley into Wilkes-Barre. From the train station on Pennsylvania Street, he took the Laurel Line to the bustling city of Scranton. There, official state buildings housed the government offices regulating the labor and mining industry.
Yesterday’s rains had intensified the lush greenery along the route, adding incredible beauty to the panoramic vistas beyond the train’s windows. But even with his mind occupied with factors, formulas, and diagrams, Ken appreciated the opportunity to observe new sights.
Hours later, the intensely detailed test behind him, an optimistic Ken returned home to wait for his test results to be processed. Assuming he’d passed, an official certificate would be issued in due time, and then he’d be available to step into the next opening for a section foreman. That would mean a much needed increase in salary. But somehow, even a victory such as that seemed lusterless if he couldn’t share it with Rosalind.
He had to wonder how she had fared with her grandparents, how they had responded to her return. . .and what the outcome would be regarding Nicholas Habib. Even as the train sped toward Wilkes-Barre, he offered another prayer that something would soften her guardians’ hearts.
The next morning, quite rested after the extra day off, Ken left for work earlier than usual. On his approach, a loud commotion near the motor house drew his attention. He didn’t give the matter too much importance, since an occasional difference of opinion between workers sometimes resulted in a minor scrap that ended about as quickly as it began. Nevertheless, he gravitated over to watch.
Elbowing his way through the cheering throng of onlookers, however, he realized it was more like a heated brawl than it was a mere fist fight. “What’s going on?” he asked a familiar face.
A string of colorful words that shriveled Ken’s ears preceded his answer. “Some bloke tried to blow the place up.”
“What?” Ken gasped.
“But we got the coward good,” the man went on. “A couple of guys lit into ’im and took ’im for a ride. Now they’re finishing the job. That should teach ’im not to mess with us.”
Relieved that the plan had been thwarted, Ken still pitied the guy. A newcomer who mouthed off or got too big-headed for his own good would be shoved into the cage, and the operator would then send it on a drop so fast, the poor soul’s feet wouldn’t touch the floor until the cont
raption stopped just before it hit bottom. Usually it scared the offender half to death. It also resulted in a rather swift change of attitude.
“Serves the jerk right,” another voice added. “Dirty gypsy. They’re all a bunch of tramps and thieves.”
“Gypsy?” Ken asked in alarm. He knew of no men from the encampment who worked for Hudson Coal Company, yet for some unknown reason one of them had come to sabotage the mine. This was no meaningless little tiff. The miners were out for blood.
He pushed through to the fray. “Hey, you guys. That’s enough,” he hollered above the melee and began yanking men one by one off the bloodied offender who lay writhing and moaning and nearly unconscious at the bottom of the heap. “Come on. Let up. You’ve made your point.”
“Aw, Preacher-boy, we were just gettin’ started,” one of the last attackers groused. “He was out to get us. Who knows how many mighta been killed?”
“Yeah, well, it looks like he didn’t get to do any real damage. There’s no need to murder him.”
“He’s right,” someone else said. “No sense gettin’ the police involved. It’ll be a cold day in Hades before the wretch shows his ugly mug around this place again. Let’s get to work, or we’ll never get our cars loaded.”
The mumbling crowd quickly dispersed to the shiftin’ shack, the key shack, the motor house, and other job sites, until only Ken remained at the injured gypsy’s side.
He went to see about borrowing the ambulance wagon and brought it around. Then, since no one had stayed around to help, he hefted the battered man’s dead weight into the wagon bed himself. After covering him with a much-used blanket, he headed for the Lebanese camp, keeping the horse’s pace as slow as possible so as not to cause further pain. Even so, even the most insignificant rut in the road caused agonizing moans.
Some children playing on the outskirts of the settlement were the first to give the alarm as Ken and the wagon approached. By the time he reached the entrance, dozens of wary-faced inhabitants had gathered to see what was happening. He nodded to them and halted the horse. “I’m looking for your healer. I have an injured man in back.”
A dark-skinned man moved to peer inside. “It’s Nicholas Habib!” he informed the others. “Go and get Eva Azar.”
Ken recognized the victim’s name immediately, and suddenly an understanding of his motive became obvious. Habib’s intended attack on the mine was revenge for his own involvement with Rosalind Gilbran. It had to be. Nothing else made sense.
A small crowd milled about, many of them talking among themselves in their foreign tongue. Ken remained in the wagon seat, his eyes searching the faces. Then he saw her. Rosalind, helping an older woman hobble down the lane from the cabin farthest away. His heart leapt, but he schooled his expression to remain calm. He didn’t want to do anything that might cause problems for Rosa.
She met his gaze at the same time and drew her lips inward, as if restraining a smile.
“What is wrong?” the gypsy woman asked when she and Rosa arrived at the wagon. She lifted the blanket to assess the extent of Nicholas Habib’s injuries.
Ken kept his voice even. “Somebody caught him trying to set off a charge of dynamite at the mine. It, uh, kind of upset some of the men.”
“Bring him to his cabin,” she said. “I will tend him there.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Ken said, and clucked the horse into motion as bystanders led the way.
The short distance to the ramshackle dwelling took only another minute or so, and there was no shortage of help to carry the culprit to his bed, with Mrs. Azar rattling off a list of instructions the whole time. Once he was inside, she turned her black eyes up to Ken. “It was. . .good of you to bring him to us. Few of your people would have done so. Thank you.” She then gave a nod of dismissal and started to turn away.
Rosalind stayed her by putting a hand on her arm. “Grandmother. . .I would like you to meet Ken Roberts,” she said softly, chin high, her sable eyes luminous.
Ken held his breath as the old woman’s graying eyebrows hiked in surprise. For the briefest second, her guarded expression softened as she looked astutely from him to her granddaughter and back.
“Ken, this is my grandmother, Eva Azar,” Rosa continued. “She knows of your name.”
Ken relaxed a notch and gave her a reserved smile. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Azar. I’ve heard of your wonderful gift for healing. I’ll pray for your friend, that he’ll be well soon.”
“I will do my best,” she replied. “Thank you again for bringing Nick to us.” With a gracious bow of her head, she turned and shooed Rosalind toward home, then went inside Habib’s cabin.
Ken caught Rosa’s secret smile as she acquiesced to the wishes of her elder and started up the incline to their dwelling.
And for just a second, he felt God smiling down on both of them.
❧
Except for the brief trip her grandmother made to their home for healing herbs and other items she needed, Rosalind hardly glimpsed the older woman for two days. As an unmarried girl, she was not permitted to aid in the tending of a seriously injured man. . .nor would she have attempted to go to Nick’s cabin for any other reason.
Finally, at suppertime on the third day, her guardian returned and put her medical supplies back into all the proper places. Rosa said nothing, despite her curiosity, but quietly set three places instead of two. After putting out coffee cups, she brought the fried fish and browned potatoes she had cooked to the table.
Grandfather was the first to speak when he came in to join them for the meal. “You are home, my Eva. How is Nicholas?”
She cast a glance to Rosa and on to him. “Doing better now. His eyes are no longer swollen shut, but still black. His ribs will take time to mend. He is missing two teeth and has many other cuts and bruises. Everywhere.”
With a nod, he sliced into his fish and sampled it, withdrawing a fine bone from his mouth.
“It was a foolish, wicked thing he tried to do,” Grandmother continued. “Nicholas is pigheaded as always.” She wagged her graying head in disdain. “And I am beginning to believe what I have heard about his temper.”
Grandfather shrugged a shoulder. “A man must do as his honor tells him.”
“Honor!” she huffed. “What honor is there in setting out to kill others who do not even know him? It is no wonder our people have no respect from outsiders. What Nicholas did was criminal.”
He made no reply.
“Ken Roberts showed great mercy to bring him here,” Rosa ventured.
“And I have many thoughts about that,” her grandmother admitted. “Other miners would not care if Nick lived or died. I wonder what they think when one of their own showed kindness to a man who would destroy them?”
“I told you Ken is not like the rest,” Rosa said evenly. “He loves God, and he has love for others also. He does not judge a man by the country where he was born.” Neither of her guardians interrupted, so she plunged on. “He is kind and thoughtful. . .and a hard worker. He has a mother and two others in his family to support. His father and older brother died in the mines.”
“It was good thing, that he sees Nicholas got home,” her grandfather conceded. “I have respect for outsider who would do that.”
“See, Grandfather?” she said sweetly. “Not all outsiders are bad. Maybe we could invite him to supper and thank him.”
But she could tell from his expression that she’d best drop the subject and go back to eating.
❧
Ken got up from his knees after his nightly prayer and climbed into bed. Since seeing Rosalind for those few moments at the Lebanese camp, a seed of hope had taken root. It had been four days since he’d delivered Nicholas Habib to his people. And tomorrow, his day off, he would go there and inquire after him. Surely they would not fault someone for showing concern for another man.
The next morning, bright and early, he gulped down his breakfast and rushed through the chores. Then, not bothering to take a
lunch, he hiked up into the woods and down into the encampment, approaching it from the high end this time. He’d seen Rosalind and her grandmother exit the topmost dwelling just before coming to Nicholas Habib’s aid. He’d try there first. After all, Habib wasn’t the person he most wanted to see.
Striding around to the front door and finding it open, he tapped lightly on the frame.
Rosalind answered. “Ken!” she choked out, her eyes huge, her mouth gaping.
“Hello, Rosa. Is your grandmother at home?”
“Yes. Wait there. I will get her.”
Ken could tell from the tightness of her voice that she was more than a little surprised and nervous. But he maintained what he hoped resembled calm confidence.
In seconds, the old woman appeared at the door.
“Good day, Mrs. Azar,” he said. “I hope you remember me. Ken Roberts. I’ve come to ask after your friend, Mr. Habib. Is he well?”
“He is doing better,” she replied, “but not well enough for a visit.”
“That’s fine. He probably wouldn’t want to see me anyway. I just wanted to find out how he’s doing. I’ve been praying for him, as I said I would.”
“That is. . .nice. You are kind, for a. . .” She closed her mouth, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“A miner?” he supplied optimistically.
“Yes. A miner.”
Rosalind moved up to her guardian. “Grandmother, it is very warm today. Should we not invite Ken in for a cool drink of water?”
She appeared to consider the suggestion momentarily, and then her demeanor softened. “We will do better than a drink of water. It is noon, time for dinner. If you would join us, you would be welcome. My husband will also be here.”
Ken took the last comment as a warning but concentrated on the invitation. “I would be honored to eat with you and your family.”
She stood aside while he entered, then gestured to the sofa. “Be seated, please. My granddaughter and I will put food on.”
Delectable smells already permeated the interior of the small cabin. Seated in the tiny parlor, Ken glanced around at the homey furnishings, the interesting rows of jars on the wall shelves in the kitchen. . .and beautiful Rosalind, whose face positively glowed with hope and barely contained happiness as she worked. Her every movement was like that of a graceful dancer. Now and then she would steal a look his way with a shy smile.