by Leisha Kelly
“You’ll sit down and have breakfast, won’t you?” I asked quickly. “There’s pancakes ready by now.”
“Better to leave on a full stomach,” Kirk agreed. “Take a bite with you too.”
Again, Frank didn’t answer. He started for the house, and I realized he wasn’t wearing his hat, scarf, or gloves. I hated to say anything about it. Frank got to thinking deep sometimes and forgot things like that, but he was almost twenty-three and he hated anybody treating him like a kid. Maybe I could just make sure he had them in the truck, and a blanket too, without making a fuss.
Dad came from the barn with the milk pail, and Frank was quick to take it out of his hand, even though with his limp it looked like he’d have more trouble with it than the rest of us. But Dad let him have it, even patting him on the back. My dad loved Frank. He believed in him. And he wasn’t scared by any of this going on. I took a deep breath and glanced over in time to see Kirk shake his head a little at Harry. I didn’t know why.
Mom poured us coffee as soon as we stepped in. She had a sack of cookies packed for Frank, plus some sandwiches and three or four hard-boiled eggs. I should have known she’d be thinking like me. “I folded a blanket for you to take,” she told him. “Just a winter precaution. Where are your gloves and hat?”
“On my front seat,” Frank answered her, picking up little Pearl from the chair where she stood reaching for him. He gave her a spin and then set her down again. Right away, Albert started tapping at the chair beside him. He didn’t do that with anybody but Frank, and Frank was always good to sit beside him when the tapping started. This time Albert set his wooden truck on Frank’s knee and gave one of the wheels a roll.
“You ready for pancakes?” Emmie asked.
“I better eat and go,” Frank answered her. “Give my buddy here some at the same time.”
“Me too!” Pearl whined. “Me too!”
I wasn’t sure if she was demanding pancakes or if she wanted to make it clear that she was Frank’s “buddy” just as much as Albert was. Maybe both. She climbed up on Frank’s lap and reached for a fork.
“You need your own chair, sweetie,” Thelma told her youngest daughter. “How’s a man gonna eat with you on his lap?”
“I can manage,” Frank offered graciously. “She’s all right.”
Frank really loved his nieces and nephews. But I knew he liked some time alone too. I wondered if he’d get a moment’s peace once he got up there staying with Sam’s family. Maybe he’d like all the attention. But maybe he’d get to missing his quiet woodshop on this usually quiet farm and try coming back all the sooner.
Emmie gave Frank, Albert, and Pearl each a plate of pancakes. Frank poured the warm maple syrup for all three of them, but it hardly took him any time to finish his.
“Want more?” Emmie asked immediately.
He shook his head and downed his coffee. “Got to get goin’.”
I stood looking at him with my heart thundering inside, and he turned to me with a smile. “Come ’ere, Sarah Jean.”
He looked so absolutely handsome. My heart hurt with the thought of missing him already. I wanted so badly to be alone with him again, just for a minute before he left, but I didn’t think we’d find a place away from everybody else now. Even Mom and Dad’s room had kids sleeping in it. And Georgie and Bert were upstairs. But Frank took my hand and pulled me toward the cellar steps.
“I wouldn’t mind takin’ along a jar a’ those bread and butter pickles you put up last summer, if it’s all right with you.”
“Sure,” I told him, feeling shaky again. “I’ll go down and get it.”
“I’ll help you.”
He followed me down the stairs, not caring what anybody thought, and took me into his arms as soon as we were at the bottom. “To everythin’ there is a season,” he quoted. “A time to every purpose under heaven. We got another season almost on us. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’m not sure. Do you mean beginning a life together?”
“Seems like we’ve always been together. I mean a life on our own.”
I looked down for a minute and leaned into his shoulder. I knew how he felt about this and what he was talking about. Moving. “But I kind of like being in the middle of things with everybody here.”
“I do too, sometimes. But movin’ away from the farms—from your folks and all my fam’ly—would make things all the more ours.”
“Yes.” I struggled with my answer. “But we were talking about someplace just up the road, close enough to visit two or three times a week. Emmie’ll be awfully hurt if she doesn’t get to see us more than once or twice a year the way it’s been with Sam.”
He pulled away just enough to get a good look at me, and his eyes were shining with determination. “I’m not sayin’ nothing for sure ’bout movin’ up that way. But if it was to work out, I wouldn’t mind if Emmie came for a while. She could even stay with us and finish school up there if she wanted to.”
“But I thought you wanted a place away from family.”
“She’s my kid sister. That’s different.”
I wasn’t sure how. I probably should have asked. But he reached to a shelf for the jar of pickles and then leaned suddenly and kissed me.
“A time to plant, an’ a time to pluck up what’s planted.”
I knew he was still quoting the Bible, and I knew he meant something specific about it too, about us being plucked up from our childhood home and being planted in a new life as man and wife. But I was still scared for him about this drive, and I didn’t say anything at all about his Scripture.
He had a sudden question. “Do you remember the poem Mattie Mueller recited that same year you and Rorey and Kate sang together for the school program?”
I shook my head, stunned at his recollection. “She did a poem every year, Frank, but I don’t remember any of them.”
“The one her grandma wrote about trees in the forest. Sometimes I feel like that sapling growin’ in the shade, you know what I mean? I need to get off by myself—out away from the other trees—to be what I’m supposed to be, do you understand?”
“I guess so,” I told him, but I wasn’t really sure that I did, and he let it drop.
“Everything’ll be all right, Sarah, you’ll see. I’ll call your dad at the Marathon station tomorrow and tell you all about the trip. Sam says I’ll be able to use the telephone at the store up there.”
I wished we had a telephone at home already. But that wouldn’t happen till summer. Maybe Dad would let me ride to town with him tomorrow, so I could be there for Frank’s call. I already knew I’d be awfully anxious to hear his voice.
“You want to take some blackberry jam?” I asked, mainly to have something positive to say.
“If you wanna send a jar, I wouldn’t turn it down, but your mother’s already made me sandwiches. So I might be sharin’ the jam with Sam’s bunch once I get there.”
“I’d best send two jars then,” I told him, reaching for the shelf.
He took one of the jars for me. “Will you write?”
The question got me shaky inside all over again. It was bad enough that he would make this crazy trip, but he must be planning to stay awhile. He was all prepared for it, with woodworking tools and not just his truck tools packed in beside the cedar chest and his old suitcase full of clothes. Of course, moving Sam and Thelma and their houseful of things would take days. Sam had to continue working and they’d only have Frank’s truck, so they wouldn’t be able to move everything all at once. Sam’d already told me I ought to expect Frank to be gone at least two weeks. But since their new house needed some work, I figured he’d be happy if he could keep Frank around longer than that.
“I’ll write,” I promised, picturing Thelma reading the letters to Frank in the evenings, and maybe helping him to write me back. Two weeks. Maybe more. Maybe lots more. Once he got Sam’s family moved to Jacksonville, Frank might even fall in love with Camp Point and want to stay there forever. When I only
wanted us to be home.
I could feel the tears welling inside me just thinking like that, but it was ridiculous and I wasn’t about to give them vent. If I turned all this around in my mind, I knew it wasn’t near enough to be crying about. Frank was sensible. And not facing any known dangers. Plenty of people dealt with far worse things. Frank’s sister Rorey had been separated from her fiancé by thousands of miles during the war, and then he got killed and never made it home. This wouldn’t be half so terrible as that. And it wasn’t quite so bold as my own brother, Robert, either, who was preaching half a world away even though he still needed crutches sometimes when his war injury got to bothering him. We often got letters from him and his wife, and they were truly happy.
The whole world had changed as we grew up, and some of the changes I didn’t like. Things had been good when we were little, with ten Hammond kids and two Worthams, plus Katie from my dad’s family, always around. I liked a crowd. So did Mom, I was pretty sure. The farther away we all got, the lonelier we were likely to be.
Poor Mom and Dad. Katie’s beau, a soldier friend of Kirk’s, lived all the way up in Wisconsin. If things kept on like they were going, would we ever get together the same anymore? Already this past Christmas, Robert and Rachel hadn’t come home. Neither had Frank’s brother Willy, nor his sister Rorey.
“Trust me,” Frank whispered, taking the other jar out of my hands even though he was already holding the pickles and the first jar of jam. “I’m just gonna look around up there. And help Sam.”
I nodded.
“I really got to get goin’, Sarah Jean,” he said with a sigh. “But I hate to be leaving you upset.”
“I’m okay,” I told him as convincingly as I could. “I’ll just miss you while you’re gone.”
“I’ll miss you too. But it’s only for a little while.”
We kissed again, and the jars jiggled together between us. I claimed one back, just to be sure it didn’t get dropped. Lord, guide him every mile, I prayed. Touch his wonderful memory to keep track of every place he’s supposed to go through. Bless him. Go with him.
“I better take along that scarf you made me,” he said then.
I smiled a little. “Did you leave it in the workshop?”
“Prob’ly. It kinda got in the way when I was sandin’ last night.”
We went up the stairs together, and I packed the jam and pickles into the food basket with the rest of the things Mom had gotten ready. Frank started hugging everybody. Sam asked him to name off all the towns he’d be going through again, and Frank rolled his eyes in impatience.
“Don’t be turnin’ off no place without stoppin’ to ask somebody where you are,” Kirk told him, and Frank didn’t reply to that at all.
“Drive careful,” Katie added, and I felt the tears trying to come at me again, but I wouldn’t let them have their way.
“Stop when you need a break,” Mom said. “Stay warm.”
Dad didn’t say anything at all, just walked out to the truck with Frank and gave him a hug. Most of the rest of us went out to see him off too. Frank set Mom’s basket on the seat, hugged me one last time, and climbed in the truck. Both of us nearly forgot that silly scarf.
“Oh! Wait!” I called out and ran for the woodshop. It was on the hook just inside the door where I thought it would be. Last year’s birthday present from me to Frank. But that thought jarred me as I ran with the scarf back to the truck. His birthday was only about two weeks away. We might not be together on that day for the first time since his mother died when he was eight and I was only six.
With a sniff I ran to the open driver door of the truck and tossed the scarf around his neck. He smiled his gorgeous smile and pulled me close for one last kiss, in front of everybody.
“Drive careful,” I told him weakly, echoing Katie’s words and wondering if his truck had ever been half so far. He’d bought it after the war from Willis McNutt, and he’d been very proud to get it.
As he pulled away down the lane, I stood and watched with crazy worries circling around my head begging for notice. What if he missed a turn and didn’t even realize it? Or what if he had trouble with the truck that he couldn’t fix? He was so good with engines, I wasn’t sure what that could be, but the thought struck at me nonetheless. What if it got awfully cold, or even blizzard-like while he was driving? What if he got lost somewhere halfway?
Of course, he had Sam’s road map with him, clearly marked with route and destination. He’d memorized the names of the towns. If he had trouble, all he had to do was ask somebody. But I was still nervous about it. What must it be like to find the wording on road maps and signs practically incomprehensible? There was something extra odd about Frank that he hadn’t been able to master reading and writing despite his years of trying. He knew Scripture right and left. And he could quote just about anything else he’d ever heard too. It didn’t make much sense. I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand.
But I knew I should quit being fearful. Frank had a head on his shoulders. He was wise about so many things. And he knew what to do in cold weather. Lord knows he’d encountered enough of it on the farm. It wouldn’t do any good for me to keep on fretting about him like he was a child. My father seemed sure that Frank would be fine. He acted like this was just the thing to do, that it all made sense somehow.
I tried, but I didn’t know how to stop the worry. Already this morning I’d been imagining that Frank’s constant limp might be worse than usual. Was he already tired from the packing? Would the long trip wear on him too? And then how would he feel after days of moving furniture and dealing with Sam’s boisterous kids, all of whom loved climbing on him?
It didn’t seem fair that Sam would be riding in a train car while Frank drove all that way alone. But for Sam to leave Thelma alone on the train with six children or to expect her to squeeze them all into Frank’s truck for so many miles was just unworkable. Why couldn’t I let all this go from my mind? Frank had helped people move before—not so far away, of course. But he’d put in many a day of hard work, not only moving furniture, but haying, harvesting, and all number of other things. He was strong and he always managed fine despite the limp he’d had since a bad broken leg when he was nine. He never let it slow him down.
Most everybody else was turning to go back in where it was warm. Soon Sam and his family’d have to bundle up for the ride to the train station. I would’ve preferred that Frank take the train with them if he felt he had to go. Surely Sam could have found somebody up there that would let them borrow or barter the use of a truck. But Frank had wanted his truck with him.
Mom let me stand in the driveway for a minute in silence, but then she put her arm around my shoulders. “It might be a little hard on all of us,” she said softly, “to let Franky become his own man.”
I turned and stared at her. “He’s been his own man for a long time.”
She smiled. “You’ll understand what I mean. Eventually.” She started back for the house.
“Mom!”
She stopped and took my hand. “I know you love him, honey. But he’s got needs different from yours. All you have to do is respect him in it, and everything will work out fine.”
My heart was suddenly thundering. “Did he talk to you about something special?”
“No. But I’ve been seeing something working in him for quite a while now.”
What in the world could she mean? Now I was flustered wondering about that. What was working in him? Why hadn’t I seen it?
I knew about his willingness to help people that needed it, especially family. There was nothing new about that. So it must be about the job opportunity. Was something driving him away from here? Wasn’t he his own man already? My head hurt just thinking about it, but there was no way I could sort it all out now.
2
Frank
More than an hour into the trip I made my first stop, at Ashley, for gasoline. The sky had been clear, but now I was seeing the start of wintry-white clouds off to the
west.
Felt strange to be away from home. I’d hardly been anywhere, especially not alone. God’s providence had planted me next to the farm where Sarah grew up, and through good times and hard times the Worthams had been shelter to my brothers and sisters and me. But God wasn’t calling me to stay under that same shelter all the time even though it might be easy to do. There was more. There had to be.
I checked the tie-downs on the canvas tarp covering the back of my truck. If it started snowin’, I didn’t want damage to the cedar chest and other things I was bringing along. I paid for my gas and took off for the highway again. The sky was cloudy overhead by the time I come to Nashville, Illinois, where I turned on the road going north. I knew from the look of the clouds that there was a storm threatening. Hopefully it would hold off till I got to Sam’s house and not snow back home at all, or Sarah would worry worse than she already was.
I was hungry by the time I got to Carlyle. A little road ran off from the main road toward a lake, and it seemed like the perfect place to stop despite the cold. I couldn’t drive close to the water, but I parked where I could see it. The whole lake was mostly froze and kept going far enough to make your eyes feel like they’d had exercise. That was the kind of water I liked. Big enough to make you think about the bigness of the earth and how vast God must be to make stuff like this.
“Lord God, you put things together pretty when you made this world,” I said into the wind. “A man can see that, even in winter. I want you to know I’m thankful for this trip. Use it some way. An’ use me.”
I almost forgot I’d come to eat. Mrs. Wortham’s food basket was waiting, but just as I was about to reach for it, a redbird come flying out from the bare trees to one side of the truck. A cardinal. Male. All alone, just like me.
“What are you doin’ out here?” I asked him. “You got a girl waitin’ someplace while you’re off gallivantin’ the countryside?”
The bird chirped and flew off. I helped myself to the sandwiches and three of Mrs. Wortham’s cookies. But when the wind picked up I decided I’d better move along.