by Leisha Kelly
“Ain’t hard. Want me to teach you?”
“Don’t have time for that. No thank you.”
“How about checkers? What you makin’? Oh, sakes a’ living! It’s chess pieces. You’re not one a’ them, are you?”
“One a’ what?”
“Chess enthusiasts. You know. Those that think themselves above everybody else. Now, checkers—that’s a game for the common man. No pride involved. Same way with gin rummy.”
I didn’t answer. I had no idea where he was gettin’ his information, but it didn’t mesh with anything I ever heard before.
The skinny gal give us a funny look. She admired the carved eagle on a shelf and then pretended to be looking extra close at the cedar chest again. She left after that, and I was relieved.
“That wasn’t your girlfriend, was it?” Mr. Pratt asked me.
“No. She’ll be here on tonight’s train. That was just somebody lookin’ around.”
“Oh. Got any coffee?”
“A little in a pot in back. But it’s cold and strong by now.”
“I don’t care. It’ll be all right if you heat it up.”
I might’ve drunk it myself after a while. I didn’t mind lettin’ him have it, but the request seemed peculiar. Why wouldn’t he rather go to the restaurant where other men in town seemed to like to gather and talk sometimes? He must have been lonely without Sam and Thelma’s bunch to drop in on. But I wasn’t sure how it’d work out if he started droppin’ in on me.
I got him the coffee. I needed to empty the pot and wash it anyway. And then I considered that maybe the Lord had called me up here for the people, especially my elders. Here was another widower, like Pastor Willings. And there was Mrs. Haywood. She and other elderly widows made up almost a third of my Sunday night congregation. I was ministering to ’em regular, in more ways than one. I got called quite a bit anymore, if one of ’em needed something done and this or that neighbor or friend wasn’t available. I guessed I’d have room in my days to fit Mr. Pratt in too once in a while, even if all he wanted was my old coffee and another look at his stuff.
“Sure would be nice if Lindbergh or one of them other barnstormers would come through here again,” he mused. “I miss those days. Did you know Lindbergh brought his plane to a field not half a mile from here?”
“Charles Lindbergh?”
“Yes, indeed. It was 1925, I think. Friend of mine went right up in the air with him. You ever been flyin’?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s right. You wasn’t one that went off to the war.” He took a long drink of my stale coffee. I went back to my carving, and he sat and watched me for a while. “You know,” he finally said, “I’m glad you didn’t rent my store.”
I looked up, not sure how he meant that. “Good. I’m glad we’re both happy.”
“I don’t think I’d like chess sets in my windows.”
I smiled. “Pardon me sayin’, but I don’t think I’d like ’em bein’ your windows.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. You’re the independent one. Sam says you’d rather drown than grab hold on a dock made by somebody else.”
“It’s not quite that bad.”
“Um-hm.”
He gulped at the coffee, which couldn’t be very good anymore. “You gonna advertise my things?”
“I can. Next time I talk to the newspaper.”
“When will that be?”
I thought a minute. “I already got an ad running that’s got one more edition to go. I’ll go see ’em after my fiancée’s visit to start a new ad for a few weeks and mention your merchandise then.”
He drained his coffee and stood up. “You’re gonna need one of them stoves, you know. Mrs. Bellor’s taking hers with her.”
I wondered how he’d heard that and how many other people in town knew pieces of my business. But it didn’t matter. “If there’s a stove to be bought, I’ll let Sarah do the pickin’ out. Along with most everything else. That’s only right, since I was the one to pick the house.”
He didn’t have much more to say, just thanked me for the coffee, took his cane in hand, and went back out to the street.
That afternoon I closed the store and went and got a haircut. Couldn’t concentrate much more on work anyhow. I cleaned up and put on my Sunday clothes. I knew when the train was due to arrive, but I couldn’t keep myself from being early. Just couldn’t stand to wait no longer. Only stop I made on the way was at Jacob and Judy Hurley’s house to offer a dime for a bouquet of flowers. I prob’ly wouldn’t a’ been so bold, except that Mrs. Hurley was right out in the flower patch and she started the conversation herself as I walked by.
This’d be the first time I ever walked to meet a train. All the other times we’d ever been was in Dearing for somebody going a long ways away, or coming back. Like the day Willy and Robert and so many other boys we knew had gone off to the war. And the day Robert come home wounded. I’d dreamed about seeing my pa off on a train, but that wasn’t the way he’d left us. The dream was stubborn about it, though, coming into my head several different nights, leaving me standing by the tracks while Pa and the railcar faded off in the distance.
Lord, he didn’t really leave my life even when he left, did he? Sometimes I think he’s still with me every day.
On purpose I hadn’t let myself think on what Pa would’ve said if he was around to see me marry Sarah Wortham. But those thoughts come rushing at me all at once now. He wouldn’t object outright. Not to my face, at least. He might talk it over with Mr. and Mrs. Wortham and see if they could really accept such a strange turn of events. He might even try to talk them out of it. But he wouldn’t talk to Sarah Jean at all. She’d been bold to him once, standing up for me and my brothers and sisters, and I couldn’t think of one time after that when he’d said even one more word to her.
Pa still got in my head sometimes, telling me I didn’t know what I was doing or I was the same old clumsy mess as ever. And preaching? That wouldn’t surprise him. Not one bit, but that didn’t mean he’d have accepted me to be any good at it.
Stepping up to the depot, I breathed a painful sigh. Why’d you have to leave us, Pa? If you’d only stayed, sharing your grief with the rest of us, then we wouldn’t a’ had to be burying you too. It was bad enough about Joe. But you hurt us, Pa, runnin’ off like you done. You made it worse.
I wiped my brow, trying to push those thoughts away. I needed to get my mind on happier things. Wouldn’t do to have Sarah Jean finding me glum-faced. She oughta know how glad I was to see her. I stood for a while against the outside wall of the depot, but then I started pacing on the platform. Soon it wasn’t so early anymore, and after a while it wasn’t early at all. I wasn’t sure how long I’d waited. But when I finally heard the train whistle, my heart beat faster just thinking about holding Sarah Jean. I’d have to thank her father. I’d have to make real clear how much I appreciated him bringing her up here.
I knew he figured the trip was as much for him as it was her. He wanted to look over things and be able to tell Mrs. Wortham and his own heart that I’d done all right and everything’d be fine for their little girl. I took a deep breath. What would he think? My business had a long way to go before it was truly prospering.
Sarah was the first one off the train, looking fresh and perky in a pink jacket and pretty high-heeled shoes. Oh, I was glad she was here and folks’d see her and know that I was the one that’d made quite a catch.
I run up and took her in my arms. She dropped the bag she was carrying and hugged at me too. I didn’t even notice her father at first, till I saw him alongside the train claiming their luggage and doing his best to leave us alone for a minute.
“Your father’s a wonderful man,” I whispered to Sarah.
“He says the same about you.”
“I think he’s the one I learned it from.”
She smiled and kissed me right there in the open. Just a little kiss. But I knew there was folks that seen. “It looks like a n
ice town,” she said, a little timidly.
“It is. I got so much to show you.”
She looked around. “Where’s the truck?”
“I didn’t bring it. The store’s close enough to walk.” And then I thought, What a stupid idiot I am. I forgot all about them having luggage. Sure, we could carry it a few blocks. I could carry most of it myself. There wasn’t that much. But what a picture that’d make for them to remember.
“Let me speak a word to the man in the depot,” I told her real quick. “We’re just down the street from the square. It’s a beautiful evening. Maybe you’d like to walk to the railroad park and have an ice cream ’fore we go home. I can bring the truck up for the luggage later.”
“Oh, a walk would be nice,” she agreed. “We did so much sitting on the train.”
Now I had to pray that the man in the depot would let me leave the luggage. He chuckled a little about it. “Got to get out on the town first thing, huh? It’s all right. But I’ll only be here a little while and then it’s gonna sit outside. So don’t wait too long.”
Sarah loved the flowers I’d gotten for her. We all enjoyed the walk. But we took our ice cream with us to my store and didn’t linger in the park because Sarah said she wanted to put my flowers in water before it was too late for them. I didn’t have a vase, but I gave her a pickle jar I’d emptied and washed to use for a drinking glass.
“We could have sent more dishes with you,” she reminded me.
“I been makin’ it fine. Don’t wanna get too comfortable over here in the shop, you know.”
She looked around only a little before we went back after the luggage. Just Sarah and me. Mr. Wortham wanted to stay at the store.
I didn’t know what he’d tell me when we got back. But when we came in, he was in the storefront with the electric lights on, sitting in my workstation. “I’ve been looking over your work, Frank. It keeps getting better. You outpaced me a long time ago. You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Mr. Wortham wasn’t real frivolous with his compliments, but it was hard to let that one soak in anyway. “You taught me an awful lot.”
He shook his head. “You did most of what I can do when you were ten years old. There wasn’t much I could teach.” He picked up Mr. Willings’s horse. “You have a gift.”
The praise was a little unnerving. “That piece is commissioned by the bank. It’s gonna be the appreciation gift for forty years of service.”
“Nice choice.” He set it down. “Looks good in here, Frank. You must have been working day and night.”
“I ain’t been able to keep workin’ on new stuff every day ’cause I’ve been sharpening for people, doing repair, and sometimes helpin’ the church folks.”
“How’s that going?” he asked on.
I reached for Sarah’s hand. “Good. I’m looking forward to you joinin’ me this Sunday night when I speak.”
If I said all, I’d have to admit I was terrified about it, not for them to meet the church folks, but for them to see me minister there. Of course I was excited about it too.
We walked over every bit of the store and went outside to look a little more at the house. But it was starting to get dark, and Mrs. Haywood came across the street and greeted Sarah and her father like they were long-lost kin. Mr. Wortham thought it ideal for Sarah to stay with her. But he didn’t want to go to Mr. Willings’s house. Not yet. He wanted to stay at least the first night in the shop with me.
Long after the stars were out and Sarah Jean was surely asleep on one of Mrs. Haywood’s beds, me and Mr. Wortham lay on mattresses on the floor of my woodshop, staring up at the dark ceiling and talking.
He had more questions about the business and the house and where I stood financially. He had questions about the town and the church and my hopes for the future too. But after we went over all that, for some reason we weren’t done. We talked about my brothers and the feelings that had made me want to look around up here. I told him about Mr. Pratt and why I couldn’t make his plan and Sam’s work for me. But mostly, we talked about the call of God and what it can mean. I told him about me and Mr. Willings in the church, the Scripture about God using the foolish things, and how deep I was wanting to be used.
There wasn’t none of it that seemed to bother him too badly, but he already had a son halfway across the world. Prob’ly nothing I said could compare to that.
Finally, late into the night, we slept, and I dreamed about Mr. Willings’s horse running across the open prairie, and the carved eagle rising free of its branch-like base and soaring across the moonlit sky.
25
Sarah
I sat on the bed in Mrs. Haywood’s lovely guest room as early morning sun slipped between the window curtains. Surely I should be happy instead of feeling butterflies like this. Frank seemed so different up here. So energetic and purposed. He’d picked out a good store building and a house that seemed nice too, at least from the outside. He’d done an amazing amount of work in a short time.
Why did I feel like crying? He was happy. I had no reason to think he wouldn’t be successful here. He was proving his point. But far more than that, he was being used by God. Mrs. Haywood had told me last night what a blessing he’d been to their church, speaking faithfully on Sunday nights and taking care of needed repairs to the building, not to mention ministering to various needs among the congregation. She said Mr. Willings had health problems and though he’d become a wonderful pastor, he wasn’t able to carry all the obligations of the pastorate alone. Which made Frank a godsend.
And I knew what that meant. They leaned on him already. They counted on him, and that was likely only to grow, not lessen. He was planted here. Rooted, spreading out, and blossoming. Would I be able to do the same thing?
I really didn’t know. My mind said yes, and then again, I questioned.
Oh, Lord, I am such a ninny sometimes. I go back and forth so much! I want this for him. I want it for both of us. But then I turn around and feel like crying and hope he’ll change his mind. But it’s gone too far for that, hasn’t it?
Frank leaving now would be like cutting away a piece of that church and asking them to go on with a hole in their hearts. And it would tear at him too because he’d established himself. He was needed. To ask different of him would be terribly unfair.
I rose to my feet and opened the ruffly curtains. I couldn’t see the store where Dad and Frank would be because this was a north window and they were across the street to the west. But I could see just a bit of the house from here, and it was pretty in the early light. Frank had told me it would need work, but that was a good thing. It meant we got a better price, and we could fix things to be the way we wanted.
We’d be looking at the house more completely today. The Bellors were going to be gone, and Frank had arranged with them for us to be in the house while they were out.
He’d promised to show me more of the town too. And tomorrow would be Sunday. We’d get to see the church then, meet more people, and hear Frank speak. I should have been excited about all of this, but I was scared too.
I wondered if I’d been this apprehensive when I was five and my family left Pennsylvania to hitchhike across the countryside. We’d had nothing left when we arrived in Illinois, and maybe that was part of my problem, though things had worked all right for us. I was young back then but not immune to the worries of those Depression years. The farm had become security to me. We could always get by there, even if we had nothing but what we could pick of the plants growing around us. Here in a strange town, what could we do if times got hard again? Maybe the idea of moving made me feel like I’d been reduced to nothing again.
Trust. The gentle reminder popped into my head.
“Oh, Lord, I know!” I whispered the words to the window glass and then turned around. Mrs. Haywood was up. I knew she was. I could smell whatever she was cooking, and it was wonderful. I should go and offer my help before Dad and Frank came across the street to join us.
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nbsp; But my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone as I brushed my hair at the dressing table. Of course I should trust. That’s what everything came down to. But in a way I wished it didn’t have to be that way, that we could just go through life having everything the way we wanted and never have to worry about the unseen. Then life would be like heaven, wouldn’t it?
But maybe not. I wouldn’t have to have faith. Nobody would. We might all be like pampered children so used to treats that we’d never think to work for them or say thank you. God was far, far wiser than I was in knowing that wouldn’t be best for us.
As I set my brush down I wondered if Rorey ever worried about the future. She didn’t seem to. She acted far too full of herself and her ideas of fun to consider what lay ahead. But I didn’t want to think about her now. Here I was in Camp Point, my soon-to-be home. I had to find a way to be gracious and cheerful for Frank. He’d worked so hard.
I went to the kitchen, where Mrs. Haywood was making cinnamon rolls, eggs, and bacon. And a pie. “The pie’s for your dinner later,” she told me, even though I was sure Frank had said he was going to do the cooking for us for the rest of the day.
She let me help set the table. And oh, what a pretty table it was, with a linen cloth and napkins and gorgeous yellow rose china. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone put on a fancy breakfast before. She said she didn’t usually, but this was an extremely special occasion.
“I’m looking forward to having you for a neighbor,” she said with a smile. “I hope you’re looking forward to it too. Though of course I know I’m not the first thing on your mind.”
I wanted to answer sweetly and positively. I knew I should. I even tried, but I couldn’t seem to make the words come out. Not anything but, “Yes, ma’am,” which must have sounded ridiculous.
She looked over at me but went back to sprinkling cinnamon sugar over her rolled-out batter. “Don’t worry about being nervous,” she said softly. “It’s the most normal thing in the world.”