Malcolm nodded.
“I’m proud to call you my brother. Your heart is good, like the preacher says, and you let those little children come to you.”
“Thinking about their need, that’s all.”
Kate hugged him. “God often reveals himself best in the little things. We’re going to Ma and Da’s house for ice cream. They’ve got one of those new crank machines and a little bit left of last winter’s ice. Would you like to join us?” She extended the invitation to all.
Lena jumped up. “I would.”
“Your embroidery?” Sally asked.
“I’ll take it with me—Mrs. MacDougall won’t mind.”
“I’ll be there in a bit,” Malcolm said.
The three strolled away while Sally bent her head over the latest sunbonnet, this one in navy blue with red strings.
“The reeds work all right?” Malcolm asked.
She nodded and licked her lips, seemingly intent on what she was doing. “How did you know she needed a flute to cheer her up?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Malcolm finally said, desperate to say something about his feelings, but unsure of her reaction. He scratched at a mark on the porch. “I’d do anything for you, Sally.”
She opened her mouth to reply when Josiah’s voice rang out. “I’ve found you! I’ve got great news from Clarkesville.”
“I’ll be on my way, then,” Malcolm said. “Ice cream.”
Sally’s heart sank as Malcolm shuffled down the street, but she put a pert smile on her face and indicated the empty chair opposite. Josiah removed his jacket and sat. “Pleasant out here, isn’t it?”
Actually, the mosquitoes were buzzing, and the humidity meant she dripped sweat. The MacDougall ice cream sounded refreshing, but she’d missed her chance. Sally pushed back her hair. “How was your day?”
“Very profitable for you. The shop owner I saw in Clarkesville fell in love with your bonnets. She sold one while I stood there and asked me to bring more.”
Sally rubbed her hands on the cotton fabric in her lap. “They’re just bonnets.”
“Apparently the woman who bought one appreciated that the brim didn’t droop. She loved the idea of helping victims by purchasing one. You could easily sell a dozen.” He pulled six bits from his pocket. “Here’s your pay for two bonnets.”
“Thirty-seven cents. It’s a good start.”
“Would you like to open a bank account with this?” Josiah tapped his index finger on the coins.
“No. I’m going to turn it over to Reverend Cummings. It doesn’t belong to me.”
“You should deduct the costs. You shouldn’t go into debt trying to help people.”
Malcolm had said the same thing. Sally shifted in her cane back chair. She understood the reason, now, but it still didn’t seem quite right to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with turning a small profit,” Josiah said. “If this gets you started with the Clarkesville ladies, you could sew other clever hats and the like. This could be your foot in the door. Why not sell there?”
“We’ll see how many I have left after the dance on Saturday. You could take those to Clarkesville next time you go.”
He stretched his hands behind his head. “You may sell out in Fairhope. Then what will you do?”
Light spilled from the house across the street, and she heard friendly laughter. “I’ll be thankful God heard our prayers for those in need, which includes my father.”
His eyes danced. “Are you thinking like a business woman or a do-gooder?”
She knew the answer he sought, but she felt uncomfortable holding back some of the money received for the bonnets. There was so much Sally needed to learn about business before she could open her own shop. A banker could advise and help her. He knew all about money and interest rates.
Josiah spoke slowly. “Profits are one thing; if you don’t feel comfortable keeping the profit, don’t. But the material costs are something else. Good business sense isn’t greed. By managing your resources you’ll ensure you can keep on making sunbonnets and thus help those in need.”
Sally bit her lip, trying to think of a good response. “Why can’t I be both a seamstress who turns out quality work and provides for those in need; you know like the Proverbs 31 woman?”
Josiah closed his eyes. “Is she the one known for being worth more than rubies and pearls?”
“Yes, ‘she reacheth forth her hands to the needy’ and ‘she maketh herself coverings of tapestry, her clothing is silk and purple.’ She’s very resourceful.”
“As are you. I work hard for the same reason,” Josiah said. “I want to make a life for my family and clothe my wife in silk and purple. How’s that sound?”
Sally thought of the way cool silk slipped through her fingers when she’d had opportunity to stitch it. “Any woman married to you would have a comfortable life.”
“My father gave me a parcel of land outside of town where I’m going to build a house. The bank will be mine one day. I’m thinking an elegant two-story with a wrap-around porch and scroll work. It’ll include four bedrooms upstairs and a deep cellar beneath. Would a house like that appeal to you?”
Her father’s lean-to flashed in Sally’s mind, along with gratitude for the cellar that sheltered him and Lena during the tornado. “In this area a storm cellar is a good idea. It saved Pa and Lena’s lives.”
“I drove out there to survey the damage before I went to Clarkesville. Many of those folks are pressed to the wall. We’re offering them reduced interest on any loans they take out against their land, but some farmers may go under.”
Josiah looked at her and stopped. Sally couldn’t keep the horror off her face. “You would take advantage of people in this situation?”
“Not at all. We’re offering lower rates. A small loan could help them keep their land until they get a good crop or they can sell.”
She rubbed her face and thought of Malcolm’s hands dirty from working for her father and his neighbors. He had asked for nothing in return. Sally glared at Josiah. “Did you ride your horse or buggy?”
“I took my horse; the roads are chewed up and hard on the buggy.”
“So you took no provisions with you? No extra food? No building supplies? Did you even get your hands dirty?”
He frowned. “No need. I carried paperwork in my saddlebags. It takes all kinds of people to help. The Good Book reminds us the body is made up of many members. Some are teachers, some are workers, and some are leaders.”
Josiah scratched the back of his head, frustrated. “What good would it do for me to build a barn if I don’t know how? I’d be in the way. We’ve been busy at the bank making sure we have the funds to help. My skills lie in using my brains, not my brawn.”
Josiah could add up a column of numbers faster than anyone she knew. He understood how the world outside of Fairhope worked and wanted to do the right thing. She doubted he could pound a nail straight. Drumming up sales for her bonnets and seeking ways to reduce the financial burden on farmers was important.
Sally took a deep breath of the warm evening air and thought of Malcolm’s cheerful and strong helpfulness. She wished Josiah’s clean hands and suit didn’t feel like shirking to her.
Chapter 7
Malcolm woke early the morning of the fund-raising dance. The heat had modulated and he had work of his own to do. He started with the most important task: finishing a dozen reed flutes for the children of Sterling.
Kate thought they’d make these flutes different from their normal ones. She’d painted them red and then decorated the front with a twister shape. “Sort of like what Lena did with the bonnets.”
Once they dried, Malcolm sanded the bottoms and carved finger holes. He tested each one in turn to make sure it wasn’t difficult to blow. They looked pretty and should cheer up the children.
Afterward, he cleaned his wagon and harness, brushed Bessie and Daisy, threw sticks for Sport to chase, and sat on a bench to think. He
even prayed for wisdom and was still resting in the shade when Ewan came looking for him.
“It’s a big day today.” Ewan leaned against the ash tree beside the MacDougall house. “What are you going to do?”
Malcolm frowned. “I’ll go to the prayer meeting at three o’clock, then attend the auction and bid on a pie. I expect I’ll dance while you play.” He sighed. “I’ll enjoy dancing again. Feels like I’ve done nothing but work since the tornado came through.”
“What are you going to do about Sally? While you’ve been tongue-tied and quiet, Josiah’s been courting her. He’s been describing a big house he’s going to build and the fine clothes he’ll buy for his wife and family.”
The peace Malcolm thought he’d found evaporated and his guts clenched.
Overhead a mockingbird called, its trilling voice starting high and sweet and descending into a noise that sounded like a whining dog. Both men looked up, and Sport ran into the yard, barking to match, spinning around looking for a strange animal, and finally collapsing against Malcolm’s leg in confusion.
“While he explored the neighborhood,” Ewan said, “a nosey bird landed in his yard and stole his voice.”
“What’s your point?” Malcolm had to push the words past a tight throat.
“Josiah’s not a bad guy. He’s lonely and is attracted to a pretty girl. He’s a smooth talker and has a lot to offer.” Ewan picked up a stick and threw it for Sport to chase. “I’m saying I think Sally has more in common with you than Josiah, and you could make her happier. Don’t let her fly off with a wealthy bird.”
Malcolm could feel his ears turning red. He’d never been as quick of tongue or clever as his sister or Ewan. What he knew to do was work, and to work hard. Surely Sally had recognized his affection for her through his actions?
Ewan watched him through steady eyes. “Put your mouth in front of your muscle. Offer your heart to her. I’d pray, too. In fact, I will pray.”
Malcolm had been praying about what to say to her, and then his brother-in-law came over warning him to speak up. His heart sank.
“Maybe she’d be better off with Josiah. He can give her all the things she wants, a beautiful home and clothes.”
Ewan tossed the stick again. “I told myself the same thing when he tried to court Kate. But what kind of man throws away the love of a good woman because he’s afraid of being rejected? Give her the choice, Malcolm. Right now, all she sees is one man interested, and he’s dangling security.”
Malcolm squeezed his big hands together trying not to shake at Ewan’s forcefulness. He meant well. He’d taught Malcolm how to solve seemingly insurmountable math problems.
But music and singing couldn’t help him past this problem. This required more action than words, Malcolm knew. If only they could dance or work together. How could he demonstrate his feelings to Sally and his hope for a future with her?
Dance?
Pie auction?
“They were baking pies when I went by the boarding house,” Ewan said. “Lena was pitting cherries on the front porch.”
Sport returned with his stick, and Malcolm scratched the dog’s ears. “Thanks.”
Prayer comforted and encouraged her every time, Sally thought as she exited the church with the dozens of folks who had gathered. Pa had come in early from Sterling. He nudged her. “Proud to be here in my new shirt to ask God for mercy and help.”
She’d stayed up late the night before finishing it, along with completing the last of the dozen sunbonnets. Up since dawn, Sally felt lethargic on the warm day. She’d need to muster energy for tonight’s dance. The auction’s excitement should help.
Pa shook hands with Josiah, who tipped his hat in her direction. “Will you give me a hint?” Josiah asked.
“Gingham ribbon,” Lena said.
Sally whirled on her. “You’re not supposed to give hints of what pie is yours.”
“Thank you, kindly. I’ll be watching for it. How goes the rebuilding, sir?”
Pa eyed him. “I’ll be able to winter over. I’m thankful my girls have a place in town.”
“Your family will always be welcome here.”
“Will your mother join us today?” Sally asked. She’d never laid eyes on his mother, though his father would be conducting the auction in a short time.
“Alas, no. She never goes out.” He touched her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
He hustled out of the church.
“He’s mighty forward,” Pa said. “He courtin’ you without my permission?”
“Pa.”
“He likes her, but she likes Malcolm better,” Lena said.
“Shh.”
“Better choice,” Pa grunted.
Sally glanced about to see if anyone heard. Her chest felt tight and her stomach roiled. She wanted to rub Josiah’s touch off her cheek and lean against someone strong and immovable, a man to hold her up and encourage her. She had felt reassured when Malcolm’s deep voice had prayed not twenty minutes before. Where was he now?
“What kind of pie did you make for me?” Pa asked Lena.
She batted her lashes. “You’ll find your favorite on the table.”
Outside the church, people hurried to finish organizing tables of goods and pies for auction. Mr. Finch shouted for their attention.
People must have come from all around the county, including well-dressed folks Sally suspected journeyed from Clarkesville. The livery stable was full of extra horses and buggies. Josiah greeted several and motioned for her to join him. Sally shook her head and hurried to assist Kate whose arms were full of plates.
“Quite a turnout. Did you see that Clarkesville woman’s hat?” Kate ducked her head in the direction of an elegant woman in a fine poke bonnet.
Sally told herself not to stare, but she wanted to inspect how the hat had been constructed. A hatter had woven reeds to create the shape and adorned it with silk flowers. She’d try to create a similar style when she got a chance.
Her landlady joined them, shaking her fine skirts and spinning with pleasure. The hoops she wore belled out the new dress beautifully, and Mrs. Campbell preened with rosy cheeks and a spring in her step. “I’m going to try for one of your bonnets, Sally. I’ve enjoyed watching you and Lena make them on my front porch.”
“Thank you for providing the lamp for us to work.”
Rev. Cummings joined Mr. Finch and called the excited crowd to order. They bent their heads and prayed for God’s blessings on their day, reminding Him the purpose was to provide relief to their brothers and sisters in Sterling.
“Amen,” Sally whispered, as a curious thrumming grew inside her heart. This day could change her family’s fortunes from grim to hopeful. She had to trust God to provide the means to deliver them, even though Pa thought he could winter over successfully in the barn with his animals.
Sally hoped for better options.
She looked around the churchyard. Where was Malcolm?
Mr. MacDougall handed Mr. Finch an auctioneer’s gavel and he hammered it onto the podium brought from the church. “Let the auction begin!”
Chapter 8
Malcolm stood in the back of the crowd, watching as Mr. Finch auctioned off livestock. A cheer went up from the crowd when the livery agent passed the hearty banker a note. “Charlie Grech from the north side of Fairhope announces he’s got more laying hens than he knows what to do with. He’ll give one layer to each of the first ten Sterling families who find him.”
A spirited bidding broke out when five jars of his mother’s wild blackberry preserves went up on the auction block. They sold for two bits each. Ma blushed until she saw the winner: his father. “I’m not letting these preserves out of my house if I can help it!” Da shouted.
Laughter.
The spirited crowd obviously enjoyed themselves, but Malcolm couldn’t join in. He kept his eyes on Sally, who scanned the crowd and twisted her handkerchief. He couldn’t make sense of it; Josiah stood nearby and obviously sought her attenti
on. Still she looked, and he scanned the crowd with her, for what he didn’t know.
Children ran about with a freedom Malcolm envied. Even Joe and Anna, along with their siblings, seemed lighthearted. A mockingbird in a nearby tree, maybe the same one from earlier, coughed a sound similar to the auctioneer’s gavel. It felt like the whole world was making fun of him.
“Miss Sally Martin needs to come forward to model this fine bonnet,” Mr. Finch called. “A beautiful girl wearing a beautiful hat. Who can resist?”
Not Malcolm. He paced. Perhaps he could buy one for Kate or his mother? He still hadn’t come up with an idea yet as to how to win Sally’s hand, but this seemed to be the day.
Kate needed a green hat with her hair color, so he let the first two bonnets go by. On the third choice, however, he realized a murmur had begun as the price, once more, went to five bits. It seemed a reasonable price to Malcolm. He didn’t understand the restlessness.
The fourth choice, a sky blue model; the fifth and sixth, both made of blue calico; all went for five bits, though the seventh yellow bonnet went for seven.
Ewan appeared at his elbow. “What do you think he’s up to?”
“Who?”
“Haven’t you noticed? Josiah’s bought them all. He hasn’t got seven heads to wear a bonnet on, and everyone knows his mother never goes outdoors. Who’s he buying them for?”
Sally didn’t look so merry anymore as she modeled a green checked bonnet. Malcolm raised his hand to bid. “Eight bits,” he shouted.
People turned in his direction.
Josiah went to ten.
While Malcolm fumbled in his pockets checking his money, the gavel came down hard. Sold.
And so it went. Josiah bought all twelve bonnets.
Sally climbed down from the chair, her face downcast and red. She nodded at Josiah and then hurried into the mercantile with Kate following close behind.
“What is he thinking?” Sally burst into tears. “Why would he buy all those bonnets? It’s presumptuous and humiliating and”—her eyes widened—“what will people think?” What will Malcolm think?
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