Jimmy jumped into his arms and started crying. Woody held on tight. “You scared me, son. I love you so much, and I can’t bear to lose you. Don’t you ever run away again, all right?” He felt a nod. “I know you were upset that I told Miss Lillian to leave, but you need to promise me that instead of running next time, you’ll come to me and we’ll work it out.” Another nod. “I love you, Jimmy.”
His son squeezed his arms around him, but then he pulled back. Woody frowned as Jimmy began to squirm. He dropped his pillowcase as he struggled. But just as Woody feared the worst, Jimmy pulled Mr. Whiskers from inside his shirt. With a smile, Jimmy once again relaxed in his father’s arms.
“I’m certainly glad Mr. Whiskers came through all of this unscathed,” Lillian declared, picking up Jimmy’s pillowcase. She handed it back to the boy.
Woody stood, lifting his son and Mr. Whiskers. He looked at Lillian, hoping she would know how sorry he was for all he’d said. “Please forgive me, Miss Porter . . . Lillian. I am ashamed by my behavior. Will you please stay?” With his right arm wrapped around his son, he reached his left arm out to her.
She stood still for too long.
Oh, Lord. Please help me not to have ruined everything.
Jimmy sucked in a breath.
Lillian reached out toward him and placed her hand in his. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.” She took a deep breath. “And to answer your question, yes, I’ll stay. However, be warned. I’ll probably speak my mind again—at one turn or another.”
Woody chuckled. “I like your spirit.” They started walking back to the house, and she didn’t remove her hand from his, even while holding the lantern out to light their way. Woody felt the warmth all the way up his arm, and it had nothing to do with the lamp.
“I hope that’s true, but I’ve held it in for so long, I’m afraid I probably don’t control it the way I should.” A long sigh escaped. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Mr. Colton . . . Woody. I lashed out at you earlier and compared you to my grandfather, which was a horrid thing to do. I’m sorry.”
He had wondered about her family, but she’d been very distant about them. Mrs. Goodman told him that she received mail from Indiana but that Lillian would have to share the details when she felt the time was right. “Would you like to tell me about him?”
Another sigh. “It’s rather a long and sad story, but yes, I want you to know it all.”
As they walked Lillian shared the events of her life. Woody listened without interrupting, hoping she would feel free to talk about whatever came to mind. He found that suddenly he wanted to know everything about her. Every single detail.
“. . . and Grandfather disowned me when I announced that I was leaving. I’m sorry I hid that from you.”
“It’s all right. I understand—not why he disowned you, but why you kept it to yourself. That’s a very private matter.” He paused and swallowed, unwilling to break their connection, but he had to ask, “So how are things with your grandfather now?”
“Unchanged, I’m sorry to say. Stanton—he’s my dear friend and Grandfather’s butler—and I write back and forth. But Grandfather refuses to even read any of my letters.”
He squeezed her hand again. “Give it time. Maybe that will change. You never know what the Lord can do in someone’s life.”
Lillian reached up to smooth Jimmy’s hair. “He’s asleep, isn’t he?”
Woody chuckled again. “Yes, he’s like a deadweight on this shoulder. I haven’t been able to feel my arm for a good while. I’m glad he thought to put Mr. Whiskers back in his shirt. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him.”
“I think that’s something of a habit with you.”
He said nothing. What could he say? She was right. He hadn’t been able to forgive himself for not keeping Rebecca and Jimmy safe.
Her silence washed over him, and they continued their walk back. Words weren’t really necessary. But he was thankful that she had accepted his apology and would stay.
Several minutes passed where the only sounds were their boots on the crunchy grass. Woody tried not to think about how the drought would affect his crop. The olives were already showing signs of withering. He shook his head. Worry and doubt had gotten him into the horrible predicament today. He couldn’t afford to do that again. God was in control. He knew that and would have to rest in that.
The house came into view and Lillian removed her hand from his. “I think I’ll run on ahead to let Mrs. Goodman know that we found him. That way we can get a hot water bottle in his bed and warm it up for him, and warm up Mr. Whiskers’s box, too.” Without waiting for a response, she took off at a fast pace.
Was she running from him? The last half hour had been wonderful and Woody felt whole again. Holding his son, listening to Lillian, and holding her hand. It had seemed . . . right.
“That you, Mr. Colton?” Sam came from the direction of the barn.
“Shhh. It’s me.”
The man approached and gave a nod. “I see you found Jimmy. I’ll let the men know.”
“How did you know he was gone?”
Sam chuckled. “That Miss Porter came flying into our quarters. She wasn’t there but long enough to tell us to be looking for Jimmy—that he was lost outside somewhere.”
Woody shook his head. When had she even had time?
“That Miss Porter is really something.” Sam turned away. “I’ll let the men know you found your son.”
Miss Porter really was something. Something very special. A new wave of emotions spilled over him as he continued the trek home. For the first time, when he thought of the future, his heart didn’t ache. And the image in his mind included a dark-haired, green-eyed spitfire of a woman by his side.
Despite a happy outcome to the traumatic events of the evening, Woody found sleep impossible. He tossed and turned for a long time, trying to force it to come, but his mind and spirit were troubled. Finally, he got up and went to the open window. Gazing out into the darkness, he thought again of all he’d said and done that day.
Thoughts returned of how he’d not listened for God’s direction in a long time. It dawned on him that perhaps Lillian’s request for them to go to church was God trying to work through Woody’s stubbornness.
“Lord, I know I’ve got a lot to figure out, but I just don’t feel like facing those people any more than I have to. They’re harsh and judgmental. They don’t care about the pain they’ve caused.”
Forgive them.
Those two words seemed to be murmured on the gentle breeze that touched Woody’s face.
“How can I forgive them when I can’t forgive myself? How can I not blame them for my pain, just as I blame myself?”
And blame God.
The thought hit him hard. Did he really blame God for all that had happened? Woody let go a heavy breath. He’d tried so hard to be stoic—strong for Mrs. Goodman and Jimmy. He’d tried to maintain his faith, but always there had been something that just seemed to distance him from God.
Tears came to his eyes. “I never meant to blame You, Lord. But if I’m honest, I guess that hard question of ‘why’ keeps coming to mind. Why did this happen to my family? Rebecca loved You even more than she loved me and Jimmy. You could have kept her from harm. You could have kept her safe. But You didn’t.” It was true. He blamed God.
The silence around him was deafening.
Woody fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry, Father.” He didn’t try to keep his tears from falling. His heart was broken at the way he’d put a wall between himself and God. “I never meant to let that happen. I never saw it before now. Probably because I couldn’t bear to. Please forgive me.” Woody buried his face in his hands. “Please help me to forgive those who’ve wronged me. Help me to forgive myself.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Warmth from the sun’s rays on her face awoke Lillian on Sunday morning. Another scorcher of a day to be sure. As she sat up and stretched
in bed, she prayed for the right words to ask Woody if she could go to church. She didn’t want to put any more division between them. After their scare last night, she felt they were on a tenuous footing. She knew how to ride a horse but had no clue how to drive a wagon. And she wanted to take Jimmy with her. The little boy needed to be in church. They could always walk, although that would be quite a hike.
Am I stepping out of bounds, Lord? I feel certain You want us in church, but maybe I’ve gone about it all wrong. Please show me what to do.
She got out of bed and picked out a dress, the same one she’d chosen on that first Sunday when she thought they would all go to church together.
A knock sounded on her door.
“Who is it?”
“Lillian, it’s me.” Woody’s deep voice resonated through the wood. “I just wanted you to know that I have a horse saddled for you if you’d still like to go to church this morning.”
She smiled heavenward. Thank You, Lord. “Thank you.”
She heard him walk away and hurried to put the dress away and retrieve her riding costume. She dressed quickly, humming happily to herself. Now all she had to do was get permission to take Jimmy with her.
As she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Lillian donned an apron to help Mrs. Goodman.
The older woman turned, spoon in hand, and smiled. “I was just starting the oatmeal. I hear you’re going to church this morning.”
The comment made her stand a little straighter. “I am.” She gasped. “Goodness, I didn’t even think to ask if you would like to come. I’m so sorry. . . .”
“Think nothing of it, dearie. If you recall, I’m not real keen on people in town right now. Causin’ so much hurt to us.” Mrs. Goodman shook her head. “But after all our studyin’ and talkin’, I must say I’m thinking on returnin’ myself.”
Lillian wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders and let out a little squeal. “Truly?”
“Yes. Maybe next week.” The morning just kept getting better and better. One step at a time. She just needed to breathe and relax.
Lillian stepped back and took the large spoon from Mrs. Goodman’s hand. “I’m so happy I think I can even make the oatmeal without burning it.”
The family gathered at the dining room table, and Woody led them in prayer.
After several bites of breakfast, Lillian gathered up her courage. She looked first at Jimmy and then to his father. “Woody, I was wondering if it would be all right to take Jimmy to church with me this morning?”
His face showed no sign of what he was thinking as he chewed, and he remained silent. Jimmy’s face held a clear indication that he liked the idea. He nodded most enthusiastically, but still Woody said nothing.
Oh, dear. Maybe she should’ve waited another week? Maybe she shouldn’t have asked in front of Jimmy.
Then Woody cleared his throat and laid his fork down. “As much as I am uncomfortable with the situation, I know that things need to change. He should be able to go to church, if he wants to.” He went back to eating.
“So is that a yes?”
He didn’t smile, but he nodded.
Lillian clapped her hands and Jimmy bounced in his seat at the news. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to address it at the breakfast table in front of the boy, but she needed the buffer. “Thank you, Woody. Again. For everything.”
“I’ll be praying for you.” He lifted his coffee cup to his lips. “I don’t want to judge those people the same way they’ve judged me, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. But know that I’m praying all goes well.”
She nodded and took in the solemnness of his statement. So much hurt and heartache. She’d experienced only a tiny bit of the censure of the town, and it had hurt her deeply. What if they said something horrid in front of Jimmy? Surely no one would do that in front of a child. She caught Mrs. Goodman’s smile of approval and felt the doubts slip away.
“I’ll write out directions for you so you’ll know the way. We had been attending the community church, but there’s also the Methodist church and the Catholic church.”
“I’d like to go where you had been going. The community church is fine.”
“Good, good.”
Their conversation died off and Lillian could feel the tension, subtle though it was. This was a big step for Woody Colton. Hopefully, it would lead to more healing steps along the journey.
Half an hour later, Jimmy sat in front of Lillian on the horse. She held him with her left arm and marveled at the way God had answered her prayers. On the way to town she sang every hymn she could remember, hoping it would ease her nervousness. Her deepest desire was that the community would see not only that she was no worse for her stay in the Colton household, but that Jimmy was doing so much better. She hoped that their appearance in church would signal to the congregation that they needed to rethink their prejudicial and judgmental attitudes.
She glanced heavenward. Please, Lord, let them be kind to Jimmy. I can take most anything they say or do, but he’s still so wounded.
She turned onto Main Street. The town looked all but deserted. For the first time she really took in the sight of it. It seemed a very pleasant little town with brick and stone buildings. There was a variety of businesses, surely enough to suit the needs of the population. Up ahead she saw the church. There were buggies parked out front, as well as several saddled horses tied to the hitching post.
Now that she saw the church in front of her, her stomach was all aflutter, but she knew she needed to stay strong for Jimmy. She directed her mount toward the hitching post, praying all the while that God would go before her.
She dismounted, helped Jimmy down, and tied up the horse. Figuring how to get back on the horse would be interesting without her step, but she had confidence she could find a way. All that mattered now was that she was at church. After two long months of not attending, she prayed the fellowship with other believers would be sweet.
Squeezing Jimmy’s hand, she led him up the steps and through the door. Almost all the seats were taken, so she had to walk all the way to the front with her little charge and could feel the stares on her back. But thankfully, right as she walked into the row, the pastor stood at the front and told everyone to stand and open their songbooks.
Lillian smiled as she realized the selection. How perfect for her heart today: “Blest Be the Tie That Binds.”
As the people sang the lyrics together, Lillian’s heart lifted with encouragement.
Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love;
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.
Oh, Lord, how I would love for there to be fellowship and kindred minds that look favorably on the Colton family. Lillian glanced around for a moment. If only there was a way to help these people understand just how wrong they were about Woody. About everything.
She noticed several faces had turned to stare at her. With a bravery that didn’t quite reach her heart, Lillian smiled, gave a nod, and then turned back to the words in the hymnal.
From sorrow, toil, and pain,
And sin we shall be free;
And perfect love and friendship reign
Through all eternity.
The organ fell silent and the hymnals closed. Lillian felt her eyes well up with tears. Oh, how she had missed this fellowship—this joining together in worship of God. The tears trickled down her cheeks. What a beautiful gift God had given her this morning.
Jimmy tugged on her arm, and she smiled down at him. As they sat back down, she pulled him onto her lap. He touched her wet cheek and looked at her as if to question. Lillian hugged him tight, whispering into his ear, “These are happy tears.”
She wiped her face with her hankie and tucked it back into her sleeve. The pastor asked them all to turn in their Bibles to the book of James, chapter three.
Lillian pulled her small Bible out of her handbag and set Jimmy back down beside her. She pointed to the ve
rses for Jimmy as the pastor read them. When he reached verse eight, her heart skipped.
“But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. . . .”
She felt her cheeks heat up. Had he known they were coming to church this morning? Surely these people were listening, right?
The pastor continued reading, “Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be. . . . Can the fig tree, my brethren, bear olive berries? Either a vine, figs? So can no fountain both yield salt water and fresh. . . .”
As he finished the passage, Lillian was overjoyed at the amens that echoed throughout the small building. Maybe the Lord had already done a mighty work in the people here. Maybe that’s why He made sure she was there this morning. Hope sprang up like a fountain in her soul.
“My brethren”—the pastor walked to the side of the pulpit—“do you heed these words? Our tongues are the most brutal weapon we can wield. And I am sad to say that gossip is rampant in this community. Yes, I know, I know, you would argue that it is rampant everywhere”—he held up a hand and gave them a fatherly smile—“but that is no excuse for us allowing it here. I feel at fault for not encouraging it to come to an end sooner. After all, it is my job to help guide you in righteousness.
“Of course, I’m a sinner just as you are. I’ve made my share of mistakes and want to start this day out by first seeking your forgiveness.” There was murmuring throughout the church. “I have not directed you as I should have. I have, in fact, failed quite miserably this last year.”
Lillian heard some shifting in seats, but all was quiet. No amen this time.
“Our beautiful little town of Angels Camp has grown to more than two thousand people. Now, I realize we aren’t anywhere near so big as, say, Stockton or other towns, but there are two thousand souls whom the Lord loves right here in our community, yet only a handful who venture to church each Sunday.
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