by Leisha Kelly
It was like being slapped, and I guess she meant it that way—even after I’d tried to pay her a compliment. I just sighed. “I can’t say I understand you, Miss Hazel. Or why you say the things you do. But I’ll love you anyway. Nothing will change that. Not even the way you feel about my husband, the dearest soul in the world to me.”
“He’s got you blind, Juli-girl.”
I was surprised at her calling me that. Nobody had but Emma. I shook my head. “It’s everyone else who’s blind,” I said with a confidence I hadn’t known I had. “Everyone else who thinks he could do anything at all to hurt his family.”
I started to turn away. Behind me I heard her muttering something about Samuel’s fighting getting Franky hurt and teaching the children who knows what. She’s just ignorant, that’s all, I told myself. God have mercy on poor, ignorant Hazel.
I smiled down at Sarah and Katie. And Berty, who was tugging on my skirt. Rorey and Harry had already darted outside.
Before the rest of us could go out, Juanita Jones came up and put her arm around my shoulder. I was glad. The pastor’s wife was such a dear friend, and I always liked the chance to talk to her. But this time, there was pain in her eyes. “Let me take the children for you. Paxton would like to see you and Samuel.”
It made me a little anxious to think of the pastor asking special to speak to us. It just wasn’t right, the lies that were spreading like wildfire. But Pastor was amiable as always as he sat beside us in the front pew and began to explain his concerns about what he’d heard.
“Your brother was very angry,” he told Samuel. “But I found it difficult to believe what he was telling me. Nothing sounded like the Sam Wortham I know.”
“It isn’t,” Samuel said solemnly.
“Do you know who Katie’s father is?”
“No. That’s the problem. We need your prayers. We’re not sure what’s next for the little girl, whether we’ll have to send her somewhere to family, if we can find any, or keep her here.”
“Her own mother doesn’t want her?”
“Not as far as we know, from Edward and from the girl herself.”
“Why do they say you’re the father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how did the woman know your name?”
“I don’t know that either. We’ve been thinking there must be someone else with the same name.”
“But not anyone you know?”
Samuel was quiet. “No,” he said finally. “Not since my father died when I was twelve.”
Pastor shook his head. “The child’s not old enough to be your sister.”
“I know.”
“But she does look like you.”
“Everyone has noticed. That’s why Ben Law didn’t believe me. Too much to look past, I guess.”
“It was your brother who hit you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s angry, like you said. That I wouldn’t admit it. He really believes I’m guilty. In a way, I’m glad. At least he’s not lying to me.”
“But the rest of what he said, about you tricking Mrs. Graham and trying to fool all of us—”
“His anger talking, I guess.”
“Is he dangerous? To anyone else?”
“I don’t think so. Not on purpose. It was an accident with Franky. A stupid and careless thing because we were arguing. He just wouldn’t let it drop and got in my face again on the way home. I tried, Pastor, not to lose my temper, but it wasn’t easy.”
Pastor didn’t have much more to say. He’d only wanted confirmation, I guess, of where Samuel’s heart stood. And he told me he believed there should be no secrets between a husband and his wife. That’s why he’d wanted me there.
“Your mild spirit is something to be admired in all of this, Julia,” he said.
I wondered what he would think if he knew what my real thoughts had been.
I was expecting Charlie Hunter to take us back home, but much to my surprise, Pastor asked us all to their house for dinner so we’d still be in town when Barrett came in to take the pastor to Mcleansboro. Barrett was helping move his sister, Pastor said, and should be there in the early afternoon.
“You should both come along,” Pastor told me. “I’m sure Franky, and George too, would appreciate seeing you.”
I wanted to go. But I was still thinking the same as I was before. “What about all the children?”
“They can stay with Juanita. It’ll be fun for them. How often do they get to have a time out visiting?”
“What about Katie?” I worried. “She doesn’t even know Juanita yet.”
“Sounds like you’ve both taken that girl to heart.”
I nodded my head but didn’t answer about going to see Franky.
“Relax. She’ll be fine with my wife for an afternoon. She’ll have them playing tag and hopscotch. Who knows, maybe she’ll pull out the paper dolls she used to play with when she was a girl.”
“Katie loves paper dolls.”
“Then see?” Pastor smiled at us. “It’s a good fit.”
He made me smile too; he was so generous to accept the things Samuel had to say and make a way for us to see Franky. I was so glad that no matter what anybody else said or did, Pastor was willing to give Samuel the benefit of the doubt.
He prayed with us, and then we all walked outside together. Juanita was playing ring-around-the-rosy with Berty and the little girls. Sam Hammond and Thelma Pratt were sitting under a tree with Harry and Emma Grace climbing all over them. Joe and Robert were standing talking to Thelma’s younger brother, Elmer.
They were all rather pleased about going over to Pastor’s house and having ham and beans and cherry pie. But when Barrett and Louise finally got there, most of the children wanted to go with us into Mcleansboro.
“I think I’d better stay here and help you with them,” I told Juanita. “Just the baby’s a handful. And then there’s Harry and Bert and—”
“You ought to go,” Louise told me. “That Franky thinks an awful lot of you. He’d be glad seein’ you, I’m sure. I’ll stay here with Juanita. Won’t hurt me none to chase after little ones a while. My grandkids keep me broke in, you know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, or I wouldn’t say it.”
Barrett, Pastor, and Samuel walked outside talking while I admonished the children to be on their best behavior. Sam Hammond decided he’d go on home and maybe take some of the others with him. “Tell Pa I’ll come in the wagon tomorrow after the milkin’s done,” he said. “I wanna see Franky too.”
Samuel and I rode in the back of Barrett’s truck. It was the first time we’d been without kids in a long while. Barrett and the pastor sat in front without saying much the whole trip, and we got bounced quite a bit in the back, but I didn’t care.
Samuel was so quiet. Thinking about Franky, maybe, and how unfortunate this whole situation was. It was hard for Samuel, I knew. And I felt like I should have been watching. I should never have told Franky it was all right to go over by that car. I should have known better. But I knew Samuel was probably blaming himself too.
What about Edward? Did it plague him at all? How could he not have looked behind him? How could he forget the little kid rinsing the road dust off his back bumper? It made me angry all over again. It hardly mattered to Edward who he hurt. He didn’t care much for Katie or for Samuel, that was clear by the way he treated them. Maybe he didn’t really care for anybody at all.
I could scarcely imagine anybody that hard-hearted. But I guessed the world held quite a few of them. At least Hazel Sharpe with her cruel tongue and mean spirit didn’t go around putting people in the hospital. She only wounded their spirits and slashed at the heart.
I sighed, looking up at Samuel. He’d taken both kinds of wounding so well. Better than me. Suddenly I had the bizarre thought of introducing Edward to Miss Hazel. Then we’d see which way the fur would fly. They could give each other a taste of their own
medicine.
Seventy times seven.
The words hit me again, sudden, like a seed dropped from above right into my lap. I knew it was Jesus’ answer when Peter asked how often we should forgive.
But I tried to toss the thought away. I do forgive, I told the Lord and myself. I’ve already forgiven. Everybody knows I don’t hold any grudges with Hazel. I sit with her nearly every week. Who else does that? And Edward—well, we didn’t call for Ben Law. We could have had him arrested—he hit Katie, he hit Samuel, he broke Franky’s leg!
Seventy times seven.
God was being insistent. With three strong words dropped into my heart. How many times do we forgive, Lord? When our brother does us wrong?
My head was arguing over that one. He’s not my brother. He’s not even a Christian brother. Surely this is different. And Hazel—Hazel’s already forgiven. I pray for her every night just like Emma used to do.
Seventy times seven.
I sat back against the rough rail and searched out Samuel’s hand. I’ve already forgiven, Lord. At least, I thought I had. And I’m not trying to hold anything against Edward. It’s just that he makes trouble—he brings it on himself. And he wouldn’t care anyway, what I thought of him.
Clear as a bell, I knew the Lord’s response. It’s not for Edward. It’s for Samuel.
Samuel? I don’t blame Samuel. He didn’t ask for any of this any more than I did.
I looked up and found my husband’s eyes closed, his head back and bouncing with the bouncy road. He looked so peaceful. And he’d handled everything so well. He didn’t even seem angry, when he had every right . . .
Suddenly I noticed Samuel’s free hand clenched into a fist. I thought of the dream he’d told me about, of his father’s violence, his mother’s drunkenness. And Edward. I hoped there wasn’t something festering inside, some part of Samuel I didn’t know about to be unleashed by the sheer strain of Edward’s animosity. So I prayed. For Samuel. For the forgiveness that I needed in my heart and that I knew Samuel would need too. Even for Edward, that God would touch him somehow. For Samuel’s sake.
I could forgive all the horrible things that Edward had said. The calloused touch. The laughing eyes. The bruises on my husband’s face, and even the carelessly broken leg of an innocent child. I could forgive it all. Not for Edward’s sake but Samuel’s. Because God told me to. We’d need to. Samuel would need me to. I didn’t know when or why. But I had to accept that it was so.
TWENTY
Samuel
As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I half expected to see Edward’s car sitting there again. I don’t know why. He had no reason to come back. It’d been surprise enough that he’d hung around as long as he did yesterday, when it would have been easier just to leave us and go. Maybe he’d wanted to know how it was with Franky. Or maybe he’d just been waiting for his chance to knock me in the dirt.
He wasn’t there this time, and I was glad. Maybe he was already on his way back to Albany. I couldn’t imagine anything that would hold him here. And he’d done enough damage, surely.
Juli took my hand as we walked toward the hospital. None of us said much of anything. I wondered if the pastor and Barrett blamed me at all for what had happened to Franky. I certainly couldn’t blame them if they did. I should have been watching for him better. I should have been watching Edward better. Why hadn’t I known to warn the kids away?
Poor Franky was just trying to do good to a man who needed an example. “Because Jesus loves you,” he’d said when Edward asked why he was washing his car.
Franky was looking pale when we came in his room. His leg was all set in heavy plaster. Too heavy, it looked like, for such a little guy to move. And I knew it was still hurting him. I could see it in his eyes.
“How you doing, buddy?” I asked him.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh.
Barrett waited in the hallway. Pastor greeted Franky and then prayed with him and George and Lizbeth. Juli hugged Franky as soon as he was done. Then I hugged him too, and he didn’t seem to want to let go of my shirt.
“You wasn’t fightin’, was you?” he asked. “On account of me?”
“I wasn’t fighting,” I told him. “I was being fought at.”
“That’s good.” He smiled. “The Lord says that’s good.”
I didn’t know how he meant that, if he remembered hearing something like that from Scripture, or what.
“Sure glad all of you come,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting nobody today.”
“You should have been,” I told him. “Of course we’d want to come. You’re a special boy.”
“They’s all special,” George said from his chair by the wall. “And this’un ’specially needs to be more careful.”
“Pa,” Lizbeth protested. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Not like he planned it or anything,” George acknowledged. “But any a’ the others’d known to watch around movin’ vehicles.”
Franky didn’t say anything, but I saw the weight of his father’s words on his small shoulders. How dare George Hammond blame him for what happened!
“There was no way he could’ve moved in time,” I said quickly. “It was my fault as much as anything. I should’ve been paying better attention. I should’ve known not to let him by that car. But none of us knew Edward would be hightailing it in such a stupid hurry.”
George looked at me with a frown. “It’s done. Ain’t nothin’ for it now but to see it through.”
“Has the doctor been in?” Juli asked.
“Yeah, but he don’t say much, just that they want him stayin’ right here. He’ll hafta be near six weeks off it, can you imagine that?”
“Not very well,” Juli said softly.
“Neither can I,” George continued. “It’s already costin’ me time an’ money sittin’ here like this. And I ain’t got the money, that’s sure.”
“George,” the pastor admonished. “Do you really think your son needs to hear such talk?”
“Don’t know why not. He’s involved, like it or not.”
I could tell Pastor was put out by his attitude; I was relieved I wasn’t the only one.
“God works all things, don’t he, Pastor?” Franky asked. “I heard you say it one time. He works good outta ever’thin’ if we love him. Even this.”
George shook his head. “How’s good come from a broke leg?”
“We’ll eventually see,” Pastor assured him. “Your boy has a strong faith. The Lord is pleased and will bless him, I’m sure.”
“The Lord don’t seem to be blessin’ Hammonds right now. Not by much, I mean,” George said with a frown.
“I suppose most of the country might say that,” Pastor told him. “Times look hard, and hard things happen to everybody. But God brings us through.”
“Yeah,” George said, still frowning.
“Least we got a hope,” Franky said. “A lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus.”
Pastor turned and looked at the boy in surprise. Maybe he didn’t know how Franky’s mind worked, how deeply the boy memorized the things he heard. “You heard that in a sermon, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Four weeks ago. You read Peter’s letter that said we was in heaviness ’cause of temptations, but the trial of our faith is better than gold. I don’t unnerstand what the temptations is, but I sure hope this comes ’round to praise an’ glory for Jesus like you said. ’Cause I love him, even when I ain’t seen him, jus’ like them people Peter was writin’ to.”
For a moment, Pastor sat in stunned silence.
“’Scuse him,” George said. “He rambles like this—”
“Often?” Pastor asked in amazement.
“Fairly often,” Julia said with a smile.
“Well, bless his heart,” the pastor said. “Franky, I’m glad you love him when you can’t see him. I’m very glad you’ve been listening so well.”
“I try to listen,” the boy said with a serious face. “My mind w
anders an awful lot, though, all kinds a’ ways, an’ I’m sorry ’bout that.”
Pastor smiled. “You do very well. Even compared to the grown-ups.” He didn’t look at George, but George frowned anyway. “I’m sure this situation will come around for the glory of the Lord,” Pastor continued. “Especially when he finds your heart so eager to please him. Do you want to know what ‘temptations’ mean?”
“I know what it means,” Franky said. “That’s when you feel drawed to what you hadn’t oughta be messin’ with. I jus’ don’t unnerstand what temptations I got about this, ’less it’s to bellyache and fuss ’bout not feelin’ good. But I’m tryin’ not to.”
There were tears in his eyes. I moved closer and put my hand on his shoulder. George got up and said he had to find himself a drink of water.
“It’s okay to say you hurt, isn’t it, Pastor?” Lizbeth questioned. “Isn’t it okay for him to cry if he feels like it? I been cryin’, an’ I’d cry even more if it was my leg broke.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Pastor assured them both. “Franky, it’s all right to complain about what’s troubling you. You’re not expected to keep it to yourself.”
“Ain’t it a sin to complain?”
“There’s a difference between stating the problem and getting swept up in a spiteful attitude about it.”
“I ain’t never hurt so bad,” Franky said quickly. “An’ I’m scared it won’t quit.” There were tears traveling his cheeks now, and Juli moved to hug him.
“Oh, Franky,” she cried. “Who told you you had to be so brave?”
“Pa said big boys don’t cry.”
“Even Jesus wept,” the pastor said solemnly.
Once he was given the permission, Franky wept most of the rest of the time we were there. Twice the nurse came in, just checking on him. She told us there was very little more they could do. Even for the pain. He’d just have to keep still, that was all. And it would eventually feel better.
We hated to leave. Especially with George so unsympathetic. But we had to see to the rest of the children and take care of things at home.