When You Call My Name

by Sharon Sala

  And then finally, three days ago, the last nail had been driven in the house. Yesterday, two trucks from a furniture store in Hazard had delivered, and then set up, an entire houseful of brand-new furniture, which now resided in the rooms in shiny splendor, waiting to give comfort and ease.

  A wide, spacious porch framed the entire front of the house, and along each side, brand-new lattice gleamed white in the noonday sun, waiting for the first tendrils of a vine…or a rose…to breach the heights. Hanging from the underside of the porch, and rocking gently in the breeze, was a white wooden swing just big enough for two.

  Wyatt pulled into the yard with the last load of their clothes from the cabin and started carrying them through the back door. Inside, he could hear the frantic patter of Glory’s feet as she scurried from room to room, making sure that everything was in its proper place. At any moment, the first attendees to their housewarming might arrive, and Wyatt knew that Glory would skin his hide if he wasn’t dressed and waiting.

  She gasped when she saw him coming through the kitchen. “Give those to me. I’ll hang them up while you get dressed.”

  Wyatt’s chin jutted as he lifted the hangers high above the reach of her hands. “No, darlin’. I’ve got them. I told you before, you’re not carrying anything heavier for the next few months than my baby.”

  In spite of her anxiety, she savored the adoration in his eyes, as well as his tender care, absently rubbing the slight swell of belly barely noticeable beneath her white gauzy dress as he disappeared into the back of the house.

  The dress, like the house, was new and bought especially for this day. The neckline scooped, almost revealing a gentle swell of breast. The bodice was semifitted, and hung loose and comfortable against her expanding waistline. The skirt hung midlength between knee and ankle, and moved with the sway of her body like a tiny white bell. The sides of her hair were pulled away from her face and fastened at the back of her neck with a length of white lace.

  Minutes later, as Wyatt came out of the room buttoning a clean shirt and tucking it into his jeans, he looked up, saw Glory standing in the doorway, anxiously looking down the long, winding road, and had to take a breath before he could speak. She stood silhouetted against the bright light of day. For a moment, he thought an angel had come to bless this house. And then he smiled. What was wrong with him? One already had. Her name was Glory.

  She spun, her eyes wide with excitement, a smile wide upon her lips. “Someone’s coming!” she cried.

  Wyatt swung her off her feet and stole a quick kiss, aware that it would have to last him a while. “They’re supposed to, darlin’,” he teased. “We’re having a party, remember?”

  He clasped her hand, and together, they went out to meet the first arrival.

  An hour later, the party was in full swing and the air full of laughter. A game of horseshoes was in progress over near the barn. A long picnic table had been set up underneath the shade tree at the edge of the yard and with every carful of well-wishers who arrived, more food was added to what it already held.

  Children ran and climbed, shrieked and cried, and while Edward Lee was the only six-foot child in the midst of the play, he was having as much fun as the smallest.

  Gifts for their new home were piled to overflowing on the porch, and Glory basked in the joy of knowing she was loved. Just when she thought there was no one left in Larner’s Mill who could possibly come, more cars began to arrive.

  But when the occupants started spilling from every opening, she started to smile. It was Wyatt’s family.

  “My goodness! Who are all of those people?” a woman asked.

  Glory smiled. “My husband’s family.”

  “Well, my word,” the lady said. “I had no idea.” She glanced down at Glory’s belly, then back up at the brood moving like a groundswell toward the food and frivolity. “Fruitful lot, aren’t they?”

  Glory laughed aloud. “Yes, ma’am. I believe that they are.”

  Babies were napping on their mothers’ shoulders and the older children were playing quietly in the shade. Typical of the mountains, men sat in one spot, gathered together by the bonds that made them head of the families, while women gathered in another, secure in the knowledge that they were sheltered by more than the breadth of their husbands’ shoulders. And as one, they watched while Glory and Wyatt sat side by side on the front porch steps and began opening the gifts that had been brought to bless this house.

  The thoughtfulness with which each gift had been chosen was obvious. Everyone knew that the newlyweds had literally “started with nothing.” The fire that had destroyed Glory’s family had also destroyed everything she owned.

  Stacks of new linens grew with every package they opened. Often a gasp would go up from the crowd as Wyatt would hold up a particularly fine piece of glassware meant to be put on display. Mouth-watering jars of homemade jellies and jams lined the porch like fine jewels, their colors rich and dark, like the sweets themselves, waiting for a hot biscuit to top off. From the hand-embroidered tablecloths to the colorful, crocheted afghans, everything came from the heart.

  And then Justin and David Hatfield, two of Wyatt’s brothers, came around the corner of the house, carrying their gift between them.

  “It’s been in the family for years,” Justin said, setting it at Wyatt’s and Glory’s feet. “Nearly every one of us has used it for one baby or another, little brother. We thought it was time you had a turn.”

  Glory was overcome by the symbolic gesture. The rich, dark grain of the wood was smooth and warm to the touch. And when she pushed on the side, the old wooden rockers rocked without even a squeak. They hadn’t just given her a cradle. They’d made room for her in their hearts.

  “Oh, Wyatt, a cradle for the baby! It’s fine! So fine!”

  And so are you, darlin’. So are you.

  Glory turned, and for just a moment, the rest of the crowd shifted out of her focus. There was nothing in the world except Wyatt’s face, and the love he felt for her shining out of his eyes.

  “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  “There she goes. She’s doin’ it again,” Justin grumbled. “All I can say is, thank God Mary can’t read my mind or I’d be in trouble from sunup to sundown.”

  Everyone laughed, and the moment passed as they opened their next gift. The box was small, and the crystal angel figurine even smaller, but before she ever looked at the card, Glory knew that it had come from Lane and Toni. She’d been nicknamed the family angel, and took pride in their love and the name.

  “It’s from Lane and Toni,” she said, holding it up for the people to see. “I’m going to save it for the baby’s room. He’ll need a guardian angel.”

  “He?” Wyatt leaned over and kissed the side of her cheek. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Figure of speech,” she said, and everyone laughed.

  But as she set the angel back in the box, Wyatt wondered at her secretive smile. He’d already learned that the less he knew about what she was thinking, the better off he was.

  The next gift was quite heavy and bulky. And when the wrapping came off and they realized it was a large sack of dog food from Liam Fowler and his wife, they tried to find a way to say thank-you for something they didn’t need.

  And then Liam grinned at the blank smiles on their faces and pointed toward his truck. Edward Lee was coming across the yard with a squirming black-and-white pup in his arms. He knelt at their feet, then set the pup down on the ground.

  “He’s a pretty one, ain’t he, Mornin’ Glory?” His long, slender fingers caressed the pup’s ears with gentle strokes. “I’ll bet he’ll make a real good watchdog, too.”

  Glory held back tears, although it was hard to do. He was marked so like her brother’s pup that she could almost hear J.C.’s shout of laughter. When Wyatt slid an arm around her shoulder, she leaned into his strength and found the courage to smile.

  “Thank you, Edward Lee. It’s just what we needed to make this house a home.” />
  Pleased that his gift had been a success, he scooted back into the crowd, teasing the pup with a string of ribbon lying on the ground, while Glory and Wyatt continued to unwrap.

  When all the gifts had been opened, and thanks had been given for the fellowship that they’d shared, as well as for the presents, Wyatt held up his hand. He had a gift of his own for Glory, and he’d been saving it for last.

  “Wait,” he said, “there’s one more left to open,” and ran to their car.

  Surprised, Glory could only sit and wonder what he’d done now. But when he came walking back to the house, carrying a box so big that he could barely get his arms around it, she started to smile. Just like Wyatt. He did nothing halfway.

  He placed it before her like gold on a platter, then stepped back, becoming one of the onlookers as he watched her shredding the ribbon and paper.

  Twice she laughed and had to call for his help when the knots in the ribbon wouldn’t come undone. And then finally, there was nothing left but to open the top and look in.

  At first, she could see nothing for the folds of tissue paper. And then the paper finally parted and she peered inside. The smile of expectation slid sideways on her face.

  “Oh, Wyatt.”

  It was all she could say. As hard as she tried to stop them, the tears still came, filling her eyes and running down her cheeks in silent profusion.

  Stunned by her reaction, the guests shifted uneasily on their feet, uncertain whether to watch or turn away, yet wanting desperately to know what had sparked such a reaction.

  And then as they watched, they saw. Handful by handful, she began to pull the contents out of the box, piling them in wild abandon into her lap. By fours and sixes, by ones and by threes. And with each handful she took, her movements became more eager, laughing through tears while they spilled out of her lap and onto the steps beside her. As nothing else could have ever done, they filled her hands and her heart.

  And when there was nothing more to take out, she wrapped her arms around the lot as Wyatt knelt at her feet and began wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “I couldn’t give you back what you lost,” he said softly. “But it’s something to remember it by.”

  “Will you help me plant them?”

  Wyatt grinned, and then stood. “We all will. Why do you think I got so many?”

  And then he grabbed the packets of seeds by the handfuls and started tossing them to the crowd.

  “Plant them anywhere. Plant them everywhere,” he shouted. “By the barns, along the fences, down by the well. Run them up the mailbox and the old windmill. But not here.” He pointed toward the two, shiny new trellises on either side of the porch. “Glory and I will plant here.”

  Caught up in the fantasy of the moment, people began claiming their spot, and before long, the place was crawling with gardeners on their hands and knees, planting the tiny seeds with makeshift tools in the rich, spring earth.

  Wyatt took Glory by the hand, and led her to the side of the porch.

  “I’ll dig, you drop,” he said.

  Careful of her dress, she went to her knees, and through a veil of tears, planted the seeds that, weeks later, would grow into vines. And from the vines, would come flowers that gave bloom in the mornings. Blue as a summer sky, she could almost see the fragile little trumpets that would hang from these walls like small bells.

  They were the morning glory, her daddy’s favorite flower, and her namesake.

  Like nothing else they’d been given this day, these would make their house her home.

  Glory’s hands were shaking as she dropped the last of her seeds into the ground. When she looked up at the man at her side, she knew that she was loved.

  “I wish Granny had lived to see this day,” she said softly.

  Tenderness colored his words and his touch as he cupped her face with his hand.

  “What makes you think she didn’t?” Wyatt asked. “Remember, darlin’, time doesn’t break the bonds of love.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3382-3

  When You Call My Name

  Copyright © 1996 by Sharon Sala.

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