by Davis, Mary
Marjorie dipped the knife into the jar then slathered a glop of apple butter on Alice’s biscuit. She smiled. “Enjoy.”
She would not turn away food that the Lord had put in her hand. The apple butter was sweet and cinnamony in her mouth. Better than she remembered.
“I made that myself.”
“It’s delicious.”
Marjorie’s face beamed then quickly lost its cheerfulness when a loud, scratchy voice invaded the kitchen from the other room.
“They are all wet!”
Alice could feel her insides tighten and set her half-eaten biscuit back onto the plate.
Murmurs came through the door then, “This work is no good!”
The near screech pierced her heart.
More murmurs.
Soon Sally came back through the kitchen door with a scowl, shaking her head. “Nothing pleases that woman.”
Marjorie stood. “Not again. When mean was being handed out, she stood in line twice.”
“Marjorie.” Sally gave the younger woman a stern look.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. She stood in line ten times.”
Sally only sighed then turned toward Alice. “I’m sorry. She’s a stiff-necked woman who doesn’t like anything or anyone.”
Marjorie craned her neck to look up at Sally standing near to her. “And you’re just going to let it go at that?”
“What else can I do?” Sally sighed again.
“Nothing, I suppose.” Marjorie stood. “But I can do something.” She took up an empty flour sack, and in went a loaf of bread.
While Marjorie flitted about the kitchen, she looked up at Sally. She didn’t want to voice her fear but had to. “She’s not going to pay me?”
Sally sat down and patted Alice’s hand. “Best advice I can give you is if Mrs. Rush ever asks you to sew for her again, turn her down.”
“But I was counting on that money to buy food. I lost my job and need to feed my family.” What would she do now?
Marjorie set the bulging flour sack in front of her. “Here you go, sweetie. Feed your family.”
What was this?
Sally’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Rush will fire you if she finds out.”
“So be it. I’m real tired of her cheatin’ people.” Marjorie picked up the sack and set it on the floor, then set it back on the table. “This food’s been on the floor. Mrs. Rush won’t want it.”
What were they doing?
Sally smiled. “We’ll have to throw it out anyway.”
Marjorie twisted the lid back on the apple butter. “I think this jar is spoiled. It didn’t taste very good.” She opened the sack and put the jar inside.
Alice stared at the woman. “The apple butter tasted fine to me.”
Sally straightened her smile. “No. If Marjorie says it’s no good, then we have to throw it out. We’ll not serve Mrs. Rush any food that’s no good.” Her face softened, and kindness filled her eyes. “Take the food.”
They were giving her food from Mrs. Rush’s pantry? Her family would be able to eat. She wanted to grab the food and run out the door. But was it theirs to give? “I couldn’t.”
“It’s not charity.” Sally folded down the top of the bag and held it out to her. “You earned every last bite.”
She hugged the bag to her chest. “Thank you.” Then she put on her jacket and shawl. She wanted to cry at the treasure they’d given her.
Sally shook her head. “Is that all you got for this kind of weather?”
She pulled the shawl tighter. “I’ll be fine.”
“Fiddlesticks. Fine indeed.” Sally disappeared into a back room then reappeared with an old coat, obviously for a man. “It’s not fashionable, but it will keep the rain off you.”
“I can’t take this,” Alice said as the two dressed her in the coat.
“You can and you will.”
Marjorie draped Alice’s shawl over her hat and tied a lumpy knot under her chin. The stove had half dried it. “Go the long way around the drive so as Mrs. Rush don’t see that bag.”
“I don’t want you two to get into trouble.”
“We’ll be fine. She wouldn’t dare fire us. She’d never find anyone else to work for her as long as we have.” Sally smiled. “You go now.”
“And stay warm,” Marjorie called after her.
She was warm on the inside from their kindness and generosity. Thank You, Lord, for sending me into the arms of those two kind women. Please don’t let them get into any trouble on my account. And bless them a hundredfold for their kindness.
The food tucked inside the coat weighed on her like a burden. She wanted the food, desperately so. She needed the food, but she didn’t want what seemed like a blessing to turn into a curse because of dishonorable actions. She stopped under the bare arms of a huge, ancient tree on the far side of the drive and leaned against the trunk. She felt like this tree, stripped bare.
Lord, should I keep this food or take it back?
She heard Sally’s voice tumble through her head, “You earned every last bite.”
She had done honest work for the woman.
Give us day by day our daily bread.
She’d prayed for the Lord to provide food for her family. She’d expected it to be in the form of a permanent job so she could purchase food. Daily bread. The Lord had done just that, provided them food day by day. They’d not yet gone hungry.
Thank You, Lord. Please keep food in our stomachs and our hearts full of gratitude. She ducked her head to the rain and set her feet toward home.
❧
Tuesday night, Alice sat on the floor with a single candle burning in front of her and her skirt draped over her crossed legs. She took small stitches, careful to make the vertical tear look like a seam. This was the best skirt she had. She had to keep it in good order if she was going to find a decent job. Who would want to hire her if she looked like an ill-kept guttersnipe?
A verse from 1 Timothy came to her mind. “Now she that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day.” She was indeed a widow and desolate. God in heaven who watches over the meek and weary, You have always looked out for widows, orphans, and the poor. We are all of those, and You have taken care of us. But my faith is growing weak. I can’t go on like this much longer. I desperately need a job, or we will all starve. I don’t know how much more the church can afford to give us. To be honest, I just want to give up, but I know I can’t. Just for tonight, I’ll give up, and in the morning, I’ll go back to being strong and searching for a job.
She sighed and leaned her head against the wall. Maybe she should reconsider taking the position with Mr. MacGregor. He was a nice man. But that was exactly why she wouldn’t take the position with him. She didn’t want to find out that he would use her poor circumstances to take advantage of her. He was a nice man, and she didn’t want to think of him any other way. No, she would not work for him. At least not for another day.
Her door squeaked slightly, and she looked up. “Come in, Burl,” she whispered and glanced at Miles sleeping snuggled under the threadbare quilt.
Burl sat on the floor next to her. “I saw the light.”
“Couldn’t you sleep?”
He shook his head. “What’re you doin’?”
“Mending my skirt. I have to look good when I talk to prospective employers.”
Burl lowered his head. “You ain’t never had this much trouble findin’ a new job before. I’m sorry for losin’ you your job.”
She should scold him again and remind him that what one soweth that shall they reap. Actions did not go without consequences. It was a lesson he had yet to learn, one he insisted on beating his head against repeatedly. Would one more talking-to finally get through to him? She was too tired tonight to go rounds with him, so she wrapped an arm around his slim shoulders. “Don’t you worry about that. The Lord has a position out there waiting for me. I just haven’t found it yet. It’s probably a m
uch better job. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m gonna quit schoolin’ and find me a job. Help out like a real man.”
“No you won’t. We don’t have land to farm anymore. You need schooling to get a good job when you’re older. I don’t want you working your life away in a factory.” It would be such a waste of his intelligence. “You are staying in school. I don’t want to hear any more talk of quitting. The Lord will take care of us. We have to believe that.”
“He’s not doin’ a very good job.”
“Burl, don’t say that. We still have a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. Has He let us go hungry?”
He was quiet for a moment, so she nudged him.
“A little,” he said contritely.
Poor Burl. He was a growing boy with an increasing appetite. “A little hungry isn’t so bad.”
“I guess not.”
“You go back to bed and get some sleep.”
He stood. “What about you? You need sleep, too.”
He worried about her more than she realized. “I’m almost through here. I’ll put out the light soon.”
Burl padded out in stocking feet. She noticed a hole in the bottom of one of his socks and sighed. She couldn’t keep up with all this family needed. Lord, deliver us. Setting her mending aside, she blew out the candle then crawled into bed with a shiver, curling around Miles’s warm body.
Seven
Ian strode up to his shop, his key ready for the lock, and froze. Someone had smashed the door glass, and the broken pieces were strewn about on the floor inside. He opened the door and crunched on the shards. Somewhere in the back, Fred yapped incessantly. “Conner?”
“Back here,” Conner called.
He headed toward Conner’s voice. “What happened to the front door?”
“We got rid of one rat and caught another.” Conner pointed to the edge of his bed.
He couldn’t believe it. “Burl? You did that?” He thumbed back toward the front of the shop.
Burl’s lower lip quivered, and tears rolled down his cheeks. “I didn’t know no one was here.”
“What were you doing? Why did you break my front window?”
Burl pursed his lips and lowered his head.
Ian hunkered down in front of him so he could see the boy’s face. “Why, Burl? I thought you liked me.”
“I like you,” Burl mumbled.
“Then why?”
Burl’s lips tightened.
Conner took a step toward the door. “I’ll sweep up the broken glass before we have any customers.”
He stood. “No. Burl will clean up the mess.”
Burl looked up at him with wide blue eyes. Eyes like his sister’s.
“Mr. Jackson will show you where the broom and dustpan are.”
Conner scooped up Fred. “This way.”
Burl scooted off the bed and followed.
Ian went out to the front to assess any further damage. It appeared that the door window was the only casualty.
Burl shuffled by, dragging the broom behind him, and then started sweeping glass to the dustpan that kept scooting away by the broom’s movement. Burl tried this method for only a moment more before he put his foot on the dustpan, but this tipped the front up just enough for the shards to go under it. He stopped and stared at the broom, then the dustpan, then the glass.
Ian could see that Burl was trying to figure out just how to accomplish the task. He would give the boy direction if he asked for it.
Burl didn’t look to him. He just stared at his problem then leaned the broom against the wall, took the dustpan in hand, and pushed the shards toward the wall and scooped them up into the dust pan. He then turned and looked at Ian.
Ian pointed to the waste bucket Conner had brought out.
Burl dumped most of the glass into it with only a few pieces falling back to the floor.
Conner leaned toward Ian. “Should we tell him there’s an easier way?”
“It’s interesting to watch him puzzle out the problem and come up with his own solutions. He’s quite an intelligent boy.”
Burl worked diligently for ten minutes, having gotten most of the glass. He pushed some of the finer pieces up against the wall and wiggled the dustpan to get them into it. He reached his finger down toward the glass slivers as if to push them into the pan.
“Don’t use your hand. You’ll cut yourself.” Ian came around the counter.
Burl looked up at him. “I can’t get any more.”
He showed the boy how to sweep the remaining glass into a pile and, with the broom resting on his shoulder against his neck, showed him how to sweep the pile into the dustpan. Burl took to this method and finished the process. He took the broom and dustpan back to the closet Conner had shown him. “What time is it?”
Ian pulled out his pocket watch. “Nine o’clock. Just in time for opening.”
“I’m ’posed to be in school.” The boy headed for the door.
“Not so fast.”
“But I have to. Alice will be mad if I miss school.”
“Who is going to pay for a new window?”
Burl looked from him to the window then down to the floor. “Me, sir?”
“That would be the right thing to do.”
“But I ain’t got no money.”
“I don’t have any money.”
Burl took a deep breath. “I don’t have any money.”
“Well then, you’ll need a job.”
“Alice don’t want me to get no job. She wants me to get schoolin’. But I can get a job and pay for the window and Alice don’t have to know I’m not in school. I don’t learn nothin’ at school anyway. Mr. Kray don’t know nothin’.”
The boy could use a few more grammar lessons. “Mr. Kray doesn’t know anything.”
Burl scrunched up his face. “Mr. Kray doesn’t know anything.”
“Did you break my window so you wouldn’t have to go to school?”
Burl looked down. “No, sir.”
“Why did you break my window then?” He wanted to get an answer to his question.
Burl scuffed his worn brogan on the floor but didn’t say anything.
Ian waited. “Well?”
“Can I go now?”
“I’ll walk you to school and explain to Mr. Kray why you are late.”
Burl’s eyes widened like saucers. “Oh no, sir. Please don’t do that.”
“Conner, I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I’ll stop by the glazier on my way back and see when this window can be replaced.”
Conner nodded. “I’ll see if I can find something to cover it with until then.”
As Ian walked Burl to school, the boy asked, “Are you gonna tell Alice about this?”
“No, son.” He paused as Burl let out a sigh. “You are.”
Burl jerked his head up. “Me? I ain’t tellin’ her nothin’.”
“Yes, you will.” He would be there to make sure of it.
Burl folded his arms across his chest.
When they got to the schoolhouse and entered the classroom, Ian said, “Mr. Kray, it’s my fault Burl Martin is late this morning. I had him doing a few chores around my store.”
Mr. Kray stood from his desk chair. “And here I was looking forward to a quiet day.” He turned to Burl with narrowing eyes. “The arithmetic examination is half over. You’d better get a move on if you want to answer even one question. Don’t think I’ll give you any extra time.”
Burl scurried to his seat.
Ian had met Mr. Kray before and hadn’t been impressed with the man. “Mr. Kray, it’s my fault he’s late. The boy shouldn’t be punished for it.”
“I’ll run my classroom as I see fit, and you are a disruption.”
If Burl was right and Mr. Kray “don’t know nothin’,’’ he also didn’t have any manners. He’d had teachers like Mr. Kray who were intimidated by his intelligence. “Burl, I’ll be back for you when school lets out.”
Burl rolled his eyes and w
ilted onto the desk.
❧
Ian stood by the bare oak tree in the schoolyard until Burl came out of the building. Two older boys cajoled him. They seemed to be trying to goad him into something. Probably the same two boys who had helped him into trouble on the ship last week. And maybe talked him into breaking into the pharmacy.
When Burl saw Ian, he sobered and walked away from the other two. “I didn’t think you’d really come.”
“We have to talk to your sister about this morning.”
Burl’s eyes puckered. “Please don’t. She worries too much. I’ll do anythin’ you want; just please don’t tell her.”
He felt sorry for the boy and wanted to give him the grace of a pardon, but he was doing that in not taking this matter to the police as he could. He had a plan. “We are going to your apartment right now, and you are going to tell her what you did.”
“She won’t be there. She’s out lookin’ for a job, so you don’t have to waste your time.” The boy shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking away as if the matter were settled.
He caught up to him. “I’ll wait.”
Burl stopped and stared at him. “You’ll give Grandpa a heart attack.”
“I doubt that.”
“You really gonna make me do this?”
“Yes.” He hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as Burl was trying to lead him to believe, and he hoped he was doing the right thing. They walked along in silence except for the sound of Burl’s shuffling feet. “How did you fare on the arithmetic examination?”
“I finished it.”
“Did Mr. Kray give you extra time after all?”
“Nah. I finished in time. It was baby work.”
“So you did well despite the shorter time?” Good for the boy.
Burl blasted a huge smile. “I got them all right. Mr. Kray was fumin’ mad at that.”
No wonder the boy hated school. Not only did he have a bad teacher, but he was bored. Ian understood all too well the feeling of being bored in school, but he’d had some good teachers along the way. Miss Hanson had been his favorite. She was pretty, but she also brought in stacks of books for him. He’d been required to take the same examinations that the other students would be taking. If he passed them, he could learn whatever he wanted on his own while she taught the class. Burl needed someone to challenge his mind.