by Leisha Kelly
She stopped for just a second, and Samuel looked at me.
“I was scared I was too late,” she finished. “Too late to tell you that I love you. And I’m sorry. And none of it, none of it was your fault.”
Samuel took his mother in his arms again. He closed his eyes and he whispered, “Thank you.”
I didn’t know if he was telling her that, or God.
Joanna and Dewey stayed two weeks. Two strange and wonderful weeks in which it felt like we were discovering a new kind of treasure. Joanna told us how Samuel’s old letters about God in our lives had kept touching her, drawing her back to read them again and again, for months now. And how Sarah’s little note moved her to tears, especially since she’d been ignoring Sarah’s letters for so long. “We love you,” Sarah had written. “And God loves you too.”
It had been enough to spark something hungry in Joanna, and she wept and called Dewey and made her plans to come out here and wept some more. She brought every letter with her, in one of her bags, and started reading them again on the train, asking Dewey how Samuel had learned what he did, how he’d managed to become a Christian.
Dewey was young at the things of God. He’d only been in church three months himself, but he recognized a need and did his best to answer the questions. And then when he didn’t think he had any more answers, an ordained minister got on the train and sat down right in front of them.
The rest of the ride was like church. That minister prayed with them both before he got off the train, just two stops before Dearing.
We had a wonderful visit with Samuel’s mother and Dewey. Better than we could have imagined. And made so much better, just knowing the miracle God had wrought. When it finally came time for them to go, we took them to the train ourselves with hugs and kisses.
After that, it seemed like things were getting back to normal. Elvira’s husband was well enough so that everyone was back to school, though they’d had six days off while Joanna was here.
Some of the men from the church came out again and helped George put up fence so the Hammonds could have their animals back home again. George seemed to be in better spirits then. He came over and spent some time with Franky in the woodshop, complimenting him for the tool handles he was so carefully making. Franky went home that night, but only for one night.
Rorey came over that day, very solemn and quiet. I knew why she’d come. I knew she wanted to make amends. But she was having a hard time finding any words to say. Finally she just brought Samuel a bouquet of the last of the fading wildflowers, the way the girls used to do when they were little. Sarah hugged her, and then Rorey told them both she was sorry.
Katie was thinking more and more about her mother, I could tell. She wrote her grandmother a long letter asking lots of questions. And some days later, she was excited to get an answer. But if her grandmother knew where her mother was right then or much of anything else, she didn’t tell us.
Sam Hammond had been around a lot helping his father whenever he could, in between WPA jobs. They got in what late hay they could, but there was nothing any of us could do about the loss of the field crop. Sam brought Thelma and the children out the Saturday after Joanna and Dewey left. It was amazing to see how much Rosemary had grown in such a short time.
Little Georgie was as energetic as ever. I tied the pan cupboard shut again, but he didn’t even try to pull the apron loose this time. Instead, he waited till no one was looking and opened an entirely different cupboard. In a matter of seconds, with a delightful array of clanks and thumps, he had my mixing bowls, sifter, and canning lids spread out across the floor. Oh, how he laughed! Sweet triumph. I had to laugh with him.
Samuel tried to resume his normal activities. The dizziness was gone and his headaches were fading. But his ribs were not healed. Moving still hurt, lifting things hurt, and I had to get after him a few times to take it easy. He still tired so much more quickly than he had before. Bert was walking fine. Franky’s hands were doing fine. But Samuel still worried me sometimes, when I saw the weariness or the pain in his eyes.
He kept assuring me he was all right, that everything just took time, and the doctor said basically the same thing. But it was hard for me, nonetheless.
Emma Grace decided that just as Franky was especially good with wood, she must be good at something too. And she decided that something was cooking. She pestered me every time she was over to let her help me cook or bake something. She wanted me to read all the measurements and directions aloud and let her do as much by herself as she could. Oh, we had some frightful spills and mess after mess to clean up. But it was worth it, and I began to see her as a whole extra pair of reliable hands. It wasn’t long before she could devil eggs and fix potatoes and green beans, among other things, all by herself. Soon she was telling Elvira Post my oatmeal cookie recipe from memory. Teacher and I were both impressed.
It started getting chilly sooner than I was ready for it to. Lizbeth came out and helped me can dock greens, the late sweet corn, and a box of tomatoes that Louise Post brought.
Thelma might have been right about the hard winter coming on. All the woolly-worm caterpillars had dark coats, and the geese went south earlier than usual. The garden had been so miserable, and not even the apples or berries had come on strong this year, so I didn’t have near so many filled jars on the pantry shelf as I would have liked.
But we’d always made it, every year before, and I could be just as confident that we’d make it this time too.
I guess I needn’t have worried, because Samuel kept improving. He did more than I realized, till he was back to a full day’s work with me scarcely noticing the change.
One day I saw him splitting logs. I’d been having Robert do all that kind of work, so I went out across the yard to caution him. At first he just looked at me. Then with mischief in his eyes, he dropped the splitting maul, picked me up, and went twirling me around.
“Samuel! You shouldn’t be—”
He paid no attention. He just laughed and I let him. I was so glad to have him strong and well again that I just wanted to enjoy the moment. But I guess the moment got a bit long when he stopped his twirling and held me in his arms. We kissed, and I didn’t even notice Robert coming up until he cleared his throat.
“Uh, Dad. Mr. Turrey just drove up, and he’s wanting to talk to you.”
We hadn’t heard a vehicle. Samuel walked around to the side of the house to see what Mr. Turrey wanted. I looked a minute and saw that he was alone. I didn’t go over there, but Samuel told me later that he’d said he’d been to talk to George too and wanted to know if there was something Lester could do to pay us back for the damage he’d caused. I wondered why he hadn’t come sooner, when George was rebuilding and Samuel was laid up the way he’d been. But George hadn’t gotten everything rebuilt yet, and we soon set Lester to work putting up the new pig house. George made sure Rorey was at our house whenever Lester was there after school hours. She didn’t care. Something about burning down a barn had put a damper on their relationship, much to our relief.
Franky tried something new, carving a dove with spread-out wings on a wooden plaque. It was beautiful. He gave it to us, and I proudly hung it in the sitting room. He started another plaque with a cross and flowers to give to his father for Christmas. I hoped George would be delighted.
Joanna wrote to us every week. It was strange at first. She’d only ever written us once before. But it was so nice to know what was going on in her life now. We started praying fervently for her second husband, Samuel’s stepfather, who owned a tavern and wasn’t pleased with her new desire to go to church. We answered all of her letters. And we wrote to Dewey, and Samuel’s brother, Edward, and to Katie’s mother, sending that letter on to the grandmother in hopes that it would someday reach her. We told every one of them of our love and God’s continuing love for them.
The first snow came early. Samuel and George butchered together as usual. It was a hard day for George, feeling like he was going backw
ard just to survive when he’d wanted to feel like he was getting ahead. We were cosigned on a loan for the barn lumber, and all of us were thankful that Mr. Felder at the sawmill was patient. Twice Pastor Jones made a payment for us. For a long time I didn’t know where he’d gotten the money, until Pastor eventually told us it came from Ben Porter’s parents wanting to bless Lizbeth’s family.
Rorey, Katie, and Sarah sang together for the Christmas program at the school. Their performance was so beautiful that they did it again for church the following Sunday. “O Holy Night.” And Rorey had never sung with them before. She had her difficult times, when her attitude was terrible and she was far from a help to her father or anyone else. We prayed for her and hoped she’d come out all right. At least she wasn’t trying to see Lester Turrey anymore, or any other boy, so far as we knew.
I wondered about George Hammond sometimes. He seemed so much quieter. We had all his children with us more often than we really wanted to. I thought he was too withdrawn, and Samuel spoke to him about it more than once. But he assured us he just needed the quiet sometimes. He visited the woodshop again to see the chair Franky was working on for Lizbeth. Franky and his father finally talked that day, for a long time. And I never saw George yell at Franky again, though there were plenty of times they just kept their distance.
Katie’s birthday was an extra happy day because Joe was home for the first time in months. Everybody was out. Sam and Thelma, Lizbeth and Ben. We had a big dinner, a big cake. And no fire. Lizbeth told me that she thought she might be expecting. She asked me not to tell anyone yet, and she promised me that I wouldn’t have to deliver this child, unless I really wanted to. She had no qualms about letting the doctor take care of it.
Sarah told me she thought the fire had actually been good for us, looking back. That maybe it had helped her and some others grow up and change a little for the better. Maybe she was right. I know God used the whole circumstance and even our need that winter to stretch my faith and remind me once again of his faithfulness. Every time I look at Samuel now I can thank God he’s still alive, that we had a miracle, a double miracle that brought his mother to be truly a part of our family. In this life and the world to come. We could go on thanking God forever for that, and it would still not be enough.
And that is just like God. Unending. Source of miracles. Breath of life. He holds our days in his capable hands.
Leisha Kelly is the author of two inspirational fiction series. She and her husband live in an old house in small-town Illinois where they are busy with the ministries of their church and the education of their two children.