Love's Labors Tossed

by Robert Farrell Smith

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Leonard said thoughtfully. “But this morning while I was helping Ed pull decorations off his catapult, I think she tried to hold my hand.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, she was real cool about it,” he explained. “She had some trash and asked me if I’d hold it for her.”

  “That is cool,” I joked.

  “Let’s just say when she placed the garbage in my palm, her hand lingered.”

  “Sounds like love.”

  “She is a few years older than me,” he said, as if I might not have noticed.

  “If by ‘a few’ you mean twenty.”

  “No. I think that’s a bunch. By the way, have you seen Hope?”

  “Nope.”

  “Mavis is worried about her not showing up.”

  “I think she’s gone.”

  “Don’t be morbid,” Leonard chastised me.

  “I just mean that she went back to Georgia.”

  Toby walked up to us and just began talking. “I wonder if you two might know where I can find that girl with the sprained wrist.”

  “We were just talking about her,” I told him.

  “Small world,” he said in amazement. “Well, it seems that Sybil Porter twisted her ankle in a fox hole and is in need of my bandage. Hope’s wrist should be feeling better by now.”

  “We don’t know where she is,” Leonard explained.

  “I hope my bandage is okay,” Toby said, concerned. “This town would face a medical crisis like it’s never known if that wrap is lost.”

  Leonard and I stared at Toby until he went away. I then stared at Leonard until he did the same. I had way too much on my mind. The last thing I wanted was to speak to anyone at the moment. Unless, of course, that anyone had red hair, green eyes, and my future dangling by a string.

  39

  Fair Warming

  The fire crackled like plastic in a deep fryer. I watched Toby throw another log on and then sit down next to Lupert. The entire town was gathered around the gigantic fire that Pete and I had built in the middle of the meadow. Shadows danced on every face as the flames, thirsty for oxygen, stretched out their tongues and gulped. We all had been sitting in silence as everyone continued to come down from the hills and gather round. Toby kept the fire going as each family and individual found a place to park their posteriors. The Knapworths were the only happy-looking couple. They sat on their spread-out blanket looking like this was simply a romantic evening by the fire. Right after dark Sister Watson stood. She walked around the flames once and then spoke.

  “We haven’t always agreed,” she began. “There have been many times when I have not seen eye to eye with all of you over at least a dozen things. There’s been debates about Paul,” she nodded towards him. He nodded back. “There’s been arguments over pageants and education.” Miss Flitrey nodded her head. “There’s been disagreements concerning roads and rivers. But I dare say that we’ve never stood more together than now. Now, when someone wants to simply wash our town away.”

  There was a low murmuring.

  “I don’t want to live somewhere else,” she shouted. “I don’t want to grow older in some town with no roots. I don’t want Toby to settle in Virgil’s Find and the Porters to try Collin’s Blight. I don’t want to die and be buried in some foreign soil. I want my last breath to be full of Thelma’s air.”

  I watched everyone as Sister Watson spoke. It was obvious that she was dead on. There wasn’t a single fire-lit face that didn’t appear to agree wholeheartedly with her. The only people I knew who weren’t there were President Heck and Grace. President Heck had needed to finish his chair path. He wanted the cement to be long dry by the time the water rose high enough to cover it. And Grace? Well, she had not been seen since she had walked away from the reception yesterday. I had tried in vain to find her, but she had hidden herself too well. I explained to President Heck and his wife about what had happened, and they promised to talk to her about the misunderstanding as soon as she came around. Then they lectured me about the evils of dark school rooms.

  My father was also missing from this gathering. He had been sick when he found out what was happening to Thelma’s Way. He was so disturbed, in fact, I almost thought he was being sincere. He had skipped out on tonight because he wanted to help President Heck with his path. Right now the two of them were probably putting the finishing touches on the last long shoot that President Heck had laid from his house to the far edge of the meadow.

  Oh, Doran and Lucy were missing from our gathering as well. But no one had seen them since they had left the reception, and no one expected to see them soon.

  “I want to be perfectly honest with you all.” Sister Watson was still talking. “Things do not look good. The state claims to have every right to do what they are doing. They said that we would bring more good to Tennessee if we were covered up.”

  “They can’t just flood us,” Pete argued.

  “They are trying to,” she answered.

  “Is it too late to build Paul’s shelter?” Toby asked.

  “I’ll field this one,” Paul said, standing. “That shelter would have been a nice addition to this meadow. But I’m afraid that even it, with the small gold plaque thanking me for my dedication, would not be enough to stop the rising water.”

  “This is wrong,” Janet Bickerstaff hollered.

  “It is,” Sister Watson agreed. “Fortunately for you, Janet, your house is close enough to Virgil’s Find and on the other side of Dimple Ridge. The lake won’t even touch you.”

  “Oh,” Janet said. “Well then, good luck, you guys.” She got up with her son, Greg, and headed for home.

  “There are others who won’t be touched either,” Sister Watson explained, “but the majority of us are done for.”

  “How long until it’s filled?” Frank asked.

  “A couple of months,” she answered.

  We all were silent for a long while. No one said anything except Ed, who asked if it were possible to build a big airtight bubble over our town.

  “Let me field that one.” Leonard stood. “Ed, I’ve lived in a bubble, and believe me, it isn’t easy.” Leonard sat down.

  “Thank you, Leonard, for sharing with us,” Sister Watson said, gushing.

  The light summer wind blew gently, pushing the dark around. I couldn’t imagine Thelma’s Way ever not being here. It was the one constant in a completely changing world. Sure, it wasn’t polished and always civil, but it was home to these people and a place unlike any I had ever known.

  “You know, we could pray,” Digby suggested. It was hard to take him completely seriously due to his new fluffy layered hairdo, but the idea was one we all should have entertained some time ago.

  “I’ve been praying in private,” Teddy Yetch informed us, wanting to make sure we all knew how spiritual she was.

  “Me too,” about twelve others said.

  “But that’s different,” Digby said.

  “He’s got a point,” Toby threw out.

  “That he does,” Paul agreed.

  “Well, it’s not like I’m against praying,” Sister Watson defended herself. “I never said that we shouldn’t. I’m just not sure that we should get our hopes up.”

  “Then let’s pray,” Toby said.

  “Around the fire?” Sister Watson asked. “It seems so pagan.”

  “Around the fire,” Leonard insisted.

  “Who should say it?” Todd Nodd asked.

  “Hold on a minute,” Sister Watson said. “The important thing isn’t who should say it, it’s who should ask someone to say it. I know when Bishop Watson was alive, he always was the one to call on people to pray at our house. It was proper. Now here on the meadow it should be no different.”

  “Bishop Watson’s dead,” Pete pointed out.

  “I didn’t mean him,” she said. “I was thinking maybe Leonard would like to call on someone.”

  “No offense,” Frank argued. “But Leon
ard isn’t even from here.”

  “None taken,” Leonard motioned.

  “Roswell’s the oldest,” Jeff Titter pointed out. “Let him call on someone.”

  “I ain’t that much older than Briant,” Roswell said, as if hurt. “Besides, I hate picking things.”

  I was going to argue that point, but Toby stood and started praying. At first no one knew what he was doing. After a few moments we all folded our arms and let him go on with it.

  “Please bless that this whole mess is something you can straighten out. Keep our highlands dry, and our lowlands green. I know we don’t always do things the way you probably would, but in all honesty we really have no idea how exactly you want it.”

  I did the unpardonable and peeked while he was praying. I know it was dark, and I know it was an emotional time, but I could have sworn that the entire circle of locals was glowing. Not glowing like the time Teddy fed them that phosphorescent stew, but glowing as if the heavens had switched us on.

  “And if you decide to cover this place with water, don’t let us forget what we once had. Amen.”

  No sooner had Toby closed the prayer than a heavenly angel dressed in white walked amongst us and stopped in front of the fire. After my initial shock, I realized that the heavenly angel was actually a messy-looking man carrying what looked to be a white robe.

  Everyone just stared at him.

  “I know you,” Sister Watson said. “You’re Bean’s boy, Daryll, from down below the falls.”

  The stranger seemed to understand.

  “Well, what are you doing here?” she asked. “Your town is gone.”

  Before anyone could respond, Pete hollered, “Those are my shoes.” He pointed to the shoes the man was wearing.

  “And that’s my shirt,” Briant spat.

  “Don’t tell me you’re the one that’s been terrorizing our place,” Sister Watson said in amazement.

  Daryll stepped back a few feet, suddenly scared of what everyone was saying. It was as the shadows changed on the robe he was carrying that I noticed it was not a robe. It was the wedding dress Grace had been wearing yesterday. I stepped through the crowd and up to him.

  “Where’d you get that?” I demanded.

  He stepped back.

  “That’s Grace’s wedding dress,” I explained.

  Daryll held it out, dropped it, and then ran like no one I had ever seen run before.

  “Do you think he has Grace?” Leonard asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said, worried. “Has anyone seen her since the reception?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “This doesn’t look good, Trust.” Sister Watson was concerned. “Someone better go get Ricky. Trust, you and Pete try and follow Daryll.”

  “I got guns,” Pete informed us unnecessarily.

  “Let me go too,” Digby asked.

  “And me.” Frank raised his hand. “I got a couple of flashlights.”

  “I don’t care who comes with me,” I said. “Let’s just go.”

  We all took off in the direction that Daryll had run.

  I couldn’t remember ever being more scared.

  40

  Boarded Up

  We were the most pathetic posse I had ever known. Two hundred yards into our chase, Ed started complain- ing about his feet hurting. He dropped out just past the meadow’s edge. A few minutes later Pete remembered that he had left something cooking in his oven and took off to take care of it. Frank Porter scraped his leg on a low branch and asked Wad to help him get back to the meadow. Then he insisted we give him back his flash- lights because last time he lent one to somebody, it came back missing a battery. So he bailed, leaving Jeff Titter now as the only person with a flashlight. Digby tried to stick with us, but then reality set in, and he began to question the whole meaning of the chase. Maybe Daryll had found the wedding dress. Maybe Grace was hiding out on her own accord.

  Maybe I should have been running alone.

  Jerry Scotch kept up as we tried desperately to guess which direction Daryll had gone. But I could tell his heart wasn’t really in it, due to the fact that every time we stopped to speculate which direction we should go, Jerry would always point back towards the meadow. Eventually I told him to go his way and I would go mine. That left me running alone with Jeff Titter.

  Jeff and I had never really spent much time together. He was a tall man with thin shoulders and wide knees. I was told he had blond hair, although to me it looked two shades darker than muck brown. He wasn’t a talker and had an unusual laugh. If he found something to be funny, he would let out one explosive giggle and then quickly suck it back in and pinch his lips. He was married to a woman named Farence and had three kids, all of them named Jeff. I felt most sorry for his daughter. A part of his livelihood was to care for the Thelma’s Way chapel. The Church paid him a small amount of money to keep things in order. He did a lousy job. Not only that, but he usually did his lousy job on Sundays, while attending church. He would switch from pew to pew during sacrament meeting, wiping down the benches and straightening hymnbooks. If he saw you going in to use the bathroom, he would ask you to wash out the sink. There had been many a Sunday School lesson interrupted by the sound of the vacuum being run in the hall.

  Somewhere just left of nowhere, Jeff began to whine about his lungs burning. I ignored him until he fell on all fours and began heaving.

  “Go on without me,” he huffed.

  “I have no idea where I am,” I said, knowing that if I went on alone, I’d never find my way back—or forward, for that matter. “We’re probably nowhere near where he went, anyhow. Besides, you have the only flashlight.”

  “I think it’s pointless, Trust,” he huffed. “We’ll never find him in this dark.”

  “I think you’re right,” I almost cried.

  So, feeling helpless, we waited for Jeff to get his breath back and then turned and started retracing our steps.

  “Do you know where we are?” I asked him.

  “I think so.”

  “Are we anywhere near the small cabin Grace used to hide out in?”

  “We ain’t too far.”

  Jeff turned slightly and then led me where I wanted to go. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check out the home to see if by some chance Grace was there. We hiked for a good while before coming to the hidden place where Grace used to retreat. We pushed open the door and walked inside. The place was pitch black, and Jeff’s tiny light did little to illuminate the inside. There was a lamp on the table, which I lit. It turned the night to day. Jeff switched off his flashlight.

  “Why’d we come here?” he asked.

  “I was hoping that Grace might be around.”

  “She’s not,” he pointed out.

  “I can see that.”

  “It’s late,” Jeff informed me. “The little woman will be wondering about me.”

  “Let me just think for a minute,” I said, disheartened.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, walking out and leaving me alone.

  The entire cabin reminded me of Grace. It was the place where she had hidden out for a good part of my mission. It didn’t actually belong to her, but no one knew who it belonged to because it had been abandoned for so long. Grace had fixed it up and made personal touches to it that now made me miss her more than ever. I sat down on a small chair and willed myself to think.

  Where could she be?

  I leaned back in the chair, and one of the old back legs folded, sending me to the ground and up against the wall. My shoulder pushed one of the long wallboards in, making the bottom end flair out. I stood up. I kicked at it to force it back in, and it snapped backwards as if it were supposed to slide in a different direction. I got down on my hands and knees and tried to jimmy it into place. Instead of sliding in, it slid out, exposing an opening in the wall.

  The opening looked empty except for an old rag. I pulled on the cloth and it slid out. It was wrapped around something.

  It couldn’t be.

>   I unwrapped it as fast as I could, my fingers unable to respond quick enough to the commands my brain was giving them. Once untucked, the rag fell off.

  I gasped louder and longer than I had ever gasped before.

  It was the missing Book of Mormon.

  My first thought was, Who could have put it here? My second, Grace. I couldn’t believe it. This book had been more sought after than anything in the entire town’s history. I opened the cover and read the inscription that Parley P. Pratt had written so many years ago.

  I looked over my shoulder to make sure Jeff wasn’t witnessing what was going on and then wrapped it back up. I put it under my arm and walked out, acting as if I didn’t have anything. Jeff didn’t notice.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “I guess we go back to the meadow.”

  “I’m sure Grace will be all right,” Jeff said. “I remember way back when her father dropped her on her head down by the Girth River. She was only a kid, and everyone thought she was going to die.”

  I looked at Jeff, wondering if he was going to go on.

  “She didn’t,” he finished.

  Half an hour later and with a good distance still to go, Jeff’s flashlight went dead.

  “I should have borrowed one of Frank’s newer batteries,” he said.

  It was slow going, but we finally felt our way back to the meadow. When we got there, no one was around. I had no idea what to do about finding Grace.

  I had even less of an idea about what to do with what was under my arm.

  41

  Hope Flings Eternal

  Jeff left me to go home to his family. I felt completely alone standing there in the meadow in the dark by myself. My stomach was treating the rest of my body like a germ it wanted to dispose of. I was so sick and worried about Grace. I prayed my twenty-three-hundredth, thirty-second prayer, begging that she would be all right. I looked at the empty meadow and realized that I was mad about the boardinghouse being gone. If it had still been here, it would have been filled with people waiting around to find out what had happened. With it gone, however, no one had anywhere to hang around. Folks had tried to make the Watson home the new watering hole, but it was on the edge of the meadow and too small. Besides, Sister Watson only allowed people with shoes to come into her house. That one rule eliminated a good portion of Thelma’s Way.